Historic Canterbury

As "Dry January" progresses, my frustration levels have been growing with the lack of cheap things to do in the capital. So on Saturday, the boy and I headed on a day trip to Canterbury for something relatively cheap and booze free to do that would get us out of the house.

Canterbury is a lovely little city, with a few World Heritage Sites. Utilising our English Heritage membership we explored St Augustine's Abbey. Some mildly impressive ruins (but by no means the best I've seen) of an ancient ruin, full of former priests and the supposed grave of St Augustine himself.

Yorkshire... God's Own Country?

As you know, for Christmas the boy and I drove to Yorkshire to spend the holidays with his family.

My impression of what “God’s Own Country” was like was formed of many viewings of Heartbeat and All Creatures Great and Small, however I know now that this was pure naivety and I would have been better off watching re-runs of Geordie Shore.

Pondering the future

I don’t often like to comment on political manners. I was brought up to believe that it’s bad manners to talk about politics and religion in public.

Today’s strikes have got me pondering the current state of the economy and the government, and I find the whole thing very scary. 

We are so used to being in the “I want, I get” generation, with endless credit facilities, rapid job progression and the world being at your fingertips. 

Rochester: Dedicated to Dickens

This weekend the boy took me on a mini road trip to Rochester to see some castles and visit his friends.

Rochester is a quaint little historic town, and what I liked most about it, was not the dead pigeon infested Rochester Castle (and you know how much I love castles), or the extremely old and stunning Rochester Cathedral, but the town’s undying devotion to one of its famous residents – Charles Dickens.

Exploring History

On the way back from our recent escapades in Hastings, the other half and I took a detour on the way back to London to the historic town of Battle, site of the Battle of Hastings, 1066.

Not only did we enjoy lots of fresh country air as I ran across the battlefield, pretending that I got killed with an arrow (like poor old King Harold), but we joined English Heritage.