Water Bored-ing

Saturday saw the first proper outdoor activity in this lockdown and therefore this year. It was a reasonably nice day and without Charlie being around anymore, Helen was determined to take something out for a walk. So, I charged up the camera, dug out the parka (which, according to the train ticket in the pocket had probably last seen use on 25/01/2019!), and we were off.

The intended destination was Ifield Mill Pond, somewhere I still hadn’t visited on any of my previous wanders over nearly fifteen years of living in Crawley. We headed out through Southgate towards Cheal’s roundabout, feeling strange that we were walking through this area without a silly little black and white doggy. The first detour of the day was into Cheal’s (well Squires now), so I could take pictures of the old Grade II listed Little Buckswood Farm that is surrounded by the more modern garden centre buildings, and its blue plaque.

From there we weaved our way up Buckswood Drive, criss crossing the road like drunken sailors as I took pictures of road signs for future use, making out way to Gossops Green parade, itself a locally listed building, passing the Windmill pub and around the back of the shops to the little wooden shack that is the Crawley Spiritualist Church.

The original plan was to go to the Mill Pond through the back of Gossops Green, but instead we ended up heading down to Ifield Station, via another photo opportunity at St. Theodore of Canterbury’s Church. We crossed over the railway and headed around through Ifield to Rusper Road. It was another road we weaved across like the drunken sailor’s day out. The section of Rusper Road we walked along has a number of Statutory and Locally Listed buildings of different ages and sizes.

We soon came to the entrance to Ifield Mill and the mill cottage. The day before the mill wheel had been running as a tribute, as the funeral of one of the main people instrumental in restoring the mill to working order had taken place.

The mill pond itself is cut in two by the railway line, with a thin channel under the tracks connecting the two. We wandered around the Ifield side all the way until we got to the bridge over the railway and through to Bewbush, and down to the larger part of the mill pond. There is a long wooden walkway across the mill pond, that had signs at the entrance saying it was one way. Fortunately, we were going the right way after our unintended detour around the side. (Of course, there were two idiots with a dog going the wrong way round.)

There were all kinds of birds on and around the pond. None of which could I tell you what they were with any degree of certainty. There were definitely ducks and seagulls, after that I’m struggling. With the low sun at this time of year, and with it approaching late afternoon, there were some good reflections off the surface of the pond, and in some places, there was still a thin layer of ice on the surface that the low sun hadn’t melted away during the day.

Once across the pond we exited back into Gossops Green, at the point where we had originally intended to come in, but it would appear we had accidentally found the better route seeing as there is a one-way system around the pond now.

We walked back up to the parade (with me getting more photos of road signs as we did), and past St Alban’s Church, with its fire station-esque brick campanile, another locally listed building, turning at the corner it’s on and headed down the hill until we got to the country path through Woldhurstlea park, the site of a former manor house, until we popped out of the other end back to being near Cheal’s again.

Avoiding retracing any of our steps we picked a different route back through Southgate. As we were passing the Half Moon pub, I saw a Tudor style looking building behind the pub. It isn’t actually Tudor, though some parts of the building are obviously older than the more modern mock Tudor frontage, and the surrounding buildings. Barrington Lodge is its name, and it is now a bed and breakfast. Despite having walked within fifty yards of it countless times, this was the first time I had noticed it.

Lockdowns seemed to have focused my mind to be on the lookout for buildings of interest in Crawley a lot more than I had before. On what turned out to be an eight mile wander I had seen a lot of interesting buildings that hadn’t really been noticed before. We had been out for three hours, perhaps slightly more than the recommended limit, but it was good to get out, even if my legs feel as if they are made out of stone now. I’m out of practise.

The icing on the cake though, was walking back into the house to the slow cooker emanating the mouth-watering smell of curry.

Homeward Bound

It is amazing how much more stuff there is to fit into the car for the journey home. It took two trips to the car from the hotel room this morning. It was drizzling when we made the first one, but after breakfast in a bag it had stopped, and the ground was dry. Before heading back to Crawley there were a couple of stops to wander around left to fit in.

The first was Castle Donington. We drove in past Donington Park and around, through the village and down towards the entrance to the Hall, only to find it closed. We continued past and to the end of the road at King’s Mills, turning around in the car park of the Priest House Hotel next to the banks of the River Trent. It is a lovely spot for a hotel, with no danger of passing traffic (apart from boats). We headed back into the centre of Castle Donington and parked at the bottom of Market Street.

