Exploring Ashford - a Perambulation For Two

This month's post is a slightly revised article I wrote the Hamstreet and district parish magazine - a glimpse into village life down in Kent!

I have taken part in the Friends of Kent Churches sponsored ride and stride almost every year since 1991. Whatever your views about religion, the preservation of these historic buildings seems to be part of our heritage, and therefore I enjoy taking part in this annual event, which is replicated across many British counties. The aim to simply bike or walk around as many churches as you can between the hours of 10am and 6pm on a designated September Saturday. For me this event marks the transition from summer into autumn - season of mellow fruitfulness and all that! This year I was 'striding,' for my girlfriend was visiting from Moscow and is unable to ride a bike. I oversaw her one attempt along the towpath of our local Royal Military Canal which almost ended in injury/tragedy.

My day began with picking her up from Heathrow on another visit from Moscow. She generally visits me monthly now. I know of some same-country couples who see each other less, so apart from the onset of a new Cold War we are doing pretty well. Parking fees at Heathrow Airport are nothing short of astronomical, so I usually wait in a layby near the village of Stanwell until I hear that she has got through customs and then whisk round to the drop-off area for a pick-up. Security normally pounce if you're there for more than a minute, so this has to be performed like a slick, MI5-style operation.

We had a quick bacon sandwich and a hot drink in the little cafe in Stanwell (again circumnavigating the airport prices) before the long ride home. When we arrived back in deepest Kent we made an executive decision to drive to the town of Ashford, which is affectionately known locally as either Trashford or Ash Vegas, depending on your level of affection for the town. It's a bit of a 'Marmite' place I guess!

So what is Ashford famous for? Answer: the mathematician John Wallis (inventor of the infinity symbol), the philosopher Simone Weil and I believe it was once the home of the funniest James Bond, Roger Moore.

We parked up and made our way through the unremarkable suburbs of South Ashford. Suddenly, it seemed like a completely different day to when I'd done the frenetic airport run just two hours ago. Surprisingly, the suburbs were quite interesting for Katrina, as they are very different from Moscow suburbs, which tend to consist entirely of high-rise buildings. It's also a side of England you won't find in the tourist guides. Can't think why!

After this we headed for the town centre passing Victoria Park. The Centrepiece Church in Bank Street had a Nepalese dinner taking place and as we left we were simultaneously saying 'that smelt nice' and 'that made me feel sick.' Our next church was St Mary's (pictured) – the cathedral of the Ashford metropolis if you like. In recent years it has become a formidable music venue boasting acts as well-known as Fairport Convention. In the absence of a theatre this seems a good idea, although not everybody is in agreement. The local newspaper reported on a young man who camped in the churchyard to protest against the removal of a number of the pews during this adaption process.

Leaving with a cake, we wandered down to the Baptist church and then decided it was lunchtime, enjoying a delicious sushi meal at a new Japanese restaurant that had opened. Previously something of a culinary void, Ashford seems to be improving, as I understand that there is now also a tapas place in the centre of town. The town is tipped to become Kent's most populated settlement by 2030, overtaking the county town of Maidstone and the Medway town of Gillingham during its stratospheric rise from it's origins as a small market town. A few more amenities certainly wouldn't go a miss, although the powers that be seem to have an almost obsessional fixation with throwing all known outlets out onto the periphery for the exclusive use of those who want to drive everywhere.

Recently the road system has even gained the attention of Jeremy Clarkson who made derogatory comments (no surprise there) about the new shared space road scheme, an idea imported from the continent where drivers and pedestrians have equal priority. Often Mr Clarkson seems like he is playing a character on TV - a deliberately provocative stereotype. I wonder if he might be an environment loving, ambassador of equal opportunities in real life, in the way that comic actor, Steve Coogan plays the character of the TV and radio host, Alan Partridge, who has remarkably similar views to Jezza. Now I come to think of it, which came first?

Next it was up to the catholic church, and then more suburbs to go to the Quaker friends meeting place which is located in a back-street just north of the ring-road. After winding up a friend of mine by sending him a photograph of his workplace on his day off, we wandered along to the suburb of Willesborough, which (as well as three churches) boasts an attractive windmill and a hospital named after William Harvey, who famously discovered the circulation of the blood (he was born in nearby Folkestone).

