Monday 15th September 2025

Life is going well.

We have been going to the gym for about nine months.

At first it was a bit stop start: once a week maybe, and any excuse not to go.

But then I realised it was time to get serious, so once back from Scotland in July, it restarted.

From small beginnings, building up a minute or two more each time, increasing from twice a week to three, so that now I do 45 minutes, still not much, but it has done so much good.

My body, and my legs especially, was retaining water, they were huge legs. Someone else's legs, and they damaged easily, took weeks to heal, and made wearing socks painful, and walking was troublesome.

My legs are half a big now, my trousers loose, and maybe thinner in my face.

So this is a real spur to do more.

Monday began with coffee and then the gym. Beating the rush hour and school run, on the bike by half seven, and up mountains with another post-punk soundtrack as I pumped lard.

Jools had a pain in her leg and so bailed early, she was waiting in the car. So we headed home for breakfast and a shower.

We had a quiet day. Jools did crafts and watched her TV series, while I wrote and caught up on podcasts.

At meals we ate leftovers and stuff from the fridge, so that by tea time there was just pasties and a steak slice in it.

We listened to the Funk and Soul Show from Saturday as we ate and did admin.

Amazingly, my MOD pension arrived at least, some 22 days after my birthday.

No football in the evening, so I spent it hunched over England's 1000 Best Churches, studying the great parish churches of Nottinghamshire, as I am off on trip later this month.

Sunday 14th September 2025

The Heritage Weekend website offers some familiar opportunities, and new ones. And not all on Saturday, but spread over 10 days starting from the 12th and over next weekend too.

I had been to most of the churches in range, due to the weather going on Saturday any further than I did seemed an act of self flagellation to be honest.

But Sunday showed there was another church in Ramsgate I had not heard of let along visited, despite driving one street away on my way to Waitrose.

Christchurch was designed by Gilbert Scott, and little expense was spared to compete with the Roman Catholic church of Pugin nearby.

From the Heritage Weekend listing, the church is rarely open, even for services, so this was a rare chance to see inside.

There would be stalls there, and free form jazz or something, so best get there early for shots, and escape.

Jools went swimming first thing as there was little wind and clear blue skies, coupled with a fairly high tide. I slept in, only waking when she called to say goodbye before roaring off in the car.

I made coffee and saw how Scully was, then sat outside with her to take her mind off demanding more food.

Jools came back, we had breakfast, and were Ramsgate-bound by half nine, so to be there just after the ten o'clock opening.

It is set among streets of terraced houses, all back to back, and the church built into a shelf cut into the side of the down, so that it is invisible until you're next to it.

We find a place to park and walk to the door, we were welcomed warmly and encouraged to enter.

Christchurch is a fine late Victorian church, and as with the money sent and makers, the details are stunning, even if some of the carving went uncarved so save money. So a warden told me.

The glass is of a very high quality indeed. I use the big lens for details, so that in twenty minutes I was done, and we could make good our escape.

We drove down to Waitrose, where I managed to spend over £60 on olive oil, bread, beer and preserved lemons.

We made another escape before I saw something else nice to buy.

We drove home, into the teeth of an increasingly strong westerly that would bring driving rain in the afternoon.

Also bought in Waitrose was a rack of lamb, which I prepare by coating it in Moroccan spices and leaving it for a few hours to marinade.

Preserved lemon is used in tagines: was there a tagine I could add it to if defrosted?

No. So, I make a big bowl of tagine from scratch using chorizo instead of chicken. I fill with chickpeas, dried fruit and spices and honey, and set the whole lot to simmer for three hours.

Meanwhile there was football, three back to back matches, none of them much good, but the final one was the Manc derby, with Citeh won by 3-0 as Utd did not change tactics, their manager under the impression that doing the same thing over and over again is the last thing they'd expect.

I cook dinner, or finish it off. I sear the lamb, then pop it into a hot oven for twenty minutes, boil the corn, warm the tagine, as well as through the afternoon I had made roast potatoes, which came out perfectly crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside.

I which I had taken shots of dinner, as it was one of the best I have ever made, but was just too delicious.

Saturday 13th September 2025

Today (Saturday) was the highlight of the churchcrawling calendar: Ride & Stride coupled with Heritage Weekend. The day on which many churches that are usually locked could be found open.

Three years ago, 12 out of 12 were open, and two years ago I think 10 out of 12 were open.

This year would be a different experience.