We wandered up past the Methodist church (larger and grander than some village churches we have seen on our travels) and around to the medieval church of St Edward, King and Martyr, another great example of an English Parish Church. The gravestones were all laid flat here, and the grass is gradually reclaiming them.

When the OS map says remains of a castle, you do expect a bit more than a wall with a sign on it saying ‘behind this wall was the outer moat’ and a field. Yet this is all that remains of the castle that the village takes its name from. The village centre is very quaint, clean and tidy, with a mix of old buildings (with the occasional unsympathetic new build crammed in the middle). Once again three stories is very much the lay of the land around here, as it has been throughout much of the county we have visited over the last few days. Three story Georgian grand double, triple and quadruple fronted manor houses all over the place.

It was now trying to rain again as we came back towards where we had parked, and so we got back into the car and headed to Hemington. Mainly to see if the ruins of the church marked on the map there were more than a single wall with a plaque on it.

There was, but not by much. The ruins of the church are even more of a shell than ruins of St Mary of Arden we had seen on Monday. The church has been abandoned for so long that there are no records of who the church was dedicated to. Plus the ruins sit in someone’s back garden on a bank behind a high wall. The zoom on the camera comes in handy, though it’s not possible to get a 360 degree vista of it.

The village itself has some lovely old thatched cottages, but impatient drivers who were also heading to our next destination of Lockington were behind us and we drove through more quickly than we would have liked. Once in Lockington they turned the opposite way to us, and so it was a more sedate passage to the church of St. Nicholas’.

I had included this church in the latest edition of Flanagan’s Running Club just a few days previous. The church was extended in the sixteenth century to the east end of the church, and it can be seen where the building has shifted since. I don’t think photos show just how twisted the last set on windows on the south side are, or how the east end of the building is at several angles at once.

The church end of the village is all old buildings, and the roads to the south and east either just stop or change to paths; the one to the south winds round and heads west coming out to the side of the ruined church in Hemington (although Google maps will tell you that it is a drivable road – ignore the devils spawn that is Google though). The road in from Hemington marks where the buildings change from old to new and the road to the north has various business properties and parks.

The road north is strange as it goes up and under the newer A50, only for it to immediately turn back on itself, and head south stuck between the A50 and the M1 all the way to the Junction 24 roundabout. Lockington isn’t a village you are going to pass through by accident.

Across the junction we arrived in Kegworth, and began a wander around. It is another well laid out substantial village. It has lots of three story buildings again, non-conformist churches, a museum (sadly closed) and a couple of pubs, but a number less than when I used to work at the data centre here. We stopped at the Red Lion hoping to get food, but had to settle for just a drink. It was nice and relaxed with a couple of old guys having their daily constitutional in there.

We carried on around the village, walking down Packington Hill and back up Derby Road and then stopping for food at Oakwoods, which had used to be another pub back in the day (as had the curry house we’d got a take away from on Monday). After lunch there was a quick walk around St Andrews, the third great example of the English Parish Church we’d looked around today. As the weather began to turn we walked down and back up Loughborough Road to the south of the village centre making it out to where the old houses stopped.

As fuel would be needed to make it home we headed through Hathern and into Loughborough to get cheap fuel. It was now persistently raining and so any wander around Loughborough was put on hold until such time as we could spend a bit more time doing it.

There was still time to drive through some more settlements on the way home; we were aiming for the M42 to do that and the M40 to the M25 instead of taking the M1. It meant we passed through Shepshed, Thringstone, Peggs Green, Coleorton, Church Town, Ashby de la Zouch and Measham before finally leaving the county, making it ninety Leicestershire locations we had visited or passed through in our time there.

It was another relatively easy drive home with only the sport of watching random acts of terrible driving on the motorways – a rant for another time probably.

For this blog with pictures, click on the link below

https://medium.com/@onetruekev/homeward-bound-f1c615a9aa7c

A Beautiful View

After breakfast in a bag it’s time to head out into the glorious sunshine of this Sunday. We have afternoon tickets to Belvoir Castle, so take a meandering route across Leicestershire to get there, stopping at other places of interest on the way. The geography of the county makes it look like someone has taken a massive bite out of the north of it and so heading east we quickly find ourselves crossing the River Soar and venturing into the twilight zone of bordering Nottinghamshire for a few miles along the A6006 before it comes back into Leicestershire just before we head through Wymeswold.

