Back to Bath

Bath, again

After commuting from London to Bath for a year to go to uni, I’ve graduated and ended up living in Bath. There’s irony for you. I’m working for a book publishers in the city centre for three months and actually, I’m starting to quiet like it. Who’d have thought that me, Ms I Hate (hate, hate) Bath is now hanging her fat cheeks in rose-flushed shame as I’ve found myself enjoying the place more and more. OK, admittedly it’s for totally self-orientated reasons, for example I can walk to work instead of getting the tube, but non-the-less, the place is starting to grow on me.

hot air balloons over Bath

Bath is not the sort of place that you want to be a student. It’s expensive, has mono-syballic nightlife (Bridge, Moles, ‘rock’, pop, dub) and everyone else is a student, although I realise that could be seen as a plus. But as a, *cough* YOUNG professional it seems a far more interesting place. The people I work with, for example, wear clothes from shops other than Urban Outfitters and Topshop.

Poetry man performs poems for loose change - they look really thrilled.

Poetry man performs poems for loose change – they look really thrilled.

Here’s a sentence I never thought I’d write – Bath doesn’t completely suck. There’s Mission Burrito for a start, I know it’s terrible but I do love them so. Then there’s the man who recites epic (in the traditional sense of the word) poems to lunch-eaters in the park. The sky is often picturesquely filled with hot air balloons and who could forget the violin-playing tightrope walker. It’s no London, but it’ll do for now.

Now, your turn.

Now, your turn.


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