That is because, some churches are locked all the time outside services, even on Ride and Stride, their only concession is to have the charity signing sheet pinned to a door or in the porch. Maybe some refreshments for the riders and striders, but it seems the days of most churches being open are long gone.

Maybe I was unlucky. But Boughton-Under-Blean, Great Chart, Little Chart were among those locked fast today.

So bad was the experience, with the weather as well, I might not bother next year.

Having walked to the door of Great Chart, a church in a large village on the outskirts of Ashford, there was no wardens, and the church locked, though refreshments available, but again no one came to refresh the used glasses.

The plan was to end at Brookland to see inside the triple candlesnuff tower, but three hours on the Marsh, with most churches visited several times, I gave in and came home.

I got back at quarter to four, there was a brew waiting, andI had bought a couple of small Bakewells from Tesco when I called in to buy pizza for dinner.

I had woken up at seven, with the sound of heavy rain outside. There was even a few rumbles of thunder. The clouds so low and thick that we need the table light on to see.

I made final touches to my plans for the day. Jools was going to stay home. Maybe not get dressed.

I left just after nine, rain was falling steadily. I made my way to the A2, then up to Barham where I turned towards Wigham, before turning off at Addisham.

Addisham is a nice church. Old, but they had replaced the heating and floor a decade back, and it was open as part of Heritage weekend, this one should have been open.

It was, and whilst I took shots of details, I chatted with the two wardens, one of whom remembered my from my previous visit a decade back.

When I left the church, I saw a torrential downpour had started, and the road I parked on had turned into a river. I got soaked in the 15 yards back to the car, and feet wet from the road.

I decided to not go to Hackington in Canterbury, that would require using endless back lanes. Instead I drove back to the A2, then north in driving rain to Boughton-Under-Blean.

Boughton is not often found open, but I battled the partially flooded lanes and traffic forcing me off the road, arriving at the church with the rain coming down just as hard.

I used an umbrella, walked up the path under the trees, meaning it seemed even darker. None of the three doors was unlocked, with the Ride and Stride sheet pinned to the west door, and no refreshments for the riders and striders.

I went back to the car, and decided to head north to find dry weather. Back to the A2, then up to the services for a comfort break and two sausage rolls from Greggs.

Refreshed, and the clouds having parted and blue sky seen, soon sunshine brightened everything.

I had to get through the traffic at the top of Bluebell Hill, then down the A229, before turning off north to get to the banks of the Medway.

I thought I recognised the new road to Burham. It was being built last time I was here. I parked outside, and upon entering I recognised the wooden wheel from the tower for the bells, now hung on the north wall.

I took shots anyway, as I was there. But I now doubted the next church, Wouldham: had I been there before too?

It was a ten minute drive through the narrow streets of the village, but I arrived at the church. Good news was that I did not recognise it.

I walked to the door, turned the handle, and found it locked.

A voice came from inside:

Who is it, what do you want?

I thought the church would be open, I take photographs.

The door opened.

No, the church isn't open today, would you like to come in to take shots?

That would be great, thanks.

Meetings like this is what churchcrawling is all about. We talked long about this and that, and I got my shots. The church though interesting from the outside with its offset tower, but quite plain on the inside.

I set course for Thurnham, a church I have never found open.

I sighed and made my way back to the 229, then down to the M20, before turning east for one junction to Detling.

Next village along is Thurnham, and driving past the pub I could see the church just through the trees below. I turned down the hill, and parked beside a hedge between two mansions. There is a path leading between the large houses to the church.

I walked along to the gate into the churchyard, a bike was parked by the open porch door. A good sign.

Indeed the church was open, I walked in with a huge smile, and the warden was equally pleased to see another visitor.

I explained I had been here on six previous occasions and found it locked, but this was a red letter day as it was open.

I talked for a while with the warden and a rider, who was taking a break. We talk about churches and their fittings.

Little did I know, this was the last church of the day. That would be open.

I was going to go to Hothfield, but the road to the church was closed, so I drove on to Little Chart for the 20th century church there.

I struggled to find it, having driven past it in the rain without realising. Without getting out of the car, I could see a cool box and the Ride and Stride form on it.

This wasn't open either.

My mood got even lower.

Final chance was Great Chart.

Great Chart is a big village on the edge of Ashford, surely there would be wardens and it be open? If it wasn't, I told myself, I would go home.

I parked opposite, walked over in steady rain and found the usual sheet and squash in the porch. The inner door locked.

Bugger it.

I held my promise and turned for home through Ashford to the motorway. It was twenty past two, and the radio went through previews of the games to come.

