Saturday 7th January 2023

Hey, hey, its the weekend again!

And, if I'm honest here, the weather was going to be grim. So, unclear what we would do for fun, other than watch wall to wall cup football, as it is that time of the year again.

We sleep in to seven, by which time we're normally at Tesco on a Saturday, but not this week, doubly so as the mad pre-Christmas rush was over, though as it would turn out they had Easter Eggs and Valentine's Cards on display. But turkey stuffing flavour crisps were on offer....

After coffee, I set out for Whitfield, fill up the car with fuel, then drive round to Tesco to park and go shopping. And as it the norm these days, our simple basic shopping list now comes to nearly £100.

And I forgot to buy peppers for hash!

I come home, we unpack and have breakfast of fruit before I have a shower and I say what I would like to do, and Jools says what she would like to do. She wanted to do some wave watching as a storm was indeed raging outside, and I wanted to visit a couple of churches.

Out down Jubilee Way, where we could see white horses just the other side of the breakwater, so we change plans to go to St Martin's Battery to see if waves were breaking over the Admiralty Pier and the old Western Docks station. Not quite as bad as I have seen it, but impressive.

We drive on, but turn off at Capel to stop at the cliff top overview, with the railway, The Warren and Wear Bay bread out below us. And then there was the wind, roaring and trying to blow us over the edge. Jools didn't fall over this time, but I did take a video, though there is no sound other than the deep screaming of the wind.

Our desire for wave watching was sated.

We drove back to the A20 and along to Folkestone and the start of the motorway.

Our destination was Brabourne, a small village situated below the green hulk of Wye Down, home to a fine old church. I have been here before, but it seems I missed the ancient glass high in the north wall of the Chancel. The glass is 12th century, and made for this very window, though it was reset in the 19th Century. It was tricky to see, but I had the big lens with me.

Jools stayed in the car, as there was no parking, so she would be on hand to move the car if it was blocking the drive we were parked on. I met a guy coming out, I waved to let him know if he was going to lock the door, but no worries, its always open, he says.

He also tells me there is a button as you enter which pressing would turn the lights on for 15 minutes. Now, I hadn't thought how the bright lights would make photographing the ancient glass. So, that meant I had to wait 15 minutes for the lights to go out so I could get the shots I came for. So, while I wated, I retake shots of the fixtures and fittings.

The light went out, the poorly defined glass became clear, so I got my shots. Glass of the 12th century was made of earth tones, and although it looks like fragments, it was as designed, the glass making geometric shapes and flower-like patterns.

That done, I walk back to the car to find Jools had programmed the next church, Brook, so off we went.

Lanes around there were narrow, mud-strewn and thorigh woods or between high hedges. It takes a long time to get anywhere, especially when the only road to Brook is blocked by a van and two horses with riders. I do find another way to Brook, so the detour took 15 minutes, bringing us at last to the church.

The church has several items of interest: one is what may be an anchorite's cell window into the Chancel, another is a rare priest's chapel (a westwerk) in the huge squat tower, and then there are the various periods of wall paintings and medieval tiles in the Chancel.

I ddn't need to return, but as we were a few miles away, why not?

I go round and get more shots, and then am done. Visits to two further churches were shelved, so all tat was left was to return home, by the same narrow lanes that we had travelled a couple of hours earlier.

We didn'tt hink the wind was as strong, so hadn't inteded to go back to St Martin's, but a view from the A20 revealled that waves were crashing into the pier. We drove back up Military Road, parked overlooking the harbour, then spent an hour watching ferries trying to leave to France, and those trying to enter the harbour, the final few hundred yards being the roughest.

We drove home, back up part the ferry port, up Jubilee Way and along Deal Road to home.

Back home we had a brew, then I found that I could watch Final Score on the tellybox, and being the Cup highlights and goals were being broadcast. Scully lay beside me, and we both had trouble staying awake as the games played out.

Football into the evening too, with upsets in some places, others more predicable.

Craig played fresh funk and soul of the wireless, while we feated on softboiled scotch eggs and olives.

Yummy.