Saturday 10th September 2022

For 11 months or more, I make plans for Heritage day/ride and stride, making routs to follow, churches that have avaided me and so on. Then two day before, the monarch passes away, and there is no telling as to what is cancelled and what isn't.

In short, things that are fun are suspended, and things that are a drag, like work, are OK. Football is not OK, but rugby and cricket it, though in fairness, football suspended itself.

In 1984, two friends got killed in an RTA on Christmas Eve, it hit us all hard. On Boxing Day, two days later, Norwich were to play Arsenal at home. I suggested I wasn't going to go, as it didn't feel right. My friend Simon said that James and Chris would have wanted me to go, not to suspend life, andhe was right. 90 screaming and shouting and Norwich ran out 1-0 winners. I think football taking place over the weekend would have been good.

But it seems that being seen to be in mourning is as important, if not more so, than mourning itself.

Maybe its the modern way?

Some Heritage Weekend events were cnacelled, but no news on ride and stride, and in fact, as just about every church had opened a book of condolence Saturday morning, they were all open too, maybe even more that would have normally been. What this meant for me was that all 14 churches I visited were open or unlocked, and I was able to see inside some churches I have been chasing in some cases over two years.

Obviously, first it would be the trip to Tesco. I was up first, so fed the cats and made coffee, checked on the news and found that Perfectly Normal Island had gone madder than before. One supermarket had silenced their self-service tills, and customers thought they were broken. Because nothing says mourning the Queen like no electronic bleeps.

We went to Tesco where an ordinary weekly shop now comes to £99.60, which meant I could pay contactless.

Back home to have breakfast of fruit followed by bacon butties, I cook and Jools puts the shopping away. All so I could leave the house at ten to nine for the hours drive to East Malling.

I put the radio on, but even that has been messed about with, nothing upbeat or controversial, so once near the first church I turn the radio off and don't bother through the day.

A return to Malling and the four churches visited last winter when all four were found locked.

A very different experience at all of them, as I found them all open, and was greeted warmly at all, and one I had three wonderful wardens following me around as I took shots, with me pointing out features to them rather than the other way round.

Each church had just opened their books of condolence for HM Queen Elizabeth, and I signed here at East Malling and one other.

St James is a large and impressive church set in a vast churchyard beside one of the branches of he Malling Stream, a winterbourne, which not surprisingly wasn't running due to the long dry summer.

Just along from East Malling is Ditton, now just a part of the urban sprawl that is East and West Malling.

Pronounced Mauling, apparently.

Last January when we were here, people where here, but there was a "church closed" sign and clearly visitors were not welcome.

Come September, and the welcome could not have been warmer.

Four wardens / volunteers were cleaning the church, and they were only too happy to show me round, and the memorial to a member of the Golding family, after which the variety of hops is named, hence the hop motif in much of the carvings around the church.

St Peter and Paul sits on what much have been the old high road, but since the M20 built,, most traffic passes it by, and the old high road has been "calmed".

Last January when we were here, the first snowdrops had begun to appear, and despite the church being closed, seemed to be a sign of hope. Its now autumn, and the Queen has passed, so in the chancel, as in most churches I visited, a table with the book of condolence had been set up for people to sign over the next eight days.

This is where I found a large wooden box with a space inside about three feet high, and a wooden cupola on top. I had no idea what it was.

The wardens had not noticed it before.

A look in the guide book had it being called the old wooden pulpit, and it seemed a lid had been put on it, and the font cover placed on top of that.

Mystery solved.

Despite having visited St Martin just eight months before, I could not find it. I remembered its situation, and approach along a long narrow lane, but from the village of Ryarsh there were no signs pointing to it, only to Addington church, and more of that soon.

I asked the postman, where the church was.

Which church?

Nice one.

As there are many round here.

Ryarsh.

So he told me, I just needed to follow the road back out, over the motorway and down the track.

Oh yes.

The warden and her daughter were just about to lock up as I arrived, which was good luck for me, and I was told to take as much time as I wanted.

Unusually for a Kent church, Ryarsh has some fine wooden carvings, but despite only being Victorian, they are well done and add to the charm.

I was born in Norfolk where pronunciation of towns and villages trap the stranger and unwary.

Kent has a few too, Barham, Malling, Lympne (Lim), but top of the pile is Trottiscliffe. Which the locals call Trosley.

Obviously.

Ss. Peter and Paul is set down a dead end lane with just a farm beyond, it is a delightful setting.

The obvious feature of the church is the pulpit, which was removed from Westminster Abbey in 1820 to make room for the Coronation of King George IV. The sounding board is carried aloft by what seems to be a palm tree, and all together is out of proportion for the church.

