December 2025. Herne Bay. Yes, it’s my birthday (22/12) and I’m in a caravan writing blog posts for you (after a day’s walking in Hastings). Mrs RM did the same on her birthday, we’re dedicated to our art. Still on Mrs RM’s Birthday Eve, as we continue along the coast to Herne Bay, for reasons you may guess. It’s...

December 2025. Whitstable. Mrs RM had been a bit miffed that our recent overnighter in Whitstable had skipped the harbour, and as you’ll appreciate I can’t afford to have an even slightly miffed wife. A mere 8 minutes from Faversham by rail, and ten by foot, brings you to the famous oyster beds, quite an industrial...

December 2025. Faversham. Part 2 of Mrs RM’s eve of birthday bash, though a drier “bash” you’ll never see. A dozen “must sees” marked on our Faversham map, the most exciting of which was “warm sausage roll from Tommy Butcher the Butcher“. At least, I think the surname was Butcher. It was a sensational sausage roll,...

Definitely onto the short posts now, but as it’s nearly my birthday (22/12) my attention is wandering. December 2025. Faversham. Mrs RM was determined to wake up somewhere exciting on her **th birthday this week (actual age only available to Patronised readers), and as Carluke was too far we settled on Faversham, an...

December 2025. Rye. Back in Rye the bus to the harbour was 40 minutes late. As you’ll know, 40 minutes is exactly the right amount of time needed to to Mrs RM’s shopping at Jempsons and squeeze in a bit of curated pub research. About time for a long overdue visit to the Waterworks then. As Rye’s only GBG pub, the...

December 2025. Hastings New Town. I didn’t buy a £1 bag from Primark to carry my £10 fleece, so ran the risk of leaving it on the train (again) if I extended my rapid assault on Hastings New Town. So the Yates’s, and the heritage Havelock, and a Belgian beer bar called Tin Tin will have to wait. Possibly forever....

December 2025. Hastings. You’ll know that I fund my hedonist lifestyle by not buying clothes, but by Monday I realised I was going to have to replace my dark fleece, inexplicably left on the 17:35 from Uttoxeter after 4 pints of Bass. 20 minutes by rail brings you to Hastings, which has shops and pubs. Oddly, I...

December 2025. Rye Harbour. I’d popped down up to Waterbeach to see Dad on Friday, leaving Mrs RM to her blog without me ruining her WiFi. “Are you back tomorrow?” she asks, oblivious to plans. Obviously she wanted something brought down to Rye, probably chocolate*, so I caught the first train back, the one with Fen...

December 2025. Waterbeach. Ask anyone about Waterbeach and they’ll say “Ah, that’s where the Southworths ate a Chinese takeaway with folded bits of card“, but it’s also renowned as the place with two breweries and a Brewery Tap that isn’t. Pastore is the fruit sour specialist whose beers pop up in the craft beer...

December 2025. Waterbeach. Back at Home (2) after that little Gravesend diversion and 20 minutes between train at Kings Cross that I judged just insufficient for a pint at the King Charles I, I visit Dad in the afternoon (I’ve just missed “Annie” at the care home), hoover Sunnyside and then pop to The Sun. That...

December 2025. Gravesend. Kent. The route from home (1) to home (2) to home (3) is fairly well-established now. Friday saw the Rye to Waterbeach via St Pancras leg, interrupted by a short diversion at Ebbsfleet International, one of the UK’s least used (per square foot) railway stations now the Eurostar avoid it on...

December 2025. Bexhill-on-Sea. We’d entered the gates of Bexhill with such noble intentions. Culture at the De la Warr, a long bracing walk along the front, Eddie Izzard’s model railway… But too much beer early on had scuppered plans, and I wasn’t even in the mood for some clothes shopping for me. Not today. But a...