Saturday 4th February 2023

On cold, cloudy, windy days, its easy to think Spring is weeks, if not months away. But for those of us who know what and where to look, signs of Spring are all around. On day day of some churchcrawling I would see carpets of snowdrops, winter aconites among others, and trees, shrubs with buds ready to burst forth with new leaves. Birds are more vocal, and with other matters on their minds.

The start of the orchid season might be just six weeks away, last year the first Kentish orchid was seen in flower on March 19th, who knows what this season will bring, but in the woods and up on the downs, orchids are stirring, waking up, creating rosettes, and some thinking about putting forth spikes.

Its all about to happen.

So, I asked the two mods from the orchid group if they would like to meet up with a chat, and discuss trips for the new season. Last year we met near Ian's house on the banks of the Medway, this year it was near to Terry's, near Gravesend in Cobham. I chose Cobham as I wanted to revisit the church, the the local pub, one of the local puns, The Leather Bottle is opposite the church.

So that was the plan.

Jools wasn't going to come, as she wanted to work in the garden, so once the shopping was done and we had eaten breakfast, I would be off.

Tesco has empty shelves; washing up liquid seems to still be an issue, and there was a huge gap in the fresh meat section. Of course, it might be nothing.

Back home for breakfast and then time to go out. Of course I could have stayed and watched Norwich on the tellybox against Arsenal, but 90 minutes of shouting at the TV didn't sound like a good idea, so churches and a pub lunch it was! Norwich were playing top of the table, Burnley, and despite winning the last two games having scored 8 goals, lets just says I wasn't confident. Which was well placed, as Norwich defended like, well, Norwich, gifting Burnley two goals.

But of this I was unaware. For now.

An easy drive up the M20 to Maidstone, turning off at the services, but doubling back under the motorway into Hollingbourne. We had tried to get here before Christmas, but the only road through the villages was closed. In two places! Which the church in the middle. But back now, with no issues other than the 21st century traffic trying to get through the 17th century streets.

The church sits beside a small green, with a row of cottages to one side, I could see from the car the door of the porch open, so good news. I grabbed my camera and made my way through the lych gate and into the church, which I had to myself.

On the way to Cobham, I went via the M20 so I could call in at Hollingbourne to revisit the church, now that the roadworks seemed to be over.

I had the church to myself, which is always good.

All Saints is really the Cullpeper's mausoleum, it is fill with memorials and tombs to generations of them.

Until the line died out.

I can't remember why I didn't finish photographing it last time, but I knew I had to go back with the big lens, so did today, recording mostly the glass, but found much more too.

I snapped all the glass, some of which was very good, but others, not so.

And so onto the short drive up the A229 to the M2, across the Medway then up to Cobham, across the fields to the village, parking outside the village hall and once collecting my camera gear, a short walk to the church.

It too was open. And as wonderful as before. Having my big lens, I wanted to snap the 19 brass plates marking the tombs of the great family. This is the best collection of medieval brass plates not just in Kent, but in all of England. That and the tomb in the Chancel making this such a special church, with so much of interest. Not least the remains of a spiral staircase in the south east corner of the chancel which lead to a very unusual gallery, now long since gone.

I snap much, some of it redoing what I had recorded before, but most new, including the windows.

I walked out of the church and down to the pub, Terry pulled up beside me in his ancient Audi, greeting me warmly. Ian was waiting in the car park, so we went in, bagged a table and we all decided to have lunch.

I thought I would be good and have something light, like tapas, while they both had the suet pudding of the day(!): steak and ale, in which they chose well. The tapas was bland, sadly, especially the creamy chicken dish, but the pint of local best ale was very good indeed.

We talked of plans for the new year and of the group, and eat well when the food is brought. The suet puddings looked fabulous.

On the tellybox I saw Norwich were 1-0 down at half tie, and by the time I got to the car to drive back home, were 3-0 and falling apart.

I drove in silence.

3-0 was the final score, but we have a run of what should be winable games, while Burnley will cruise to promotion with few worries.

I go to see jen, but she has gone for a walk, so I got no answer at the door, so drive home where Jools was just finishing in the garden.

We have a brew and some chocolate while I listen to yet more football, and review the 535 shots of the two churches I had taken.

As usual, we listen to Craig on the radio while I watch football on the computer, sitting with Scully on the sofa. She fell asleep under my arm, purring and snoring her way into dreamland, dreaming of fat mice, I guess. Or something.