Young Hands Club

Bath’s great. Having said that, I’ll be moving on soon, so need to document the place before I leave. I didn’t do that at my last digs (not that anyone would ever WANT to remember a place like Croydon – except perhaps as a reminder that things could always be worse…), despite living there almost two years. So, let’s take a turn about town! We start off in a room with a view – that’d be my bedroom, up in the Mansard roof of a Georgian townhouse. Bath’s bowl-shaped; we’re setting off from the Northern hillside.

Down on street level, the trees are starting to turn. I’ve never bothered to actually go inside the garden, despite how ideal it is for spending time in the company of a young lady (though I suppose there aren’t many places that aren’t good for that). At any rate, I’ll have to tick that box before leaving!

They’re really milking the heritage thing here: guy spends a week in town (notice the wording: ‘dwelt’ – these normally read ‘lived’); gets a plaque. I hadn’t really lived here either, for the first couple of months. Dwelt, existed, sure; it’s not really living absent work. Here’s to living – irrespective of dwelling place!

Love the ironwork, though the cantilvered supports don’t look too sturdy…

Arriving at the Royal Crescent – check out those columns!

Muzzled and clucking outside the hotel:

In the distance – St Stephen’s church, offering great views over the city (though, as with most things in Bath, be ready to climb!)

There’s embellishment everywhere:

I’ve always thought obelisks’d make great spots for human sacrifice/pagan ritual; of course, Bath’s far too civil for any of that

The upmarket retail street. Looming dark clouds are fitting: not pictured – a halfdozen recently-shuttered shops that’ve been repurposed as shrines to the NHS (boarded up with brightly-coloured signs exclaiming ‘Heroes!’, ‘thank you NHS workers!’, ‘Wash your hands!’). My tailor at the end of the road says he’s running at a third of pre-plague business; the manager of a large coffee shop round the corner, half. Better fire up those printing presses!

The facade could use some of that water

Speaking of water, they’ve established some modern spas downtown – though I’ve never seen or heard of anyone patronising them:

The original Roman Baths are strictly no-bathing (something to do with people catching weird diseases – seems the waters aren’t all that salutary). The exterior is shown below (muzzles-only inside):

Notwithstanding pathogens, the inscription below roughly means ‘water is best’ (apparently the phrase is untranslatable into English, on account of its idiomatic use of antithesis. It’d literally render something like ‘on the other hand, water’.

Behind the baths, a wild abbey appears:

 

 

It was cattle-only inside, but I managed to get a shot of the fan-vaulted ceilings and stained glass through the one-way cattle herding exit:

More lovely masonry below. In other lovelies, a cutie walking by smiled at me as I framed the shot – I’m annoyed I focused more on the camera, and didn’t say hi. Bath’s packed with tall, healthy blondes – maybe there’s something in the water, after all. Note to self: well-built women trump well-built structures.

 

Around the corner, there’s the Empire hotel, neighbouring the Palladian bridge and weir – the latter of which can be seen grouchily grumbling out last night’s rainfall:

 

Various red-bearded locals can be spotted as we loop back toward home:

 

 

Distantly, you can make out the Albert Memorial obelisk.

In other reminders, I’ll have this article as a plaque to my time here.

Here Dwelt Lived

Daniel Godwin

2020