Scott and I said good-bye to London and headed to our new “home base”: Royal Tunbridge Wells.  

One of our goals was that we wanted to stay longer during each stop – less packing up suitcases and getting to know each area better.  RTW seemed dead center Kent and Sussex and after what might seem like an obsessive amount of research, it checked all the boxes: charming village feel, walkable AND laundromat and a proper (to quote the Brits) grocery store.

I am not sure if I conveyed earlier how compact the hotel room we stayed in London was, but it was micro sized.  Postage Stamp. Opening a suitcase required choreography!  It was part of the Premier Hotel chain, recommended by Rick Steves as a “good deal.” It was.  By London standards, but small.  So for our next stop, we had once again, followed Rick Steve’s advice and booked another Premier Inn.  Imagine our delight when we opened the door and it was huge.  Enormous.  Central.  Quiet and clean.  

We enjoyed our first afternoon wandering  the Pantiles –  a long elegant promenade lined with restaurants and shops, a hold over from the days when RTW was the spa town.  We grabbed a table outside and found ourselves next to a group of eight moms all having lunch with their babies who were all little – like under three months old.  Next table over? More moms and babies.  All we could think was that some “moms and baby yoga class” had just ended.

The next morning: Car day.

 The idea of driving has been causing Scott considerable stress.  When the cabbie arrived to take us to Enterprise, I asked him if he had any tips, and… Masterclass!!  He covered it all…  How to handle a round-about.  A car parked on a narrow road.  How to read the signs.  Scott had driven in the UK before, but this brush-up refresher course boosted his confidence.  

(I was secretly grateful that the cost to add a second driver was so much more that we decided only Scott would drive.)

With Scott behind the wheel of our little gray Peugeot, we set out into the country to visit our first castle and garden – Hever.  The home of Ann Boleyen. 

 It was a glorious day, skies blue, warm, perfect.  We wandered the entire gardens, following inviting paths through different sections,  pausing to sit on the occasional bench here and there to take in the views and gardens.  It was the perfect blend of formal garden “rooms,” lakeside views and wildflower swaths, all connected by meandering trails.  As far as gardens go, I will let pictures do the talking, no words can describe how beautiful.  The air, the sky, the sun warming us.  It was a perfect spring day in the perfect setting.

The castle itself though?  Moody.  Dark.   And the whole Ann Boleyn history was so sad I found it sobering. The audio guide kept referring to the “rich fabrics,” which just looked like cheap polyester to me that I almost broke all the rules and reached out to touch the curtains.

We still had a bit of energy and stopped by the nearby National Trust Site, Chartwell House.  Chartwell was the home of Winston Churchill – he lived there over 40 years.  It was a fascinating and much more cheerful house than the dark and gloomy castle.  It was on a hill overlooking rolling pastures and woods.  The gardens, designed by WC himself.  His art studio, the room he wrote in, a real life lived.  

 During our previous visits to UK, we had visited Blenheim Palace where he was born and we had toured the highly recommended Churchill War Rooms, so it felt like a great book end.  It was a little moving reading about his accomplishments.  As a statesman he was revered by his country, one quote said something along the line that the entire nation would do anything he asked.  I just felt moved.  Sad.  That kind of leadership seems so…. Distant.

Scott only had a few non-negotiables for this trip.  And the next morning we completed one of them. 

The Seven Sisters.

 After another harrowing car ride for over an hour on windy, narrow roads, driving on the wrong side, we came over a knoll and the Seven Sisters came into view!  Those famous white cliffs that sweep away as far as you can see.  We used our newly minted National Trust pass to park and set off to play on the beach below the cliffs, and then to hike along the tops (FAARRRR away from the edge) to see the classic Birling Gap lighthouse. 

Sheep dotted the hills behind us.  Waves crashed below.  The path stretched out ahead. 

There were small crowds there, but everyone gave each other space.  School groups (the teacher in be CRINGING), a women’s hiking group all armed with walking sticks, runners, couples and the ones who used the setting for elaborate photo shoots.  One lady hauling a suitcase.. A SUITCASE up the trail, full of props and outfits to pose dramatically against the white cliffs.

We wrapped up our time at Seven Sisters sharing a pasty at the cafe.  A pasty.  A hand held pie filled with beef and potatoes.  A real Welsh miners delight.  I can now say I have tried one – once feels good enough.

 Bateman’s.  The home of Rudyard Kipling. 

We closed out our second day in the country in yet another palatial manor home.  Bateman’s.  It had more of a working garden, but, like Chatwell the day before, the setting almost stole the show. Rolling hills, beautiful gardens.  

When we toured the house, we stepped right into intricately designed wallpaper – gloomy. And paneled rooms – also gloomy.  One guide told us that one of his daughters complained that “there wasn’t a comfortable seat in the house.” The guide indicated the room we were in and said she was right, “It was all brown furniture.”

Scott and I both laughed at that and the guide explained that “Brown furniture,” was a Brit expression.  And we looked around at all the dark aged oak furniture – gloomy.  The guide also told us that Kipling never bought new furniture, it was all bought at auctions and used.  The OG thrifter!

After two days in Royal Tunbridge Wells, in the country – we were a little road weary – a little windblown and significantly more confident about roundabouts.  Two days.. Castles, gardens, Cliffs and country manors.  Not bad for a couple days of wandering well.