I’ve always scoffed at Bath. The Florence of the West-Country: pretty, pretend, overpriced and well up its own arse. Nothing real happens there. You can’t buy actual normal food in supermarkets or shops or whatever, or a hammer or a dustpan; only jars and tins with quaint decorations, and tat in shoppes. Plus it’s got all that Jane Austen bullshit. Horrible. It’s the Disney version of Bristol, I maintained. And thereby made out Bristol to be much edgier and real than my Bristol ever was.
Anyway, turns out, unlike Florence, it’s actually quite nice. It pains me to say this, and I’m not letting go of the fakery of it all, but yes, it’s quite nice. They do have shops in which you can buy not-tat, and a supermarket (Waitrose, clearly) that sells proper food. Aarthi and I had a picnic on the crescent there. The crescent there is not as exciting as the Chinese teenagers seemed to think, but it’s fine.
Also we made daisy chains. I don’t know how to make daisy chains.