Passing the designer shopping outlet, which is Europe's largest tented structure, even eclipsing the millennium dome in surface area, we bridged the mighty A2042 and called at two more churches in South Ashford before wandering back to the car, tired but contented. I was glad we didn't opt for the longer option of walking to the two churches in the northern suburb of Kennington as well. There was just enough time for a rest before more walking in the evening to a local beer festival two miles from my home. Funny how the walk back from these events always takes twice as long!

Thoughts on the Russian Language & Milton Keynes

This is a modified extract from the Hamstreet and district parish magazine, written primarily for local people in rural Kent, so please don't take my (hopefully humorous) musings about learning Russian and exploring Milton Keynes to be representative!

I recently uploaded a video of a bike-ride along the bottom of the White Cliffs of Dover to the Internet (search YouTube for 'Ashford ring road' and you'll find my channel). This was made possible due to an attachment I bought for a few quid that fixes a smart-phone to the handlebars of the bike, opening up whole new avenues in the field of amateur video.

Of course, the wartime song about the cliffs, made famous by Vera Lynn, is known internationally. Indeed, my Russian girlfriend is even familiar with it. However, my Russian language skills aren't progressing so well. I know the two most essential words of course - pivo (beer) and chai (tea), but the 6 'cases' which change the endings according to the context have proven a step too far for me. For example, in the phrases 'I give you a knife' and 'you give me a knife' the pronouns 'I' and 'you' change. If 'I cut myself with the knife' the noun 'knife' will alter, along with my pain threshold!

Then there's the male/female/neutral part to contend with. As any student of French or German will know, many languages attribute a gender to inanimate objects. In England, we may affectionately refer to cars or boats as 'she', but very little else. In Russian, a train is male and a station is female, so the name of the station has to be feminised too – our local one would be something like 'Hamstreetskaya'. Even numbers can be male or female – adin (one) becomes adna if talking about something female. So when I need one journey on the Moscow underground I have been told to say 'adna'. When I see the price (approx. 60p for any journey), I can then say 'ochin harrasho' (very good). So if you thought Russian was just about writing the Rs backwards think again!

To illustrate what a large area you can traverse for your 60p, Moscow is the 5th most populated city in the world. In contrast, London ranks 21st, yet it is still the most populated city in the rest of Europe (Paris is a contender, but due to the way its borders are defined it appears much smaller). This is interesting, as Britain is coincidentally the 21st most populated country in the world, yet we are the 4th highest spender on military matters. Draw your own conclusions there according to your sensibilities; mine are that this could be better spent on the national health service, education, railways, post offices (as opposed to privatising them), renewable energy sources (as opposed to tax breaks for 'frackers') - you know, things that might make life a bit better for ordinary people!

A little later I got into a number crunching session with my father, looking up various populations and areas whilst cooking an English breakfast. This was prompted by Mr Putin's representative's alleged comments about Britain along the lines of 'nobody cares what that tiny island thinks'. However, with Russia's area working out at roughly 70 times that of the UK it is hard to argue really, although I think he should be made aware that what the 'island' thinks and what our leaders think are not always the same!

Yet, I was surprised to learn that the world's largest country is only just over twice as populous as the UK with 140 million. Comparing this data with an atlas from the 80s, we noticed that the USSR had roughly 270 million inhabitants (compared to 240 million in the USA), so deduction tells me that the former soviet states that left the federation account for a whopping 130 million people, Ukraine being the largest in population terms. With all this mental arithmetic my dad forgot to heat up the beans, so I had to surround mine with sausages and lay an egg on top to warm them up.

Back to the subject of languages, sometimes I remark that English is much simpler that Russian, but I am informed that this isn't necessarily so. In Russian, there are three tenses – past, present and future; in English there are 17 according to an online source I checked.

