Passing through Rye

It was late afternoon by the time I had finished visiting the gardens at Great Dixter.  I could have headed back to London then — none of the hotels or B&Bs had room.  But I was hungry, and I had a hankering to see the shore.  So I headed south.

After about 20 minutes I came to the ancient port village of Rye.  It’s heyday seems to have been sometime back in the Middle Ages; today it is a tiny, sleepy place perched on a hill overlooking the coastal plain.  I stopped long enough to see the castle . . .


. . . and grab a bite to eat.


Then back to the car and on to the beach.

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