Maidstone Muckers from Morning to Night

On Saturday morning, we raced down town, which was really just across the bridge, into a cafe that my bestie, Sally, had recommended. She, and Uncle Trev, had been testing out the town cafes that served up a full English breakfast, so I wouldn't waste any time trying to find the best.

We got there and ordered, and soon Sally arrived. The joy of seeing her again after 4 long years! We've been Facetiming across the ocean, but it's just not the same as a huge bear hug, and I'd missed her dearly. I was ecstatic to see her, it was pure delight. She'd been bang on with her breakfast suggestion too, the food was wonderful, the best breakfast I'd had in 4 years! We cleared huge platefuls, washed down with cups of tea, and chatted and chattered. We then strolled around my old hometown, which was nice, since I hadn't had the time to do that properly on my last trip home.

There were many shops missing that I'd used to go into, and Sally lamented about the huge immigrant increase, saying it was rare to hear English being spoken any more. So many shops had closed and were replaced with vape shops and I had to smile, because really, it sounded just like America. But I was looking at my dear old town through different eyes. So used to the American suburban sprawls, with trash on the ground, characterless structures, with no old architecture, I saw here the centuries old buildings, produce stalls, and cleanliness. When I used to live here, there was rubbish in the streets and graffiti on the subway walls; none of this could be seen today. There are plainclothes police issuing on-the-spot fines for cigarette butts dropped on the ground, and it obviously works. The streets were really clean. Admittedly, there were some boarded up windows of closed shops, but these were likely due to COVID and the current economy, again, the same as in America. I managed to buy some beautiful Christmas cards, far prettier than any I've seen in years, and enjoyed a few tastes in the new Maidstone Distillery, which produces some pucker gins. We also stopped by our old biker pub, The London Tavern, and chatted to its current owner, who remembered our crew very well. The saddest part of this walkabout was discovering that Cornell's, an old family jewelers, was closing its doors after 225 years, thanks to its lease not being renewed. The owners were ready for retirement anyway, but it's a shame, since there are few fine quality jewelers like this one. Every time we walked by, the queue for their closing sale stretched all the way down the hill. But, thanks to Sally, I do have some jewelry from them.

 We then decided to visit another old haunt, Mote Park. My brother and I, and our next door neighbors, would cycle to here and spent many days pedaling our bikes around the vast acres, or playing on the, likely now regarded as lethal, playground, climbing far too high, swinging out way too far, sliding far too fast, and generally acting as kids did back in the 70's. It was kind of magical to drive back through those gates, and see that really hardly anything had changed. Of course, the playground was now suited to 5 year olds and extremely safe, but everything else looked the same. The boating lake and swimming baths were still there, and we strolled around the lake to where boys and men used to set off their radio controlled boats on Saturday afternoons, and apparently they still do. Today, there was a huge flock of various water birds, a gaggle of seagulls, ducks and geese, with a few swans. The noise was amazing. I was particularly delighted to see that nobody was feeding the birds bread, since this is bad for their stomachs, they all had bags of pellets, which they got online, and were specifically for these birds.

All these avians were very demanding, and let their impatience be known, warbling in ear splitting notes that the food simply wasn't being delivered fast enough. I took a very short video, but they were much louder than this before I began filming. The swans were so distraught at not being fed half as much as they were expecting that their own racket drove them almost senseless them, and they were barely aware of me stroking their white feathers. This pleased me immensely, as I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of stroking a swan before.

Once the food had run out, the birds disappeared quickly, so we wandered on to where the old steam trains ran, or to be precise, the Maidstone Model Engineering Society. As kids, we would stand and watch these run. We never rode on them since we never had pocket money, but it was always a thrill to see them rushing by, the whistle blowing, and if you were lucky, getting a faceful of steam to boot. And today, they were running! I immediately became 13 years old again and dashed up to the track to wait for one to pass by. Today, there were 3 engines running the figure of 8 track, which is pretty long, and there are times when you can't see the trains at all. After a while, I noticed that there seems to be a 'cool' photo code thing happening these days with the passengers. One train passed by with this kid making a specific hand signal, another train passed by with its passenger making a different hand signal, as though answering a phone, and then another came by, with the lady on the back leaning back and drinking a mug of tea. I loved it! All the time this train track stays cool with the kids means its future is promising. After the trains, we walked down to the lake and I was ecstatic to see a Mr Whippy ice cream van. Looking no different from years gone by, the ice cream was just as delicious too, complete with the Cadbury's Flake stuck in the side. Outstanding! We sat and watched the people and their dogs for a while from a bench, then walked around the lake, stopping at a muddy bank beside a creek where a group of dogs were jumping and splashing in the water, their owners standing up on the bridge, chatting and keeping well away from the grubby paws and water shakes. We met and chatted with so many strangers, it was uplifting; I'd missed this so much.

After we'd walked the perimeter, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for the evening, when we'd meet up with Sally again, and a few of the old biker gang. We walked into town and up to the pub, me looking forward very much to a proper pint of beer, spent with special people.

