Winchester

Winchester. One minute, you’re in a bustling city full of history and grandeur — regal buildings, a commanding cathedral, secondhand bookshops stacked to the ceiling, cosy cafés with fogged-up windows and slices of cake the size of your face, and antique shops scattered with little treasures I absolutely didn’t need but bought anyway!

And the next? You’re suddenly in open countryside, stumbling across crumbling castle ruins, with horses lazily grazing nearby like it’s just another Tuesday in rural England.

The River Itchen wound its way beside us — sometimes roaring, sometimes whispering — as we followed it past ivy-wrapped courtyards, cobbled lanes, and ornamental English pubs tucked so neatly into the city it almost felt like a movie set.

We had an unforgettable meal at the Michelin-starred Chesil Rectory — beautifully intimate, with such attention to detail, and every bit as magical as the hype promised.

We ended our adventure at Lainston House — all elegance and old-world charm. Blushing blooms, fragrant lavender, and gardens so magnificent I nearly forgot where I was. Like stepping into a period drama… only better, because this time, we got to live it.