St. Cosmas and St. Damian, Challock

     If the claim of a local nurseryman in 1983 had been upheld, Challock might have been world famous.  He declared that he had developed the blue dahlia which, in horticultural circles, was roughly akin to discovering the lost Ark!  Unfortunately, his claim was dismissed when the flower was judged to be purple.  The old village was hard-hit by the Black Death in the 14th century, so the villagers moved away from the plague-ridden centre and resettled on a new site.  This, plus the enclosure in 1589 of the old road that passed the church within the confines of Eastwell Park, has left this beautiful old building isolated among woods at the bottom of a dead-end road about one mile from the present village.

     The church is one of only two in Kent that is dedicated to the Arabian medics SS. Cosmas and Damian (the other being Blean, near Canterbury).  Of 13th century foundation, it consists of a nave with north and south aisles, chancel and north chapel.  The attractive west tower, added in the 14th century, comes complete with a south-east stair turret, diagonal buttresses that die-in halfway up and a flint cross embedded in the fabric just above the first stage.  The chancel was virtually rebuilt in 1873 and, following extensive bomb damage in 1944, the church was largely rebuilt and rededicated in 1958.  It would seem that the 'fickle finger of fate' was at work here for the church to sustain a direct hit, situated as it is in such an isolated spot.   One finds it hard to believe that even an enemy aircraft would wilfully bomb a church having no strategic value - one would like to think not anyway!

     I first came here on a wet and dreary day in November 1995, when the long roomy churchyard was crawling with pheasant and, immediately falling under its spell, quickly made a firm decision to return under better photographic conditions.  This I did during the church Flower Festival in August 1996, when the inside was beautifully decorated with flower arrangements interpreting The Revelation of St. John the Divine, and a gentleman was playing songs from various Lloyd-Webber musicals on the church organ.  It gave me an opportunity to see first-hand the celebrated wall paintings for which the church is justly acclaimed.  Those in the north chapel show country scenes - with roundels - depicting the adventures of SS. Cosmas and Damian, and were executed in 1953 by two students of the Royal Academy School; the chancel paintings, effected in 1955 by Royal Academician and book illustrator John Ward, are scenes from the life of Christ with figures in modern dress alongside the biblical characters.  The paintings lend a lively feel to the light and airy interior, and although I am not one to find the more formal demeanour of a church discouraging, I have to say that the almost carnival atmosphere revealed a face that the Church in general might do well to show more frequently.  Well-done Challock!

St. Mary, Betteshanger

     When my wife and I set out to photograph St. Mary's, I did so with a large measure of suspicion.  Having read that it was a 19th century attempt to rival peerless Barfrestone, I have to confess to harbouring a preconceived feeling, bordering on contempt, for a building - described by Syms as a "Victorian extravaganza" - with such lofty aspirations.  We found the church at the end of a narrow lane past a large paddock full of grazing livestock, and I have to say that on receiving my first view, I was totally captivated by what stood before me.  This is, without exception, the most attractive Victorian church that I have ever seen.

     It is situated in a delightful spot bordering the easternmost extremity of Betteshanger House - I would have used the term 'idyllic' had it not been for the rather ugly modern buildings that were under construction by the side of the churchyard.  Commissioned by Lord Northbourne, it was built by Anthony Salvin in 1853 on the site of an earlier 12th century church, and consists solely of a chancel and nave with a north tower.  The north entrance is genuinely Norman incorporated from the earlier building (the one feature that qualifies it for club membership in this modest work), and the elaborately carved neo-Norman south doorway is protected by a large Byzantine-like portico.  Inside, a couple of features remain from the earlier church.  A 13th century piscina - the carved receptacle for water where the priest washed his fingers before Mass; and the Royal Arms of William III.  The churchyard boasts three Yew trees of some note.  One, beside the south door, and unfortunately damaged during the Great Storm of October 1987, is three-hundred-and-fifty years old; and two, situated in the north-west corner were planted in 1854.  One, by Viscount Hardinge, Commander of the British Army after Wellington, and the other by William Gladstone - then leader of the Liberal Party and personal friend of Lord Northbourne.

