Saturday 2nd September 2023

The weekend arrives!

And what to do to fill it with?

You will not be surprised to hear that the day began with the usual hunting trip to Tesco, where we managed to spend £150, but that was with some wine and cider, but even still, very little else out of the ordinary.

What I should have been doing was preparing for two weeks in Denmark, but that is delayed by two weeks, so instead I try to revisit a couple of fairly local churches.

Jools would take a raincheck on churchcrawling.

Just the other side of Dover, through Rover, Kearsney and Temple Ewell is Alkham,, and high above the village is St Anthony.

It is five years since I was last here, and my task was to rerecord the windows, but to see it again.

Parking is tricky, so I leave the car at the recreation ground beside the partly dried up bed of the winterbourne, the Drellingore, and climb up to the rain road, dash across then up the short lane beside the Marquess of Granby to the church, whose graveyard was wonderfully overgrown and so a haven for wildlife.

I stopped to take a shot, and jumped out of my skin as a Labrador sniffed my legs as it was walked by.

I was miles away, I said to the owner.

Me too, said the owner.

The church was open, and cool and dark inside. I flick the lights on and begin to take my shots.

I had taken the "short cut" over the downs from Alkham, thinking that the church beside the radio transmitter would be easy to find, but the road took me from West Hougham to Elms Vale before I could turn back towards the church.

Then the "road" approached a cottage, and then turned ninety degree left and then right as though the building was placed in the way of the road. The owners have out a no entry sign in their courtyard to show approaching drivers that the road did not go straight on.

The lane was narrow, and climbed up the down, with a thick carpet of grass between little used wheeltracks, recent rains had turned some parts into a mudchute too.

As expected it was open, and parking was easy in the short dead end Church Lane.

I thought the light on the font under the tower was perfect.

Not as much as I thought to take as new, but a revisit is always good, and the big lends picks out details especially in the surprised expression of the lion on the Queen Anne coat of arms.

At that point, two for two, I should have turned for home, but convinced myself to try Sellinge, which is the other side of Hythe on the old A20. Maybe in summer it would be open on a Saturday morning?

It took half an hour to get there, and then find a parking space, only to see from the lychgate the sign on the porch declaring the church closed.

I returned to the car and drove back, but with Jubilee Way closed again due to a fuel spill, other routes were busy, taking me ten minutes to get past Kearsney Station and nearly half an hour to get up Whitfield Hill.

Back home then at one for a snack for lunch of pork pie, then settle down for an afternoon of football, where unbeaten Norwich were playing Rotherham who were without a win.

No contest then?

No. Norwich were 2-0 down at half time, looked better in the second half, but didn't really look like levelling.

Darn it.

But for the evening, we were going out.

Out.

For dinner.

Bev and Steve drove us into Deal, where we called into the Just Reproach for a swifter before going to the Dining Club where we had a fine tasting menu of:

1. Chorizo doughnut with smoked tomato jam.

2. Cauliflower soup.

3. Hake wrapped in bacon.

4. Wild mushroom butter chicken Kyiv.

5. Lemon tart.

6. Cheese board.

It was very nice indeed.

We walked back to their car, night had fallen and the late night drinkers were making merry, quite loudly.

Back home Mulder was waiting at the top of the drive, expecting some late night meow.