So Kate and I jumped on a train from the gleaming - and very impressive - St Pancras Station on Saturday headed to Rye for a two night stay in The George in Rye hotel. Kate had read all about it in several of her ladies publications and it was highly spoken of so we thought, why not?
The journey to Rye was lovely and it only took about two hours. Arriving in Rye was like stepping back in time; all Georgian houses, cobbled streets and tiny front doors - were we really that short in the 1800's? I cracked my head on low beams more than once.
We spent most of the trip relaxing, exploring the shops, restaurants, Ypres castle and the occasional pub. Kate wanted to bring back sack loads of antique tins - her bric-a-brac achilles heel - and I fell in love with a WWII machine gun and a Centurion's helmet. Fortunately we were able to dissuade each other from making wasted purchases.