Friday 5th March 2010; springtime.

There are lambs in the fields, snowdrops are everywhere, birds are chirping to all that would listen exactly what they would like to be doing to each other and there is a flaming ball of gas in the clear blue sky.

Yes, it's spring. apparently. Although it looks springlike out there, it doesn't feel like it. There is a cool east wind blowing in from the continent taking what warmth there might be in the day right out.

These past two days I have been beavering away in the garden. Well, not that busy, but i have put down five big bags of manure on the garden and laid a row of zig-zag bricks to make a border against the lawn. Even if I say so myself, it looks pretty good; I may do the same around where we took a tree down and poor Sulu is buried. I scattered some wild flower seeds there yesterday before putting more manure down. We hope to create a small area of meadow; it might work.

Last night we watched The Life of Others, a film about life in the old East Germany; it was brilliant, very understated, and showing that governments rarely know what is best and that power always will corrupt, but the human spirit can win some small victories.

I have been to Tesco already this morning, before the crowds and the indecisive block the aisles. A normal shop now comes to over £70, which is frightening, and a litre of petrol now comes in at something like £1.14! Quite why everything is so expensive when we are told inflation is less than 3%, not from where I stand!

I have just put a Limoncello and Grappa tart in the oven; something for us to have with a coffee over the weekend. Sometimes it's good to treat ourselves you know? To that end we may even go out for dinner tonight; a little country pub somewhere; we haven't done that in months; sometimes it's these small luxuries that make all the difference.

As for the rest of the weekend; the sun is to shine until Monday. And so tomorrow we may go to Margate again as there is ATV racing on the beach, which should be rather fun, and photogenic. We should go for a long walk at some point; we have been really bad at that for months now. We tell ourselves it's the weather/season but it's really us. And me, as I'm always wanting to go somewhere to take pictures.

Oh well.

No news on the job front; the local paper has very little and so the search goes on.

The Weekend and beyond.

Good afternoon, and welcome to Tuesday here in the Garden of England. That's Kent for those of you that have not been paying attention. It seems that spring has arrived, or at least for a while; the sun is shining, the sky is blue, there are lambs in the fields, spring flowers are out raising their heads to the sun and spring bulbs are shooting up. heck, it's almost warm out there; I have just got the first load of washing of the year that has dried outside, the birds are not so manic for the seeds i put out and inside I have put the chicken and vegetables in the marinade all afternoon.

So, where were we?

Well, Friday evening, the planned trip to the monthly pub quiz did not happen because Jools was tired after what had been a very busy week at work, and so a relaxing night in was called for.

Saturday dawned bright and dry, and because the forecast for Sunday was grim and getting grimmer by the hour, we decided to head out in the car to walk and and for me to take some pictures. We thought, or rather, I thought that we should go to Margate, as we had not been there for a while, and there really is nothing like a seaside town out of season. Not that that is a bad thing, I like the faded seaside glamour thing that such towns have, and Margate was one of the grandest of these towns, although very much down on its luck these days. It is having an art gallery built, the Tate Contemporary, and that should be wonderful when it is finished. Also, the town is being spruced up, but the promenade is so large and long that will take a long time to do, but in places it gleams with fresh paint and repairs.

To get to Margate we drove up along the coast to Ramsgate to see how the building of the windfarm was going, before heading inland missing out the narrow lanes of Broadstairs before arriving at Margate.

We parked at the Lido, which was once a huge salt water pool and leisure complex; but now stands pretty much abandoned and derelict. I still love the lines of the place, and the bright red tiles of the Lido's roofs. But the light was not good really, and so we set off down to promenade towards the harbour and the new gallery.



It was high tide, and for a change the handful of fishing boats were floating whilst tied up, and we walked along the arm of the harbour to get views over to the town and beyond. A cafe was open, with no customers, the waitress looked at us hopefully as we walked past, but we did not go in.



