Monday 30th August 2021

A day of chucrchcrawling.

Or a morning.

Anyway.

The church at Borden has had it's east window replaced since I was last there, so having been told it was open 10-4 every day, why not go over?

As ever, I have a list of other targets nearby, so a plan was hatched, at least in my head.

We have coffee, and have enough time for a repeat of the fry up of Friday before we leaft the house at ten past nine.

Once at the start of the M2, the sat nav took us through Faversham and along the A2 which runs the course of Watling Street, through Teynham, Ospringe and into Sittingbourne, where two of the targets were.

Which explains why we were cruising round an industrial estate and retail park, which was deserted at ten on a bank holiday morning. Other, more normal folks weould be heading to the beach or zoo, but we were looking for a church.

It seemed that I had the postcode wrong, as we pass another regional distribution centre, all grafitti and trash. But I had GSV'd it, so I knew up that street on the right was the church.

Sure enough, instead of another industrial unit there was a wall of trees, and just visible was an ancient wall.

We parked and I got out a camera, and photographed what was left from all reasonable angles, and some unreasonable ones too.

We program the sat nav and drive back through the industrial area, and into housing, through a narrow gap only six foot six wide to prevent trucks from using the housing estate beyond as a rat run. The Corsa wouldn't have been an issue, but the Audi is wider, and both tyres touched the high kebs as we inched through.

Through the ugly centre of the town, all crisscrossed by mains roads, like a mini Leeds, and as unatractive as you like, though I did see two churches I didn't know were there, so I shall return, maybe in just two weeks time.

Out through yet more houses, and the street ended in a country lane, that carried on over fields to the village a mile or so beyond.

Borden ad a different atmosphere, but plans are afoot to build 700 new homes along the lane we just ravelled, and will transform the village into another suburb of the town. This I learnt from the two wardens inside the church, who were busy redoing the floral displays.

The window was removed for protection in 1944 and taken to canterbury for safe keeping. And then forgotten about. Friendless Churches helped pay for restoration when it was rediscovered, and in January this year, at the height of lockdown.

It also gave me the chance to photograph the wall painting of St Christoper that I missed last time I was here, talking to a different warden.

In fact, it was more of a social visit, we chattled long with the two wardens before they left, and I packed up so we could walk back to the car.

We turn for home, back along the A2 out of the shit hole that is modern Sittingbourne and drive five miles to Teynham, turning off and heading out over the marshes to the church which sits surrounded by orchards.

Open for private prayer, the sign said, but the church was locked.

I tried all doors, even the ones clearly rusted up and covered in cobwebs.

I give up and walk back to the car where Jools was waiting.

We head home.

Traffic to the coast at Margate was heavy even on a damp cool day, but all was clear when we turned off towards Canterbury, where most of what was on the road turned off.

We drove home, getting back at midday.

Job done.

One church open, three locked.

Sigh.

I make a brew and we have the last of the M&S chocolate, before I make pasta sauce with the rest of the fresh tomatoes off our fines, adding defrosted wild garlic sausages into the mix.

An hour later, I boil a batch of dried pasta up, mix and serve.

Yummy.

And that was the weekend, all gone.

We play Uckers, I win. vive le change.

And there was nothing but drum and bass on 6 Music, so we listen to more Faces, then I watch Only Connect "live", before going to bed to finish the music book I have been reading.