TUESDAY-Bath

I'm creating my Tuesday posting in arrears. London really took the piss out of me.

Before leaving London, we worked with a man who's single goal in life was to be, not only the least helpful, but most abrasive postal person to ever walk the planet. I'm pretty sure there was a plaque behind the counter only the workers could see clearly denoting his reign as "the worst." Shopping items shipped; 'nuff said.




We boarded British Rail for Bath!! Woo hoo!!! British Rail service is just like flying coach, minus the airport, seatbelts, and beverage service. If you're over 5'10", you're going to be uncomfortable. But the trip was swift, and we were in Bath in no time!



Bath is awesome. A small city of 80 - 100k people, Bath is beautiful, clean, charming, and best of all, laid-back and slow-paced. After London, Bath was like a comfy, warm blanket.












We started with lunch at one of the many charming little pubs here, The Raven. The cider was excellent, my "mr. porky" pie (pork, apples, leeks, onions) was yummy and hot, Jeri's steaming bowel of carrot-ginger soup with homemade bread was tasty, and the atmosphere was right out of a story book. I was in love.






Jeri had five hours of spa time scheduled with Thermae, an upscale spa near the original Roman baths that pipes in their water for the baths there. The water there, as in all the baths you're allowed to use in Bath is chlorinated and that seemed a bit of a letdown to us, but not much.


I also had an afternoon massage scheduled with a local masseuse, and then the rest of the day and evening to myself. Royal Victoria Park was nearby and I enjoyed the gardens and people watching on the big green near The Cresent (in the background of the boys playing).




This little fella had more luck photographing the cute grey squirrels with white tummies than I did.




After some light shopping at the local cheese shop and a kitchen store, I met Jeri for a couple pints (cider for her, bittter for me) at the pub of The Griffin. One of the things i love about a real british pub is the barkeep manually pumps the beer up from the cellar into your glass. We took a late evening stroll afterwards, and did our best to get a good night's sleep.