Medway, She Wrote

  • Build, Demolish, Defuse – A great day at the Royal Engineers Museum

    Advertising poster for 'Build, Defuse, Demolish' weekend on the railings of the Royal Engineers Museum. The Museum itself is visible in the background.

    “Everywhere, where right and glory lead.”

    Motto of the Royal Engineers

    It is a truth universally acknowledged, that the closer you live to something, the longer it takes you to get round to visiting it.

    I have lived in Gillingham, home of the Royal Engineers Museum, for 17 years.

    I finally managed to get round to visiting it in April 2024, an embarrassing 16 years after I first arrived.

    Last year, I stumbled across a social media post about ‘Build, Demolish, Defuse’ weekend at the Royal Engineers Museum. I’d never heard of this event before, but it sounded interesting, so The Man of Kent and I decided to pop down and see what it was all about. It was a glorious day weather-wise, so we walked there via the Great Lines.

    “What the hell was that?!” I exclaimed in a ladylike manner as we reached the bottom of the Great Lines Heritage Park. We had just heard a shot so loud it sounded like it was right in front of us. Another shot rang out shortly after. It couldn’t be coming from the Royal Engineers Museum, surely?

    The outside of the Royal Engineers Museum on a sunny day. There are a two tanks and a man walking towards the museum in the foreground.
    The Royal Engineers Museum

    As it turned out, yes, it could. We arrived at the museum just in time to see a soldier firing a musket like they do in Sharpe. The gun sounded loud on the Great Lines, but up close the noise was deafening; my ears were ringing. Brilliant to see one being fired in real life though.

    What we hadn’t appreciated then, is that the Royal Engineers Museum is VAST. We had decided to toddle down for the afternoon, but soon realised that was a major tactical error – there’s so much to see! And so much to do on Build, Demolish, Defuse weekend. One afternoon was not going to be enough time. Seriously poor planning and reconnaissance on our part.

    This time, with the benefit of recon and intel from last year, we came better prepared and armed with a plan of attack. Today’s blog is a debriefing of our trip.

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  • The Home of the Shouting Men

    The Rainham End viewed from the Medway Stand

    “I fell in love with you,
    The last waltz will last forever,
    It’s all over now, nothing left to say,
    Just the Gills at the Rainham End singing,
    Naa naa naa na-na-na-naaa
    Na-na-na-naaa,
    The Gills!”

    The Last Waltz

    “Do you fancy going to Sheffield at the weekend?”

    “Sounds nice. I’ve never been to Sheffield.”

    “Great! Gills are playing Rotherham on Saturday, so we can go the match, then have a night out in Sheffield with Sam and Dave.”

    Well, I walked right into that one.

    It was the early noughties, and early days in my relationship with The Man of Kent. We were both studying at Nottingham, and Gillingham FC were in the Championship.

    At that time, I was young, and naïve, and my soul was not yet battered from years of consoling a long-suffering Gills fan. The Man of Kent would occasionally sing the old football chant, ‘In your Northern slums’, at me in those days – in good humour, of course. Despite this, I would accompany him to away games that weren’t too far from Nottingham, because Gillingham FC is one of the great loves of his life.

    I remember a friend assuring me once that The Man of Kent “is a good egg.” This friend hadn’t met The Man of Kent at the time, so I asked how he could possibly know. My friend answered immediately and confidently, “Because he supports his local team – not everyone does.”

    That’s true, on both counts. The Man of Kent is a good egg. He’s also not one of those glory hunters who were born and bred in Medway, but pledge allegiance to Man United or Liverpool or some other Premier League side. No. He is a staunch supporter of the Gills. He and his Dad attend every home game at Priestfield. Of course, like any football fan, he has threatened not to renew his season ticket after a run of poor performances, fumed for hours over a dodgy refereeing decision, and contributed a fair amount of salty post-match analysis to online fan forums. But he is Gillingham through and through. A true Shouting Man. Literally so on match days.

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  • Malta, She Wrote: One fabulous trip to Valletta and Sliema

    “I might have been overly optimistic in bringing the shorts, but you never know, it might get reasonably warm by the end of the week.”

    The Man of Kent, Day 1 in Malta.