I called in at Tesco for pizza so I would not have to do much for dinner, then home where Jools had a fresh brew waiting.

Norwich were already one up at Coventry, but were being made to work hard, and as Cambridge conceded a 96th minute equaliser, so did Norwich. We might have taken 1-1 at the start of the day, and we were outplayed, it still feels like a point lost.

After pizza and beer there was an evening of football, as the autumnal chill filled the house.

Friday 12th September 2025

Today would have been my parent's 61st wedding anniversary. But Mum is nearly six years gone and Dad over 29.

So it goes, so it goes.

Today is Friday: bin day. Gym Day. And the first day of the nine day Heritage Weekend.

I set my alarm for six.

Woke when it went off. Went back to sleep. Twice. Woke at ten to seven to find Cleo snuggled up beside me.

I sigh, and get up. Jools hear me, start boiling the water for coffee, so that once dressed, in my sports shorts, there is a cup of coffee ready.

We talk and then put the bins, put on our pumps all ready for some phys in Whitfield.

Friday is crazy busy on the roads, but we reach the car park safe, walk to the entrance to find IT has crashed again, so we were waved in.

Both bikes free again, I settle down to ride for half an hour in Patagonia whilst listening to some early 21st century indie music.

We do half an hour, coming a day since we were last here, feels about right. So back home for breakfast and another brew, so that Jools could leave the house for her craft meeting in the village library at half nine.

I tidy up whilst se is gone, also have a shower, bring in the bins which have been emptied.

Once she is back we have a rushed lunch of a stale roll and peppered roast beef which I turn into Rubens with mustard and pickle.

Yummy.

And then out for a quick visit to Ramsgate to The Grange and Pugin's church next door.

Augustus Pugin built his family home on a plot of land he had bought, and next door, in time, he built his perfect church.

His home, The Grange, is owned by The Landmark Trust, and is only open to the public on Heritage Weekends, and as it had been a decade since I last visited, it was time to go back to record some details, and then visit the church to take shots of the glass in his church.

We drove to Thanet on the teeth of a squall, dry for us, but looking across Pegwell Bay we could see the sheets of rain sweeping towards us.

I parked the car, leaving Jools to read in the car, so I scampered the hundred yards to The Grange, had my name ticked off and was allowed to enter.

The Landmark Trust helped renovate The Grange, all working hard to ensure that the fixtures and fittings, colours were aligned with what Pugin had installed originally.

I visited mainly to photograph details in the library and Pugin's study, not going back upstairs. I took my shots, talked to a couple of the guides, then walked the hundred more yards to the church.

The Catholic Shrine to St Augustine, as it is now called, is the family church of the Pugin's, with Augustus's tomb in the south chapel.

I had the church to myself for the most part, so snapped a few general views, I concentrated on the glass, all high quality.

Outside the squall arrived, rain hammered down on the roof. Jools texted to ask if I wanted to be picked up: I rode my luck and by the time I left, there was a small break in the clouds and no rain was falling.

I got back to the car just in time, as the rain began as we drove back south to Dover.

We stopped at Richborough for petrol, and ice cream. Then back home as the rain hammered down and the wipers struggled to cope with the volume of water falling from the sky.

We arrived back home, where it was sunny once again as the clouds had cleared.

After feeding Scully at midday, she now settles down for a few hours to sleep as her blood sugars are, while not normal, are getting better.

Jools had a short notice appointment at the chiropractor at half five, so I stayed to feed the cats and prepare dinner of chicken salad and baby new potatoes.

Which I cook once Jools arrived back at half six.

Football was back, Ipswich v Sheffield Utd, and Town ran out easy 5-0 winners and have a large and deep squad which is going to take some stopping if this performance is anything to go by.

In defence of Blue Sky

Tis week saw the murder of someone called Charlie Kirk.

I had not knowing heard of him.

He was a 30 year old right-winger who claimed that a few deaths were worth the right to bear arms.

He was shot in the neck and died.

I do not celebrate any death, and no one I am connected with on Blue Sky did either.

Blue Sky is a federated social media, with no Algorithms to boost any person's views. In your "feed", you see posts from those you have connected with, or posts they have retweeted.

So, when the BBC claimed this week, among other outlets that Kirk's death was celebrated on Blue Sky: well, that might be true by some, but not by anyone I follow, and for people to make that kind of claim, its either made up or a reflection of those they follow on the site.

Many left leaning folks and liberals left Twitter/X because of Musk and the hellsite he created when he took over. In the nearly two years I have been a member, I have strongest connections with those I made in those first few months, not from the waves who fled Twitter after I did.