We follow the road to Asfordby where we turn off to head south, making for Kirby Bellars. Once there it is down Main Street until it stops at the end outside the church of St Peter’s and the field that is all that is left from the former priory. The church is very striking with its distinctive ironstone coloured walls and tower, and the limestone tower. Again it is fascinating to see the lines of family headstones in the graveyard, the use of slate for headstones in Leicestershire making them a lot less weather beaten than those we have seen elsewhere in the country. The church is sadly in need of restoration work and is on the Heritage at risk list. Having not been around the county churches for a long time, the ironstone colour seems really unusual to us, but as we find out over the next couple of days, it is the predominant choice for churches in the east of the county.

The next destination is Burrough Hill Iron Age Hill Fort. After parking in the car park and starting the walk up the footpath to the fort we are surprised to be passed by three trial bikes off to rampage through the countryside. The views from the top across the countryside are impressive, and the first of many hills we will stand atop over the next few days. The size of the fort is impressive as well and the building up of the bulwarks must have been a big task at the time. We walk the circle around the fort and get out just before the hollow is filled with migrating cows. One side of the bulwarks was being slowly eroded by children digging our rocks and throwing them down the side of the hill. On the way out someone’s poorly controlled dog managed to jump up on me and get its muddy footprints on my nice clean jeans. I resisted the temptation to throw the owner off the top of the hill.

We stopped for lunch at the Royal Oak in Great Dalby, forgetting it was Sunday and that roasts would be available. After a lovely dinner it was time to head to the castle. We headed through Melton Mowbray, not having time to stop to get a decent pork pie, and took an unintended road out the other end, but one that wasn’t too much of a detour.

The car park was rammed, but once through the estate gates it was quiet. The track up to the castle through the woods was steeper than I remember as a child, but atop another hill, the views are worth it, and the castle is impressive. What looked to be the queue for the entrance to the castle was actually the tea room queue and it was straight in for us. Although the self-guided tour doesn’t cover the whole castle, there is still plenty to see and explore. It is quickly apparent that the family is well aware of image. Paintings line ever available space of all the previous Earls and Dukes of Rutland and their wives and children, and framed photos are congregated on every table.

The grounds are set out very well, and it is only when you are trying to get around to see everything that you realise how big they are. There were some parts we didn’t get to, including the mausoleum before it was time to vacant to prevent getting locked in the car park. We crossed over to the Engine Yard, a good new addition to the area, and got a soft drink before carrying on.

One place I really wanted to see was St Mary the Virgin Church at Bottesford. I had got excited when they put on Facebook they were opening. However it was only 10-12 Monday to Saturday, so I was going to miss it on all counts, and so having missed the mausoleum at the castle I wasn’t going to see any of the impressive tombs of the Dukes and Earls. The church is an impressive beast, probably one of the finest parish churches in the country, with the second highest spire in the county, only behind Leicester Cathedral.

The village is lovely as well, with a road through the ford in the River Devon from which it took part of its name. It does say the road is not suitable for motor vehicles, but after seeing others drive through easily we had to have a go as well after we had walked a loop around the village.

We briefly drove north out of the village under the railway and into the most northerly village in the county in Normanton (not more than a mile away from the county border to the north, east and west) before turning around and heading back.

We drove skirting the border with Nottinghamshire, through Redmile where we stopped to take pictures of another ironstone church and spire; and on through Barkestone le Vale, Plungar, Harby, Hose, Long Clawson, Nether Broughton, Queensway Old Dalby, and Old Dalby to Six Hills.

I wanted to stop and get a picture of the Durham Ox at Six Hills, as there are many memories of nights out here in the late eighties and early nineties, especially on Sunday nights when it was the only place around open after 10:30. A stop at the Little Chef on the Fosse Way back into Leicester was compulsory as well. The building is now a Christian rehabilitation centre, somewhat ironically considering the lack of Christian behaviour when it was the Durham Ox.

Then it was onwards again through the Leicestershire Wolds, into and through Loughborough, up through Hathern and then a stop for dinner at The Otter. It had used to be The Navigation and sits on the bank of the River Soar looking across into Nottinghamshire. We had a nice second dinner of the day here, and at the end of the meal the manager gave us a business card offering 20% off next time if you download their app. That’s fair enough, apart from the fact that nowhere on the card did it tell you the name of the app or the company the pub belonged to (Vintage Inns we found out). Even the manager had to laugh at the incompetence.

From there it was straight back to the hotel to chill and sort out some details for tomorrow’s wanderings.

For the blog with pictures click on this link

https://medium.com/@onetruekev/a-beautiful-view-b9c8ea676d99

Who Are You Calling An Antique?

Whereas Helen and I had done haircuts on Monday, Wednesday morning was my mum’s turn. I dropped her off and had a little wander around Poulton, the old Morecambe before it was even Morecambe.