It is interesting to hear my girlfriend's opinions on the local area too. The nearby 'market town cum international gateway' of Ashford has come in for a bit of a drubbing in the local press recently, courtesy of a regular correspondent opening up a hornets' nest! Whilst I cringe with embarrassment as we pass all the boarded up shops in the town centre (just how is building a huge out-of-town John Lewis store going to help this?), she always states that it seems a nice town. I recently went on a cycling trip and ended up in Milton Keynes. As a result I have to agree with her. Let me explain:

Having ridden the peaceful towpath of the Grand Union Canal, admired the flight of locks at Foxton, taken in the historic vibes of the Richard III museum in Leicester and fleetingly visited Rugby and Northampton (which claims to be the UK's largest town that hasn't acquired city status), I ended up following the canal route into the aforementioned 'new town' (maybe a 'not-so-new town' now that we are in the 21st century).

By now, the route was lined with a seemingly endless avenue of trees, which I'm sure bordered some very pleasant parkland, but you have to understand that I had just ridden around 50 miles and I was gasping for a drink. I suddenly realised that I wasn't getting closer to any kind of town centre, and the endless, equidistant, identical trees only enhanced this feeling of pedalling hard and getting nowhere. I had imagined an 'up and coming' marina, with trendy bars selling (I would expect 'overpriced') beer. Realising I was just going to get trees, I asked a schoolboy for directions to the nearest shop or pub (there was nobody else around), but due to the grid-structure of the town, his reply required a considerable level of concentration for somebody used to the concentric town model to take in. You see, in most UK towns you generally know which side of the centre you are, and pretty much all roads will take you to the middle.

So having followed his instructions, I discovered the shop to be an anonymous Tesco Express, and the pub was rather reminiscent of a place called The Nelson which was once the only pub on an Ashford housing estate that since gone 'dry'. It was also closed.

Having asked for directions, I found my way to the town centre. A teenager was pleading for his life in a subway while his similar aged attacker was growling like a wild animal. 'Should I call the police?' I wondered, 'Or is this normal here?'

With apologies to anybody living in MK, you can see why my impressions were perhaps not as positive as they could have been, and with both tyres now punctured, heading for the train station seemed the only logical option.

Until next time, 'dosvidania' and maybe one day I'll give MK a fairer assessment.

The South Coast Trunk Road (Part II)

[Last updated January 2020]

Last time I left you stranded near Pevensey in East Sussex. This month we complete the South Coast Trunk Road narrative (purloined from a withdrawn web page of mine) with a large portion of A259.

Nicknamed as the ‘world’s worst trunk road’ by some, this road is of a reasonable standard to begin with, being a long, tree-lined straight (actually some of the gentlest curves imaginable). It then bears smoothly right and climbs, suddenly winding back and forth at the top, before slowing right down to enter unbanity (or ur-banality) for the next ten miles, beginning with Little Common. There is a 30 limit for much of this section.

Bexhill (apparently the home of British motor racing) presents us with one roundabout and a box junction where the A2690 uses a former railway trackbed to bypass the suburbs to reach the A21. Personally I think it would be better utilised by number it as an extension to the A28 as a signed route to Ashford, avoiding the urbanity that is follow on the A259.

So, back to the A259, there is a brief rat-race climb, where the road briefly flirts with dual carriageway around the back of the town centre, quirklily named King Offa Way. Then it plunges back into urbanity with a long, slow straight all the way to the out-of-town entertainment complex that marks the border with Hastings.

After Bulverhythe, the road passes under the railway bridge and finds its way to the sea, running along the promenade of St Leonards, all the way to Hastings, where the greensand escarpment above the old town is ever prominent, crowned with its castle. Apart from Dymchurch and Sandgate on the now-detrunked part of the A259 (Kent), this is the only point that the South Coast route truly hugs the coast.

At the centre of the ‘birthplace of television’, you will pass the pier and fun fair to your right. This epithet is due to John Logie Baird once residing in the town. I have heard that notable births in Hastings include Suggs (of the band Madness) and funny person, Jo Brand.

Beyond a completely pointless roundabout, you will pass the old, black, wooden fishing sheds. The A259 then dives inland for a sustained climb of almost a mile through the suburban housing, to Ore. Trumped ambitiously as ‘Ore Village’, the road forms the main shop-lined street here, and a short climb later, it presents the motorist with breath-taking views before its steep descent.

