Nice, relaxing Bath

LIKE much of this region of England, my last visit to Bath occurred when I was barely six years old and, as is often the case with children, my one abiding memory of my time here is of drinking some truly foul-tasting spa water at the Roman Baths Pump Room!

My recent return visit, then, was akin to my first-ever visit. I doubt much has changed dramatically in the intervening 29 years: the place somehow reeks of history, from the constantly jaw-slackening architecture, to the often continental feel of its large squares, with snippets of conversation audible from languages across Europe.

Think Canterbury in mid-summer, slightly enlarged, and you’re pretty much there.

Whatever your on-foot start-point in Bath, those increasing and useful black metal signposts guide you effortlessly – in my case, to my first intended visit: the Roman Baths.

The Roman baths

The story doesn’t begin with those omnipresent Romans, however, but rather with one Prince Bladud, son of 9th century King Ludhudibras.

This unfortunate gentleman contracted, legend has it, leprosy and was banished from the royal court, and it was during his later time as a swineherd that he noticed how his pigs often emerged from a wallow in a steaming swamp in the bottom of a nearby valley with their warts and sores gone.

Inevitably, he tried it for himself, and emerged cleansed of his disease, the happy ending (Bladud’s return to court) instigating the foundation of a new city (Bath) around the spring.

The hot springs in Bath today are unique in the UK and comprise water that would have fallen as rain over the Mendip Hills hundreds or even thousands of years ago, later percolated through the natural limestone down to a depth of over 3000m and heated naturally to between 64 and 96 degrees before being forced back to the surface under pressure as a natural hot spring.

It’s the Roman exploitation of this natural marvel that enthrals visitors today, however, with some truly spectacular remains of plunge and bathing pools, remarkable engineering and breathtaking decoration.

Just watch your step, as much of the outside remains are marked with extremely uneven stones underfoot.

The main pool gets its famous green hue from algae within the water that reacts to sunlight to produce the eerie glow, but unfortunately this makes it unsuitable for bathing or drinking.

Onwards, and the towering spires of the building visible tantalisingly from the Roman Baths demands closer inspection.

This is Bath Abbey, a magnificent edifice that dates back to the late 16th century, when it replaced the original Norman cathedral, which was left to rack and ruin following the Norman Bishop John de Villula’s decision to transfer his throne from Bath to nearby Wells.

Emerging, blinking, from the abbey to peer owlishly at my street map (which I bought for £1.25 from the tourist information office behind the abbey), I couldn’t help but notice the strangely familiar-looking open-topped bus waiting patiently outside with a long line of visitors waiting to board it.

Then it clicked: this is the same company that runs the open-topped bus fleet in Palma de Mallorca, where I’d enjoyed a ride around during my summer holiday break less than a month before!

You can hop on and off at will, and listen to a commentary via plug-in headphones: it’s a great way to see any city, although Palma was ever so slightly hotter.

My next stop was Pulteney Bridge, a remarkable late 18th century bridge that spans the River Avon and was designed in 1769 to resemble the famous Ponte Vecchio in Florence, Italy.

Having seen the latter myself several times, I can vouch for the startling similarity, right down to the shops that line it.

From here, it was a healthy climb (Bath sits at the bottom of a steep valley, remember) up the aptly-named Broad Street (taking in the pretty sight of St Michael’s church on the way), up to The Circus, a beautiful full circle of gently arched apartment houses gazing placidly in on a gigantic tree in the centre.

It has the image of an expensive London mews and is well worth a look.

For my part, I was heading for a more world-famous landmark close by: the Royal Crescent.

This, the single most photographed building in Bath, was built in the latter half of the 18th century. It’s difficult to grasp the fact that this is one single building containing 30 individual houses.

So that’s a tantalisingly brief glimpse of Bath, and I haven’t even touched upon the many museums (Postal, Costume, Glass, Jane Austen, Bath At Work, Holbourne, Boating, etc.).

As a city with a difference, then, it’s hard to beat.

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