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The old Holy Trinity church is in the middle, with its old graveyard and neighbouring cemetery. Less than a hundred yards behind Holy Trinity is the Roman Catholic Church of St. Mary’s, which dated from the nineteenth century is an old church building for a Roman Catholic Church in this country. From there I could see another old brick tower and so went to investigate. Only to find it was just a brick tower in the middle of a municipal car park. Supposedly it was used by firemen to practise in. I’m not sure how much time they would have had to practise though, as this is Morecambe, fire central UK.

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I walked back towards the sea front and past Morecambe Town Hall, with its well laid out sunken gardens and grand looking frontage. As I walked past it on the way up to an old stone archway back into the cemetery, I could see the side and back of the Town Hall. They must have spent all the money on the frontage, as the rest of the building is very functional.

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The cemetery isn’t large but does have various interesting elements. There are two wooden carvings at the far end, very much in an oriental style. There is a variety of grand headstones and monuments throughout. Though it does look as if they had a job lot of tall columns with a half covered urn on top. A style I hadn’t really seen anywhere else before, but there were half a dozen of them in this small cemetery.

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After the haircut was done we picked Helen up and headed into Lancaster. M&S and Primark for pick-ups and exchanges, before heading up to Williamson Park and the Ashton Memorial. The memorial itself wasn’t open, but the café was, and we had lunch with a great view of Morecambe bay in the distance.

When you get told that there is an antiques centre that is huge, you assume it’s mainly hyperbole. But the GB Antiques centre isn’t exaggerating about being the largest one in the country. There is no such thing as a quick look around there. Over two hours flew by and the staff were shepherding us to the doors at closing time, without us having managed to walk around the whole thing before they started to turn lights off. We did manage to pick up a few nice items, and it is worth bearing in mind about bringing a picnic if we visit again.

With it being tea time it was time to find somewhere to have food. As has happened on a few visits to my mum’s, we ended up in The Royal in Heysham village. The last time we had been here there had been a somewhat brusque Italian guy serving. He was still there. He was still brusque, not even letting us sit down before demanding our drinks order, and saying there was no drinks menu, as it wasn’t allowed. Only for him to bring a food menu later. It’s difficult not to laugh, especially as he seemed to be wearing trousers cast off by Rupert the Bear.

Food was good, but the rain had descended by the time we were heading out to go home; thankfully after we’d done the day’s activities. All that was left to do was to plan where to go tomorrow.

What? Crawley Has History?

Saturday was showing as being another warm one, but it didn’t prevent me from going for a wander. I was after more pictures of street signs, some to add to collections already started, and others to start new collections or have new complete collections. Yes, it sounds a weird thing to do, but it keeps me out of mischief (allegedly). I hadn’t really planned where I was going to go; I was just going to keep walking until my legs gave up.

I headed towards town, there were some more drinking establishments and churches that I would pass that could be photographed as well. The Railway was first, and the level crossing was just closing as I got to it, which made my mind up as to where I would go first. I took a couple of pictures of the signal box and other interesting buildings as I walked along Springfield Road to Horsham Road, where the level crossing there was just opening as I got there.

The Swan was pub number two (unfortunately only from a photo perspective), and the old St Peter’s church sat in the middle of its own large traffic island in the old part of West Green. I pass the Hallan cash and carry sits in the building that used to be The Crown, as I head along Ifield Road back towards town. I walk down Pegler Way to the High Street and across into Northgate Road and up to the old Dyers Alms-houses, hidden away from casual passers-by only a couple of hundred yards away from the main shopping area of the town centre.

I went back to the High Street and walked along its length taking pictures of the numerous historic buildings, current and former drinking establishments and anything else that caught my eye.

I then doubled back into the entrance of St John’s, the medieval church of the old village of Crawley (before new town status). I was wandering around the outside of the church when a voice called out from under a tree, “don’t take photos in the graveyard, it will remove the spirits”. But enough about his drinking habits.

Coming out of the other end of St John’s grounds and crossed over to the Friary church of St Francis and St Anthony. A more modern church, built in a Mediterranean style to look older, built on the site of a much older church, as the graveyard would attest to. It’s a fascinating graveyard as well, with its own crypt, mausoleums and grand statues. None of which I’d ever seen before. I have walked past the surrounding walls countless times, never really thinking what lay behind them.

