Rye
The penchant for aptly named premises continues
along West Street – Cobble Cottage (circa 1500) effi ciently summing up the local thoroughfares; and The Other House being… just that. At the end of West Street, a cobbled footpath leads past pretty cottages that have been shoehorned into every last available inch of space. That, in turn, leads to the junction of Lion Street and Market Street, and the old town hall. Dating from 1742, this houses a grisly secret – a gibbet cage containing the remains of a murderer who was hanged in 1743. It is also the scene of a long-established Rye tradition: on the fi rst bank holiday in May, the newly elected mayor throws warm pennies from the upper storeys to assembled children below. St Mary’s Church, of Norman origin, peers down across
the old town hall and Lion Street. Its clock has an antique 16th-century mechanism, and the enormous pendulum swings, pedantically, above your head as you walk through the main entrance. Two cherubs stand guard on the clock tower. Known as the Quarter Boys, they strike their bells only on the quarter hours. Midday does, therefore, come as something of a silent anti-climax – although the clock bell does obligingly strike twelve. The highlight of the church interior is its stained glass,
and the west window was in fact donated by E F Benson. Unusually, it is positively gloomy – a result of the preponderance of blue glass, used to depict plentiful blooms of morning glory, a plant with which the writer fell particularly in love during a visit to Capri.
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It is sometimes possible to climb the church tower for
roof-level views of the town. Below, in Church Square, more timber-framed cottages lean towards St Mary’s – a consequence, perhaps, of straining to listen to centuries of sermons. In the churchyard, lichen-covered gravestones stand guard, their inscriptions worn smooth by six score years and more of Romney Marsh weather. Alternatively, another lofty viewpoint is from the top of
Ypres Tower, on the town’s southeastern edge. Built in 1249, its original role was as a fort. Subsequently, it has seen service as a house, a prison, and now a museum telling the story of Rye. There are fi ne views from here across Romney Marsh and to the quayside of the River Rother. Rye has an active fi shing fl eet, although what you see from here is not Rye Harbour: that is a separate settlement a mile or so downstream. Behind the church, still more half-timbered and
weather-boarded listed buildings line Watchbell Street – named after the bell that was sounded here to warn of invasion. The threat, as we know, was real: Rye was far more heavily fortifi ed than is apparent today. There were four gates, the only one surviving being Land Gate at the eastern end of High Street. This dates from 1329. High Street is the busy centre of town, yet,
architecturally, there is less of interest here. The old grammar school, with its formidable dark brickwork, was founded in 1638, and is now a shop. The George Hotel, meanwhile, is noteworthy in that its front, like one or two other buildings in Rye, is clad in mathematical tiles.
BRITAIN 35
Above left: The window of Strand Quay Antiques shop. Above right: The Cobbles tea room. Below: A town crier in Georgian dress at Rye's Maritime Festival
PHOTO: VISIT BRITAIN/ALAMY, ANTHONY THOROGOOD
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