It had all started so well. After a hectic and somewhat stressful month, Debbie and I decided we deserved a break, so we booked a trip to the beautiful old town of Rye in Sussex. We found a charming B&B called The Windmill, near a cobbled street full of pubs, restaurants and gift shops. Our host was charming, and took time to mark the best restaurants and tourist attractions on a map for us.
We headed out early to explore, and after a while chose a quaint old pub for dinner, and enjoyed an excellent meal. Then we went for another stroll before heading back to the B&B. It had been a long day, and soon our heads were resting on soft pillows, and we drifted towards a blissful sleep. Then:
“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!” followed by the ringing of a bell.
What the…? Some drunken idiot in the street. Rudely awoken, it took us a long time to get to sleep after that. But eventually we did. Until 2:52am.
“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!” and a different bell. There was still no content to the announcement.
We overslept and by the time we arrived at breakfast it was nearly over, and we were able to get our orders in just in time. But we had to shout out what we wanted, because six large bearded men were talking at stupendous volume at the next table.
PASS THE COFFEE!
WHERE’S THE MARMALADE GONE?
We weren’t in the best of moods when we headed out for the day. On the streets of Rye we encountered a veritable Bellow of Brian Blesseds. I suppose that’s what you get when your visit coincides with the 73rd National Town Criers’ Championship.
Leave a Reply