I headed east after leaving the friary, past the library and college and onto Three Bridges Road, taking a few street sign photos, before heading over to Gales Drive. Almost hidden away behind trees and bushes on its corner with Crossways is the church of St. Richard’s. A much more modern church than the other three seen so far. Inside the gate are two covered wooden benches at an angle to the path. On one side sat the vicar, and on the other side sat one of her parishioners. After taking photos of the church I had a brief conversation with the pair of them before carrying on, covering just how many places of worship Crawley has, and how the vicar is glad she has chairs not pews inside the church, as it will make reopening with social distancing so much easier.

After the row of shops there was a quick picture of LB1 before making my way back to Three Bridges Road. Three drinking establishments and three places of worship following in very short succession, the last of which now appears to be closed, the white barn looking building on New Street that was a Spiritualist Church now shows no signs of being used for anything.

During this section of the walk my fat-bit had a celebration of me reaching ten thousand steps again, and my legs still felt fine so I carried on. I walked past the Montefiore Institute and around past Three Bridges station, the Snooty Fox and under the railway bridge into Pound Hill.

First up there was the United Reform Church, then it was back across the road to head up Worth Road to St Barnabas’, a stop to get a drink at the parade of shops, past the Knight and then across the open land to Crawley Lane to walk up the hill in the shade until I got to the catholic church of St Edward the Confessor.

I came back down Worth Road to Spring Plat and worked my way around the winding streets there as I was taking pictures of the street names there as they are all names of Sussex castles. Having got them all I went down The Bower and under the Worth Way and into Maidenbower.

On previous photographic adventures during lockdown I have found a lot of street sounds partially hidden by long grass / weeds. This is to be expected, as there aren’t the same amounts of environmental workers out there in these strange times. However in Maidenbower, the residents don’t like outsiders as they think they are special (yes, I know I normally follow that word with needs, but I thought it was obvious in this case). They appear to deliberately grow their trees and bushes so they hide the road signs. This must be a ploy to prevent people from finding out where they are. I did manage to find readable signs for all the collection of building styles, and a couple of others for other collections.

I walked back down the hill of Maidenbower past the Frogshole and past the community centre and shops before my legs started screaming at me, saying enough was enough, and so I got the bus back into town, using my new snood as a face covering. With dark glasses I don’t look like I’m about to rob a bank at all. I had gone through twenty thousand steps at some point in Maidenbower, but the fat-bit hadn’t got excited this time. I later found out that this was because, being cheap, it only holds one level of celebration, not increasing ones as on better known brands.

Once back in town I walked home, back up past the signal box and The Railway where I’d started taking photos on Brighton Road some four hours earlier. I could hear the shower and sofa calling.

Isfield

Saturday was hot, as it turned out, too hot to really go out anywhere during the day, so it wasn’t until after dinner that we left the house for a random trip. I was scrolling through random maps, and was following the dismantled railway line coming out of Uckfield to the south west, only to find a restored line ending at Isfield. Having a look around the village on the map suggested it would be worth a visit for a wander and so off we went.

Following the OS map we got to Isfield station. We briefly considered parking in the car park of The Laughing Fish, which looks a good pub to go back and visit when places are open, but parked outside the gates of the train station. Isfield station stands on one of the lines closed post the Beeching report. The section of the line that ran from Uckfield into Lewes was closed along with the two stations (Barcombe Mills being the other) on the 4th May 1969.

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The station has been wonderfully recreated with lots of period touches, and serves as the southern terminus to the Lavender Line, which runs just under a mile north east to the Dingley Dell terminus. I thought that it had picked up the name with one eye on the larger Bluebell Railway which terminates about five miles to the north west at Sheffield Park, but it is fact named after the company Lavender & Sons who were coal merchants originally based at the station.

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When the station was originally built it would have been away to the south of the village, but houses line the street from the wonderful old village sign to the station now. There is a mixture of housing as we walked through the village. The old post office has gone and is now a private house, but it is marked by the penny black plaque next to the front door.

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The map indicated there should be a footpath across the fields to the old church of St Margaret of Antioch. The start of the footpath was well hidden between two sweeping drives of more modern properties. The path led through some trees, across fields and over both flows of the River Uck, which flows into the River Ouse a couple of hundred yards to the west. There used to be a ford over the River Ouse at this point, as it was where the Roman London to Lewes road crossed it. The ford was the reason for the village coming about. Although there are plenty of fields around the village, the village itself shouldn’t be Isfield, but Wasfield.

Beyond the church lies land that was a motte to a Norman Castle, built on the site to protect the ford over the River Ouse. The (old) map suggests there should be a footpath into the area where the earthworks of the Motte remain, but new fencing has been put up all around the area preventing access.

