Saturday 8th December 2018

I am writing this sitting in the office cair in the living room, in great pain. Pain caused by my back, having ricked it this morning (Sunday), tying my shoelaces before going out to do the garden. I will leave the details of that for tomorrow, but I can you than on no account is it funny. At all.

I might laugh about it in a week or so, but not right now.

So, as I shift in my seat, trying to find a position that does not leave me in pain, I'll get back to yesterday.

I woke up just gone seven, meaning we just had time for a coffee before we needed to be out o go to Tesco, so to beat the crowds. We dislike crowds. I mean, there are crwds at football matches, but not staninding aisles with their trolleys blocking your way.

So, we go, and although there's not much we need, so we think, it tops a hundred quid, through that does include two boxes of wine.

Jools says she is hungry. I reply that am also hungry. Shall we go to that greasy spoon at B&Q?

A greasy spoon is a name given to a mobile kitchen, usually does breakfasts. We agreed that this was a very good idea indeed.

Good thing was that B&Q was on the way home, so we could pulli in tere, park beside the kitchen and order of food; cheese quarter pounder for Jools and a bacon and egg filled french stick for me.

There is nothing quite like the smell of bacon cooking, maybe it would be possible to be a vegetarian until you smell bacon cooking. Mmmmmmm, bacon.

As it is cold outside, we take our food and hot drinks inside the car, where we make the windows steam up as Huey begins on the radio. Perfect.

We go home, out the shopping away, and Jools asks what we were going to be doing that day. Ashford. And then Bonnington. Maybe one more church on the way.

The plan will change she says. Not this time I say.

Ashford is one of the main towns in Kent, built prosperous by the coming of the railways and a major railway works being built there by the South Eastern Railway (SER). It is also a place where lines branch off going south along the coast to Brighton, north to Canterbury and Ramsgate, north east to the Medway towns as well as the mainline from Charing Cross to Dover. And now there is the high speed line between London and France too. Trains are no longer built there, but are maintained.

It is also a commuter town, a 40 minute train ride can get you to London, so it is a modern sprawling town, eating into the surrounding countryside. It also has what is called a "designer outlet" village, under a multi-pitched white plastic roof, shops surround a car park, and people come from all over the south east to shop. Except us. We don't shop. Unless we have to.

From a distance there is nothing to commend the hunter of antiquities to the town, but then there is the tower of St Mary, and its spirelets on each corner of the tower.

It is nearly Christmas, and the town would be packed, so was this a good idea? I thought that if we left it to after Christmas, there would be the sales and it would be busier. Possibly.

So, we went to Ashford.

This was just the third time I had been into the centre, once was to a job agency to fill out an application form, another time we went to the designer village to buy a coffee machine. So, this would be something new.

I searched Google Street View for places to park, and saw that there were a number of places just past the International station, so that's where we went. The first car park we tried to get into, we could not find the way in and found ourselves in a narrow lane beside it, with no way to turn round or get into the car park.

Sigh.

I turn round in a shop's yard, and we follow the road round and see a sign for parking, so we follow tha and end up at a parking house with a large sweeping ramp leading to the spaces, one of which I squeeze the Corsa into.

We had arrived.

We walk down the piss stained steps, yes really, down to street level, and opposite were Georgian townhouses and behind them, more ancient timber framed houses, with the tower of St mary behind. These were in contrast to the moden wide streets of the modern town we cross to get there. Still partially cobbled, and lovely and quiet, shows that there can be delights even in the most surprising places.

St Mary was open, turns out half of it, the western half, was given over to civic things, and today a Christmas Fayre was on. But the eastern half was still churchy, and with plenty of medieval details left behind by the Victorians.

The vicar comes over to see what I was doing, so we talk for a good ten minutes about the church and the changes that have happened in the past ten years.

In the south transept, there were three grand and very fine tombs, although partially hidden behind stacked chairs. The dead are soon forgotten, no matter how grand and important they were in real life.

Jools had been Christmas shopping, so came to meet me, and once I was done, we walk back to the car park, and we were on our way less than ah hour after arriving.

We drive out towards Brenzett, turning off and going through Hamstreet, Ruckinge and Bilsington, all on the ridge of the downs overlooking the Romney Marsh. Next village along is Bonnington, smaller than the other villages, and the church set apart a stones throw from a bridge over the military canal. Jools goes to investigate that, and I go to investigate the church.

The church is dedicated to St Rumwold, a saint that was born speaking, held a sermon on his second day, and died on his third. That apart, the church is splendid, rustic and still not connected to the electricity grid, so candle holders are everywhere.

And that was it.

I go back to meet Jools outside; we get back in the car and drive to the coast road, back to Hythe and then to the motorway and home.

Time for football on the radio, some lunch. Lunch is Christmas cake and tea, as we are going out for dinner with Brady and his girlfriend. Or were going to until they cried off, we thought about not going, but The Swngate is near enough, and we had not had a curry for a while. We shall go to the ball.

Norwich kick off at three, and don't play well, but are 2-0 up at home to Bolton, but then two defensive slips meant it was 2-2 going into injury time at the end. I sighed, the crowd groaned, but one last attack, a ball played up, and Pukki popped up to slam the ball home. Back on top of the league, ma.

Yay.

At six we go to the Swingate to have dinner. We were only the second group to arrive, so we have a seat beside the open kitchen, so close we could feel the heat from the oven in which meat and naans were cooked. Smelt delicious though, and so full of life.

We eat well, a small starter an a main made of, well, curry and rice and a naan. I have dahl, lentil curry, made spicier than normal, and it is splendid.

We drive home so I could watch City on TV before bed time.