Thursday 3rd May 2012
Raining again today. Steady grey and wet. Hubby up and
showered ready for brekkie at 8:30. I was up and journaling from just after 6
am. Feeling hungry. Hopefully also
feeling better when I get to eat something. We just cannot get over the width of the elm floorboards at Nut Tree Farm. Perhaps the best proof of the age of the building.
A slow and friendly leave taking as Melvyn offers advice about our route to Bath. Our
first priority this morning is to stop in Wedmore and take some photographs.
Wedmore is a lovely village and I have to say I’m glad to be
able to claim a connection to it. My 3
rd great grandfather, George
Popham (a thatcher) was born in Wedmore.
It’s no good focusing on the C of E church our lot were
non-conformists. Perhaps the Methodist church
is more appropriate.
I laugh with delight as I notice that there is a field of
black sheep and lambs adjacent to the churchyard. I was regretting not taking a photo of baa
baa black sheep when last we saw some and here is an even better opportunity.
To some extent we retrace steps of yesterday and head first
of all for Cheddar. The weather being
less amenable to walking the crowds are less and the gorge more
attractive. Water is sheeting on the
road and splashes extravagantly as we drive through. A beautifully horned bronze age ewe leads her
young lamb along the grass by the road. Brown wool showing a wet luster. Low
dry stone walls are richly blanketed in moss as the canopy closes overhead in a
tracery of bare branches. The fine veil of rain smooths rough edges.
Emerging from the gorge it is no hardship to drive through
the Mendip Hills once more with it’s fields separated by stone walls and an
occasional shepherd’s hut providing variation from time to time.
Hubby and I don’t agree on the interpretation of Melvyn’s
instructions that will take us on some fun sounding back roads to some great
views before heading into Bath. Hubby
has the wheel. Hubby has the final say obviously. Hubby was wrong. Consequently we take the route that tomtom
favours. There’s no hope when those two
gang up on me.
Our route takes us through Chewton Mendip and a series of
pretty little villages which we can now regard as just one of so many in this
country. Despite the weather we pass a couple of cyclists flaunting their bulky
thigh muscles. There is a sudden
shocking spinning in the passenger seat as I spot a bird that looks like a bird
of prey sitting with its wings akimbo.
Arriving at Athole House we find that it is grand with
stunningly beautiful gardens. It is much
bigger than I expected. Big wide
staircase with low comfortable risers. A
very friendly welcome and despite the early hour our room is ready. Did I mention the gardens? We drove the car
to park where indicated. I had been imagining that this would be a cramped
little courtyard. Ha! No sir. This is a big comfortable parking bay at the
edge of the garden. A big beautiful garden dominated by two principle spring
features. Bluebells. Beautiful well
nourished bluebells. Carpets of them and don’t they make a stunning show. “Oh they’re a weed and have to be culled or
they take over” modestly explains Wolfgang. I’m finding it hard to feel
sympathy for the problem. Over the way a bit is a pergola covered in a
beautiful pink clematis. These are
popular round the place and at the peak of flowering. I find the gardens enchanting. It doesn’t hurt either that out in the street
in front of Athole house is a mature copper beech just getting its leaves. Oh I could settle down here and never move
today. What a joy this place is.
Our room is huge. Huge and has beautiful views over the
gardens. It is simply decorated, but not
poorly. A nice leather lounge suite. A
reasonable sized TV. A huge bed. I think they call it super king size over
here. Pretty much equivalent to King
Size in Australia. A beautiful ensuite bathroom. We were given a tour of the facilities before
we came upstairs. Downstairs we are welcome to use the conservatory where
breakfast is held and where comfortable sofas and magazines are arrayed for our
enjoyment. The conservatory too is of
generous proportions. Bath is going to
have to work hard to compete with this when we’ve been travelling for 6 weeks.
Wolfgang has asked about our dinner plans and I confess I
have been slack and not rung Menu Gordon Jones to confirm our reservation for
tonight. Does Wolfgang have the number? They can do better than that. Our hostess gives the restaurant a ring for
us and reports back that 7pm tonight is fine. We will love it. She is jealous.
Menu Gordon Jones is great. We feel so
welcome.
It’s hard to keep on day after day, maintaining enthusiasm,
maintaining energy. Trying to top
untoppable sights and experiences. The credit goes to the venues of
course. I am relying today on the
enthusiasm of, well, of everyone I’ve ever spoken to about Bath. To be honest I’ve never been that interested.
I’m here because everyone, simply everyone, says I must, it is magnificent. It
is world heritage. On balance over the
years I have learned that such ravings should not be ignored, so here we are. The end of the marathon is nigh.. break
through the pain.
