Friday, April 6 (my seven-month birthday), was a great day to relax and get to know our accommodations. The George rises to three stories. Two wings, running west and north, stretch over the first level. Our room sits up two flights of stairs and down an uneven hall past nonstandard doorways of varying heights. Floors slant in odd directions, and massive, hand-hewn, dowel-fitted beams join walls to ceiling. The bathroom is up three steps; a trio of windows look out to the property’s west side, which includes a patio with tables directly below us. It’s all quite endearing.
Slept too late to catch breakfast in the downstairs dining room, so for our first meal of the day, concierge recommended the Bell, just around the corner. It’s also a pub, where one orders at the bar. We both chose a traditional English breakfast of eggs, sausage, bacon, beans, grilled tomatoes, hash browns, toast, and coffee, with Lina’s tweaked to vegetarian, and we sat with a view to the street.
Browsed the nearby specialty shops and grocery stores, needing assistance when paying with pounds and pence coins. Visited the local History Centre, where two delightful elder ladies filled us in on the millennia-long human occupation of the area: Amesbury claims to be one of the oldest towns in England. Rested, then guzzled tea and coffee.
Ready for action, we spontaneously decided to drive south 20 minutes to the Old Sarum, a 12th century castle site that began around 500 BC as an Iron-Age hill fort. Inner and outer circular ditches look like moats, but never held water. Instead, the earthworks discouraged attack. Norman-era kings occupied the walled residence only occasionally, but a great cathedral between the rings attracted clergy and commoners.
Views to the south offered Salisbury, or New Sarum, the town that replaced this settlement. We purchased a bottle of celtic mead on our way out for later consumption, then returned to Amesbury.
Big dine-out on our Friday date was Indian cuisine at Tandoori Nights, just across the lane. L got a vegetable masala while I consumed some kind of lamb. The place was obnoxiously noisy, but we took out enough leftovers for another meal later. The George was jumping with thumping music and great guffawing until nearly midnight–such is the charm of staying above a 13th century coaching inn.
Next: the stones speak.