    The Man of Kent’s requirements for this year’s holiday were simple; a location that is “warm and sunny.” Malta, it seemed, would be a shoo-in. It’s a country with 300 days of sunshine a year, after all.

    As previously mentioned, The Man of Kent has strong views on what summer should involve. He also has clear ideas of what holidays abroad should be like. In this case, he had envisaged basking in Maltese sunshine, slapping on the factor 50 at regular intervals, and sipping cold beers outside while taking in views of Valletta’s Grand Harbour. Shorts and summery shirts were piled into the suitcase accordingly.

    Alas, dear reader, whilst it was sunny, ‘twas not the warmest. Average Spring temperatures in Malta are around 18-20 degrees Celsius, which is not shorts-and-sandals weather for most people. It barely touched 18 degrees while we were there. Are you getting déjà vu yet? Because we have been here before. At least The Man of Kent packed a hoody this time.

    Weather aside, we came home after a brilliant week in Valletta and Sliema, determined to return to Malta to see more of this fascinating country. Today’s blog is about what we did on our holiday; I hope it inspires you to take a trip to this Mediterranean beauty.

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  • Medway on Film: Out and About with Dreamy LomoChrome Turquoise

    “You don’t take a photograph, you make it.”

    Ansel Adams

    Dear reader, I have a confession.

    I have already confessed to my ever-expanding book collection.

    However, books are not the only thing I collect.

    I am also generating quite the little camera hoard.

    Thankfully the camera hoard is not as significant as the book hoard. I have just six cameras of different types, whereas I dare not count the number of books I own.

    (I’m realising as I write this that if I’m not careful, I will end up on Stacey Solomon’s Sort Your Life Out, with all my cameras and books laid out in a warehouse for the whole world to judge.)

    I love photography almost as much as I love books. After several years of shooting with digital cameras, more recently I’ve been having fun with film photography. Naturally, for this blog, it was time to start capturing Medway.

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  • Want to Do the Write Thing? 11 Great Places to Shop for Greeting Cards in Medway and Kent

    A greeting card showing a black and white illustration of a a mermaid feeding a fish. The card is on a pine table next to a pen and a book of first class stamps. Two other greeting cards (one with a cat and one with 'thank you' in different languages on it) are partly visible in the top left corner of the image.

    “This is not a letter, but my arms around you for a brief moment.”

    Katherine Mansfield writing to her brother, Leslie Beauchamp

    A list of what has come through the letterbox this week:

    • Two adverts for takeaway pizza
    • A letter from the DVLA
    • A letter from HMRC
    • Propaganda from a wannabe politician
    • A catalogue I should really unsubscribe from
    • The Man of Kent’s allotment invoice
    • The new car parking permit

    Actual post doesn’t happen much these days. Like many people, I go as paperless as possible when it comes to bills and suchlike. When post does arrive, it’s usually boring stuff to be skim-read and consigned to the letter rack, to be dealt with on a rainy afternoon. This week’s post was no exception. It was a pile of hard copy spam and life admin. To borrow a phrase from Craig Revel Horwood, ‘dull, dull, DULL.’

    But there is an upside. When the usual post is a heap of junk mail and bureaucracy-beige envelopes, it makes the arrival of something different – a birthday card, an invitation, a postcard, or even an actual letter from a friend – triply, even quadruply exciting!

    I love receiving post from friends and family. A well-chosen card that the sender knows will make me laugh, letters from the (now-growing-up-fast) children in my life, beautiful thank-you notes, postcards from exotic international locations that turn me Elphaba-green with envy – I love them all. That’s the sort of correspondence to cherish forever.

    Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not harking back to the times when people sat around waiting impatiently for the second post to arrive, like characters in a Victorian novel. I love the convenience and spontaneity of Whatsapps, texts and emails, especially for those times when only a well-chosen gif will do. And sadly, sending snail mail is a bit of a luxury in these financially-stressed times. Stamps are expensive, and cards aren’t cheap either. But texts and social media posts are impermanent (we’ve all deleted a message we wanted to keep accidentally), whereas a physical card or letter can be treasured forever. Plus, a surprise card or letter on the doormat is a little piece of delight, and we all need more delight in our lives.