Back along the harbour, we crossed the main road into the maze of small streets until we came into the centre of the old town. And it was rather wonderful, old buildings and shops were arranged round a large square, onto which the town hall, or rather town halls had been built. The two buildings joined by a first story walkway, but now no longer the centre of local government, it is a tourist information office.



Thirsty, we find a cafe and go in: and inside it is like an explosion in a tinsel factory! There are Christmas trees in every corner, tinsel from every available surface, and hundreds of pictures fulling up the walls. It was called The Mad hatters, and the owner came to greet us dressed in white shirt and waistcoat with a very tall top hat.



I have tea and a slice of fresh cream Victoria Sponge whilst Jools has coffee and a fresh cream and jam scone; all freshly baked and delicious.

On the wall nearest us, was what can only be described as a shrine to the late Princess of Wales: all commemorative plates, cups and dozens of pictures, and a sign saying that she was the personality of the 20th century. Not something I would readily agree with, but each to their own.



So, we walk back to the sea front, round the harbour on the land side before heading back to the car, via the town centre; the town centre with the most closed shops in Britain, apparently. All the bargain fashion shops are doing a roaring trade, between the charity shops and closed businesses.

Back in the car we head back for Dover and where we will brew a fresh pot of coffee and have something to eat. I sit on the sofa and listen to the football and rugby on the radio, whilst the computer chatters to updates from Norwich's latest game.

At five I prepare dinner; steak and ale pie with roast potatoes, fresh vegetables and gravy. It was wonderful too, nice and warming as the end of the day outside turned to rain.

Sunday was every bit as wet as promised; and then some. We sat inside doing our respective hobbies. Beading for Jools and photography for me, before we get the board game out in the afternoon to play Uckers; something that is almost a religion in the military. Think of it as Ludo with attitude. I had been wanting to play Jools at it for ages; well, teach her to play, and now that we had a Ludo board we could. As I supposed I should have expected, i lost and Jools won her first ever game; it happens. And then I settled down to watch the Old Firm game on TV and then the League Cup Final, or whatever it's called these days.

And then the day was over, night came and we watched the final part of a short series of Indian Hill Railways; more places we would like to visit!

Monday dawned gloriously sunny with clear blue skies: i decided to have the car and go out taking some pictures. I am really loving the project to photograph all these Kentish churches, and as I have done most in the Dover area, I make a list of some to snap and head out into the sunshine.

Whilst passing through deal, I see two more not on the Grade 1 list, but stop and snap them anyway. The day is still frosty but bright and wonderful to out and about in.

On the way to Sandwich I spy the spire of another church, and head into the village of Worth to snap its church. St Peter and St Paul has a wonderful wooden spire, and is perfect in its village setting. Sadly, it's not open, but I am happy enough to photograph it's exterior.

Next, it was out into the Kentish countryside to a small village called Staple where the Church of St James the Great sits on a small hill up the main road through the village. It has a bright red tiled roof on its tower and main body, and looks perfect with the spring leaves on the trees and against the clear blue sky. it as well is closed, and so make for the village of Goodnestone.



The Church of the Holy Cross lays at the end of the main street through the village, right where the road passes on the land of the local landowner and it becomes private. The church stands on a low hill behind a hedge, and so after walking up the steps and through the foliage, one is greeted by the black glinting church. For it is covered with knapped black flint bricks, and looks wonderful. It is an imposing building, especially for the size of village, but splendid nonetheless. I could not go inside, even though the door was open, because it is being restored, and so a return visit in the summer is called for when the Norman interior should be pristine.



Even I admit there is too much of a good thing, and so after this 5th church of the morning I decided to head back, but not before trying to find one more. But it is down the end of a private lane, behind an imposing house, and I'm not sure whether I should be driving down the road; I turn round and decide to investigate online before coming back another day.



I cook roast chicken, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and lots of vegetables for dinner; and it is very good, even if I say so myself.

