Bathing Beauty

The Bath

Ok, so I went to work. I said I was going to go at the end of the last post so I went. Then I came home. Then I went back to work. My life is so boring.

I said I was going to write about the second leg of our last journey (Bath) but either I was underwhelmed by what I saw or the forgetfulness of old age is upon me; I remember very little. I remember meandering along the twisting streets in our car until happening across a parking lot. Then we meandered the same streets on foot until we came across the town’s namesake, the roman Bath. Those Romans loved to bathe and even got kinda religious about it,Look at that... a swastika and the CF logo.... buncha thieves

appointing a goddess of the hotspring. To this natural wonder they added their technological knowhow and soon had the hot water running beneath floors from hot rooms to cold rooms and steam rooms and...hey! It’s slowly coming back as I type. I do remember.
They added a temple for...Minerva? The cold room was called the frigidarium and the warm room was the tepidarium (although it sounds like someone made this up).

All that remains are scraps of its former glory and the Victorian gilding. The ‘Roman’ statues were placed there a hundred years ago so have enough weathering to be not too far out of place. The pool itself is no longer used and has turned a lovely shade of green but the video screens show computer-generated films of how it was developed and used 2,000 years ago. I could have seen that on TV. Still, the best part of travelling and life is the getting there; the journey not the destination.

I think she's trying to tell me something

And the journey was great. With the little guy left with a neighbour it was four adults enjoying one another’s company, free to share adult stories and drink beer. Conversation never dragged and the route was convoluted enough to make a simple daytrip an adventure. Next time though, we’ll have to leave enough time to actually see the town. This time ‘round it was rushrush, into the bath, take a pic, “oh,is that the time?”, a quick walkabout of the town, get in the car and fly back to Cardiff. But whether or not there isn’t a next time isn't as important as being able to say “Oh,yeah, I been to Bath...”