Saturday 7th March 2020

It is the weekend and we have a new car to road test.

And there was a moon to check out, or so we thought.

See, there was another Museum of the Moon event, this time at Rochester Cathedral, and looking at my shots from there, not only was it over a decade since we were last there, but I took less than ten shots when there. A chance to record the cathedral and see the event.

Good news was that the cathedral opened at half eight, meaning we could leave early and be back early. Or that was the plan.

We load our stuff into the Audi, forgetting that all our maps and stuff were in the old car. But for now, we sat back and relaxed as the car took us past Wallett's Court to the A2, then up to Whitfield and beyond to Canterbury, Faversham to Chatham and Rochester

Rochester is an interesting place, and is in stark contrast to Chatham next door. Chatham does have the dockyard, but the rest of it, and please excuse the language, a shithole. Rochester has Roman roots, has a castle, a cathedral and a Mr Charles Dickens lived there. But then he did live in most Kent towns at some point, and by the signs, drank in most Kent pubs and hotels too.

So, Rochester is all olde worlde charm set beside the river with lots of added Dickens.

And has a castle, cathedral. And moon.

But it not a city. Any more.

We think.

Years ago, in the 70s, the Medway towns were created, and it seems that Rochester's city status was lost in the paperwork. But what makes a city and doesn't, at least in the UK, is quite interesting. Maybe a look on Wikki might be called for?

Anyway, we pulled up in the former city, found a place to park in the shadow of the cathedral, paid £2.50 for four hours parking, which seemed reasonable.

Up the hill, through one of the ancient gatehouses, past a former church (now the Bishop's offices, or something), there was the cathedral. And the door was open.

Yay. I took shots of the trimpium and went in.

The church was empty, save to two clerics waiting at the doorway to the Quire as there was a service in the sanctuary. So I rush round snapping. One thing missing, however, was the moon. A moon.

I ask the clerics: Oh that finished on Wednesday.

Bugger.

Oh well, more cathedral to see.

The service ended and I went through the Quire to snap there too. The cameras whirred and took shots.

So much interest, as you can imagine in a building nearly a millennium old. Walls covered in memorials and tombs of the great and good of the county. Remnants of wall paintings could be seen, and the desecration by the puritans were in evidence too.

After an hour I was done.

And we were hingry, despite having breakfast before we left. Shall we find a place for second breakfast? Yes we shall.

Just down the High Street was a nice independent place, the Deaf Cat, and thery had food and coffee, just what we needed. Coffee and a chicken fajita panini to share and a wedge of Victoria sponge to share.

That filled the spot.

After that, we walked down the rows of shops, some of them old and curious, to the end where main road cut through, and back again. We bought nothing, but I had lots of shots for GWUK.

One church lay nearby, just outside town, one that had eluded me, as it is hidden from the main road.

We followed the main road out of town, running beside the river, across the motorway and down into Cuxton. I park in the village and walk up the hill, past a bank of Lesser Celandines and dandelions. My friend John Vigar assured me this was always open. I hoped he was right as my back was complaining as I got to the top of the final slope leading into the churchyard.

St Michael and All Angels was indeed open, and was small but dark. Not that much to see, but another one off the list.

I walk back down the hill to the car where Jools was waiting. Beading.

And that was that. Back to the motorway, over the river.

We go back via Thanet and the butchers as they had wild garlic lamb burgers on sale. And well, do I need to explain?

We get some of the last remaining before driving back over the fields of cabbages and sprouts to Sandwich and then home.

We got home at midday.

We have more coffee. Portuguese egg custards, listen to the radio. Then at four, I cook four of the burgers for our tea.

Yummy.

Sadly, Norwich could not repeat their heroics of midweek, and failed to score in a 1-0 defeat at Bramall Lane. Two shots cleared off the line is close, but not close enough.

And that's that.

We go to pick up John in the new car, before taking him to Jen's for more cards action. We were on a small winning streak, and that coninued as Jools and I one a game of Meld each, then I scooped up the jackpot in Queenie. Funny thing is, I was asked to deal for Jen, and managed to deal myself a run of four cards, and being I lead, I lay the run of four to scoop the pot. To much swearing from Jen and John.

Turns out winning is better than losing. And we drive back, via John in high spirits.

End of a cracking day, footy result notwithstanding.