    I keep favourite pieces of post in boxes upstairs. Everyday communication feels so ephemeral now that cards and letters are even more special. They are like handwritten time capsules that hold the keys to fond memories, which make them great cheerer-uppers – hugs in an envelope that can transport you back to a time, a place, a person. I have cards and letters from friends and family going back decades. Some of those people have sadly passed on now. Does that make reading the cards bittersweet sometimes? Yes. Am I glad I kept them? Always. I’ll even display cards I particularly love, like this one from my dear friend, The Prodigal Geordie.

    A greeting card showing a map of the outline of the UK, with a red heart and image of the Angel of the North where Newcastle upon Tyne would be on the map. The card is white and

    I also adore sending cards and letters. One of my love languages is finding the perfect card for someone. I have been known to buy a birthday or Christmas card that I think is perfect for a friend months in advance and save it up, ready for the big day. I’ll also happily buy cards I think are beautiful, or witty, or funny, just to have to hand when the right occasion presents itself.

    So today, I’m writing about great, independent places to shop for cards in Medway and Kent. I’m also sharing my tips for making sending cards easier and more fun! Here we go!

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  • New Year, Old Books: On choosing to read more, and show some shelf-restraint

    Promise, by Jackie Kay

    Remember, the time of year
    when the future appears
    like a blank sheet of paper
    a clean calendar, a new chance.
    On thick white snow
    You vow fresh footprints
    then watch them go
    with the wind’s hearty gust.
    Fill your glass. Here’s tae us. Promises
    made to be broken, made to last.

    It is 7:14pm on New Year’s Day and I have already cracked.

    I have bought a book.

    Actually, I have bought two books.

    Truthfully, I could have bought three. Or four. Or fifteen. But I do have a scrap of self-restraint, and I haven’t won the lottery yet.

    I had made a New Year’s resolution to read more of the books I have, and not just keep buying new ones. I succeeded for less than one day.

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  • Origin Story: The Man of Kent and the Kentish Man

    The Swanscombe Monument standing in the churchyard of St Peter and St Paul's church.

    “Men of Kent and Kentish Men. The natives of Kent are often spoken of in these different terms. Will you be so good as to inform me what is the difference between these most undoubtedly distinctive people?” – B.M.

    Notes and Queries, (Vol 5, No. 127), 3 April 1852

    I remember the night I first met The Man of Kent. It was at a fancy dress party, first week of university. The theme of the party was ‘P’. One guy came wearing a massive box (‘parcel’). Another came dressed head-to-toe in newspaper (‘paper’), which later proved impractical when they tried to go to the loo. A good friend went all out and came attired in the full armour of a Paladin knight. I had cheaped out on a sparkly tiara from Claire’s Accessories so that I could make a last-minute, lo-fi attempt at ‘princess’. The Man of Kent was dressed as a priest (an unusual choice as he is a staunch atheist).

    At some point in the evening, I asked him where he was from. He informed me that he was ‘a man of Kent’. I took this as a purely factual answer. He was describing himself as a man from Kent, in the same way that I might have described myself as a girl from Gateshead. I thought it was a literal description, nothing more.

    “I am a Man of Kent” was how he described himself to everyone. He never said, “I’m from Kent” or “I come from Medway.” When someone asked where he was from, he would always proudly announce, “I am a Man of Kent.” If someone queried his rather grand way of stating from whence he came, he would explain further; he was a ‘Man of Kent’ because he came from east of the River Medway. Women from east of the Medway are known as ‘Maids of Kent’. Someone from west of the river Medway, on the other hand, was known as a ‘Kentish Man’ or ‘Kentish Maid’.

    The Man of Kent insisted that this distinction was very important. I could understand that. It sounded a bit like the difference between a Geordie and a Mackem.  Or a Geordie and a Smoggie. Or any of the other important regional distinctions back home in the North East, where I come from.

    Several years later,  I married this particular Man of Kent, and we moved into a tiny house in Gillingham, which is east of the Medway. I think that might make me a Maid of Kent by marriage. It definitely makes me a Medway Geordie, anyway.

    And that, dear reader, is the story of how I met my husband. It’s also why I refer to him as ‘The Man of Kent’ on this blog.

    But how did this distinction between ‘Man of Kent’ and ‘Kentish Man’ come about? I never doubted the Man of Kent’s explanation, but recently I thought I’d look into the history of it myself. What I found were several different theories, a bit of Victorian argy-bargy, and a grand legend that I’d never heard of before – and neither had the Man of Kent himself!

