This is a photograph taken by my daughter yesterday, her first remark under a photo of the Abbey was 'I had forgotten how beautiful Bath is'. This kaledeiscope of colourful umbrellas adds to the sunshine today.
Bath is a remarkable city, luckily the traffic manages to keep to the outer edges and its Georgian interior remains a graceful legacy to the past, though not in the photo above of course, this photo must be taken at the bottom end of town which was heavily bombed.
I used to love to walk down to town from Weston Lane where we lived, through Victoria Park, where Moss's ashes are scattered. Meandering past the Royal Crescent, beloved of so many Jane Austen films and then turning left into Gay Street, and eventually Milsom Street,
the shops would be opening by 10 am and the tourists yet to leave their hotels.
|Aerial view of the Royal Crescent|
I have written of its Roman history, but not the fact that my daughter went to the dentist on The Circus, or that my young grandson went to school not too far away.
The Circus with its central group of trees, see this blog as to design by John Wood
We all loved Bath, the stream of language students through the household, bringing the spice of foreign stories to us, creating myriads of problems. Sad Japanese girls who wanted to stay, Turkish Mohammed who practiced on my spinning wheel and bought me Turkish coffee cups and a darling sister who always started her telephone conversation with 'good bye'. About 250 passed through my hands, some almost reducing me to a breakdown, I will never forget you Davor!
Nostalgia is not good but it was part of my life at the time.