Day 2 followed an overnight at the Arnos Manor Hotel in Bristol.  Great looking place (check out its’ web-site: https://www.arnosmanorhotel.co.uk/) but what it fails to mention is that it’s right on the extremely busy A4.  Also they have a chef who is seriously trying too hard.  I had the Venison Lasagne for dinner.  While it was tasty, I can’t honestly say it was any better than a lasagne made with beef.  They also decided to provide garlic bread – not unusual but the bread they provided was flat bread.  Now as we all know, flat bread is not known for it’s ability to absorb things.  As a result, the garlic butter lurked like a ninja inside the bread only to spring forth and run over the table, floor and my left leg as soon as I picked the bread up.

Having said all that, the room was huge (and cheap – £35 via Tripadvisor) and I slept extremely well.

Started off with a hike to the train station.  As I left the hotel a light rain was falling, but light enough that I ignored the bus stop taunting me with its’ allure of dryness and walked anyway.  Turns out that this was the kind of rain that seems light but persists – persists until you are thoroughly moist and cursing the warm and dry people in the bus that skimmed past 10 minutes later.

Bristol Temple Meads station has two queues when you arrive – the short one for the cashier windows and the long one for the self service tickets.  The latter moves ridiculously slowly and so I, like the more incisive commuters, joined the cashier queue and swept forward towards the platforms while the people in the self service line could only shuffle forward slightly faster than the glaciers are melting.  My strategy worked perfectly and I jumped onto the train with 2 minutes to spare.  (Once again, this was clearly the result of excellent planning rather than sheer blind luck).  My planning didn’t extend to a seat however, so I was forced to stand and spent the journey half hunched over as I tried to see anything of the scenery rushing past.

My book is still A Disaffection.  I am wavering between indifference and active dislike of the book.  The style follows the internal thoughts of the main character and copies the way someone thinks.  As a result he often stops before the end of a

Annoying isn’t it?

By the time I got to Bath, the rain had stopped and I started to hike around the town centre.  The town centre, although full of the standard shops you’ll find anywhere, is still really attractive as the majority of the buildings are built of a cream coloured limestone.  The result is quite soothing and, even more soothing, I didn’t see anywhere disfigured by a set of golden arches.  The people of Bath do have an odd taste in modern art, however – what is the obsession with umbrellas?

While in Bath, I had a few things that I absolutely had to visit – the Royal Crescent, the Circus and the Roman Baths.  Apart from that, there was one place I definitely was not going to visit – the Jane Austen Centre.  While I understand that many people get a lot of pleasure from reading Jane Austen I read all of her works while I was at university.  And I read them in a week.  Like anything, you can have too much of a good thing (except for cheesecake).  In Ms Austens case “too much” arrived far earlier than anticipated – well before the end of the first book in fact.  To say that I am underwhelmed by her brand of wittily mannered literature is like saying Donald Trump is only slightly orange.  I also imagine the Centre will be filled with “actors” pretending to be her characters and giggling behind their hands while simpering “Oh, Mr Darcy” in affected tones.  And that will be just the men.  The thought of wandering around in the rain has more going for it — and luckily the rain has stopped.

I’ve managed to get here before most of Bath is awake, so I walk through the town past largely closed shops.  The day is mercifully warmer than yesterday so my cheap hoodie can get stowed away and probably never used again.  (This is extremely likely as it transpires that Primark thinks it’s a good idea to put a Large hoodie on a 2XL hanger, because let’s face it who will ever notice?  I will).

Bath is full of attractive buildings and little sights tucked just out of view.  Just off the Royal Avenue I see a sign for the Georgian Garden and I explore to find a well laid out little garden that I happily wander around.

But then it’s off to the main attraction – The Royal Crescent.  Approaching this from the Royal Avenue is definitely the right way to do it as you get a fantastic view of the whole crescent as you walk up the hill towards it.  There is a broad lawn in front of it and the place to take the best photographs from is marked by the gaggle of Japanese tourists.  Bizarrely, half of them are looking the other way and excitedly taking photographs of something else.  When I get closer, I find out what has grabbed their attention – a squirrel.

Ignoring the local rodents, I turn my attention to the Crescent itself.  It’s a truly spectacular range of buildings – and, for once, larger than I thought.  I manage to get a good video of it on my phone, spoiled only by the coach parked in front of No 1.  Did they not understand they were in my way?  Surely they would have known of my visit and cleared out the parked cars as well.  Shrugging at the repeated realisation that the world does not revolve around me, I carry on.

I learned that there are rules for taking pictures around groups of tourists.  When I see someone trying to take a picture, I stop and wait and then move on when they have finished.  The same people then turn and just as I am about to take a photo walk right in front of me, ruin the photo and then walk off completely oblivious.  Luckily I am about a foot taller than most of them so it makes very little practical difference.

I head up to walk around the Crescent itself and immediately it gets calmer and quieter.  Mainly because no other tourists seem to bother to do this.  Also with no roads in front of the Crescent, the car noise fades away and the view across the valley below makes it clear why this was built here.  My reverie is disturbed by a Chinese lady who asks me if I am a tourist and then acts in a most bizarre way.  First, she wants to talk to someone she doesn’t know.  Second, she has an extremely poor sense of direction and as I’ve unwisely admitted to being here all day wants to walk around with me so she doesn’t get lost.  So, basically, I think she’s bizarre because she’s being friendly.  It’s a sad indictment on our culture that this is unusual, and a sadder indictment on myself that I spend some time trying to think of an excuse before agreeing.

So we head off, visit the Circus and Pulteney Bridge and then head off towards the Roman Baths.  

On the way we have a long chat about many things – including the fact that she is concerned that English people think they are better than everyone else.  When I ask why she thinks this, she says it’s because when she was in London and travelling on the Tube, no-one would talk to her.  I find myself apologising for my country and trying to explain “commuting” to her.  We head off to the Roman Baths – after clarifying that I wasn’t suggesting we take a spa, but instead that this is a tourist attraction.

The Roman Baths make the visit to Bath worthwhile on their own.  The tour is well structured with an audio guide that can be fast-forwarded, paused and generally ignored when you feel like it.  They have constructed the tour so that there are several displays and it takes you through the whole place quite seamlessly.  Or it would do were it not for the 2 coachloads of French school children.  It turns out that there is nothing that a group of gibbering children cannot screw up.

I move ahead to get past the damn kids, and so manage to lose my companion.  I waited for her once I left, but didn’t see her again – so she probably thinks I was very rude.  Either that or she had been trying to get away from me and took the opportunity to do so.  It’s only then that I realise that despite walking around Bath for a couple of hours at no point had we asked each other our names!  Feeling somewhat chastened, I head off for lunch and I choose an emporium where I can be assured of the finest of foods and wines – Smashburger.  As I go in I notice that the lurking presence of McDonalds has installed itself opposite and I mentally spit in their direction.

Smashburger is interesting.  Not unpleasant but I’m not sure I’d go out of my way to eat there again.  Following lunch, some more ambling around before getting the train back home.  On the way back, I afford some amusement to a group who watch me falling asleep as I continue to plow my way through A Disaffection.  What they don’t realise is that I’m awake enough to hear one of them patiently trying to explain to his airhead friend what the attraction of the book Shogun is.  She clearly doesn’t get it, but he continues trying to explain what the book is about which speaks of either extreme patience on his behalf, or a desire to get in her pants.  I smile to myself and put Shogun on the list to re-read.

I get back to Slough with a mingled sense of relief and disappointment.  Relief that I have started this project and got the first two places complete, disappointment that I live in Slough.