Saturday 12th September 2020

My parent's 56th wedding anniversary.

Heritage Weekend.

Ride and Stride charity event.

First day of the football season.

Churchcrawling, the hobby of visiting churches, can be a hit and miss affair. A church in one village maybe open 24/7, whilst a church in the same benefice, deanary in the next village may only be open for services, with no keyholder details.

This means you never can be sure that a church will be open, but one day a year, there is a higher chance they might be open.

In normal times.

But these are far from normal times, of course.

Ride and Stride is a national charity day when walkers and cyclists visit as many churches in eight hours to raise money. Churches are usually open for this, offering refreshments for the participants. Sometimes they just put up a sign in sheet in the porch. THis was something I would see through the day.

I have a list now of churches I still need to visit, and with Kent being a large county, those in the north and west of the county are nearly 8o minutes drive away, so planning a route is something akin to a military operation. I do that, then have my list with me, and the Kent A-Z in case I have spare time, 12 churches on my hit list, and 50 more in the book. More than enough for several such days.

I have breakfast and coffee, pack my cameras, check the batteries, format memory cards and am ready to leave at half eight, so to be at the first church at just after half nine in case it is open early. Or at all.

Jools wasn't going to come with me, so I leave her and the four cats behind, and set off up the A then M20 past Ashford, Maidstone, nearly into Surrey.

Wrotham is better known for having a motorway junction named after it, so surprising to find it an old and attractive village, with the church sitting proud overlooking the small village square. Wardens had begun to arrive, so I go to snap the village before returning and asking if I could go inside to take shots.

If you mask up and don't touch anything.

Deal!

The nave and chancel were vlocked off with tape and pews, but I was able to climb on the base of a pillar and get round. I had the church pretty much to myself, it was large and old enough to have lots of interest, but I got done in 15 minutes, said thanks and walked back to the car, program the next church in.

Kemsing is the next village along, and the church easy to find, now surrounded by retirement cottages, but with plenty of places to park. The sun came out as I walked up the hill to the church, but arriving at the porch there was the check in sheet pinned to the noticeboard and the door firmly locked.

From here I had three more churches locked, the first one, Barming, I was expecting, but hoping against hope that it would be open. I have visited here at least six times, and never found it open. I parked up and chatted to an old gentleman who had just reached his car, and he told me that the church had been closed for several months, and there was a sign on the door to that effect.

Sigh.

The next two small churches, one with an attached vicarage, were also closed, not just for the day but had been for months. Who would tend this flock?

I was running out of enthusiasm.

I put crosses beside the four churches on my list, and program the sat nav for Sittingbourne, and Milton Regis.

Milton Regis is now a suburb of Sittingbourne, but has an ancient high street, and a large and impressive church. It is now surrounded by housing estates, and as I parked, loud disco music was pumping out of one of the houses nearest the church. Families walked to and from the park next door. I taled to myself off for wasting my time in coming here when it would be locked. Heck, they're not even taking part in Ride and Stride.

But the porch, though looking locked, did open, as did the middle door. I walk in and try the inner door. It did not open. I open the middle door to let in some light, and push the latch up, and the door opened.

It is a cathedral of a church, with the sapce under the huge, squat tower being big enough to be a chuch in its own right. But the nave and chancel were in a poor state, while the disco music from outside echoed around the almost empty building. I record the church, with a heavy heart. It seems only a matter of time that it will close too, there is so much work to be done.

Sigh.

Lower Hardres is an half hour drive away, off Stone Street. I had long since given up of seeing inside, but a fellow churchcrawler posted shots inside last weekend and he said it was always found open.

I was hopeful.

I arrived, and with a heavy heart tried the door. I could see the deadlock across so I knew it wouldn't move, and was proved right.

Again.

Sigh.

I gave up.

12 churches: 6 open, 6 closed.

I will try again next year.

I drive home.

I make coffee for us, and share with Jools the salted caramel Twix she had bought for my lunch, we eat it in the garden before I come inside to find out how Norwich were doing, as the football season started again.

And Norwich win.

A win.

45 games to go.

Jools makes dinner: pork pie salad and bread and stinky cheese and a glass or two of tripel.

I write a blog, sort through the hundreds of shots taken into albums, post a couple for GWUK, and by half eight, was shattered.

I have a shower, read some more of WSC in bed and go to sleep.

Phew.