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An early start from one of Kent's prettiest villages - Chilham. Its 8.45a.m. and John waits for the rest of the group, in bright sunshine on a bench at the top of the square. Its the school run and the square is soon congested with cars, land rovers, trucks and vans. Mums (including some 'yummy mummies') and Dads, park, and walk their little ones to the primary school down the hill. Chilham could almost have been made in Hollywood as an archetypal English village; no wonder its invaded so often by film and tv crews. The previous week, a funeral had to be postponed because the BBC were in town! A man walks up to me and says "Hello. Nice day!" I agree. He says "I'm going to a funeral later." I say "I went to one here last week". "Was it a good one?" he asks. "Yes", I replied, "it was."
John's phone rings. Peter, Rosemary and Judith have opted for the other car park. I ride down to meet them.
Soon the four of us are tackling the very, very, steep climb out of Chilham towards Shottenden.The ascent is more than rewarded by magnificent views of the Kent Downs, especially on a glorious morning like today.
Shottenden is a small but typical downland village,with recorded references back to 1175.Surprisingly it lies only 4 miles south of Faversham.The 80 or so dwellings, which sadly no longer support a pub or village shop, were built around four major local farms, whose intensively cultivated fruit and hops once provided good employment.The hillsides are still carpeted with fruit trees; neat rows of rich and fragrant blossom. Very few hop fields though.
Onwards, upwards and downwards now, through more breathtaking views and some splendid houses.The meticulously manicured lawns and flowerbeds, pristine driveways, and spotless paintwork, can only mean one thing - Bankers or Hedge Fund Managers!
Next stop Perry Wood.It is bluebell time, and as Judith says, every spring it as if we are seeing them for the first time.Suddenly, up another hill and round a corner, we come upon the Rose and Crown. A charming looking pub, whose hospitality we cannot test.Noon is a long way off.
Perry Wood comprises 150 acres of woodland, with abundant flora (including impressive rhododendrons when in bloom) andhome to many rare birds like treecreepers, nuthatches and woodpeckers.There was an organized 'Bird Walk' on April 25th, with sandwiches at the R&C afterwards. Diary date for next year.
Peter consults the map and we decide to go off road along a bridal path for the climb up to the view point - 175 metres (?) above sea level. Rosemary and John sensibly leave bikes at base camp.Superb views in all directions.Is that the Isle of Grain over there?Maybe.Rosemary and John look up at the sun, calculate compass points, and have doubts.Their reservations are later confirmed when the map is consulted.
Down the path back to the Rose and Crown ( still not open ).Across the road and - yes - another steepishclimb up to the Saxon Earthworks.John was disappointed that the Saxons had already left. Or had they?A little further on, a deep extensive hollow appeared.The air became chill,the sun disappeared behind dark clouds, and a feeling of unseen menace gripped us all.Peter and Rosemary recalled that they had passed this way some years ago while on an evening stroll.As twilight gave way to darkness, they saw to their amazement that the hollow was filled with strangely dressed dancing and chanting figures.Fearing that a ritual sacrifice was being prepared, and that they might be suitable candidates, they moved swiftly on to the safety of theRose and Crown - which fortunately on that occasion was open!
We too moved on.Two miles to Chilham.We arrived 30 minutes early so diverted up Mountain Lane, past more lovely houses and the Castle grounds to our right.Another time, we could pursue the bridal path at the end of Mountain Lane towards Godmersham.At least I think that was the idea.
To the Woolpack for an excellent lunch beside a cheerful fire.As we ride back up to the village square , we notice a large group standing around the other pub by the Church. All are dressed in black. Rosemary wonders whether its a convention of funeral directors. More likely a funeral, I say.
Thank you Peter for another great ride.
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