     When in the process of writing this account one describes its various features, it seems an unusual mix yet, to the eye, this singular little building exudes immense charm, and although its pedigree doesn't equal Barfrestone - it never could - it need make no apology for its existence.  Rupert Brooke, the poet-soldier of the First World War, penned what is probably his most enduring poem "The Soldier" while encamped at Betteshanger, before his young life came to an end on the way to the Dardanelles in April 1915.  One cannot escape the sentimental notion that perhaps he had Betteshanger's little church in mind when he wrote the opening lines:

'If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field

That is forever England'

St. Mary and St. Ethelburga, Lyminge

     I had driven through Lyminge on countless occasions during our family perambulations through Kent, but had never stopped here to view what is one of the oldest village churches in the county.  I decided to redress the situation on a bitterly cold March morning, but any preoccupation with the weather was soon forgotten when confronted by this prestigious 'old pile', sitting on its elevated plateau, a short distance from the village.  My initial expectation that this building might prove to be something special was immediately proved well-founded as I made my way beneath a flying buttress which, amusingly, straddled the churchyard path.  It is of medieval origin, and supports the south-east corner of the chancel and is, to date, the only example I have seen of such an arrangement.

     It was here that Ethelburga, daughter of King Ethelbert and wife of Edwin of Northumberland, the founder of York, built her abbey as a mark of her widowhood in 633 AD - just two-hundred-and-fifty-years after the retreat of the Romans.  Part of the original foundations are still visible at ground level beside the south porch as, too, is the tomb of Ethelburga.  Marked by a stone tablet in a shallow recess, the tomb was originally in the north part of the abbey, but today's building stands slightly north of this so, consequently, the present south walls are situated where the north walls once stood.  The present building - with the exception of the north aisle and sturdy west tower added in the 16th century - is Saxon in origin, and was built by Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, in 965 AD.  The nave and square-ended chancel are large by Saxon standards, and contain four windows with Roman tiles for voussoirs (wedge-shaped stone in an arch or arch-shaped window).  Its size is probably explained by the fact that Lyminge was the centre of Limowart lathe - one of seven administrative centres of Saxon rule in Kent - and was no doubt built to reflect its importance.  It is a fine church that carries its age well.

     I wasn't surprised to find the church locked, as one understands the dilemma facing the Church in our increasingly lawless society, but I was disappointed at the lack of information in the porch as to where the key might be obtained.  When one has travelled a considerable distance to pay their respects to such an eminent monument to Christianity, it tends to make one feel that their interest is not welcome.  However, having, as I do, strong feelings for this church and not wishing to appear boorish, I refuse to end this account on a churlish note.

     Apart from being extremely cold, the day was overcast, so I used a strong warm-up filter to boost the colour; and the branches of the tree to help fill a rather large area of blank sky.  Under the circumstances I was satisfied with the result and felt, the key apart, that I had achieved what I went for.

St. Nicholas, Pluckley

     The biggest problem when visiting this charming little hill-top village is finding somewhere to park the car.   Pluckley featured heavily in the hugely successful dramatisation of H.E. Bates' "The Darling Buds of May".  This has inevitably led to a large influx of sightseers and visitors, particularly in the summer months.  Good news no doubt for the village traders, less so I suspect for the residents of this otherwise tranquil little outpost in the beautiful Weald of Kent.  The redbrick cottages are mainly 19th century, with the quaint schoolhouse dating from 1849.  The cottage windows are unusual, having two arched-lights.  They are known as Dering windows after Sir Edward Dering (1807-1896), who had them fitted to his own house, and in the buildings on his estate.  His fancy that they brought him good luck was tenuously based on the legend of a Sir Edward Dering, a Royalist supporter, who supposedly escaped from the Roundheads through one such window during the Civil War.  The only building that seems to have avoided their inclusion is the church itself.

