Saturday 7th September 2019

I have been doing the Kent church project for over a decade now.

It began with just visiting a church, taking a few snaps and posting them.

It has developed into something far more. Recording all aspects of the church, all the main fixtures and fittings. I then write a short description, and use my friend John Vigar's description, then visit the British History website to show the history of the parish as it was at the turn of the 19th century.

So I learn more an more. More about Kent and England's history, and the history of the parish.

Posting the shots online means people can see them too, and I know one person who plans tours using my shots. So, if nothing else, one person finds them useful.

In the decade or so I have been doing this, we have visited over 350 churches, some more than once, some more than twice, snapping most inside and out. Over the years, some have eluded me, being forever locked, so hiding the interiors from me. I have now seen inside most parish churches in East Kent, and now it is those further afield which are proving tricky.

Woodchurch is one of those I have never seen inside on three previous visits, having always found it locked. So, this week I e mailed the wardens who assured me it is always open, and would be on Saturday from 07:00 to 17:00, more than enough time for me to get all my shots.

And as Jools had been shopping earlier in the week, no trip to tesco was needed, we could just have breakfast and go.

I also had a long list of places to visit, so a full day out with a pub lunch was planned. Only disappointment was that the chapel I had wanted to visit today, Ottenden, they called to say they had lost the key to the church, so would have to rearrange.

Bugger.

But, Saturday dawned clear and fresh, perfect for travelling and churchcrawling.

To get to Woodchurch we would have to avoid the motorway closure between Hythe and Ashford, so we are to take the coast road through Hythe, Romeny and Dymchurch, seeing the familiar landmarks pass by. But no trains on the railway, too early.

We arrive at Woodchurch just after nine, we park beside the gate, and as I get my cameras out, Jools goes up to try the door. I look up and she has vanished, so either it was unlocked or she had been kidnapped by aliens.

In the end, it was open.

All Saints is a big church, full of fine and interesting details. I mean, three squints alone. Banners, fine windows that look like they all had Flemmish panels.

I took 150 shots. At least.

Last winter, we took a route along the escarpment on the edge of the Weald, and found four churches in a row that were locked. So, maybe they would be open in summer?

That was the plan.

It was a 40 minute drive to the next church, Frinsted.

St Dunstan stands on the edge of the village, a fine well propositioned building, at the end of a row of houses. But the door was locked. And no details of a keyholder.

Sigh.

A two mile drive away is Wormshill.

Yes, Wormshill.

And it was not only open, but packed with people.

Bell-ringers.

I am looked on with suspicion, but when I explain my task, they are very interested.

I get my shots while they ring the bells. Something timeless.

I say I had been to Frinsted and it was locked. Oh, I was told, there is a coffee morning on at the village hall, and there should be a warden there, you might be able to get the key there?

It was only two miles, why not?

So I find myself among the villagers of Frinsted, all a-bustle looking at the white elephant stall or line up to buy tickets for the tombola.

I ask and was directed to a fine lady, who took me over the street to her house where she called her husband, Malcolm, who was a warden.

Oh, I can let you in he says.

I'll meet you there in ten minutes.

Super.

Now, I never research a church before I go, instead like to get my impressions from the visit. It does mean I miss things sometimes, but I can always go back again. For most churches.

So, when the door is swung open, I am never sure what I am going to see. In Frinsted's case, I saw a dark interior, but the walls and ceiling of the chancel and Lady Chapel were brightly painted.

Wow.

Malcolm told us the history f the church, and this decoration, that it might be William Morris.

It isn't, but neither is it Pugin.

But close.

And having been restored recently, the patterns and colours are so bright, and the designs striking.

I am in awe.

Malcolm clearly loves sharing the church, and especially with people who share his love of it.

I do love it.

Sadly, in the Lady Chapel part of the plaster ceiling had recently fallen down, and the whol north side of the church is badly subsiding, causing serious cracking.

But for now, I am in love with the church.

We were on our way onto the Isle of Sheppy, on the way, stopping of at Iwade where we had visited a decade ago, and I had taken six pictures.

I expected to take more.

We arrived at one, and we both said we were hungry. So, we parked opposite the church in the Woolpack and went in for lunch. Lunch turned out to be curry. And a beer.

It came quick and was most splendid. The Madras was indeed Madras hot.

I popped over the road to the church. All Saints has an ancient tower, much older than most of what's inside. Three wardens were inside, doing stuff, s I am taken on a short tour. Its a small church, and allowed into the vestry to see the oldest part of the church, a wall that might be Saxon.

We leave Iwade and drive onto the island, turning off the main road and heading up to the highest point of the it, the town of Minster, and its twin church/abbey.

The south part of the building was the parish church, and the north an abbey for a nunnery. Though the diving wall has now been removed, making it a large square space with carved tombs of knights, and lots of medieval details still intact.

I take another 150 shots.

It is the second time we visited, so easily beat the dozen shots taken last time.

Back outside, the weather had gotten worse, and rain was in the air. So, the plan to go to Harty on a dragonfly hunt was called off, and the heavy lunch meant we were both snoozy, so we agree to go home.

Back to the motorway, then east to Dover, traffic thinning out all the time.

We got back just after three, giving me time to check my shots and write blogs before the England game started at five.

England were playing Bulgaria, and it turned out to be a fairly straightforward game for the Three Lions.

We have caprese for dinner, before taking ourselves outside once it was dark, to sit in the warm evening, watching planes and satellites pass over whilst drinking sloe port and eating Danish peanuts.

I make both disappear.

Well, that was a fine day!

Cheers.