This morning I head out to Folkestone on the hunt for another church, this one in the Elham Valley in the village of Lyminge. St Mary and St Ethelburga promises to be special, as the current church is built on the ruins of a 7th century chapel. And indeed it is.

Once again the sun rose into a clear blue sky, and you really get the feeling that spring has sprung as you drive through the narrow Kentish lanes.



The church lay on the top of the valley sides, overlooking the town, and looks fine if not spectacular. Once parked the car, i walk round the front of the church and up the steps and am confronted with the path going under the arch of a flying buttress at one corner of the church. It looks very unusual indeed, doubly so as this is the only buttress of the church.



Halfway along the southern side of the church is a stone built into the body of the church, marking the spot where St Ethelburga is buried; she died in AD 647, and I was stunned to think of all that history.



I get shots from outside the church, then head back to the road and call at a house opposite to collect keys for the door of the church, and then return to see what delights lay inside.



The eastern part of the church appears to be Saxon, and is in wonderful condition, with simple arched windows and centuries of memorials to the parish's good and great adorning the wall. I see from the history, this part dates from about AD 965, and I can believe that. (I will post shots of the inside later, promise).

I snap and snap as the light pours in through the stained glass windows, throwing coloured patterns onto the Saxon wall to the north, it is wonderful I have to say.

I snap away, taking shots from all angles until I am happy, and then leave, drop the key through the letterbox of the keeper, and head off in the car once more.

I decide to do one more church, as the clouds are already thickening, and so head up the other side of the valley to Acrise. As is typical around here, the roadsigns are at best, confusing, and after many wrong turns I arrive at a crossroads in a wood, and on the signpost it says the church is through the hedge to my left.

I walk though, and along a short tree-lined avenue to a small chapel with a wooden tower. It is locked fast, so I make do with shots of the outside. It is moss covered from all the trees and lack of light, but is wonderfully simple, being made of two simple rectangular buildings, joined together. It seems to have been a private church for the large house just visible through the trees, though that is now apartments. Snowdrops are everywhere, inbetween the graves, and look wonderful too.

It is getting near lunchtime, and so I head home rather than seek out a country pub, so to save some money.

Thursday 25th February 2010

Hooray for blocked sinuses! Just when you thought things maybe getting back on track you get a stinking headache all day.

Hooray then, for drugs! Or at least headache removal ones at least. Although they did take all morning to kick in.

It's another cold and grey day in the Garden of England, otherwise known as Kent. Jools has the car all day and I am doing housework and scanning some old slides from a trip to Italy six years ago. It's a slow process, due to the thinking the laptop needs to do, and so I can't have any other windows open, not even for the net; and so I have vacuumed, bleached the floor, and generally tidied up and now the long dark soul of the afternoon stretches ahead like a long stretchy thing.

At about four, I will begin doing dinner, herb encrusted pork steaks, curried lentils and lots of vegetables, and a helping of the spicy potato bread. We are still living quite well.

Wednesday was even duller and more overcast thatn today; but the BBC promised that it would brighten up at around midday, and as there was a steam locomotive crossing the Romney Marsh, I thought I would take my cameras and me in the car to spend the day in photography and steam and smoke and speed. And churches.

The drive to the marsh is along the M20, through Folkestone and alongside the high speed rail line to London; the drizzle fell and the traffic kicked up loads of spray. I took my time and spent the trip in the slow lane with the trucks and lorries, it seemed safer. I drove on to Ashford, and instead of most people turned away from the shopping outlet village and headed out onto the marshes.



Traffic was light, but there is always the occasional idiot who thinks that the speed limit is not enough and that tail-gating is going to make me go faster. I slow down and enjoy his frustration, as it usually is a male, isn't it? Anyway, I turn off the main road and then it's down country lanes to the village of Appledore where there is a station with great views along the track, as well as a church I had yet to snap.



