Had enough of Howletts or larking around Leeds Castle? Then as the weather starts to improve, why not ponder a trip to one of Kent's more unusual tourist attractions?

There's no doubt the county has a host of glorious destinations for the perfect day out – from the majesty of Canterbury Cathedral to the might of Dover Castle.

But what about gawping at the bones of a long-dead saint? Or traversing a maze of tunnels hollowed into the ground and lined with shells which looks like something out of a cult horror movie?

We take a look at some of the stranger attractions – past and present – which have entertained the masses over the years.

Got a penchant for the macabre? Then a church in Hythe offers you something which will float your odd-ball boat.

St Leonard's Church looks like a classic, pretty, medieval church from the outside and its website speaks of welcoming everyone in the name of God for its regular services.

Yet you may well find yourself uttering the phrase 'what in God's name is this?' when you take a look around its crypt – or ossuary, to give it its proper title.

Because inside it has the "largest and best-preserved collection of ancient human skulls and bones in Britain". Who knew there was even competition for such a claim?

In four arched bays are shelves containing more than 1,000 skulls, garnished with an almost two-metre stack of bones.

• Read our special feature on 'Kent's Kingdom of Skulls' by clicking here.

In short, if you've ever wondered how it was possible to cram 2,000 people into a small space, then this is the answer.

It is thought the bones are those of people in the district buried in the churchyard – and possibly nearby cemeteries – dating back to the 13th century, and as the sites were closed down, their bodies dug up and the remains deposited here.

Be clear, it's not going to a laugh-a-minute trip out to see the grisly spectacle.

But a unique experience it is and one which should make you reflect on those who occupied our lands in time gone by.

Down a side street off the main road which snakes through Cliftonville, in Margate, lies a truly odd tourist destination which you really have to experience to truly appreciate.

Walk through an attached café and gift shop, and once you've purchased your tickets you get the chance to descend a staircase and discover some 70ft of tunnels. Impressive, in itself.

But more so when you consider that every inch of wall and ceiling is covered in carefully created patterns using more than 4.6 million sea shells.

Just imagine how many buckets you'd need to collect that number.

Perhaps Margate's golden sands were full of shells before they built this.

Quite why the appropriately named Shell Grotto exists remains anyone's guess.

Theories stretch from being connected to the Knights Templar, a secret sect's meeting place or – and possibly more likely – the folly of a rich person with more money and time on their hands than sense.

Whatever, since its discovery in 1835 it has proved a fascinating place to visit and ponder as you wonder at the patience of sticking all those cockle and mussel shells to the walls.

And, frankly, it makes selling tickets to the place a whole lot easier given the mystery surrounding its origins.

There's even an 'altar room' just to allow your imagination to run riot as to quite what once happened there.

Is it worth going? Yes. You will be amazed at how Cliftonville streets sit upon such an unusual and enchanting place.

Up until very recently, the fear of nuclear war seemed confined to the history books – which only those who grew up in the 80s or earlier can remember being a bone-chilling, nerve-jangling potential reality.

But as recent events have demonstrated, all the time these weapons exist, then there's a chance that someone, somewhere, decides to up the ante.

Which makes visiting a Cold War bunker today all the more sobering.

The bunker which welcomes visitors in Gravesend consists of 13 rooms and was designed to house an underground command post in the event of a nuclear attack.

• Read our report on just what it's like inside the bunker

Like most towns in the county, steps had been taken to be able to keep society operating in one way or another in the event of a missile attack.

Today, it's decked out as it would have been from the 1950s and even features a government promotional film warning us what to do if the worst was to happen. It's both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure.

There's even the casing of an old nuclear missile – which once formed part of the nation's nuclear arsenal – on display.

When the hordes descend on Whitstable's shingle beaches to stuff their faces with oysters and ice creams, a popular refrain as they look over the waters of the Thames Estuary is "what are those things out there". And they're not talking about the Kentish Flats wind turbines or the good folk on Sheppey.

No, they'll be looking at the alien-like creatures which make up the Red Sands Sea Forts. And if the weather is calm, you can take a boat trip out to see them up close and personal.

Built during the Second World War and forming part of the Maunsell Forts – a string of similar sea defences built at strategic points around the British Isles – they were designed as a layer of defence should the Nazis attack via sea or air.

The ones perched off the coast of Whitstable, by the way, were responsible for shooting down some 22 aircraft and 30 doodlebugs. So they deserve our respect.

Decommissioned in 1958, they have quietly rusted on the horizon – eight miles off the coast – occasionally seeing life as the base for pirate radio stations or, in one instance, a backdrop for a music video by The Prodigy. Plans to convert them into a luxury hotel, to the surprise of few, foundered a few years ago.

Trips are weather dependant but take you around the site – although you'll have to stay on the boat as access is perilous.

Unless you have taken a vow of never paying attention to Kent history, you'll be familiar with Thomas Becket.

The former Archbishop of Canterbury and his brutal slaying by knights – believing they were acting on the orders of Henry II (or were they ordered directly, no one quite knows) – has sustained a tourism industry in and around the cathedral from almost the moment his lifeless body fell upon the stone floor in December 1170.

Venerated as a martyr throughout Europe and made a saint by the Pope three years after his death, pilgrims began making the trip to Canterbury to both pay their respects, pray and seek help for their problems.

Geoffrey Chaucer's famous The Canterbury Tales is based around a group of travellers in the Middle Ages doing just that.

But in the centuries following his death, so did a bizarre trade in relics of the slain Archbishop.

• Read our special feature on holy relics in Kent by clicking here.

The monks at the cathedral would often sell what they claimed to be vials of his blood and fragments of his bloodied clothes. In reality, the amount of bones and clothing claiming to be from the Catholic priest could no doubt be glued together to make the size of a small army and extensive wardrobe. Don't expect the cathedral shop to sell them today.

Yet even now, you can witness what claims to be a body part of the cleric.

In St Thomas of Canterbury Roman Catholic Church, a short stroll from the cathedral, and kept locked behind iron games, you will be able to see a small display chest which claims to showcase a finger of the man himself.

It was presented to the Catholic church (remember, Becket died before the Church of England was created and splintered from Catholicism) in 1953 by one of his descendants.

Alongside it sits a piece of his vestment, given to the church in the 19th century.

And, who knows, perhaps this is the real deal. Perhaps.

At least this, and all the other places here, will get you talking.