Rochester

I really like Rochester - it's the sort of town you'd design if you were given all the components and told to arrange them in the right order: a compact high street with lots of independent shops, pubs at regular intervals, a cathedral (yes, I know that makes it a city not a town but it doesn't feel like one) then next to it a castle overlooking the river with its conjoined road and rail bridges, the oldest of which is guarded by lions. Two stations within easy walking distance connect Rochester to most of the London termini and the traffic is kept out of the centre by its by-pass just behind the shops (that's the vicious A2 on its way to being the Official Brexit Lorry Park a bit nearer the coast).

Added to which was a whole lot more music today - some in the cathedral crypt (extra) - and chats with friendly strangers. One turned out to have taught at the school I went to (after my time, obviously). He was one of 80 teachers who resigned over an unjust Ofsted report which was later successfully challenged in court. Once we'd established a rapport, he told me he spends every Wednesday protesting outside parliament about the way Ukrainian refugees are being treated. He showed me the Ukrainian flag in his backpack - somewhat less assertive than the XR message I have pinned to the back of mine, which triggered another conversation with a like-minded couple from, against all the stereotypes, Tunbridge Wells.