Slept well to the constant stream of rain outside our window. Woke at 6.30, crazy fool that I am, and crept downstairs to make myself a life reaffirming cup of coffee. (This must be the only UK B&B without tea and coffee facilities in the room – for an enticing moment I thought we were back in Verona…but no…hello reality.) I managed to successfully avoid Nigel and crept back to our room.

By 7:15 the heady aroma of full English cholesterol started wafting up from the kitchen getting my tummy rumbling for some. At 7:45 the bells started at the cathedral, not stopping till 8! Poor campanologists (look it up). They were not as loud as some I have known, Claire. We finally went down to breaky at 8:30.

This place is full of Aussies, Kiwis and South Africans, it seems. perhaps they are drawn by the insatiable charm of Nigel. A couple from NZ beside us were chatting to a couple of Adelaide girls. One of the girls is a lawyer and Mirinda wanted desperately to join in the conversation and straighten her out on a few points. The Kiwi husband (who had a brilliant radio voice) said something disparaging about how Sydney Uni thinks it’s a cut above the rest of the Australian unis to which we both said “Derr! Because it is!” I should add that we said this quietly to ourselves and not to him.

Back in our room , and the bells have started again with the syncopated accompaniment of the occasional police siren – sweeeet! It’s raining on and off but we’ll brave it and explore more of this city, but first I have to brave Nigel.

Ha! I managed to pay the bill without being subjected to a three hour lecture on the merits of eating where HE suggested rather than at one he had, in fact, criticised, by paying his wife instead. On gaining the freedom of the carpark I gave the secret sign beneath the window for Mirinda to join me (‘cantaloupe’ or three coughs for the all clear or hoot like an owl for danger Will Robinson). We then walked the short distance to Canterbury Castle.

This is a Norman pile which has limited clambering inside and a massive tree outside for the homeless to live under. At one stage (1800′s) the castle keep was used as a prison and during the day prisoners would be shackled to the walls where they were allowed to beg passers-by for food. Now I MAY be in the minority here, but I don’t often just ‘pass by’ prisons, rather I give them more of a wide berth. Maybe it was the fashion to laugh at them in the absence of a zoo. But then you have to wonder why the prisoners actually bothered begging.

Inside Canterbury Castle

We then followed the city wall around to John Dane Mound. I figured that this was the burial mound of some Danish guy called John but was quickly correctly by the plaque. The mound is part of an original castle and Dane John is derived from an old French word ‘donjon’ which Mirinda thinks means ‘mound’. Of course, this would mean that it is actually called ‘Mound Mound’. Silly, perhaps, but I like it.

Anyway, it’s quite high and the views towards the busy ringroad are very clear. On the opposite side, the view into Canterbury is obscured by trees. Fortunately they are very nice trees. Around the Mound Mound is the bailey (the moat) of the old castle (the motte). This is now all gardens and an excellent kids maze that resembles a castle and has animals all around and over it.

A-mazing we will go

It was getting to be that time of the day so we retired to Starbucks for a hazelnut cappuccino for elevenses. We wanted to buy some tiles from Canterbury Pottery which had black and white sketches of the Canterbury Tales on them…but it’s closed today. Just proves that old adage ‘get it when you see it, dude’ which I just made up.

In my haste to write all the above pathetic jokes I forgot we also visited the grounds of a cute little church down from the castle called St Mildred’s. There is a rose planted outside with a plaque dedicated to a woman who was married in the church in 1943 and died in Australia in 1997 – not 100% sure of the dates and I didn’t write her name down but very sweet.

I’m presently sitting in Tower House Gardens near the tiny herb garden – very peaceful even though it’s very near the busy ringroad. Lots of roses and lots of colour. Gorgeous. We had a long wander round the back streets, gradually making our way to the Goods Shed for some good home grown produce and a cup of coffee. Nigel recommended it to us. It used to be the railway goods shed but has been turned into a farmer’s market with a restaurant.

Bought a Spotted Pig Pie for dinner (this is just the same as a Spotted Dick Pudding except it has pork in it). Also indulged in a treacle tart (without cornflakes – mum, you’ve spoilt me) and some rather odd, Karen-type bread with no wheat, no yeast, no gluten, no water, no anything. Weighs about a ton and costs a motzah – better taste nice.

I left Mirinda at the restaurant and I set off for the Chaucer Hotel for my Images of England briefing session – the whole reason we actually came to Canterbury. While being expertly briefed, Mirinda had lunch at the Goods Shed and it was fabulous, she said. So much better than Jacques, she said. Half the price and an accurate menu, she said. I had two biscuits with my coffee.

Anyway, all food considerations aside, the session was excellent. As well as a slide show on what and how to snap pictures of listed buildings, we were given our packs which included my buildings for snapping. It seems that most of East/West Worldham is a listed building. Since everything seems to be in a five mile radius of the cottage, my first lot should be relatively easy.

