Day 276 - The Fletcher in the Rye

Phil and Peter make their way up
Mermaid Street in Rye.

As if we really needed another excuse to try new foods, the Hythe Food and Drink Festival is on this weekend. The event brings together purveyors of homemade baked goods, wines and spirits, cheeses, sauces, candies, fruits and an array of cooked foods. Following a walk around the area with Peter and Gail, we ended up at  the festival where we enjoyed watching Peter sample and purchase his way through the stalls, all while trying unsuccessfully to remain incognito to Gail. Lol!

Peter and Gail then offered to drive to Rye for lunch and a visit around the town. The town is about 21 miles (34 km) southeast of Hythe in the county of East Sussex. Originally, like Hythe, it was one of the Cinq Ports and was located on the sea. However, silting and storms caused the area to fill-in and now the sea is 2 miles away. Rye's economy was further weakened as ships became bigger and deeper ports were needed. Subsequently, fishing and smuggling of wool grew in importance.

The original town lies on a rocky height known as the Citadel, where you find a large number of historic buildings spread over cobblestone streets. It is this combination of hillside and historical buildings and roads that  makes Rye rather unique and worth a visit if you are ever in the area or want a day trip out from London. You get a real sense of history meandering up and down the sometimes steep lanes.

The town remained rather rundown well into the 20th century, and you can still feel its history as an area for smugglers and the like despite its much more gentrified makeover of late. Today, most  inhabitants of Rye live outside the Citadel area, with many homes having been converted over to shops, restaurants and other primarily tourist-related businesses.

View of Rye from the church tower.

At the top of the hill is The Parish Church of St. Mary, Rye. When this church was built in the 12th century, the area was held by the Abbey of Fecamp in Normandy. In 1377, Rye was invaded by the French and the church was looted, which included having the church bells taken. Area men went to Normandy the next year where they set fire to two towns and reclaimed much of what was originally stolen from Rye (and probably a tad more).

The church houses what is referred to as the "new" clock; it was installed sometime in the early 1560s, which begs the question: where is the "old" clock. It's pendulum swings within the church itself. Phil, Peter and Gail climbed up the tower to get a view of the town and surrounding countryside while I undertook the more genteel pastime of reading the death memorials on the church walls.

Playwright, John Fletcher.

Just outside of the church is Fletchers House Tearoom, our choice for lunch. It will never cease to hold me in awe when I find myself eating in a building that was built in the 15th century. I always wonder how many people have moved about in these very rooms. John Fletcher, who the house is named after, was born here in 1579. The house is in close proximity to the church most likely because John's father Richard was curate of Rye, later becoming Bishop of Bristol and Worcester, and then Bishop of London. As chaplain to Queen Elizabeth I, he even had the rather gruesome task of attending Mary Queen of Scots at her execution. His son John became a famous playwright, a contemporary of Shakespeare whose fame he rivaled at the time. He even collaborated with Shakespeare on Henry VIII and The Two Noble Kinsmen. And his own play The Woman's Prize or the Tamer Tamed, is said to be a sequel to The Taming of the Shrew. John Fletcher died of the plague while living in London.

Of course, he may not have fared any better in Rye. As a port city with goods and people coming and going on a regular basis, the plague hit here with a vengeance. Deadman's Lane in Rye is believed to be the burial place of local victims of the plague. Later, during the Hundred Years War with France, those killed were also buried here.

I always try not to wonder if anyone died of the plague in the building in which I'm eating.

Peter and Gail set off for home following our lunch, and we look forward to spending time with them again on a future visit to the UK.

Lady Jane Tanqueray was our next guest, and had graciously agreed to have her chauffeur bring her to meet us in Rye. We were surprised to find that Lady Jane had never been to Rye, so gave her a quick tour, before setting off through the countryside and back Hythe in Kent. On crossing the border into Kent, I swear I heard her mumble that she could "smell the poverty," but she claims she was just thinking of her landholdings and had mumbled "sell the property."

Upon return to our cottage, bottles of bubbly were consumed, laughter ensued and we all pored out of the cottage later for a late-night Thai dinner and a town tour in the dark.