Setting out sans our local tour guides this morning, we hoofed it to the Reading train station and purchased off-peak tickets to Bath Spa. We’re here for the night, ensconced on the top floor of the Henry Guest House, with this view:
Bath (say it “ahh” – Baath Spaa) is famous for its 2,000-year-old baths constructed over hot springs — the only ones on this island –upon which the Romans “took a bath” for 400 years or so. Then, they left. We were impressed, not only with the baths themselves, but with the discovery and excavation of them centuries later. Plenty of Roman ruins here, for sure.
See the pretty green water? Signs said no drinking! No touching, either! But, tastes were available at the end of the exhibit. Hmmm…
As for those layers of history, the Roman statue in front of my hubby wasn’t there originally, but added much, much later after the excavations.
But, that’s not all.
Bath Abbey hosted the coronation of King Edgar in 973, back when it was much bigger and the “religious capital” of Britain. This version was constructed in 1499. It’s still pretty, and not very small:
After strolling through the baths and the abbey, the Blue Dot charted our course for The Henry.
Inside, we retrieved our room key from an envelope on the entry table and climbed three flights of narrow, twisty stairs to our itty-bitty room. So tiny I can’t get a decent picture, but comfy and historic — CIRCA 1726 — it has sloping floors and angled door frames. Also tea, biscuits, coffee, shampoo. Although we have yet to see the proprietors, there are some pigeons on the next roof. Presumably we’ll make contact at breakfast?
The abbey bells are pealing, the sun is low, and my hubby is asleep. Tomorrow we’ll hop the train back to Reading and pack for Edinburgh.