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The church itself is quite squat, but it has a tower with a short spire atop of it. From the outside it is clear that there are some really good stained-glass windows. The graveyard shows signs of still being in use, with modern headstones and mounds that haven’t quite flattened out yet amongst the older faded and almost unreadable headstones.

We headed back out to the main road to head to what was marked on the map as Isfield Lodge, only for a car to stop next to us on the other side of the road, and some mentally deficient imbecile to lean out of the window and ask us if we could give directions. It may have been possible, but we said we weren’t from around there, so it might be difficult. Helen asked, ‘where are you going’, only for the halfwit to shout ‘mind your business’ as he grinned like a loon and sped off. Well, as fast as his broken-down looking estate would go.

A quick search before leaving the house had shown Isfield Lodge to be a grand old collection of buildings dating back to the seventeenth century. However, all entrances were closed, and besides the gatehouse none of the other buildings could be seen, but there were signs up to say building work was taking place on the site. Just what a village that size needs, executive flats.

We crossed the road and disappeared down another pretty much hidden footpath. As we did the village idiot pulled up in his car, probably to deliver another killer witticism, but he was left disappointed as we weren’t on the road anymore. The footpath took us through more trees, and then across numerous fields, over styles, through gates (one of which Helen couldn’t resist swinging on), past cows and later horses, and then back over the River Uck again before coming to a halt at a locked gate.  Which was about as much use as a chocolate fireguard as it was easy to swing round the outside of the gate.

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The route had taken us past two second world war pill boxes, and there was another one in the Isfield lodge grounds. One was being used as a garage, but the second one didn’t appear the house anything.

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The path popped back out into the middle of the village and we headed back to our car, passing the clapped-out pile of rust the village idiot had been driving earlier. Fortunately for him, I didn’t have any need to go to the toilet.

It was just after nine and as darkness descended below the sky’s horizon, it lit the sky up in a wonderful array of colours. We stopped at Nutley to get fuel as we’d seen the garage on our way down and it was three pence a litre cheaper than any other we’d seen in a while.

As Helen filled up, I took a quick set of photos of the village church – St James the Less. Another squat church with a small thin bell tower. Again, there were signs of some nice stained-glass windows. A modern extension has been added to the back of the church, and falls between replicating the style of the old church and a modern church hall type of building.

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As with other churches we have seen in the last couple of weeks the graveyard is awash with wild flowers, mainly daisies. Apart from one section with four newly filled in graves, still showing the dark brown earth, and awaiting their headstones.

On the way back we came through the town centre of a deserted East Grinstead, which was a reminder to what a nice old town it is. Something to be revisited at a later date (along with Forest Row, which was gorgeous, I’d never been through it before).

It is virtually dark when we get home, the sky is a wonderful indigo colour, and clear as a bell. The neighbours have had a barbeque and are sat in their garden trying to spot the International Space Station as it comes around with the SpaceX Dragon chasing it. Meanwhile Charlie is immensely mental to see us, with lockdown he isn’t used to there being no one in the house, and he acts as if he is as high as the ISS acting like a complete woofy lunatic. We might need to find somewhere to take him with us next time.

Back Streets

There is always a lot to see on any visit to London. Though it’s amazing how much time is spent sharing the same spaces as countless hordes of tourists all sharing the same major attractions. Saturday was going to be spent, as far as possible between those crowded spaces. Quite often not very far away from them, but just one street back and the crowds become but a trickle, and there are still so many amazing buildings to be seen.

We took a route that started at the hotel over near Mount Pleasant, that headed past Russell Square and into Bloomsbury, across Tottenham Court Road into Fitzrovia (where we’d been out eating and drinking the night before), along to the outskirts of Marylebone village, and then across Oxford Street and into Mayfair.

Along the way we encountered lovely Georgian terraces, an occasional Tudor beamed building, humongous Portland stone edifices, giant red brick Victorian masterpieces, huge pink sandstone blocks, glorious Art Deco constructions, and a fair share of sixties and seventies concrete. A wonderful mix of styles and sizes, and a wonderful testament to just what a great city London is, especially when such things can be viewed at leisure without being trampled by throngs of tourists.

We started our walk along Calthorpe Street, crossing over Grays Inn Road again, onto Guilford Street and past the Goodenough college and great hall, and then Coram Fields. A space where adults are only allowed when accompanied by children, appropriate seeing as it is only a few yards away from Great Ormond Street hospital. We turned to head up to Coram Street, passing the massive Brunswick Centre, a space that could be considered brutalist concrete, but the way the flats seem to cascade down, with the boulevard through the middle reduces the harshness it may have had.

