A tranquil morning in late January; a flat calm over the sea along Minster Leas and Parkrun concluding with breathless runners milling around, comparing times and laughing in the sunshine. A rush to the senses navigating through Saturday morning Sheerness traffic, with many drivers seemingly on a vastly different and more frantic wavelength than myself; full of huffs and puffs, heavy right feet and mutterings under breathes.
Past the busy station, already heavy with footfall, and one last roundabout tinged by a close call with a large van - neither its driver or I sure if it would stop. Peace returns along with a familiar sense of comfort as the bike pulls the corner into Sheerness docks, entering the grounds of the old dockyard church whose imposing architecture tickles the soul with echoes of time, footsteps, and the dignified allure of imposing Georgian architecture
Bike settled on the gravel; soles of shoes find long-settled sandstone slabs and eyes peer up into the arches and peer around columns and the body crosses the threshold through rustic brickwork into the wide-open space overwhelmed by a sense of light and space that both welcome and reassure with a soothing grace.
Although I’ve been here many times, and much of the happenings that have shaped and coloured my life in recent years form fond memories, there remains a sense of awe entering this space, whose conversion from a burnt-out husk following a fire into what sits here today is simply remarkable. Given it’s a Saturday, I’m greeted with relaxing tones of ethereal strings wafting over the morning Pilates class, with folk laying on mats in the open space testing and stretching their bodies to gentle instruction as the smell of Kentish-born coffee drifts over the sofas and cushions of the coffee lounge.
Finding a soft pew, a warm welcome follows, and as I recline on the familiar red canvas, I feel the stresses of yesterweek ebb slowly away as if absorbed by the space, peace, and original brickwork of the church which fell like sponges for anything that taxes the mind. Coffee arrives with the same smile that greeted its order and the first sip yields a contented sigh as taste buds are treated to a beautifully controlled explosion of creamy richness – utterly delectable.
Continued sips are accompanied by contemplation; it’s a space for contemplation and an unusual sense of comfort and healing. The lofty eaves absorb the sound and trickle it back with subtle echoes, and the mind seems drawn in to a restful state by a palpable tranquillity, even when the lounge is bustling. The mixture of original and modern architecture is so tastefully completed, and the space feels sophisticated, thoughtful, polished and delightfully minimalist.
Folk come and go and the stonework witnesses more conversations, whispers and laughter, as it has done for generations over the decades and it’s easy to see the church as a place that encourages togetherness and a sense of wellbeing. I find it pleasant to imagine the building’s visitors emerging from their time here, not only satisfied by exemplary coffees, teas, sandwiches and cakes, but also their souls treated to a bath of quiet contentment and cleansing, hugged by the welcoming echoes and the ghosts of worship and healing that linger in the walls.
