As the train weaves its way through the vast green, undulating hills of Kent, I feel a mild flurry of anticipation. He has planned two days of adventure for us and after all of this time, I am finally granted a glimpse into his brave new world; his new apartment with recently acquired furniture and décor, the print of mine of our Tongariro Crossing that he had framed, his new sporty car, his local shops and pubs and the walking trails he takes each day. Anxiety reeks. He opens the door with cautious hesitation, and I see that he is nervous. “It’s not as nice as yours”. He says We spend the morning wandering through the historical Knole, and its surroundings, an ancient woodland home to fallow and silka deer. Then a stroll through Shoreham, a quaint unaltered village where cobblestoned streets and crooked old cottages ooze tall tales of Tudor escapades and Shakesperean drollery; and finally a brisk walk around Sevenoaks Nature Reserve, a former quarry now a wildlife conservation are
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