We've been back from our week in the UK for over a week now and, courtesy of my return to the hamster wheel on Monday, the memories we've created are already starting to fade just that tiny little bit. Obviously, we can't let this happen, so it's high time I got this travelogue started!
In spite of the weather gods having somewhat thwarted our plans by treating us to yet another heatwave, we had a wonderful time away from it all, rejoicing in the fact that, after an absence of two years, we'd made it across the channel once more.
But let's begin at the beginning by showing you the outfit I travelled in on Thursday the 6th of August.
Apart from the necklace, which I charity shopped in Poperinge in September 2019, everything I'm wearing was bought on the high street at one time or another, my most recent acquisitions being the sales bargain belt and brooch.
I'm sure that those of you who have been following my blog for a while might have recognized the background and might therefore be doubting my sanity as surely, this is not in the UK? You are right, of course: I'm standing on the balcony of our beloved Marjolein Guesthouse in Poperinge, so I guess I've got some explanation to do ...
In the weeks leading up to our holiday, I'd read with dismay that there would a serious disruption due to roadworks on the E17 motorway in the Ghent area at our time of travel. As we were not looking forward to the delay this would undoubtedly create during rush hour on Friday morning, we'd contacted our friend Marino in Poperinge, who kindly agreed to put us up for one night only, even though normally the minimum stay at the cottage is for two nights.
So, we travelled down on Thursday afternoon, spent a relaxing evening and good night's sleep at the cottage, before continuing our journey to Calais. The beauty of this was that it was less than an hour's drive from Poperinge and, apart from the final stretch, mainly along quiet country roads. And we didn't even have to get up at the crack of dawn! As we'd booked a midday train, we were able to wave goodbye to Marino just after 10 am.
As Jos's health and stamina didn't allow us to travel too far, we'd booked a cottage on the Kent/East Sussex border, about 5 miles from the town of Royal Tunbridge Wells. We'd holidayed in the area twice before, both over 20 years ago, and were looking forward to our return visit to what is known as The Garden of England.
However, what should have been a straightforward journey of about one hour and fifteen minutes turned out to be a little bit of a nightmare as about half way in we were faced by a road closure, after which Truus, our obstinate Satnav with the Dutch accent, made us drive around in circles. Thankfully, my map reading skills managed to come to the rescue, but it was still almost 45 minutes later than planned that we arrived at our cottage for the week.
Granary Cottage is all we could have wished for, and more. Tastefully decorated, it was part of the owners' property (called The Dairy, hence the cow and milkmaid weathervane!) but sufficiently private and with a little walled patio garden of our own.
The owners couldn't have been more welcoming and helpful. Although check-in was normally from 4 pm onwards, Clare had called me the evening before to say that the cottage would be ready for us from 10 am onwards!
After unloading the car and making ourselves at home, boosting our muddled brains with restorative cups of coffee and some of the treats we'd brought from LeShuttle's Flexiplus lounge, we drove down to Sainsbury's in Tunbridge Wells for a food shop.
In spite of the sweltering temperatures, it managed to stay relatively cool inside our cottage. Even our bedroom and en-suite bathroom under the eaves cooled down considerably in the evenings by having the huge VELUX windows open at both ends. It was only during the last two evenings - with temperatures having soared to well over 30°C during the day - that we had to make use of the fan we'd found hidden away in one of the built-in cupboards.
We woke up refreshed on Saturday morning and, after one of Jos's famous Full Englishes, we were ready to face the day.
Although I did need to lie down for a bit after the ordeal of pulling on Jos's compression stockings! I'd like to think I've become a bit more proficient at the task in the meantime :-)
We started the day by driving down to Wadhurst, about 3 miles down the road from the cottage.
A historic market town, with a Charter dating from 1253, Wadhurst lies almost at the northern extremity of East Sussex in an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, on a high ridge of the Sussex and Kent Weald.
It's a delightful little town with a vibrant high street, where I was lucky in the first and only charity shop I visited, called Hospice in the Weald.
Within 5 minutes of stepping inside, I found a green cotton Broderie Anglaise maxi and ditto maxi skirt, both by M&S, and a stripy white and green linen blend maxi by Tesco's F&F label.
Before returning to the cottage for lunch we shared a brownie washed down with huge cups of chocolate sprinkled cappuccinos at the delightfully named Artful Grocers, a grocers and deli with on-site café.
After a latish lunch at the cottage, we were ready for our afternoon outing. For this we'd selected Pashley Manor Gardens in Ticehurst, a leisurely 15-minute drive from the cottage.
