A couple weeks ago, feeling the claustrophobia that only a stinky winter London can bring, Shaun and I went on a spontaneous(ish) day trip to Lewes, a village in Sussex. We'd been considering a blustery coastal trip to Dorset for a few days, but it's way stressful planning a last-minute weekend trip when you don't have many monies, so we decided to take a day trip instead. We picked Lewes because 1) it has a 15th century bookstore, and 2) it has a castle. Those were pretty much the only reasons. Also it had a garden, which was an appealing possibility until the rain started.
I'd say the highlight of the trip was the castle. By far. There were creepy wax figures hiding in tower rooms, hunched over by windows, backlit and eerie. I was unsure whether or not the first one was real. In fact now that I think about it, I believe there was only one wax figure. I must have imagined there were more in my horror-filled retrospective. One wax figure, though. In the entire castle. Why did they make ONE GUY, and then just sit him on a windowsill like Gollum? It makes no sense. Also, is it the Thing now for castles to have wax figures straight from Uncanny Valley, dressed up in historical garb? All the castles I've been to in the UK so far (all two of them) have had unsettling wax figures scattered around. I don't get it. In fact I don't want to get it, I just want it to end.
Also I'm a dick and not posting a photo of the wax figure out of laziness. HA.
Lewes is a weird village. It has about five billion antique shops, a crap restaurant called The Real Eating Company (bad service, ridiculous prices, not enough ketchup, too many children, mandatory gratuity, but delicious food), lots of nice cars going about, and an astounding amount of really awful Victorian taxidermy. Lewes! Where dreams come true.