First off, Faversham is old. Like, Roman-old, with a high street that looks like it was plucked from a Dickens novel. You half expect a bloke in a top hat to cycle past, shouting about a cask of ale.
But here’s the twist—it’s not stuffy. It’s got a rebellious, arty streak. You’ll find indie bookshops next to proper butcher shops, and a vintage store selling vinyl next to a place that only sells cheese. It’s quirky without trying too hard. Is that your jam? Then you’re already halfway home.
