Rye

My step-mother, before she was in our family, lived in tiny cottage in Devon. Although it was really quite a beautiful place (it looked like a child's drawing of a house, and was in the middle of nowhere, literally - it was between the moors, and 30mins drive to a shop. That was open for about 2 hours a day) Lucy and I grew to dread going as we got older because of the complete lack of anything to do (thus the basis of its appeal for my parents).

So when we moved to London, and Devon became even further away they sold it. And instead bought a little house in Rye.

Rye is lovely. It is tiny. You can walk around the whole place, at my pace, in half an hour. It has about 8 shops, no supermarket (except for Budgens - an odd, yet popular little chain in the area) 3 art galleries, a church and an incredible number of very good pubs, restaurants and ye olde tea shoppes.

It is also under an hour and a half drive from the Boyfriend's house. And so last weekend we decided to pop down, only for a night, and relax in Rye.

We stopped off in Budgens for orange squash and beer. We got to the little house, turned up the heating, and made a nest. We squabbled over the TV (I wanted Children in Need, he wanted some very unpleasant programme about Burmese slavery). And then we went out for a yummy yummy dinner at a little Italian called The Tuscan Kitchen (although at first the Boyfriend was a little confused - it's an Italian and there's no PIZZA??) where we were defeated by the shear amount of meat in the anti-pasti and then had big steaming plates of pasta and sauce.

And then we went to The George. A cosy, comfy pub and had wine and read the paper and played dominoes (middle-aged I know, but that is what Rye does to you). And went home to bed. And then got up late and had all day breakfasts at one of said ye olde tea shoppes, and bought pick and mix (childish I know, but that's what Rye does to you) and then headed home back to London (not without leaving the fridge door open, and the heating on.... whoops).

And then we were back in the city. And although we both know that this is where we belong, and that anymore than 24hours in Rye and we would be going mad, 24hours itself is perfect. Do go. It is absolutely worth it. But only for 24hours.

One other thing - everytime we left the house it was blowing a complete gale. So back into the house we went and wrapped up even warmer. Only to then boil the minute we went the 3minute walk to the high street. We discovered why; watchbell street (where the house is) is exposed, and seems to be the only windy street in the whole of Rye - just a tip for if you ever venture there.