Weekend in Bath

We spent the weekend exploring some of the region to the west of London, spending most of our time - two nights and a day - in the city of Bath.

We arrived separately. Sarah had her last day of school holiday, and Margo took the day off to drive them west. They spent time in the Cotswolds area, also seeing Shakespeare's home of Stratford-on-Avon, and stopped for tea before heading for Bath in the early evening.

I took the Tube to Paddington Station and boarded a train to Taunton. It was a little odd joining the homebound commuters on another train, like being a gang member in a different neighbourhood. Heading west, I saw planes from nearby Heathrow airport. We followed the Thames in parts; where we crossed it I saw some larger homes by the riverside.

We passed through Reading, which I know as containing the Reading Gaol as well as being the groaningly appropriate setting of the Jasper Fforde literature detective books. Swindon and Chittenham went past before we slowed down for Bath, and I left my southern-viewed seat early to go to the doorway and look to the north at the hills, trying to guess which one is Solsbury Hill.

Now of course Bath is known for lots of things, but with my music glasses always on, I mostly know it as the home of Peter Gabriel and his Real World studios. Likewise, nearby Bristol (the next train stop) can only be known to me as a centre of trip-hop in the 90s with Massive Attack and Tricky, and in the nearby town of Portishead, the band of the same name. I wish we'd had time to see them, but of course, what's there to see for the family - a Museum of Massive Attack? Not yet, I'm afraid.

I should also mention here that Bath is surrounded by hills, which is unusual in flat England. I know the hot spring was part of its founding by the Romans, but I can't help but wonder if the resemblance to hilly Rome was another.

Margo and Sarah were parked near the station, and we went on to our bed and breakfast. Then, without taking off our coats, we went back out to find dinner. Margo had got a recommendation from one of our hosts for a pub two minutes' walk down the road, but we set off in the wrong direction for a happy accident, settling in at The Hop Pole, a pub in a local chain named Bath Ales.

I was glad to see that they brewed their own, so Margo and I tried some of their darker offerings. I had a Barnstormer strong ale, which tasted quite similar to the popular Adnams Broadside, if not better; and Margo had the Dark Hare stout, which I liked even better. Good local beer alone would have been impressive enough, but our dinner kept getting better. My soup of the day, broccoli with local Stilton cheese, was fantastic; Margo greatly enjoyed her liver with bacon and gravy over mash; and Sarah's mac and cheese was freshly baked and very tasty. The staff were noticeably friendly, but when I went up to visit the toilet and a staffperson pointed it out to me without my even asking, I was by now shocked at the friendliness. We're just not used to this in a pub. Margo had a three-scoop sample of locally made ice cream for dessert (honey, strawberry, and chocolate) and we acknowledged that, if we had a pub like this in Ipswich, we'd visit three times a week. Our bill was also considerably lower than we'd expected.

As we had rubbish weather - blustery winds and light rain - and we were all tired from our days, we called it a night. Sarah and I shared a bed and even in her sleep she'd be annoying me by rolling into me and getting her feet into my side.

In the morning Margo and I had full English breakfasts and Sarah had porridge. We walked behind our block to see the Royal Crescent. Sarah is the little blue dot running up the hill on the left.



We passed The Circus, a roundabout surrounded on all sides by more crescent-shaped buildings. Then we walked down some shopping streets to the site of our day's two destinations: the Roman Baths (entrance on the right), and the Bath Abbey (on the left).



Something like a museum had been built up around the baths, and we took in lots of information along the way. Bill Bryson narrated some of the audio tour, and he's somehow associated with the café also. The baths are fed by underground spring water - we had a chance to taste some later for 50p, and it was hot and stinky - and has some therapeutic attributes. We saw Roman artefacts including tiles and sculptures. We also saw the spring source, and later the baths themselves. This is the largest bath.



Next, we had tea and cakes in The Pump House café, a room that could also be a ballroom. A string trio played from a stage. Sarah brought an air of grace and respectability to the proceedings, making us very proud.



The Abbey was next. It's one of the largest structures in the city, and recognisable from some distance.





Margo added to her collection of close-ups of sculptures like this.



As we returned to our room to rest a while, it started raining again. We got cosy and all ended up taking naps.

After a while I went out into the rain to take in a few more sights. I started with some of the shopping centres, ending up at the Pulteney Bridge over the River Avon, which looks inspired by the Ponte Vecchio in Florence with its shops.



I visited the Victoria Art Gallery and quite enjoyed the oil paintings on the first floor. Then I found myself at a Waitrose and got the Saturday Guardian and a bottle of port for a rainy afternoon tipple.

After some more downtime, we considered where to have dinner. Despite being given a map of fine dining by our hosts, we decided to return to the Hop Pole as we enjoyed it so much, and well-done pub food sounded much better than taking a chance on Italian or French or other cuisine. My fish and chips came with a tasty chef-made tartare sauce, Margo enjoyed her steak, and Sarah ... had the same mac and cheese. (Kids ...)

I'd also done a bit of reading from a book at our bed & breakfast and got the impression that Bath has a reputation as a place to relax. Not just for the spring water, but also in other ways. It seems there are (or at least were) more places to get a drink here than in the average English town. And there seems to be an emphasis on cooking with local organic ingredients in the Slow Food manner. You could call it a Slow Town.

After a bit of telly in our room, we retired.

In the morning we checked out after breakfast and drove back east in lovely morning sun. We followed a valley for a while and enjoyed the extra drama that hills give a countryside.

We hadn't much of an agenda, so the day before we decided we'd visit Stonehenge on the way home as it wasn't far out of the way. And who could pass an opportunity to see such a famous site?



The site is near two main roads; you park in a lot, pay admission, and cross a subway under one of them to see the site. A fenced path winds around the stones; sheep graze nearby.



For me, with my music glasses on, Stonehenge of course cannot be mentioned without bringing to mind Spinal Tap, so I gave an appropriate salute.



For the remaining hours driving home, we listened to a programme of show tunes on Radio Two. The Radiohead I'd brought to play didn't go over well, and it was hard to hear k.d. lang over the road noise, but radio fit nicely. I also skimmed the Sunday Times we'd got at a petrol station whilst filling up.

Approaching London, Margo took us to a rest stop. I was expecting a parking lot and loos, but this Road Chef was more a small food court. Margo announced she'd give her patronage to Wimpy's burgers, and I went with the flow, eating my first fast food in Europe. Skirting under London on the M25 ring road, I got my first look at the Dartford Tunnel as we crossed underneath the Thames.

Returning to Ipswich and unloading the car, I marveled in the Springtime, light-jacket weather, realising that just a week ago there was fresh snow on the ground.