retiredmartin

January 2026. Rye.

Obligatory video, from the best Christmas album. I‘ve used this one, and the title before, (twice !) which is sort of self-plagiarism, no ?

No decorations for us again this year, in Sheffield or Waterbeach or Rye. Mumsnet would be outraged.

But, in keeping with the need of the country to honour tradition, I designated last Monday as another “Dryanuary” day, and walked Rye.

Having now been in all the town pubs I couldn’t be tempted, and you’ll never get bored of examining Rye’s ancient streets.

Perfect day for the white boarded houses to stand out against the blue skies,

and although there’s a fair few tourists (mostly Japanese) you’re never getting mown down if you stand in the middle of the road taking photos.

I might have succumbed to a pint if the Ypres had been open, but not only had Jeff taken down the tree he’d taken the annual month to recover, and rightly so.

Actually, looking at these photos now,

from the castle to the Mermaid, it’s spookily quiet.

Almost as spooky as the light from the watchpoint at the Hope Anchor.

At the foot of the Strand I find myself ruining a Japanese family’s shot up cobbled Mermaid Street.

“Sorry, sorry” they say, and we apologise for apologising.

Such a great street,

and if the Mermaid wasn’t on its own “tidy up week” I might have popped in for a pint of Harvey’s.

I think I walked every street in 15 minutes, with a 5 minute diversion into St Mary the Virgin.

Kentish Paul will remember we walked to the top of the tower a while back,

but I seem to have overlooked the church itself, which is stunning.

They were taking down their own Christmas exhibition on my visit; perhaps I’ll head back and score the sacred relics soon.

Away from the sacred, the profane. Odd place, Rye.