It is here that you step into an area where Art Deco is around almost every corner. There are some simple buildings on Coram Street itself, but one of the finest Art Deco buildings in London is just around the corner in Herbrand Street.

Now the offices of McCann Erikson, an advertising agency, this superb building was originally the home to Daimler hire group. The windows give a great effect of there being a slope up through the circular part of the building as if it was an early multi story car park.

We carried on around the huge Royal International hotel, up Woburn Place, past Tavistock Square, and back down Bedford Way into Russell Square, passing blue plaques for JM Barrie, Virginia Woolf, and a brown plaque for TS Eliot on the side of the Faber building. A cluster of Art Deco buildings sit behind Russell Square and to the north side of the neo-classical stylings of the British Museum.

They form part of UCL, and at the centre is Senate House, a 1930’s Art Deco behemoth, that lays claim to be London’s first skyscraper. It isn’t tall by modern standards, but it looks as if it could have easily been transported from New York.

It inspired works by George Orwell, and it was here that the Ministry of Information was based during the second world war which became the Ministry of Truth in his book 1984.

We headed past Bedford Square and across Tottenham Court Road into the warren of streets in Fitzrovia, passing close to where we had eaten and drank the night before; passing through little alleyways and past the ends of mews until we got to Eastcastle Street and headed west. Progress was slow as we ambled back and forth across the road to get better views of all the interesting buildings on either side.

We turned and headed up Great Tichfield Street to Margaret Street with the intention of turning to carry on heading west. Only to catch a church spire out of the corner of our eyes in the other direction. So we wandered along to have a look at that. Hemmed in between other four and five story buildings was All Saints church.

I won’t go into detail here as it deserves it own piece. But suffice to say it is probably one of the most spectacular churches I have ever seen in this country. We were definitely happy we have corners in our eyes.

We came back out and made it to Regent Street. This upper part is so much quieter than the run down from Oxford Circus to Piccadilly. As you turn the corner from Margaret Street and look north you get the view of John Nash’s All Souls church and the wonderful Art Deco BBC building, and the Langham to the left.

We were drawn down Mortimer Street and Little Tichfield Street before we headed back along Riding House Street to come out at the church. It was in use for a day of lectures, and so had lots of people inside and no opportunity to have a look around.

The Langham loomed large as we headed along Portland Place and in to Chandos Street, passing the very shiny Georgian Medical Society of London building, before making our way around Cavendish Square and along Wigmore Street.

The impressive buildings were still coming thick and fast, but it was getting to be time for refreshments. We veered off up Duke Street, passing the former residence of Simon Bolivar into Manchester Square, the other side of which sits the Wallace Collection. Definitely a place for a future visit. We walked down Fitzhardinge Street into Portman Square and around the outside to Portman Street.

We were now looking for food and carrying on walking past as we saw the prices on display, including a ridiculous sixty two quid for a two course vegan meal. Moving swiftly on, we crossed over Oxford Street and saw Ask, a much more reasonably priced establishment for us.

Fed and watered we carried on into Mayfair. Along Green Street where we could see another church building at the end. This one has however been converted and is now open as the Mayfair Chippy. We turned to go down North Audley Street and into Grosvenor Square. One of the two former US Embassies is now a building site covering the west side of the square. The other is now a restaurant next to the Italian Embassy.

Once through the square we headed down Carlos Place to Mount Street Gardens. Down in this part of Mayfair, gone are the Art Deco and Portland Stone buildings, replaced with finely detailed sandstone and Victorian red brick as far as the eye can see. Stuck in the middle is a Victorian Gothic church – The Church of the Immaculate Conception, or as it is more commonly known the Farm Street Church.

The outside gives no clue as to just what a staggering church this is. Again, I’m not going to go into great detail as I’ll be doing a separate piece on this church as well. It is an early Catholic church after the lifting of the ban on building them in 1812, and it is a Jesuit church, and it is as grand inside as ones seen in Vienna.

After being gobsmacked by a second church on the day we came out of the west side of Mount Street gardens and were met with a large Victorian red brick library one side of the road (still in use as a library) and a more modest church on the other. One that wasn’t in as good repair as others we had seen that day, and it wasn’t open.

Carrying on we meandered through streets and alleyways and market places in Mayfair, seeing some very nice items on sale in the shops, only to be scared away by 1.) the prices, and 2.) the excessive number of bouncers on the door of every shop, cafe, pub and even church. Though the last one was offset by the number or Mormon’s who were trying to sell their literature outside their church. Another spectacular looking building, but not one I was willing to run the gauntlet to have a look around inside.