Political violence is repulsive, and most have been apalled. But lets remember when Naci Pelosi's husband was attacked by a right wing intruder, Trump among many others made jokes.

That is the difference.

Thursday 11th September 2025

Yesterday was only twenty four hours ago, some of it even less, and yet here I sit trying to remember what it was we filled the day with.

I set my alarm, which means it was a gym day. Even if I did fall back asleep, we were pulling up at the sports centre in Whitfield just after nine, having already red the cats, tested and jabbed Scully and downed the only coffee of the day.

My bike was free, so I set it all up and cycled along the southern coast of France, up and down hills with cliffs on my left hand side.

All the while my phone played music I had bought nearly 19 years ago when I used to sail the seven seas. Or some of them.

Odd to hear your taste in music: I had apparently just heard the Velvet Underground, so there's their first Album and Chelsea Girl by Nice. Neither of which have the beat for a work out.

Back home just after nine for breakfast and a brew.

A brew is almost always tea for me and decaf coffee for Jools. I only drink coffee once a day now, at breakfast, unless I make some kind of fabulous tart that just demands coffee.

We test Scully.

Again.

Jools headed into town, I stayed here to sit with Scully and keep and eye on her, as well as the birds in the garden.

Once Jools got back, we got the frozen sloes out of the freezer, washed the demijohns and began to put the sloes in until it was 60% full, top up with two litres of gin, 500g of sugar, then repeat for the second one.

There'll be no shortage of sloe gin this year.

The afternoon was filled with sunshine and showers, music and video from YouTube, and the making of brews, so whilst waiting for the kettle to boil I agitate the glow gin to turn the gin at first pink when the fruit began to melt, but eventually burgundy as the juices really began to flow.

As the day faded, a bright double rainbow appeared for a few minutes, giving warning of approaching rain from the west.

As it were.

The last night for a while with no football. Jools watched her TV show, The Man in the High Castle, while I prepared for Heritage weekend.

The wind was howling at half eight when we went upstairs, the curtain fluttered and the half full moon soon rose.

Wednesday 10th September 2025

Before we retired, people told us, you'll be even busier than when you worked.

We laughed.

But Monday, Thursday and Friday are gym days, Jools does aquacise on Tuesdays, I now have bridge on Wednesday and Jools has her Qigong too, Friday has yoga and her art group for Jools.

This week there was the added kick off meeting for the churchcrawling group, and the visits will start every other week from the 24th.

Its all go.

We would go to the gym on Wednesdays, but there isn't time. With me dropping Jools off just after eight in town, then me getting back to go out at nine to the house where the bridge club is sitting that week.

So, Wednesday was busy.

I decided against the gym, so cancelled the alarm I had set and slept in to ten past seven.

Time to wash and get dressed, down the first coffee of the day, and be ready to take Jools into Dover.

Then back along Townwall Street, up Jubilee Way to home for a quick breakfast, change and out of the house at nine to drive to Kingsdown to find the house in the middle of a previously unknown estate.

Must be called the Brigadoon Estate or something.

I was joint first to arrive, and a few minutes after the forth person, as we were playing just one table this week.

And no pre-defined hands: just shuffle, cut and dea.

And bid.

Me and my "partner", Jenny, got most of the good hands and we won by an absolute country mile, though we play for pleasure not points or pennies.

I drive back home to find Jools back, so we have a brew, measure Scully again, and have a breather before Jools is to drop me off in Walmer for my meeting.

The meeting was in St Saviours Church, just five people turned up, so I talked about churches for an hour and a half, found out what they wanted. Kinda, and explained why I was doing visits in the order I had set out.

I talked about the Saxon Kings and Queens of Kent, of St Augustine, William the Conqueror, Thomas Becket, Henry II and Henry VIII, of Edward Hasted and of Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin.

I think its going to be a great deal of fun.

Once we were done and the keyholder came to lock up and ensure I hadn't left any fires burning, I took myself to the Berry where Jools was to meet me.

I ordered a pint of chocolate coconut stout and took a seat in the window.

A perfect day.

Jools arrived, so I bought her a cider. And then the landlord, soon to be ex-landlord, Chris, arrived, so we wished him well on his new career path.

The Berry won't be the same for sure.

I drove us back home, where I quickly made crispbakes in rolls for supper, as darkness fell early, it being dark by half seven.

The rains came, the wind blew. It felt like autumn,

I slept like a log.