We don our raingear. Hubby slings his manbag. We double
check that we have the map Wolfgang gave us. Yes? No. Oh yes! I knew I must
have it here somewhere. It’s a 10 mins
or so walk across the river and into heart of bath. Some of the route is not
terribly inspiring, and we take a little longer than average seeing as we’re
quite tired and not feeling entirely the full quid. We pass the new Southgate Bath shopping
centre. New, but indistinguishable in style from the old. Very impressive.
As we walk through Bath bells are playing tunes. I can’t put
a name to the first but a short while later we are treated to a snippet of
Amazing Grace and I find myself wondering whether there is a connection between
John Newton and the city of Bath, somehow that rings a bell (oh honestly that
really was no pun intended..haha).
Also impressive is the array of shops fronting the street.
We check our map and move on. Lunch is in order. Hubby hangs back as he buys a Big Issue. Nice work there dear. I’ve been feeling bad
because we passed these guys without buying while we were in London. We pause again to consider our plan for the
day. At some point we will take the free
walking tour and of course the roman baths are essential. We consider a bank of
cafes indicated on our map but notice that we are right outside the Pump Room.
Vague flickering in the memory bank. I am drawn magnet-like to the entrance. Hubby questions "where are you going?" “In here”. I’m not always verbose. We peruse the posted menu. Options and prices
both tempting. Not very busy. Live piano music is a classy touch. The sign directs us to walk to the opposite
corner of the room to be seated. Yeah.
Why not. This looks awesome. This looks like it might take longer than the 40
odd minutes we have before the walking tour. Hubby is concerned. We’ll take a chance. If we don’t do the walking tour today we’ll do it
tomorrow. The girl who seats us seems
unhappy, but she goes through the motions.
Perhaps she’s had some bad news or something. We’ll give her the benefit
of the doubt.
We peruse the menu.
There is a special of baked fillet of cod with tomato butter, green beans,
samphire and a hollandaise sauce for £14.95. Tempting. I’ve wanted to try
samphire.. but I really don’t like fish. I need to be in top form to order
fish. Up for a challenge. Not today. I
order the smoked salmon tart with dressed rocket salad. Haha… smoked salmon isn’t fish. You knew
that right? Hubby goes for the Devonshire chicken wrapped in bacon with leek
and barley broth. In a minute or two we
are delivered a basket of fresh bread and butter. Almost immediately the bread is on the table,
we haven’t even had a chance to have any, our meals arrive. What the?
They had that ready out the back obviously. Both meals look great. My salmon tart and salad comes with a bowl of
fresh tomato soup. Sweet tomato soup. I
enjoy it a lot, but it’s too sweet for Hubby. The soup is really hitting the
spot. The tart is tasty but not too rich and my delicate tummy is happy to have
the meal thank goodness. Both our meals
are delicious, Hubby’s chicken is ever so slightly over cooked, but nothing
drastic. It is still delicious. We’ve eaten and paid and are back on the
pavement in half an hour.
Fantastic. Oh and what a happy
coincidence. The walking tours leave from right alongside the Pump Room door.
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| Angels climb and fall from heaven on Bath Abbey |
It’s raining lightly. A small crowd has gathered around two
men. We have about five minutes to wait
and this is no hardship. I walk across
to drop my remaining coins in the receptacle of a busking guitar player. He’s
good. What a perfectly pitched performance for the location. Thankyou he says. What a pleasure the music is to listen to in such a
beautiful street.
The clock strikes 2pm. Literally. The Abbey is just across the
cobbles. The crowd is split between the
two guides leaving two nicely small groups.
Introductions first up: Welcome to you all. This walking tour is a free gift from the
Mayor and citizens of Bath to express their appreciation for your having chosen to
visit us. We are very much aware
that without the patronage of visitors like you, our beautiful city and home
would not exist". What a nice start :o)
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| Parish demarcation. Each parish was responsible for burying their own dead. It cost 3 pounds. .. that's a lot.. not unusual then that bodies had a tendency to find their way across the border.... |
The rain is a bit of a dampener (groan) but it is only light
and there are some lengthy dry periods as we learn a wealth of information,
both the trivial and the profound, about what must surely be the world’s most
famous spa town. If I didn’t feel interested and fascinated by Bath before, I do
now. The history of Bath, especially
from the more modern periods, say from the
Elizabethan era, is quite fascinating. We
are delighted to hear of the role the Pumphouse played over time and
this has retrospectively enhanced our lunching pleasure. We walk and listen for about 2 and a half
hours. There’s a number of hills involved so participants need to be up for
some exercise and some brisk walking on an incline. We don’t hang around
in one place long.
