It is quite possible to cross borders from the kingdom of Wessex, especially given it’s a redundant concept from the middle ages. Among other borderlands, Wiltshire fringes the county of Somerset and immediately after crossing I feel more Westcountry. The hills seem rollier, the hedgerows higher and more frequent, the sheep brighter white against a more vivid green. It’s not quite right for a scone piled with jam and cream but not far off.
Nestled among these hills is the city of Bath and it is a place – apart from pausing for one minute at Bath Spa Station – that I have never visited before. So, thanks to Dad and Sonia for taking me there to experience its elegance and charm, and thanks to Kevin McCloud for sitting down on the table next to me for coffee, a voice that was instantly recognisable…to me at least! How soothing, and seemingly at place in Bath.
Bath boasts Roman ablutions, Florentine bridges, Royal Crescents and Jane Austen dress-ups, so what’s not to like? Its compact centre has everything in every high street everywhere in Britain, but with slightly less tat and perhaps one Pound shop and Greggs less than others. Even its Wetherspoons seems tucked away, hiding somewhere among its rabbit warren streets.
Being in Bath reminded me I haven’t actually had a bath for over a year. In my defence, I only have a shower. So here’s to Bath, the home of baths sponsored by Barry Bath of Bath Bath Fittings Ltd. I’d happily go back, bath, shower, or not.