The station is a couple of miles outside the village, I stop to check out the sightlines and make sure there is parking, and then head into the village. I park up and walk to the church, looking grey and uninviting under leaden skies. I walk to the door set in the middle of the base of the tower; it opens and inside the church is bathed in the marm light of many stained glass windows. Lining the seats of the pews are lots of brightly knitted prayer cushions, not sure if this is the right name for them, but that's what they're for, something for tired knees to rest on when speaking to The Lord. Most are adorned with Royal images, celebrating wedding of European Royal's finest in decades past.



I buy a well written guide, and put another pound in the wall box for the church fund. I take many pictures, no easy in the dim light, but most come off.



Back outside, I consult my reference book and see there is another church at Stone-in-Oxney, a village a few miles away. Through fields on narrow lanes I go, over single track hump-back bridges and into a picturesque village packed with timber-framed houses and thatched cottages, and up the hill of the down that over looks not just the town, but the marsh too. And on a turn in the road is St Mary the Virgin, another splendid church.

The churchyard is scattered with snowdrops, just opening for the spring they know is just around the corner. I walk up the brick made path to the door and push; it is unlocked too, and go inside.

Another wonderful village church, full of history and many years of village life there contained. It is all simple but elegant arches, and the walls bear the marks of when it was either bigger or different. The simple coloured glass of the windows cast a blue light over half the church. Around the underside of the roof is a wooden frame that presumably holds the structure of the pitched roof in place. The floor is made up of small tiles, red and black; very simple but looks very effective. Under the bell tower is a pagan alter, Roman in origin, it's carved face now unclear as to what the markings once were. The guidebook suggests images of bulls were on each side; maybe it is right.



Time then, to head to the station for the arrival of the train, and maybe to read a copy of Private Eye I bought in Dover that morning. As it turned out, all parking was taken in the small yard, and there were already two people waiting; we chatted some, and then my plan to have a pint in the Railway Hotel was scuppered as they were closed until four; bugger.



So, I go onto the station to chat with those already there, and hope that the light would improve. In fact, it already had, and the sun had broke through the clouds, and the greys had given way to greens and browns on the land. More and more people arrived, soon there were twenty of us filling the platform; some just to watch, but some very serious photographers, with lenses of great size.

By the time the smoke could be seen a few miles away, I guess forty of us crammed onto the platform, and then Oliver Cromwell came into view, leaving a great cloud of smoke in her wake. She was held at the distant signal to allow a local service to come the other way through the single track section; once that was beside us in the station, with a shriek from her whistle, Oliver Cromwell moved off, one puff at a time.



The puffs got closer together as she gathered pace, and soon passed the local service, and then was upon us, whistle shrieking again, filling my viewfinder. The camera whirred away, and then, she was here and then passing and done. All in a flash, leaving us being silently showered with ash from her funnel.



It was worth it, I promise you.

Time then to head back home and prepare to pick up Jools from work.

The Waiting Game

Tuesday.

Lunchtime.

Maybe a little after.

Outside it has started to drizzle, just as the BBC said it would. I have walked into the village to drop of a form at the surgery, come home, made coffee, toasted cheese sandwiches, checked websites for jobs. Decided to turn the heating on as it's darned cold in the house.

Jools left for work at just gone seven, she hardly slept, as our two cats both decided our bed was the place to sleep last night, giving us just half of the rest of the bed. I slept OK, but Jools didn't; at one point she had no duvet and went into the spare room.

So, the lesson is not to give the cats too much or they will take a mile.

Yesterday the rain did fall. Heavily. I stood looking out the window as the rain ran down the window, on the outside. It drummed on the roof of the spare bedroom, as it has a flat roof. The cats looked mournfully out of the windows as their bladders filled. So to help, I put them out of the front door so they had to run to the back door where the flap is. And hopefully did their stuff whilst they were out.

No news on the job front still. Still waiting from the usual suspects, I guess the wheels move slowly.

Saturday 20th February 2010

What to do with a bright and sunny day? We were awake bright and early as we were woken by our cats, over the valley and towards the cliffs, the sky turned red then orange and then the sun rose bright and clear into a wonderful blue sky.