We learn a great deal about the movers and shakers of Bath
over the years and the influential Richard Beau Nash who if memory serves was the
self appointed master of ceremonies and arbiter of social conventions during
Bath’s most fashionable period. There
was no position. He had no rank, and yet he successfully set out to provide a
level of leadership that continues to reverberate in English society
today. Even Royalty deferred to Beau Nash in Bath. What an extraordinary man.
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| There's a great deal to explain in this view across the River Avon..nah... go on the tour.. |
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| "I say, make that river go away will you".... I think the architect succeeded. |
Then there's the bridge. The brief was to make the river disappear so that property on the other side of the river would seem attractive rather than just on the wrong side of the river.
|
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| So this is the famous promenading Ave. Have a look at the rear facade on the surrounding houses... |
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| The Bath Assembly Rooms. People were conveyed hither and non in chairs. On leaving the ball, people would call their transport... this is the origin of today's common leave taking "Cheerio" |
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| This is a very important fence, and it's been very well maintained. It is a memorial to the Battle of Trafalgar. in 1805. Notice the shape.. it's modelled on a weapon used at the time with the fringe to prevent blood running down the handle. |
You name it, we cover it. Architecture. Town Planning. Coal deliveries.
Smog. The symbolism on the Abbey. The saint with a beard stump for a face; how
the extraordinary streetscape coherence was achieved. The sins of the Victorians who planted trees.
The promenading place used by Ann Elliott in Jane Austen’s
Persuasion. Motives for dragging dead bodies across the
line. A fashion for watching the
hospital stats by all the well to do. How many are healed, how many are improving,
not improving or dead. Bath was a
colourful and interesting place. There is no shortage of stories. I am sure
that you could take the free tour time and time again and the various guides
will be able to keep you entertained. The two hours or so goes by in a trice. The
Mayor’s tour is without question a must do activity.
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| Coal shute. Coal was delivered into these coal cellars. The household staff would then come through a door out to get the fuel. How very sensible. The houses on either side of the road also extend under the road. |
Our walk concluded time is now getting short for the Roman
Baths. Hubby is dilly dallying for some
trivial reason… sheesh.. come on…. Oh toilet… sigh. OK. I pace. I look at my watch. We buy our
tickets to the bath house and are cautioned that the recommended time is an
hour and a half. We have an hour and twenty minutes. Are we sure we want to
enter? Ah… yes please. The website of the Roman Baths promises you
an audio guide. Newsflash. Audio guides are just so passé. At the style setting capital of the country
one is issued with an “acousti-guide”.
Our acousti-guide encourages us to only listen to what we want to. We
don’t HAVE to listen to every item if we don’t want to. Oh, then that’s OK. I’ll skip most of mine
then.
Honestly I find these things tolerable at the best of times.
I find ancient cultures to be right up there among the very best treatments for
insomnia. As we progress through the
Roman Baths before we get to paydirt in terms of ancient stone and
archeological marvels we are led through a number of spaces where we are
invited to learn about ancient roman culture. No doubt this will help us to
appreciate what we are seeing. I try. I
promise you I tried, but it’s not long before I’m becoming increasing desperate
to get away from this stuff. I walk through feeling increasingly
impatient. I saw a board about tours
starting on the hour. Don’t ask me what complete shorting out of brain synapses
occurred but I fail to twig that we haven’t missed the last one. The hand of grace reaches out for me as I
drown in the tedium of the culture of Aquae Sulis… I have come across an
animated human guide who is conducting the free tour. She is talking about how
the ancient baths were discovered in the 19th Century and loads of
stuff about the more modern uses of the premises. Now THIS is really
interesting. I slide discretely into the
group and listen in wrapt attention. I
like this old Bath house now. This is really cool. I even find some things that I’d like to know
more about on the acousti-guide.
The remains of the roman bath house are extensive. They are
the most intact roman bath house remains in the world. Others that had survived were destroyed in a
some sort of cataclysm: a volcano or something like that. Once I’ve listened to the real person I’m
quite enjoying exploring the different rooms and getting the hang of how they
were used. The museum has done an
excellent job in presenting what remains in a way to help you imagine how it
was a couple of thousand years ago. I
did enjoy the screens where they show you what is in front of you then overlay
the full structure and actors running around in plausible roles among the
ruins. There is also an interesting
display of relics that they have retrieved from the sacred spring. Offerings to the goddess were tossed into the
waters in abundance. Thousands upon thousands of coins have been
retrieved. The tradition is continued
only people today are not so selective. Any water anywhere has coins people
have tossed.
By the time we have seen enough the baths are about to close
anyhow so the timing worked out nicely.
