Canterbury

Our first stop — as you quite literally can’t miss it when you leave the train station — was The Goods Shed. An absolute gem and foodie heaven rolled into one. If you know me, you’ll know any excuse for a sausage roll — and theirs was next-level delicious.

And because life’s far too short for restraint, I followed it up with a slice of the most divine carrot cake for breakfast. Yes, breakfast — and no regrets!!

We stayed just a stone’s throw from the iconic Westgate Towers, with a view that made me do a proper double-take—the River Stour twinkling in the sunlight and a gorgeous garden bursting with tulips and wildflowers along the banks.

The Falstaff Hotel (highly recommend!) — a place that quite literally breathes Canterbury’s history, with its timber beams, creaky staircases, and that unmistakable charm only centuries of stories can create.

And, of course, no visit would be complete without stepping into the majestic Canterbury Cathedral. I was as awestruck as the first time I entered Norwich Cathedral — I could’ve spent hours there – so peaceful and very humbling!

While there, we met the kindest priest who, out of sheer generosity, offered us a mini private tour (such a gem!) and even helped us prepare a personal message in remembrance of Oliver’s 100-year-old Aunty Winnie, who had recently passed. A fleeting encounter, a stranger’s kindness — simple, unexpected, and it meant everything.

We ticked off all the must-see spots (naturally!) and, in true “us” fashion, were soon lured by food — specifically a lamb pie from The Old Weavers House by the river.

Absolute heaven. Glorious, next-level, insane DE-LISHH-CIOUSNESS! No pics of the pie, I’m afraid — we devoured it before our cameras even stood a chance. Total blink-and-it's-gone situation.

P.S. We also wandered across town for some seriously amazing Caribbean/Jamaican food — spicy, soulful, and served with a ridiculously divine hot sauce that we just had to take home. Two bottles later, we were fully stocked because yes… it was that good.

P.S.S. We stumbled upon the Franciscan Gardens, a total hidden oasis just off the High Street. At first, it looked like a regular shop, and then — bam! — we stepped out into the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous gardens. Bees buzzing, birds singing, people picnicking in the long grass! It felt completely surreal, like we’d jumped over a wall straight into the pages of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden.