Return to NotLondon

On Saturday I made another trip to NotLondon, in Kent this time, where I discovered many things, to wit:

On the train, I discovered that "Britain's best architecture was inspired by beer"¹, and also that there is a random and unexpected obelisk sitting next to the railway near Swanley station. (Later googling turns up the information that it is a rather picturesque version of a coal tax post, which I'd never even heard of before, so there you go.)

From the car we discovered that lavender fields are amazingly — almost shockingly — purple, even when seen from a distance:

At Lullingstone villa I discovered that I am taller than a Roman cow, but still shorter than the average Roman woman. We also discovered that English Heritage can be wonderfully vague and contradictory about things ("we think this may possibly have been a shoe. Or perhaps a plate."). That sort of thing doesn't matter if you're with people who are curious enough to speculate on their own theories, though. The theories are usually more fun. There are some people who you can meet for the first time and fall so instantly into easy banter and conversation that you forget to introduce yourselves for at least two hours (not so much a new lesson as a reminder, that one).

Wandering through Eynsford village itself, I learned that the diocese of Rochester doesn't allow fake flowers in its churchyards, but "fresh flowers are very acceptable"; and that, even in the 21st Century, it is still a surprise to some people that >gasp!< a woman in her 30s would order a whole pint of ale for herself. I don't know who was more surprised, them at my order, or me at their surprise.

Back in London I was reminded that the world is getting smaller and smaller and it has absolutely nothing to do with men walking on another planet.

I also discovered that lavender meringues are rather tasty, too.

It was a shame we didn't go and explore Lullingstone Castle, though, and only passed by outside because, again thanks to some googling, I discover what an interesting place it is, from housing the oldest stained-glass window in England, to being one of the earliest venues of lawn tennis, to being the current home of a man once held hostage by Panamanian bandits for nine months. Quite some history. I think I'll have to go back. It's a great place to channel Fay Godwin, anyway:

I didn't have the greatest success with my camera on Saturday, because I was with a group of people who weren't wielding cameras and couldn't understand why I wanted to take so many photos of brick walls, and the light was really bad, but some judicious photoshoppery has rescued a few shots, which are here.

¹What would BLDGBLOG make of that, I wonder?