We just have time for a quick look in the gift shop. We could use a souvenir gift that has
something to do with antiquities but nothing catches our eye.
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| The Roman Baths |
With our return home approaching the voice in the back of my
mind about souvenirs for the kids is becoming fairly insistent. I have been tasked with acquiring tea. I have been briefed about the Australian
quarantine restrictions. Another happy
coincidence as we find ourselves right outside a tea merchant. Excellent. What’s this white tea? Where does that
fit in the quarantine scheme of things.
I resolve to get one white, one green and one black tea. If the white is not allowed through it’s not
such a big deal. Turns out on further
enquiry white is fine, we can bring it into Australia and really, I should have
bought more as daughter has only seen it in very expensive restaurants billed
as a delicacy. .. and she likes it.. of course.
We’re dead tired after such a busy afternoon. With our
dinner reservation coming up I figure I’m going to need my remaining energy for
dinner. I’m not walking back up the hill to Athole House. Hubby thinks it is fine but I know my limit
and I’ve reached it today. Fortunately our map indicates where the taxi rank is
and it’s not far away. Lots of cabs lined up and we’re home in a jiffy with
time up our sleeve for a pre-dinner rest. Nice one on the cab Snodge. What a pleasure it is alighting at Athole
house from a taxi. When you’ve been flogging shanks’ pony for weeks it is
certainly a pleasure to be dropped right at the door. I could easily fantasize
about living in this property with this lifestyle.
Menu Gordon Jones is not far away from Athole House. Easily walkable. Even tired and all uphill
its not a problem. We’re pretty much bang
on time and the first of the patrons to turn up. We are usually the first of the patrons to
turn up. We like to eat early.
As we chat at our table the chef sings out from the kitchen
and joins in the conversation. This is
an aspect of this restaurant that I particularly enjoy. It’s kind of a cross between a restaurant and
a dinner party.
First delivery is a thick brown paper bag sealed with a
colourful fold back clip. Inside is some
warm bread slices. We can take our
choice of potato, tomato and sage or red cabbage bread. On the little wooden board accompanying the
bread is a scientific vial of rich green herb oil and a test tube of balsamic
along with a little instrument for extracting the balsamic and applying it in
precise quantities to the bread. In our
fatigued state the whole exercise seems like an intelligence test, but we have
fun with it.
Soon we take delivery of an amuse bouche served in a beautifully
elegant Guy Degrenne cup and saucer. The cup is really fine. Our daughters
would love them. They are filled with “cauliflower
cappuccino (espuma) with smoked milk foam”.
We sip and savour. It is
certainly worth the savouring.
The adventure continues with Scrambled seagull egg,
Stonnaway black pudding, English asparagus and squab pigeon. The scrambled egg
comes served in the olive green seagull eggshell which though very delicate and
thin has been perfectly cut across the top to form a little dish. In one of our chefs little conversational
forays we are informed that the seagull eggs have a two week season only and
are the most expensive egg you can buy. £4 each and they are collected from the
wild.
We are beginning to wonder what extraordinary delicacies we will see in the next course and it
is not a long wait until we excitedly tuck in to Roast Sea Bream, crushed
jersey royal potatoes and eades baby cauliflower. Delicious.
As we dine we enjoy the show that is provided by the
relationship between the building and the road outside. Menu Gordon Jones is located on a very busy
corner. The road curves around the shop
front and is mirrored by the broad curve of glass picture windows. It’s not the first place you might think to
put a small and intimate restaurant but it works. Rather than the traffic feeling intrusive it
feels like a wall of performance art as vehicles large and small, private and
public sweep across our window screens. The
flashing lights of a police vehicle add an additional level of colour and
movement.
The meat course is roast rack of spring lamb, curried swede,
eryngi mushroom, baby carrot and confit shallot. Lovely, but I generally like
my meat cooked a little more than is fashionable.
Blackberry sorbet, marinated cucumber and kale water made
for a surprisingly delightful mix of flavours and textures for the
pre-dessert. We can’t wait to see what
comes next.
Balsamic Panna Cotta poached red fruit and pink lady apple,
vanilla sable. A fine dessert for those that like a bit of tang to their
berries. It’s hard to go wrong with panna cotta.
What a great dining experience for our last night. We have been indulged and entertained by our
meal tonight. Our imaginations have been
stretched too by the creative presentation and unorthodox approach to
commercial dining. We wish our hosts the
best of continued success for the future and steel ourselves for our foray out
into the cold and dark. We are thankful that the return home is all down
hill. What we have missed in Bath in
terms of time spent has certainly been made up for in quality. It’s so good to retire in comfort and sleep.
Our last night in England. We’re heading
out on another high note.
