The missus whisked me away to Bath at the weekend to celebrate our first decade together. We had originally planned to visit my family in Yorkshire to see my new niece for the first time – until we found out that the cheapest return rail travel was £150. Each. And as £300 is roughly what I paid for me and the missus to visit and stay in Barcelona for three days last year, I felt a little aggrieved at forking out the same money for us to sit on a grotty GNER train to Goole.
So with an unscheduled free weekend the missus pulled out all the stops and on Friday told me we were going away. So the following day I found myself on a train (this time costing a mere £20) with the missus heading to Bath.
And it was pretty splendid...
The Roman Baths were fabulous and easily worth the £11 entry fee and the new Spa complex was also worth the £20 entrance to have access to a rooftop open-air pool, an indoor pool and a very swanky sauna room.
We also visited the tiny Jane Austen Museum, which was quite a bizarre as she apparently hated the place despite setting two of her books there. Even though I find Austen very tedious as a writer I really liked the museum with its very enthusiastic and very sweet young woman guide and it’s no-frills exhibition and tearoom.
In many ways it’s the Rocky Balboa of Bath fighting against the much bigger and much flasher Apollo Creeds of the Roman Baths and the multi-million-pound Spa.
The most amazing thing, though, is the fact that the missus has put up with me, my ceaseless egotism and my crackpot ideas for so long.
It could be love. In fact it probably is…
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