Rye smiles
A ticket to Rye this morning, where Lorraine and I were to meet Maureen and Pat to celebrate Pat's 79th birthday. They had also been married 55 years later this week too.
I'd not been to Rye before, one of the two 'antient towns' along with Winchelsea whose councils traditionally maintained defence contingents for the realm of England, supporting the Cinque Ports, and steeped in history. Once it had been surrounded by sea, as a fortified hilltop town. Now the views are of green stretching to the sea.
Spent a happy few hours wandering about this lovely little town. A really good photographer David Purdie had a little gallery there, which I enjoyed immensely. Lunched in the Mermaid Tavern, which had been sung about by many, including Keats with a poem that starts 'Souls of Poets dead and gone,/What Elysium have ye known,/Happy field or mossy cavern,/Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?' Now the Mermaid Inn, we had a pleasant enough meal in there and a pint of Harveys Best Bitter in the bar room at the back, hung with dried hops and with pikestaffs on the wall.
Later after more mooching about, enjoying a pots of tea in a cafe before saying goodbye at the station and leaving on trains that departed in opposite directions simultaneously.
Below Maureen and Pat outside the Mermaid Inn; Lorraine inside the Mermaid; low tide at Strand Quay; rooftops; another view of the Mermaid Inn 're-built in 1420' after some unspeakable French business; a weathered old wall, and Mermaid Street rising in its cobbles, one of several houses with funny names 'the house with two front doors' there was one opposite the Mermaid Tavern too, called 'the house opposite'.
I'd not been to Rye before, one of the two 'antient towns' along with Winchelsea whose councils traditionally maintained defence contingents for the realm of England, supporting the Cinque Ports, and steeped in history. Once it had been surrounded by sea, as a fortified hilltop town. Now the views are of green stretching to the sea.
Spent a happy few hours wandering about this lovely little town. A really good photographer David Purdie had a little gallery there, which I enjoyed immensely. Lunched in the Mermaid Tavern, which had been sung about by many, including Keats with a poem that starts 'Souls of Poets dead and gone,/What Elysium have ye known,/Happy field or mossy cavern,/Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?' Now the Mermaid Inn, we had a pleasant enough meal in there and a pint of Harveys Best Bitter in the bar room at the back, hung with dried hops and with pikestaffs on the wall.
Later after more mooching about, enjoying a pots of tea in a cafe before saying goodbye at the station and leaving on trains that departed in opposite directions simultaneously.
Below Maureen and Pat outside the Mermaid Inn; Lorraine inside the Mermaid; low tide at Strand Quay; rooftops; another view of the Mermaid Inn 're-built in 1420' after some unspeakable French business; a weathered old wall, and Mermaid Street rising in its cobbles, one of several houses with funny names 'the house with two front doors' there was one opposite the Mermaid Tavern too, called 'the house opposite'.
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