The west wall is of the finest knapped flint bricks, which get slightly smaller with each course giving the effect that the building is higher than it is.

St Margaret took some finding. Despite it being clearly marked from the centre of the village, the lane takes the visitor past a meditation centre then beside a golf course. All with no sign of the church.

On first attempt, I turned the car round and went back, but no sign of the church could be seen.

I gave up, but hoped a warden at Tottiscliffe could help.

And indeed she did.

Upon turning into the lane, there is a wall on your left, and on the wall is a small sign pointing to the church along a long and narrow grassy lane.

I drove up the 400 yards to the lych gate, parked and found the church open, and a family of cyclists also enjoying it.

The church features many brasses and memorials to investigate and record. Also a good feature.

Ride and Stride, and Heritage Day. Along with the first day of mourning for Elizabeth II, meant that all 14 churches visited were open, 13 had people waiting and greeting.

I had a great day.

Many churches visited and recorded inside for the first time, including West and East Farleigh.

This is West, which features a fine Norman chancel arch.

I was delighted by both churches, and the warm welcomes I received at both.

Many churches that one spends years trying to see inside of, turn out to be disappointments.

But not so of the Farleighs, East and West.

With West being open and being a delight, what then of East, hidden as it is behind the village hall and old schoolhouse?

I went down the alleyway, round the corner and through the gate and saw that the porch was open, and in the inner door was too.

Again, I was greeted warmly, and once inside I saw a large and impressive church that stay almost hidden from the road above it.

The last decade has not been kind to Sevington. A busy dual carriageway now sits to it's west end, and to the east is the new Inland Border Facility, thanks to Brexit.

So what was once a tiny out of the way kind of place is now surrounded on three sides by modern encroachment and harsh modern street lights.

We were last inside on a hot summer's day in 2009, when the church was being prepared for a wedding. I remember a church full of light and flowers.

13 years on and the church is neglected, badly damaged by damp and water ingress.

It is the visit I have felt the most sadness in. Sad to see my memories be so far from what it is now, and that it may not be long in use.

There is a service on the 1st, 3rd and 5th Sunday of each month.

I had decided to leave the Malling area to visit a few churches nearer home that had proven difficult to see inside. Sevington was the sires, and Orlestone the next.

Not sure if this qualifies as a Marsh church, if so its the last one I have to do to complete.

Situated a mile outside Ham Street, again down a narrow dead end lane, but the church is well looked after, with new car parking, and on this visit, a warm smiling face to greet me.

Welcome to our church, she said. I felt indeed welcomed.

This is a very well-cared for church with a group who look after it, and now have to find £14,000 for urgent repairs. I left a small something to help them.

Back in March, the National Churches Trust asked for permission to use some shots of St Andrew before they began renovation work.

A contact just posted some shots, so it it seemed right to go and have a look.

Wickhambreaux is a picture box pretty village with two water mills, a wonderful pub and this fine church among the other grand and listed houses.

Good news is that it was open, and should have been last week but the porch has a door that sticks, apparently.

From a quick visit, hard to see what has been renovated to be honest, but the north west corner, including the font, is still under plastic.

Another very warm welcome.

Was a shame to have to leave, but another longish drive to Chislet lay ahead.

A 7th visit to Chislet, and only the third when I have found it to be open. Or unlocked.

It looked unpromising as I drew up in the car, the door in the west wall was closed, but was unlocked.

What confronts the visitor is in what was the nave to the west of the central tower is now the village call-cum-dance school-cum badminton court-cum-polling station.

To the east a pair of the largest curtains outside of the theatre separate the nave from under the central tower with another pair of giant curtains further east.

So, the working church is now just in the chancel, and because I could not find a light switch, the gathering storm clouds made photography almost impossible, I grabbed a few shots and thus the day of churchcrawling drew to an end.

14 churches visited and all 14 open or unlocked.

So from Chislet, it was about a half mile drive back. I let the car direct me, and it seemed the quickest was was through Grove Ferry, accross the railway and river. In 15 years I have never been stopped by a train at this crossing, but did this time. Two trains in fact. Allowed me to get a shot, though

Jools called on my mobile, asking what the plan was for dinner. I had thought of making carbonara, but by the time I was home and had a brew then began cooking, it would be nearly seven, so after getting stuck behind a tractor, I got out of the queue of traffic by going via Deal, thus able to stop at the chippy in Walmer for fish and chips.

Which I think was the right choice. Back home for ten past six, the kettle had boiled and tea was brewing. We tucked into our tea, caught up on our days. Jools had been gardening, and the gardener had come round to trim the hedges, so most of it now ready for winter.

I reviewed by shots taken, posted the first of them, and was suddenly very tired. As there was no Craig on the wireless, we went to bed to read until darkness took us.