I’ve always loved Kent. In the 60s, David used to bring me down for weekends – when he visited his parents in Hearn Bay. We would bunk down in the Whitstable Yacht Club and fight the tides for oysters off the rocks – and be in time for fresh bread – when the bakery opened. I also discovered Kentish Ale. He took this young pilot to Biggin Hill – and ever since then I can picture the Battle of Britain dog-fights four miles above the Kent countryside. It’s quieter now – and on this crisp June morning – jet-lag woke me early and I went for a long leisurely walk…
Past The Duke William – where I was at 2:00pm on that fatefull afternoon on September 11, 2001. 9:00am in New York - the landlady took the phonecall from her son who told her what he was seeing from his office window - 500 metres from the World Trade Centre… I would have gone in for a nostalgic drink – but it was only 5:00am.
On towards Wickhambreaux… passed by the sound of running feet – familiar feet. When I returned - proudly announcing that I had walked to Wickhambreaux - JB had run all the way to Canterbury and back – smart arse! “There’s an interesting big church there” he said, “can we go and see it?” Ah… Canterbury Cathedral perhaps…?
So – we went to Canterbury Cathedral. A first for me too – I’ve been to Canterbury several times – but never the ‘big church.’ A memorable afternoon and a real trip through English history. The sermon from the Archbishop Keith lacked a certain amount of credability…
Back to the Wickhambreaux pub for a late lunch with Patricia - who had spent the entire day preparing a dinner with family and friends – as a farewell for our trip to France.
Departure day. An early start – made even earlier by the amount of food and wine and wine – and wine – consumed the night before. Seemed to have affected Keith’s back too – he’s having a lot of trouble with that little bag… David is supervising. We leave for Dover…
Ickham UK to Le Mans France: More here…