 And what a splendid evening it was. I'd remembered to bring my jigsaw piece to match Sally's one, so we took a photo of that and then I completely forgot about photos, I was having way too much fun. I'm not even sure who these photos are from, but I'm grateful somebody was taking them. There were about 8-10 of us and even Mouse had come down from the west with his shenanigans shirt on, causing me to panic slightly, especially when I spotted the keg of Kenny's behind the bar, a particularly lethal cider, which I've fallen victim to a few times, and swore not to tonight. Elliott was introduced to all ,and all liked him very much. A couple of lads, who are rarely seen, made an effort to come out and play, and I was touched. There were even 2 old friends there, who I'd not seen in person since our 'Tavern Days', nearly 40 years ago. We had a wonderful time, and the best part, and I think the first time ever, was when we realized we'd all be able to walk out the door unaided. I had been petrified that I'd need a stretcher, and would have a blinding headache to start the next, very busy, day. But I guess we've all mellowed with age, and although a few pints were poured, nobody was unfathomably incoherent. Ginny and Ali want to come and visit Front Royal, as of course, does Sally, so we need to make that happen very soon. The goodbyes weren't so sorrowful this time as I'll be back within 2 years ,and we can do it all again, and if I win the lottery, I'll be back even sooner. It was a Grand Day Out!

Back to Blighty and Hurrying to Hever

 After 4 long years, having waited for the COVID debacle to gradually peter out, I was able to book tickets to go home to England. And this time Elliott would be coming too. He'd been as a child but only seen it through a tourist's eyes in London, and so was looking forward to seeing my home properly, the countryside, villages and towns that I know so well. The flight went smoothly and we landed early in the morning, picked up the rented car, and then headed immediately towards Hever Castle in my home county of Kent. There's nothing like seeing a centuries old, historically famous castle as a way to feel the age of England immediately. We were soon off the busy M25, and bombing along narrow country lanes to our destination, which I was sure would be almost empty of tourists at this time of year. I was wrong. There were hordes of people, unfortunately many of them kids, since today was the last day of their autumn school holiday. But at least the sun was shining and the difference, from USA to here, in the friendliness of people was immediately apparent. The man directing traffic in the car park came over as soon as he saw us pull in, wanting to know my views on the Kia I was driving, since he owned one the same, and adored it. There was a feature that was driving me nuts on the vehicle so it was great that he knew how to turn that off for me.

We entered through beautiful bricked walls, and upon seeing the castle the years dropped away. It looked no different from when I'd last been here about 30 years ago. There were a few tents up around the grounds, likely for the school kids and parents but I was pleased to see it hadn't been commercialized in any bad way. The koi were still living in the mote, so huge that they nearly outsized the Canadian gooses, who I sometimes thought seemed a little intimidated by their underwater companions. We joined a queue that walked over the bridge, under a still fearsome-looking portcullis, and into an Elizabethan style courtyard, with latticed windows and decorated lead pipes that ran down the walls. The staff were so well organized that it wasn't long before we were inside the castle and walking around. 

The history within these walls is overwhelming. Surrounded by portraits, artifacts, carved furniture and walls that are centuries old makes you feel very humble, and almost insignificant. It's incredible to think we were walking the same hallways where the feet of Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII once trod, and even his last wife, Anne of Cleves, who spent the last 17 years of her life here. Over 800 years of history are held within this castle, and it's apparent it will stand for many more. It's meticulously maintained, and I was pleased to see that most of the ivy, which I remembered had covered much of the castle's frontage, was now gone. The stained glass was even more beautiful than I remembered, obviously I'm older now to appreciate it more. I remembered the gallery at the top of the castle, where it was once a convenient spot, for genteel folk, to take exercise when the weather was grim, pacing up and down the walls lined with portraits.

 

Outside, the gardens were amazingly still in bloom. Dahlias, roses and perennials still flowered and there was barely any sign of autumn foliage; the trees still green, even though it was almost Halloween.

I walked over to the water where the pavilion stood overlooking the lake. The last time I'd been here was over 30 years ago, when I'd worked with a dear friend, Bernard. At the beginning of summer, we'd worked for about a week, putting up bleacher seats for the Shakespeare Theatre group which would perform through the summer months. We'd have to haul long metal poles, planks of wood, huge canopies, and boxes of clamps, nuts and bolts from storage sheds, and then build the bleachers on this grassy area in a semi circle. And at the end of summer, we'd take it all down again and store it away. It was heavy work, but we thought nothing of it, we just got on with the job, eating our lunchtime sandwiches at the edge of the lake, or sometimes going across to the Henry VII pub for a pint and a ham roll. We got to see areas that the public weren't allowed into, my favorite being the old cobbled stables, and were privileged to enjoy the grounds when nobody else was present. I spent many happy days with Bernard, he was a great friend, and we had plenty of laughs. He taught me a lot about nature, both fauna and human. He passed away quite a while ago, while I was in the US, so it was nice to stand in this spot that we'd shared and remember good times. I can never now look at a Mullein plant without thinking of him.

We met a ghost on the way out, who told us a wonderful story about another apparent ghost who had terrorized him, but had actually been his wife, who he hadn't recognized, had killed, and now paid for his mistake as she haunted now him. Or something like that, but it was very amusing. We then walked over to the Henry VIII pub, which didn't look very different either, and had a wonderful lunch, and an even better, long awaited, pint of Kentish bitter. Divine!

We hadn't rested since leaving the States the night before and time was galloping by, so we drove into Maidstone, my home town, getting there just after dark, where we would stay at a hotel by the river, (not as lovely as it sounds), and then meet my bestie, Sally, for breakfast the next morning. Another grand day to look forward to!