We had breakfast and then decided to forgo the trip to Tesco and to head out for a walk and take photographs instead. Nearer to London that the Isle of Sheppy on the Thames Estuary is the Isle of Grain, which is no longer an island, but is still called one nonetheless.

Grain is flat with rolling low hills, more like folds in an unruly duvet, and is home to two power stations and a large container port. It is unusual for sure, but interesting in that is different.

So, we head up the A2 past the tower of Canterbury Cathedral and then up the M2 with views over the Sheppy, past the Medway towns and then onto the Isle itself. On the banks of the River Medway is the massive tower of Kingsnorth power station, although just gently steaming and not generating electricity. We park up on a slight rise next to a farm and photograph the power station from under massive pylons.

Happy with that, we drive on to the town of Grain itself, there, there is another power station, and a massive column of steam rose from cooling fans of the other power station. It rose into a clear blue sky, with barely a breath of wind to disturb it before it peters out.



We park beside a large flood defensive wall, grass covered, and set out for a walk along it. We had view over mud flats and to the salt marshes beyond. Further away Kingsnorth steamed quietly. Etched into the mud were the foot tracks of countless water birds and paths of water run off making wonderful squiggly patterns in the mud. Abandoned boats lay half covered in the mud and weeds too, making it feel like a part of the world that people had forgotten.



We walked back to the car and drove into the village itself. It is a quite undistinguished place, overshadowed as it is by huge industry and power generation and the docks from Grain's Thamesport and the cranes on Sheppy too. We parked up at the edge of the village and walked to the sea wall and saw what we had come to see.



All around the southern coast is a series of forts and castles, from many different periods of history. There are Tudor castles, Napoleonic forts and WW1 and WW2 gun emplacements. Grain has a fort built 600 yards on the mudflats, erected in the middle of the 19th century, enlarged for guns in WW1 and WW2 and promptly abandoned in 1946. It is reached by a causeway at low tide, and is quite stunning, if not beautiful. By more than luck than our planning, we had come at low tide, and so set off over the mudflats with firm stone path beneath our feet to the fort.



It felt quite odd to be so far out over mud that could have us waist deep if we wandered from the path, it was broken in places, but felt safe enough. I felt we had walked for ages, but looking back to shore I saw that we were less than 100 yards from the safety of the shore.



But, in time we made it to the slight stone bank on what the fort was built upon, we walked around it, snapping away. But, I kept thinking I could hear running water, and deciding it be better, we headed for the shore.



The sky was reflected in the water between the ripples of the mud. It felt very good to reach the shore, and looking back the tower seemed unimpressed with it's encounter with us.

We head back to the car and have a mid-morning snack of a nearly life-expired chicken wrap from Tesco and a bag of Quavers, whilst looking over the Thames to Southend over in Essex.

I snapped a church at the edge of the beach, seems like it's tower had been rebuilt in the last hundred years, and the tower somehow was shorter than the roof of the church, making it look quite odd.

On the way back to Dover we stopped off that the Medway bridges that carry the M2 and the new high speed rail lane to and from London. I wanted to get a shot of one of the Highspeed trains as last time I was here the shot was not as good as I wanted. And so we waited and waiting, and then we saw the approaching lights of a train over the valley, and at great speed the train thundered towards us; I set the camera up and waited for the train to get into frame, and then press the shutter and the camera went whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. And I had dozens of shots, the final one being the shot I had wanted.



We resisted the temptation of going into Burger King at the services on the way home, and instead braved the crowds of early afternoon at Tesco and did our weekly shop. Not quite as bad as it felt at the time, we were in and out in half an hour.

We had been invited for dinner at friends in Ashford, and so had a bit to eat when we got home and then got ready to drive along the motorway to Ashford.

Matt and Dadi have moved into what is a replica of an oast house, and they live in the flat in the roof, it is very nice, and since I was last there two weeks ago they have had more furniture delivered and I am sure it feels more like home for them.

