The cottage is on the southern edge of a small village twenty minutes off the coast. These ten spots — eight by foot, two by short drive — are what we tell guests on the way out the door at breakfast. Walking times measured from the front gate.
The village pub. Eight pumps, three of them local, a small kitchen that does the best fish-and-chips in the county on Fridays only. Booking unnecessary on weeknights, advisable Friday and Saturday.
A six-table French bistro in a converted Victorian on the village green. Margot herself takes orders. The menu is small and changes weekly. Reservations required — we're happy to call for guests.
Three small tables, an espresso machine, a chalkboard with the day's soup, and the best brown butter chocolate-chip cookie on the south coast. Owen reads the morning paper here on his day off.
Out the back garden gate, down the lane, and the toll path is on the right. Four miles along the river, past the old mill, the abandoned lock, and back through the meadow. Loop of about ninety minutes at a strolling pace.
A sixteenth-century abbey, a quarter of a wall and a small graveyard, on the hill behind the village. Best at dawn or in the hour before sunset. The bench by the rosemary patch has a clear view down to the water.
Two big rooms and a back garden full of garden statuary, blue-and-white pottery, and a great rack of botanical prints. The Hollyhock's botanical prints came from here. Bargain politely.
Down past the boatyard, a footpath drops to a small shingle cove with rock pools at low tide. Best swimming on the south coast in July; in winter, the wind off the water is genuinely something. Tide chart in the parlor.
A National Trust manor with seven acres of gardens, a kitchen garden, and the only formal yew topiary on the south coast. Open April through October. The cafe in the old stables does an outstanding cream tea.
A small old-growth wood at the back of the village, carpeted in bluebells for two weeks of the year. Outside the bluebell window it is a perfectly nice but ordinary wood. During those two weeks, it is one of the best places in England.
A converted boathouse on the harbor, twenty seats, oysters from the bay and whatever came off the boats that day. Walk-ins only — they don't take reservations. Get there at five, eat by six, walk it off at seven.
Owen sketched this for the breakfast room ten years ago and we've been redrawing it ever since. The cottage is the yellow flower at center; the river runs east, the abbey sits on the hill behind, and every numbered spot above is mapped to scale.