And then we squirted out of the bottom of Mayfair and found ourselves on Piccadilly, opposite Green Park and close to the Ritz. Ending up near there was no accident. There was a direct bus from there back to Mount Pleasant, and we sat at the front as it crawled through Piccadilly Circus, and up Shaftesbury Avenue before it managed to build up some speed as it left New Oxford Street.

i didn’t make the mistake of the night before and we got off a stop later and headed back to the hotel to pick up the bag. Another bus down to Farringdon, only to find a twenty five minute wait for the next Three Bridges service. It hadn’t rained on us at all whilst in London, and half heartedly tried once we got back to Crawley.

It had been a great day out, but it was sofa time to rest up before the actual birthday arrived.

Kentish Towns

For once it wasn’t raining. There was a strange looking yellow object up in the sky. A sky that was an unnatural blue colour. So it looked like a day to try and brave the outdoors without twenty seven layers of waterproof clothing, and an emergency canoe.

After spending an inordinate amount of time on just where we would be best off going to see this strange phenomenon in the sky, we eventually left the house and headed east. On previous travels we have driven through some nice looking towns and villages, and we thought we would go and have a wander around at least one of them.

We were going out across country, knowing full well that the M23 northbound was closed all weekend. We got caught up in a bit of traffic as we crossed over the A22 heading to Lingfield, and then got caught out by roads being closed due to flooding. So it was a roundabout route we took to get to Edenbridge. If we thought the state of Sussex roads were bad, they are freshly laid tarmac compared to the ones on roads in Kent. It was a surprise to make it there in one piece.

Edenbridge is deceptive, it stretches on for quite a distance and for a small town it has two railway stations, but we were only really interested in the old part of the centre. The main street through is lined with a wonderful mixture of old buildings stretching back to Tudor times. It has also unfortunately been infected by a number of seventies monstrosities that sit like plaque between wonderfully white teeth.

The Grade II* listed church of St Peter and St Paul is unusual and definitely worth a look around. There are some interesting graves and monuments in the church yard, and inside it is most unusual. Most churches have a central nave and then aisles, normally north and south, but at least one. However this church looks as if it has two naves, and no aisles. Looking up either side of central pillars you see pews up to an altar.

Inside there are some wonderful stained glass windows in unusual shades of greens and blues. The monuments inside the church show the antiquity within, and the strong family lines that worshipped there.

To walk up and back down this central part of Edenbridge didn’t take very long, and it was a bit early for lunch, so we went back to the car and headed north to Westerham.

We had taken a bit of a detour around Westerham when on our way to Charles Darwin’s House a few weeks ago, the last time it wasn’t raining. We had both said it would be interesting to come and have a look around on foot.

We parked on the edge of the town and followed the signs to Westerham Hall. With a name like that we were expecting a grand old Georgian or possibly older mansion. What there was was an eighties build community hall. What it did mean is that we had to pass through the grounds of St Mary’s church to get to the town centre.

This church was bigger than the one in Edenbridge, but in a very similar style and from the same time period. Again the churchyard was full of interesting and grand monuments. And the building is also Grade II* listed.

Inside there was a more traditional nave with north and south aisles with chapels at the end of them. The original west door under the tower had all the ropes hanging just out of reach to ring the bells in the tower. In the corner is a wooden spiral staircase.

It is said to be one of only two wooden spiral staircases from the medieval period in the country that turn to the left. I’ve spent too much time trying to find out what the other one is, but I have learnt that there are lots of castles (a fair few I’ve been to) that have stone spiral staircases that turn to the left.

The monuments in the church are very impressive, and one in each of the corner chapels have the image of a pirates scull carved into them. Again there were some great stained glass windows, such as the one below.

A walk around the town took a bit longer than the one around Edenbridge. The green has two big bronze statues. The first is of Winston Churchill, whose Chartwell home is less than a mile away. The other is of General Wolfe.

Victor of the Battle of Quebec, but he lost his life in doing so. His former home is now renamed Quebec House and sits on the edge of the town near to where we parked. We did wander around the outside of the house, but as it is still a complete structure English Heritage don’t run it, National Trust do, and we didn’t pay to go inside.

There were plenty of other interesting buildings along the main A25 that runs through the town, and towards the western edge there is a blue plaque commemorating William Pitt (the younger) living there.

It was time for lunch and we had some very nice snacks in the King’s Arms before heading back to the car. We came the more direct route home, as there is a limit to how much the suspension will take from Kent roads, and the M23 southbound was open.

We got in just in time as the rains came again.