     St. Nicholas, of 13th-14th century date, is a very pretty church which adorns its village like the distinguished elder that it is.  Built of ragstone, it has a 13th century chancel; west tower with a recessed shingled spire; and a nave rebuilt in the 14th century with the addition of a south aisle.  The south chapel, named after the Dering family, was added by Richard Dering in 1475, and is separated from the church by two outstandingly beautiful screens.  One is probably contemporary with the chapel's construction, the other was added in 1635.  There are several brasses to be seen inside, including seven (three in the nave, four in the south chapel) to members of the Dering family said to date between 1425 and 1610.  According to John Newman these are all "ingenious forgeries," installed in the church from 1628-35 by Sir Edward Dering (our Cavalier friend) as testimony to his family origins.  The bounder!  There are two windows worth seeing.  Designed by Francis Stephens and John Hayward in 1954, they have a strong emphasis on local objects such as oast houses, and even the church itself.

     Pluckley's other claim to fame is that it is, reputedly, the most haunted village in Britain.  It is not known how many ghosts walk the village, but they include a schoolmaster who hanged himself; a mysterious Red Lady searching for her child among the gravestones in the churchyard; and an old Gypsy watercress seller who burned to death when she dropped her clay pipe on her straw bedding.  Reflecting on the lovely "chocolate-box" church and, that one only has to walk a few hundred yards to the edge of the village to enjoy beautiful views across the Weald, it seems something of a perversity that it is better known these days as a backdrop to a popular television programme.  Such is the way of the world I suppose.

St. Mary, Eastwell

     Eastwell church, or what is left of it, stands about one mile to the north of the magnificent gates to the once great estate of Eastwell Park.  The large ornamental  reed-covered lake is inhabited with water fowl, and the old deer park now converted to farmland, and here amid this romantic setting - looking rather forlorn and mysterious - sits the ruin of St. Mary's, like a classic illustration from one of M.R James' ghost stories.  All that is left of the original building is the west tower and the shell of a window beside it, but the most significant remnant is found standing pathetically alone, surrounded by rubble, in what would probably have been the north wall of the chancel.  It is a stone tomb with the inscription: 'Reputed to be The Tomb of Richard Plantagenet 22 December 1550.'  He was the illegitimate son of Richard III, and his story came to light in the 18th century when the Earl of Winchelsea was examining the Parish Register.  He found an entry "Richard Plantagenet was buried the 22nd daye of December 1550."


The tomb of Richard Plantagenet

      When Eastwell was being rebuilt in 1540 the owner, Sir Thomas Moyle, observed that during his breaks, one of the bricklayers would often be reading a book which he hid whenever anyone approached.  He came upon him unobserved one day and found that the book was in Latin.  Puzzled by this, he questioned him about it.  The bricklayer told him that he had been brought up by a nurse whom he had taken to be his mother and, when still young, had been sent away to a Latin master and taught to read and write.  His only visitor was a gentleman who came occasionally to pay his board and keep.  When sixteen, the same gentleman took him on a journey.  They rode to Leicester and, on Bosworth Field, he was taken to the tent of King Richard.  The King, embracing him, told him that he was his father, and that the next day he had to fight for his crown.  He told the boy that, if defeated, he would be sure to lose his life and that if this happened, never to reveal his identity, as he would be in danger too.  The King gave him a purse of gold and, the next day, kept his date with destiny.  Following his father's defeat, the boy had himself apprenticed to a bricklayer, and eventually came to Eastwell where he worked and lived until his death at the age of eight-one in a small cottage that he built just east of the church - now long since gone.



     I felt strangely moved, standing here in the  ruins by this lonely tomb picturing the quiet, dignified man (the last of the Plantagenets), living his life in obscurity here as a simple mason.  It also shed fresh light on Richard III, whose actions as a caring father seem completely at odds with the monstrous picture Shakespeare painted of him.  It makes one wonder if he simply suffered a bad press.

St. Mary, Chilham

     The first bombs of World War II are said to have fallen on Chilham though, thankfully, not on the village itself.  Had they have done so, we would not have the delightful village square we see before us today, which is reputed to be the most perfect in Kent.  The village, castle, and church are situated on high ground around the square, with the church and the 15th century White Horse Inn to the north; the castle gates to the south; and the east and west sides taken up with a mixture of brick and timber-framed buildings.  The whole thing is reminiscent of the Middle Ages, and has been used as a film set on several occasions.  It is a real "tourist-trap" and is generally heaving with humanity during the summer weekends.

