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Rochester sits on a sharp bend of the River Medway, roughly thirty miles southeast of London, where the industrial grit of the Medway towns meets a surprisingly preserved historic core. It’s a place defined by its scale; the High Street is narrow and largely independent, shadowed on one side by the massive ragstone walls of a 12th-century Norman castle and on the other by one of the oldest cathedrals in England. Geographically, it’s a hilly spot, with residential Victorian terraces climbing up from the riverbank toward the open spaces of the Vines or the DJI Waterfront. While the city status was technically lost in the 1990s due to an administrative oversight, the atmosphere remains distinctly civic. It’s practical for commuters, too, with the relocated railway station providing high-speed links to St Pancras and Victoria, yet it manages to feel self-contained, bolstered by a long association with Charles Dickens and a stubborn maritime character that lingers from the nearby Chatham Dockyards.