Lewes

A fine day, light wind, "sunny breaks," warm. We set out for Lewes, the nearby town where Kate lived for a year when she was 16, and where our friends Mark and Melissa lived before they emigrated to Canada.

It is going to be difficult not to use the word quaint here. From the south you come into town through a tunnel and enter a delightful hodge-podge of old buildings on winding, stone streets that go up and down hills. There are twisting alleyways that lead, via steps, to tucked-away homes with names ("The Lodge," "The Round House"). In the centre of town is a ruined Norman Castle. There is a narrow street named Rotten Row and an alley named Pipe Passage. The human-sized river Ouse runs through the east end of the town; before the arched stone bridge over it was built, the town on the other side, sited under a massive chalk cliff, was named Cliffe.

We arrived at 9:30 on a Sunday morning. Most shops were closed, but they began to open as we walked along the High Street. Near the river, the High Street became a pedestrian mall, which just doubled the charming factor. Things slowly began to get going. On the bridge we could see a plywood castle wall and men and women in old-time costume were waylaying passers-by. It turned out to be Cliffe Independence Day, and we were taken hostage by the Cliffe Bonfire Society, who were raising money, presumably, for their annual bonfire. We heard a local resident react with indignation: "Pay money to walk in the high street?") The entire high street through Cliffe was a carnival, complete with roasting meats and merry-go-round.

We explored down South Street, and found to our consternation that the highly-recommended South Street Fish and Chips was closed for the day. Obviously we would have to return. Fed the boys on sausages from the Bonfire Society brigands and headed up to the Castle.

This was an excellent castle. There's a barbican tower you walk through (indeed a street goes through it), and we could climb the the towers and look out over the town. The spiral stairs were tight twists running up through stone tubes. From the top of the highest tower we looked down, and far below us at the base of the wall we could see a red fox curled up in a tiny circle in the ivy, sleeping away the day in his safe place within the castle precinct.

After we left the castle we walked again down through the mayhem of the Cliffe Independence Day and headed up a tiny street on a public footpath to the Downs. The street became a stairway, ascending steeply thorugh leafy forest and then we emerged out onto, well, not the Downs, but in fact a golf course. Bit of a disappointment, but since it was a public footpath we just played through and kept ascending. Eventually climbed a stile, escaped the fairways and got to roam in sheep meadows. Around us the hills were largely bare of trees, meadow after meadow separated by fences, and on this Bank Holiday Sunday we could other knots of walkers in all directions. There was a long view out over the Ouse valley to other Downs, and south to Newhaven. I wish we could have continued along the ridge to the final hill, Mount Caburn, where there was an ancient hillfort, but we were all feeling run down after driving ourselves hard for many days, so we let ourselves be content with returning by a different path that avoided the golf course. Coming down along the tops of the cliff Kate spotted a kestrel.

We had promised the boys ice cream to get them up the Downs, and so stopped to shop at Waitrose before leaving Lewes. Galen and I waited outside and watched people. After a while we noticed the store had closed (4:00) and the manager was letting people out but not in. Shortly, Kate and Will emerged and said they had no ice cream because at 4:00 there had been an announcement in the store to finish your shopping and check out immediately! The boys were graceful about accepting a delay in the ice cream.

Drove home and put our feet up. Not really. Kate busily made macaroni and cheese for dinner and Morgan unpacked and cleaned up.