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  • And Now For Something Completely Different: 12 Favourite Podcasts to Celebrate International Podcast Day

    A set of black over-ear headphones on a pale white background, surrounded by multi-coloured confetti.

    “After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.”

    – Philip Pullman

    I remember the first podcast I ever listened to. It was season 1 of Serial, the OG true crime podcast by Sarah Koenig. Serial was an in-depth investigation by Koenig of a real case – the killing of American high school student, Hae Min Lee, and the conviction of Adnan Syed for her murder. It was groundbreaking listening and the evidence unearthed during the investigation led to a retrial for Syed, who by that time had served over 20 years in prison.

    Serial was recommended to me by my friend Helen and, like most listeners, I was gripped. I listened to it in a whole week on my commute to London, changing my mind about what happened, who was telling the truth, and who was guilty, about ten times an episode. Sometimes I found myself deliberately walking slowly to the office so that I could finish a whole episode before I got there. I’ve since recommended Serial to friends who have found it equally compelling. One friend even had to give up listening to it on the bus to work because he found himself so engrossed that he kept missing his stop!

    I’ve gotten really into podcasts since then. They keep me company in all sorts of situations. Listening to a podcast is a great distraction from the drudgery of housework. It’s also an ideal accompaniment to DIY – I find listening to music too distracting if I’m trying to concentrate on something, but I can paint for hours non-stop if I’m following a fascinating discussion or story. A good podcast is also perfect company on a commute to work, long travel journey or while doing tedious life admin like filing or shredding.

    A black and white photo of a man sitting at a station, listening to headphones. The man is wearing a dark hoodie and jeans and is looking away from the camera.
    Photo by Max Wolfs on Unsplash

    It’s International Podcast Day on 30 September so, to celebrate a phenomenon that has brought me many hours of top-notch earfood, I wanted to share some of my favourites with you. Read on for recommendations and some podcast episodes involving Kent!

    A note: I’ve included links to each podcast on Spotify, but you can find most of them on Apple podcasts, BBC Sounds, Acast and other streaming platforms.

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  • Bison and Foxes and Bears, Oh My! Visiting wonderful Wildwood

    A bison at Wildwood.

    “Animals arrived, liked the look of the place, took up their quarters, settled down, spread and flourished. They didn’t bother themselves about the past – they never do; they’re too busy. The place was a bit humpy and hillocky, naturally, and full of holes; but that was rather an advantage.”

    Kenneth Grahame, ‘The Wind in the Willows’

    I’m trying to take a photo of a wallaby. It’s hiding in some tall grass, but I can see its furry ears and tail sticking out. There’s actually three wallabies in front of me, and they are doing a great job of making it almost impossible to get a decent picture. The weather is roasting hot, so two of them are sensibly sitting in the shade, and this third one is playing hide-and-seek with me. Patience is the key to good photography, but being a pale, red-haired Northerner, I can’t last more than five minutes in high heat without crumbling into dust. I settled for this silhouette photo of the wallaby in the grass, and headed to the nearest shade to recover.

    A wallaby hiding behind tall grass at Wildwood.
    A wallaby hiding behind tall grass at Wildwood.

    I know what you’re thinking. Wallabies and baking hot temperatures? She must have been in Australia!

    But I wasn’t. I was in Kent.

    That’s right, there are wallabies living in Kent.

    And bears. And bison. And wolves!

    And all of these animals live in the beautiful surroundings of Wildwood, near Canterbury.

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  • The Nao Victoria: A maritime marvel comes to Medway

    “I was the first to sail around the globe,
    I am deservedly called Victoria,
    My sails are my wings,
    My reward, glory,
    My struggle, the sea.”

    Loose translation of a legend on Ortelius’s 1590 map showing the Nao Victoria.

    You know how sometimes you come across something and think, ‘Wow, what a cool job!’ Well, the crew of the Nao Victoria has a very cool job; sailing a replica of the first ship to circumnavigate the globe on a European tour. Doesn’t that sound great? Definitely more fun than sitting at a desk all day. The Nao Victoria has so far stopped at Great Yarmouth, Brixham and Plymouth, and last weekend, it made its first ever stop at Chatham Marina.

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