Went. I went to Bath. It’s four hours away from Norwich. People think I’m crazy. They’re correct. If you travel anywhere further than an hour away from Norwich, people think you’re insane. Because you know, why would you ever venture to the very near far side of the country? If I lived on a tiny island, I would try and see as much of it as I could. Oh wait. England is a tiny island. Right.
So Bath was neat. Jane Austen lived there for a couple summers, so of course we had high tea at the Jane Austen centre. People, there is an art to eating scones! They crumble, and fall apart, and melt in your mouth. The solution? Be delicate. Also, do not inhale. I also bought a teeny weeny leetle bottle of gin, that has Jane Austen’s face on it. It’s 50 ml, and I probably paid too much for it. But oh well. It’s locally made, and delicious, and a souvenir. That being said, I’ll never drink it. It will be my treasure, that I shall keep forever to remind me of that one time I spent two days in Bath.
We also paid 13 quid to wander through the Roman Baths. Folks, I wasn’t going to do it. I was going to refuse to pay 13 British pounds to wander through Roman ruins. I AM SO GLAD I DID NOT LISTEN TO MYSElF FOR ONCE. If you ever go to Bath, I highly, and strongly, suggest you go on a tour of the Baths. There is more history and information in that two-hour walk than one could ever hope to know about a Roman Bath. Science and culture. Meshing. Diluting? Diffusing? Who knows. It was cool. Also there were statues. And giant cellular devices. And British actors pretending to be Romans. It was a bit backwards.
In all seriousness though, I learned an incredible amount about the people who settled Britain (kinda, mostly). I was blown away by how advanced the Romans were, and how many of the things they used back then (steam rooms for example), are utilized today. This place, larger than a football pitch (for you in North America read soccer field) originally, was like a YMCA for Romans. Exercise space, pools, steam rooms, massages, and to cap it off, a temple to pray at when all was said and done. Super cool. I want to go back and learn more. Maybe I’ll just read a book though. Train tickets are expensive. Come to think of it though, I was hesitant to pay to get in, yet spent money on a 50 mL bottle of gin. Ridiculous.
We also went to a Jane Austen improv performance. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. How could anyone do that? Well let me tell you, 50 Shades of Darcy, was fantastic. I mean… terrible. Just kidding. The prompt they chose was ‘What colour is that dress anyway?’ If you don’t get it you need to catch up on your pop culture. Or don’t. You’re not missing anything.
Post performance, we had a lovely drink in a local bar, called ‘The Gin Bar’. Original. I know. The gin martini I had was vonderbar, complete with coriander sprig to garnish. Once again, read cilantro. You’d love it or hate it. I thought it was awesome. I liked it so much I had another drink. The Somerset Negroni. Like a regular Negroni, but better. I was raised by the best of the best at Ricardo’s back home, and am discovering I’m a bit of a cocktail snob. No Bellini for me thanks, nor cheap vodka shots. Alcohol should be more refined than that. Enjoyed, not carelessly consumed. We’re in our twenties now folks, time for us to enjoy the finer things in life. (I can feel the old soul taking over my brain).
I realize I haven’t posted photos in a while. I’d say, ‘They’re on their way!’, but the truth of the matter is, I’m just too lazy to upload them from my camera. Then I have to sit here and go over how wonderful everything away from Norwich was, and start to feel depressed about living in the Kelowna of the United Kingdom. I thought I was getting away from white people over the age of 40. Not true. I’m pretty sure this is the bread box of Europe. More flat than Saskatchewan too. I can’t wait to climb a mountain when I get home. Or to be out of breath from walking, up a hill. A real hill.
Long story short. Go to Bath. Drink quality cocktails, and visit anywhere except Norwich unless you like old white people and never walking up a hill. Learn about the Romans, and don’t ever give up the chance to experience British humour first hand.
Until next time,