     St. Mary's is a large church, which plays a major role in the compelling picture here.  Constructed wholly of flint, and dating from the 13th and 14th centuries, it has a clerestoried nave with aisles; north and south transepts; a chancel with aisles; and a two-storeyed porch.  The west tower has an octagonal stair-turret and a clock face that is two-hundred years old.  The church is entered through the foot of the tower and not, as we might suppose, the south porch.  The interior was heavily restored in the 19th century, and is highly regarded for its quality.  We find some medieval stained glass - believed to represent the Popes of the day; many ledger stones paving the floor; and two quite outstanding monuments.  One of polished Bethersden marble is to Sir Dudley Digges, a former owner of Chilham Castle and Master of the Rolls to James I; and another to the Hardy children (d.1858), pictures them reading "The Babes in the Wood" surrounded by their toys.  Originally made for the castle, it was presented to the church in 1919.

     There is a story that St. Augustine's remains were moved here after the dissolution of his abbey, and that his tomb was defiled and his bones scattered by the powers-that-be of Canterbury Cathedral, who were afraid that Chilham might have become a more important place of pilgrimage.  There doesn't appear to be any firm evidence to support this story, although there is an extremely old-looking stone coffin (empty!) to be found in the church which certainly looks old enough to qualify.  If true, he couldn't have had a more idyllic setting in which to rest his bones - even if only for a short time.

     The photograph used here was not taken on my initial visit, as the churchyard was occupied by lager-swilling "yuppies."  It was a living example of Chilham's problem - a peaceful village often spoiled by its own attraction.  No doubt, however, the innkeeper would be inclined to disagree.

St. Mary Magdalene, Denton

     Syms observes that anyone who manages to find this church deserves a prize.  How right he is!  It is reached by entering the private drive of Denton court, and one feels like a trespasser until, halfway up, one spots the small turnstile gate at the edge of a crop field with a sign "to Denton church."  The church is found in the middle of a copse, a short walk across the field, amid gentle rolling downland which must rate as some of the loveliest countryside in East Kent.  Spring was truly in the air this day (glorious sunshine and heavy rain showers), with sheep grazing in the fields with their new-born lambs, and daffodils and primroses in the churchyard.

     The Domesday Book, compiled in 1086, states that there was a Saxon church here then, but nothing remains of that now.  St. Mary's today is mostly of simple early 13th century build, wholly of flint, with nave; lower chancel; and an un-buttressed west tower.  Apparently, two 15th century bells remain of a former peal of three bells, and Denton used to have a unique system of bell-tolling to announce a death in the parish.  The knell was 3x3 for a man; 3x2 for a woman; 2x3 for a male under twenty; and 2x2 for a female under twenty; but the practice died out about two hundred years ago.  On entering the church,, I noticed the pilgrim's crosses on the jambs of the north doorway, and in the chancel a noteworthy memorial to a John Boyes Esq., (d.1543) Attorney-General for the Duchy of Lancaster, and former owner of Denton Court.  In the chancel floor can be seen a well-worn ledger stone to Sir Anthony Percival (d.1646), and Dame Gertrude, his Lady (d.1647).  The verse inscribed thereon begins:  'Behold the ashes of a worthy knight!"  A point of interest to me was the list of recorded rectors on the nave wall.  Sometime between the years 1520 and 1550 - the list didn't specify exactly - a former incumbent was a Peter Dalton.  Although unlikely to be a direct relation, if one takes the broad view, all people sharing the same surname are probably loosely related somewhere down the line - however remotely.



Tappington Hall

      About a mile from the church, set in a picturesque fold in the downs, is Tappington Hall.  This beautiful Jacobean farmhouse is the former family home of Richard Harris Barham, better known as Thomas Ingoldsby the author of the "Ingoldsby Legends."  The most famous of the Legends, "The Spectre of Tappington" clearly refers to the farm here, and tells of a former owner - a Bad Sir Giles - who welcomed a stranger who disputed the ownership of the house.  Following an evening of feasting and drinking, the stranger retired to his bed and was found in the morning "a swollen and blackened corpse."  Considering the nature of many of the Legends, and the church in its lonely copse, it seems somehow appropriate that the two buildings are virtually neighbours.  As Syms succinctly put it, (here is) "a church and setting that cry out for a ghost story."  Absolutely!