There used to a crawler lane all the way up the hill for traffic coming the opposite way. This has been shortened in recent years – maybe an attempt at traffic calming!

Beyond Guestling, the road narrows, then winds, then narrows some more, and regains its confidence for a mile or so before Icklesham, which has a windmill. The road regains momentum again beyond this pleasant village, with an impressive descent followed by the resulting climb to Winchelsea – Britain’s oldest ‘new town’, laid out in a grid pattern in the 13th century – well worth a visit and often quoted as ‘England’s smallest town’. Spike Milligan is buried in the churchyard, with 'I told you I was ill' in Gaelic etched on his stone (the same phrase in Engish being deemed too irreverent!).

The A259 has no such interest, and passing one of the three stone archways, it drops steeply down the wooded hillside with a sudden hairpin-bend at the bottom. After a bumpy ‘risk of grounding’ undulation, it uses straight lines along the banks of the Royal Military Canal to plot its narrow route across the marshes to Rye, a larger town which successfully contorts the A259 by 180 degrees to cross the River Tillingham, before hiding it away between the southern undercliff and its Victorian terraces. The Rye town model in the tourist office is a fascinating glimpse of the town's history.

After another mini-roundabout and a narrow bridge over the River Rother, the road streaks purposefully in a dead-straight line out onto the vast expanses of Romney Marsh – totally flat, pastoral, grazing land which remains so for the next 13 miles of our route. This speedy beginning is deceptive - at East Guldeford there's a chicane between two level crossings, and two right-angle bends follow, first right and then left, where we cross the border into Kent.

The Cheyne Court wind-farm is ever present here. After two more right-angle bends, the A259 remembers that it is a trunk road, widening and straightening out, through-passing Brookland with a 50 limit and roundabout. It used to run through the pretty High Street, sadly now devoid of basic amenities, however Brookland's church is worth a visit as its steeple is on the ground! You will barely notice the level crossing as you speed towards Brenzett – the transport hub of the marsh.

The next section is a real ‘rags to riches’ story. From the 2070’s humble beginnings as a B road from New Romney to Ashford, it has now usurped the Brenzett to Folkestone section of the A259, which has been detrunked, due to being a predominantly urban crawl through a series of coastal towns and villages.

The new route is a top-grade single carriageway to Ashford. The road has even been recommended for speed trails by motorcycle magazines – not advised! The terrain is completely flat, passing the hamlet of Snave towards the gently curving section that climbs the clay hills around Hamstreet – worth a detour for its typically Kentish weather-board buildings, and once featured on a set of UK postage stamps. We cross the Royal Military Canal again as we climb onto the ridge of clay hills. The canal was built as a barrier against a feared attack from Napoleon and is the UK's third longest defensive structure.

Beyond this village, the road is almost motorway-like, although still a single carriageway, with five bridges and only one further junction. It climbs through forest which was once part of the great forest of Anderida which covered the whole of the Weald. The picture at the top of the page is of this section. Our road then follows the railway line dead-straight across flat farmland until the roundabout serving the sprawling southern estates of Ashford.

A mile later, the A2070 reaches another roundabout and enters a brief 50 limit, to spiral up sharply onto the dual carriageway Southern Orbital road. This is now the land of business parks, and it is due to become much more urbanised as time goes on, with the proposed expansion of Ashford. Within two miles, you will cross another two roundabouts, taking the dual carriageway to junction 10A on the M20 which opened in 2019 which is where our trunk route ends, as the M20 steals its thunder towards Folkestone and Dover. It's been emotional!

The South Coast route as described is no longer used as a general east-west route, with most patrons opting for the M20, M26, M25 and a suitable conduit southward (M23/A3/M3/A303). Although efforts have been made to improve some parts of this road (Brighton bypass/Polegate bypass/Hamstreet bypass), it is hoped by many locals that no full-scale upgrade of the entire route occurs. In the interest of the countryside that remains along this varied route, they may just have a point.