Like all the properties we would visit during our stay, this is one we'd been to before, back in 2004.
Although the manor itself cannot be visited, the garden, comprising 11 acres of beautiful borders and vistas, are an absolute treat.
These stunning gardens, on the border of Sussex and Kent, are family owned and maintained. All the ingredients of an English country garden are present: sweeping herbaceous borders, a ha-ha, well maintained (if due to the succession of heatwaves rather dry looking) lawns, box hedges, espaliered rose walk, walled garden, kitchen garden, venerable trees, all with the Grade I listed house as a backdrop.
So, it might come as a surprise when you learn that the gardens as they are now are fairly young. The current owners, the Sellick family, bought the manor with its overgrown and neglected gardens in 1981, and they were opened to the public in 1992.
Tucked in and around the planting and gardens are a number of sculptures, both by eminent sculptors and local artists.
After touring the gardens, I left Jos sitting at the swimming pool - he insisted on the silly pose, above, bottom right - while I explored the walled garden and kitchen garden until the clock insisted it was time we made our way to the café for cakes and the obligatory cappuccinos.
As an aside, the history of Pashley Manor dates back to the 13th Century when the house stood on what is now a moated island at the bottom of the lawn at the rear of the house. It was owned by the Pashley family until the mid-15th Century when it was bought by Sir Geoffrey Boleyn the great-grandfather of Anne Boleyn.
We woke up to what would turn out to be a scorcher of a day on Sunday the 9th of August, but although we'd made plans for the day, we needed to stock up at the supermarket first. This would involve what we thought would be a quick dash to Tunbridge Wells. Needless to say, we'd thought wrong as we'd only arrived at Frant, the next village up the road, when we were faced with another road closure. We were obliged to follow a diversion along a road which was chock-a-block with diverted traffic. We were left to our own devices when the diversion suddenly ended and it was nothing short of a miracle that we managed to end up where we were going to.
But I digress. Having finally made it back to the cottage, it was time for lunch and a little rest, after which we embarked on the 20-minute or so drive to the one and only National Trust property we would visit during our week.
Bateman's is a Jacobean house built in 1634, in Burwash, East Sussex, which was the family home of Rudyard Kipling from 1902 until his death in 1936. Kipling's widow Caroline bequeathed the house to the National Trust on her death in 1939.
The17th-century house, with its mullioned windows and oak beams, provided a much needed sanctuary to this world-famous writer and inspired his work.
The rooms, described by him as 'untouched and unfaked', remain much as he left them, with oak furniture, Persian rugs and artefacts reflecting his strong association with India.
Kipling wrote Puck of Pook’s Hill and Rewards and Fairies at Bateman's, which includes the poem ‘If’. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1907.
Bateman's is very much a family home that feels as though the Kiplings have just gone out for the day.
A rare watercolour painting of a Baloo, the "wise and gentle brown bear" and one of the most beloved characters in The Jungle Book, is on display (above, bottom right). The 1902 painting was created by Edward Julius Detmold – one of the Detmold twins who were commissioned to illustrate the book when they were 18. It is said that of the original 16 watercolours created by the brothers, only five are known to survive.
Courtesy of the heat - the mercury had mercilessly climbed to 32°C that day - Jos was feeling in need of a sit-down, so that we made a bee-line for the café for shared pieces of shortbread and brownie washed down with - you've guessed it! - cups of cappuccino!
Leaving Jos ensconced on the café's terrace, I briefly wandered around the garden, but I lacked the stamina to walk to the Park Mill like we did on our previous visit back in July 2024, coincidentally on the same day we visited Pashley Manor. No lack of stamina back then, it seems!
We passed this fun height chart on the way out, which we made use of to show you my outfit. As always, my charity shopped Missoni-esque skirt accompanied me on my travels. This time, I wore it with a peasant style green broderie anglaise blouse picked up in the New Look sales many years ago.
But surely I'm taller than 1 m 50? At the same time, rather confusingly, I seem to be taller than an elephant :-)
Obviously, we couldn't leave without a browse in the shop, which yielded two must-have books and a forget-me-not brooch. I am currently reading A Circle of Sisters, one of the sisters being Alice, Rudyard Kipling's mother.
We ended the day by winding (and cooling) down in our little patio garden until the sun went down, which we would be doing on most evenings that week.
I will be back with the final installment of my UK travelogue soon. I can't afford any dilly-dallying as we'll be going on another little adventure in just two weeks time.