Dadi cooked goulash for us, which was very good, and whilst we ate we chatted about life and all that stuff.

Friday 19th February 2010

Howdy.

So, here I am, no sniff of a job. Just waiting to hear from the places I have applied to. I should have been going to Leeds Castle today, but the group I was going to meet cancelled last night because of family problems. And so, rather than do double the miles in our car, I am staying at home for the day. Again.

Fridays are not so bad, I know I have Jools with me the next couple of days, we will go walking tomorrow, and visit friends for dinner. And first of all we have to go to Tesco, should be empty at half seven when we go shopping. That even the most basic weeks shopping now costs £70. Life is getting ridiculous to be honest.

So, I am listening to the radio, Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode are on at two talking about the week's new films and stuff. All very entertaining. Outside the weather failed to turn sunny after all, and so once again the forecasted sunshine failed to turn up; so maybe better we did not to the castle.

Last night it was camera club in Dover. I am really struggling to work up enthusiasm to go each week. In fact this is the first time I have been for a month. There was a print competition to be judged, and then a slide show that was promised to be at least an hour long.
After the judging dragged on for an hour and a half, I left during the break otherwise I would not have been home until eleven. My friend, gary, said the slides were poor and no one was happy with the late finish. The print competition had ony a few outstanding images, sadly, I did not enter, but these are always interesting to see if the judge thinks as I do.

Anyway, the weekend is here, almost.

Midweek blues

And on Tuesday the rain did fall and the snow did melt. Fast.

Not much to do than to stay inside and search online to find a job; no luck of course.

For dinner I made paprika mince burek, a kind of Slovak samosa, a recipe I have worked out for myself. All wrapped in filo pastry, they came out well and made enough for snacks during the week. Although I have yet to master the art of making neat triangles, and instead made amorphous shapes, but they all taste the same, or that's what I tell myself.

And then on Wednesday, a flaming ball of gas did rise in the east and make the land warm. I say warm, warmer than it has been, and more snow did melt. I dropped Jools off at work and got ready for an interview.

The interview was for a job down the cruise terminal at the docks for seasonal workers. Not the job I would have chosen, but is work for four months, and that counts for lots. I can't rely on a week here and there from survey companies. It is for being a luggage porter, but I'm willing to do anything.

I showered, shaved and put on my suit. I link I looked good. An hour before the interview I set off so not to get caught in traffic if a ferry had docked and the roads clogged up. I arrived in plenty of time and sat in the car park of the terminal listening to politicians arguing as to who would cut more services but make things better. Both were lying.

The interview was in two parts, the first part was a general part where they check your identification and check that you can smell, see and hear. The smell check was sniff three bottles and say what they smelt of; that I heard the previous persons answers made it easy, but the smells were almonds, oranges and peppermint. So if your smuggling any of those three items, beware, we can sniff you out!

The sight test was reading the line on the opticians board with letters apparently two inches high; I passed that. And the hearing test was that you could hear the questions the lady was asking.



Next part was to chat whilst filling in a form for a background check, and that was it. I drove back home in the glorious sunshine, changed, had lunch and then went out with camera to snap in the sunshine.

I went down to the seafront to photograph the new watersports centre; it's an angular building, and looked great with the wide angle lens against the blue sky. And then into the town centre to snap a church and the town hall whilst the light was so good.



Sadly, it was then to the creche that is Tesco during half-term. Tired mothers with a gaggle of complaining or screaming children filled the aisles; I grabbed the things I needed, found a nearly empty till and got the heck out of Dodge.



Time to visit the in-laws in whitfield; they were all fine and then back home to prepare to make Beef Wellington with the meat left from the Sunday roast. They came out brilliant, along with the roast potatoes and steamed vegetables.

And now it is Thursday, the mist hangs round the house like a shroud; no sniff of a job, and so I am listening to a radio show from last night via the interwebs.