By Dan
Tuesday 27th of March 2018

Two weekends ago we ventured out into the countryside to the ancient town of Bath, or as the Romans called it, Aquae Sulis. We stayed in an Airbnb further out of town where the houses crawled up the hill and clung to it’s side. Our room was in an apartment in one of the cookie cut golden townhouses and were very happy to learn that our host had two Italian greyhounds named Arthur and Amber, who were hilarious with their shyness of strangers in a constant battle with their desire for pats.

The trip was a bit of a whirlwind to say the least. But we made good of our time and wrung the town’s major attractions dry. We visited the famous Roman baths, drank some of the water, I would say don’t drink it; it’s flavour was something like a sucking on a bar of warm iron while drinking a warm cup of water. But I would also say drink it – in case I’m wrong. Then visited the cathedral, which was beautiful as most cathedrals are. The weather was a bit shitty and a cold wind chased us through the streets, doing it’s best to freeze us to the core. We found a great, warm bookstore in Mr B’s Emporium, where we found a couple of deep-dished chairs to bury our backsides in and a couple of great books to bury our frontsides. I think we were there for a couple of hours.

Finally, the sun went down, or so we assumed because it was suddenly night. And the most anticipated part of our trip was before us. Dinner! We were eating at a vegetarian restaurant called Acorn. Luckily, I’d booked a few weeks in advance as the place was renowned. And because we were sitting near the front we witnessed at least a dozen people without bookings turned away. The dinner was the most delicious food we’d ever eaten. Seriously. We treated each meal as a spectacle, not really knowing what to expect from their names, for example, the entree I ordered was called Donkey Carrots. But my word, the presentation was second to only the taste. Between meals we giggled to ourselves and listened to the other diners exclaiming their delights. If we were at a church we’d all be new converts. 

We went home and awoke to snow the next day. It was like someone upstairs decided to coat Bath in a special layer of Mother Nature’s icing for Richelle’s birthday. It was beautiful. I love the silent cocoon that falling snow makes around you, everything comes in muffles and you feel like you're alone in the world. We didn’t really have much planned for the day other than hiking up to the look out to see Bath in her new white coat. Seeing as it was up a giant hill it was much easier to come down then go up and anyone fortunate enough to own a sled was a god in our eyes. We made it back to flat earth and made our way back to Mr B’s for another hour of toasty reading.

After that we got our things from our room and headed to The Huntsman, a pub in the middle of town, and sat, read and drank a pint of beer, while waiting for our bus. With half an hour till our bus there was only two things left to do: Buy one of Sally Lunn’s delicious buns and get some chocolate from Charlotte Brunswick. Both long-time (and long dead) legends of the Bath community.

Our bus finally arrived and we headed home for London. Of course the circulated air fucked with my immune system and I got sick again, but who cares, we had fun. Happy Birthday Richelle!