We have no shortage of churches on the Romney Marshes. Working churches, ruined churches, churches with barely a marker as to where they are, churches converted into yuppie flats, and then the other ones, churches such as St Thomas Becket at Fairfield, literally a church in the middle of nowhere. I know the Marsh population fell dramatically as a result of the Black Death, but I doubt there was ever really a population sufficient for all these churches. I think they were mainly built to provide a benefice or sinecure for career priests who had more than an eye on nearby Canterbury. And I honestly don't know what proportion of the mediaeval population actually attended church. I know we have inherited a story that they were superstitious and explained everything (the weather, the Vikings, the Black Death...). Apart from anything, in England at least, 'The Middle Ages' covers at least two very different cultures: that of the Anglo-Saxons and that of the Normans and their successors. I won't digress further by even mentioning the Vikings (what did the Vikings ever do for us!).
According to Visit Kent,
It was built in the 12th century and restored in the 18th century, when the original timber building was encased in brick. Much of the original timber work can be seen inside the church, which also contains a seven-sided font and triple-decker pulpit.
Legend has it that St Thomas a Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury, had the church built after he was rescued from one of the many ditches on the marsh by a farmer. He prayed for a miracle and just in time a farmer arrived to save him.
Nowadays, it's used mainly for filming TV period dramas and as a 'feature'. It has a sort of iconic status for photographers locally, and it's certainly a must-see for any Church-bagger.
Some more detail on The Fifth Continent website.
We visited on a lovely sunny day in winter, We travelled there mainly by winding country roads, the sort of lanes you don't usually use if you just want to travel from canal to coast, little settlements without a name, too small even to be hamlets.
The first thing you should do when you arrive near the church is collect the key from the farmhouse and work out which gate is the entrance to the church. This picture doesn't give a true indication of the key, but let me assure you, you're not going to lose it in a hurry.
You don't have to knock on the farmhouse door or anything, or provide proof of your identity, which goes against the grain for me, a true towny, who thinks that everyone is up to no good until they prove otherwise, or, rather, that everyone will assume I'm up to no good until I can prove beyond doubt that I'm a fine upstanding member of society.
Guarding the key with your life, you walk to the Church. You know how it is with most rural churches: centred in an often picturesque village, usually next to or opposite the pub, with a post box and even maybe a Post Office, or a bus stop close by, and you walk through the lychgate along a slabbed path through the churchyard, pausing to look at the graves, to admire the flowers...?
Well, St Thomas Beckett is nothing like that! If you don't like mud or sheep, it's probably not for you, and forget it if you are phobic about crossing water by footbridge - although it felt perfectly safe to me.
There's a not great deal to see inside the church. I always stop at any memorial to the dead of the World Wars. The other key features were a seven sided font, the triple decker pulpit, the box pews and the roof beams.
As I left, I made sure I locked the church.
And we walked back across the fields.
On the way back we called in at the Red Lion, Snargate. I like the World War 2 decor. But I was also amused to see something I haven't seen before - tasting notes on a beer glass.