It all wound up at 4:15 and we managed to get away from Canterbury at 4:45. Had an equally excellent run home (two fingers up for the M25) and were at Serendipity for the puppies at 7:15. The man was very nice (the place closes at 1pm on a Sunday but we asked for special treatment) and the puppies very glad to see us.

Finally at home we had our Spotted Pig Pie (dee-lish-us) and treacle tart (jumbo yumbo) before dropping into bed – GREAT WEEKEND!!

Up early, left the house just gone 9. Took puppies to Serendipity. Both a bit shakey, particularly Day-z, but they’ll be fine. Set off at 10 and had a dream run. The dreaded M25 did NOT live up to expectations. Got to the outskirts in two hours, it then took quite a while to go that final mile. Had a bit of bother manoeuvring around the one way street system before getting it right.

St John’s Court (our B&B) is very, very close to the city centre and has a car park. Given the total lack of street width and no through roads and roads that are through on the map but end in steel posts, this is indeed an excellent thing.

The entrance to the B&B is just through that arch

Nigel, the guy who runs the B&B is South African and has yet to learn the art of silence. This is fine for the first hour but when you have a limited amount of time in a place, you really want to go out and enjoy it. Eventually we extricated ourselves…well, actually, another guest turned up so Nigel wound himself up and started with him. With a pair of relieved sighs, we breezed onto the street.

I remembered a lot of things from our previous visit, although we only stayed a night and two days. As I saw things, the memories flooded back. I guess the city hasn’t really changed for a thousand years so what could happen in six?

On Nigel’s recommendation, we attended evensong in the cathedral at 3:15 and it was superb. The choir in the quire, the lessons, the vaulted ceilings, indeed an experience to treasure. When I first saw Canterbury cathedral I wasn’t exactly impressed. Sure, it was an amazing building but I thought it dour, unfriendly, cold – Mirinda reckons a lot of this is due to the priest who came up to me and said “In our church, we take our hats off…sir”, when I accidentally left my baseball cap on. This visit, my opinion has taken an about turn – it is now friendly, warm, inviting and glorious – Mirinda reckons this is because I remembered to take my baseball cap off this time. Whatever the reason, it is lovely, and listening to the choir was like an aural slice of heaven.

Canterbury cathedral

Afterwards we walked down to revisit St Augustine’s chapel, which impressed me so much last time. It, however, has undergone some changes. There is now a museum and a lot of the site is roped off. I remember being able to roam all over the place but now you are restricted to a path for most of it.

They now have the information things that tell you everything as you walk around – I don’t know what they’re called but they look like big telephone receivers and you hold them to your ear. These are good except, as Mirinda pointed out, it means you end up seeing things as an individual rather than a couple. This is true, but then again we tend to roam around separately anyway, meeting up now and then to compare notes (or order tea/coffee). The entrance fee has gone way up – because of the improvements, I assume.

St Augustine's

An open air performance of The Dream is on tonight in the chapter house but it’s sold out. Pity, it would have been nice. The guy said we could risk stand-by but we’re not that keen to see an open air Shakespeare! We’d already popped into the Marlowe theatre to see if there was some exciting reworking of Edward II but no, they have the national tour of Whistle Down the Wind, something we missed in Woking.

On the way back to the B&B, we booked into Jacques, a French restaurant just across the road. When collared by Nigel (while trying to make a cup of coffee in the kitchen) I found out that the last time he went to Jacques, the food was shit – great! It had been good but the boss had been away. Fingers crossed he’s back. Whatever the state of the food, I was warned to get a table as far away as possible from the piano, unless I preferred shouting across the dinner table.

I managed to finally free myself, my coffee and Mirinda’s, by now well and truly brewed, tea and we spent a leisurely few hours chatting, reading and writing this.

Jacques was fine, though interestingly the food did not exactly match the description in the menu. I had a slow cooked lamb in orange and rosemary sauce with new potatoes and vegetables of the day which ended up being lamb casserole in runny gravy with cabbage and zucchini. On the other hand, Mirinda had lamb shank with anchovy sauce on a bed of mashed potatoes and artichoke which ended up being lamb shank casserole in runny gravy with mashed potato, cabbage and zucchini (no sign of any anchovy or much artichoke).

Don’t get me wrong here, the food was lovely just a little disappointingly inaccurate. If you went into a pub on a Sunday and asked for a lamb casserole, this is what you’d get. Dessert, on the other hand, was perfect. Cappuccino brulee, mmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Bliss. Oh, and the pianist wasn’t THAT bad. We didn’t have to resort to much shouting.

After dinner we had a wander round the mean streets of Canterbury where lots of single sex packs roam unhindered, hunting each other down through a blur of hormones, alcohol and displays of revealing fashion. After not very long, it all got rather ugly so we retraced and returned to the mature safety of our B&B. Ahh, bed at last.