Towns are all different. Some are small and some so large that they become cities. Living in some parts of built up areas must be so depressing, nothing but street after street. Some of the towns are hard. Heavy industry drives them ever onwards. Others have nothing but people and office buildings that become desolate areas come teatime. A few of the big towns stay alive all night with shift workers and venues for clubs. Noise usually accompanies these areas. Some towns seem sad while others vibrate.
The odd town is ugly whereas my town is pretty. Not all towns are old but my home town is ancient, going back in time and keeping some of its old buildings to show off to others. The summer brings thousands of people from all over the world to see the delights of the cobbled streets and architecture. At night, be it winter or summer, the town sleeps to such an extent that walking the streets one wonders if anyone lives there. The trade that keeps my town alive is the tourists, which flock to admire the scenes.
Rye is famous for all the right things and has had visitors long before William the Conqueror passed through. Even though he and his cronies were not friendly, they coveted my town. Artists of all genes have always found it to be the Mecca for inspiration. The beauty of the quaint place and all its moods make it a romantic place to live.
“Rye’s Own” January 2008
All articles, photographs and drawings on this web site are World
Copyright Protected. No reproduction for publication without prior