UnApologetically Mel

We picked the perfect day to escape to Rye — one of those blue-sky mornings that looks dreamy from the window but lies straight to your face. The moment we stepped outside, the below-zero cold hit like a slap. And there I was, underdressed as ever, teeth chattering, looking frozen in 90% of my photos. Honestly… classic me.

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We hopped off the train and headed straight to The Mermaid Inn for our customary fireside drink — and to thaw out, of course — before wandering those cobbled, storybook streets… and straight into Merino’s Fish Bar. Hot, crispy fish and chips, the best hake, a battered sausage (because obviously), and the cutest family celebrating their baby boy’s first birthday — the little one happily chomping on his chips.

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Rye Deli was next — newly stocked for Christmas and dangerously tempting when you're hungry. Overflowing with cheeses, chocolates, chutneys, festive treats… the kind of place where you swear you’ll “just look” and walk out with a bag full of things you absolutely did not plan to buy.

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And then came my beloved (non-negotiable!!) Knoops. I ordered my 54% hot chocolate with toasted marshmallows and that pistachio cookie that deserves an award… and somehow we even scored a free 54% cold milkshake. Did we still drink it? Obviously. Was it DIVINE in below-zero weather? Absolutely.

 

Then it was off to Camber Sands.

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This whole trip was a last-minute surprise from Oliver to celebrate ten years since we met — a whole decade. My heart did a little somersault. The man chose well. (He did good — really good!)

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The moment we walked into The Gallivant, I knew why it felt so instantly special. Everything reminded me of Badehotellet — that Danish seaside drama I adore and rewatch like it’s therapy. It felt like stepping into one of my happiest fictional worlds: soft coastal charm, warm lighting, wooden textures, the quiet drift of guests through the lounge, the gentle hum of life unfolding around us…

You know that feeling when something familiar and comforting suddenly becomes real? It was that — but with sea air and the faint smell of warm cake.

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Speaking of cake: English Wine Hour. Complimentary wine and complimentary cake. Say no more. The staff were gorgeous, the atmosphere was effortless and cosy, and Christmas was just beginning to twinkle quietly around the edges.

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That evening, we ate at Harry’s — beautiful food, beautifully done. The Saint-Émilion chocolat dessert was outrageously, richly sublime. And no, I did not share. Yes — I refuse to apologise.

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The next morning, on our way back home, we tried to catch brunch at The Fig — owned by a MasterChef winner — but missed it by minutes (tragic). So instead, we tucked ourselves into The Cobbles Tea Room. Old-world charm, proper tea, more cake (for celebratory reasons, of course — wink). And then a quick warm drink at The George Inn before heading back to the big smoke.

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From start to finish — absolutely purfick.