Digressions of a Traveling Housewife.
Sunday, March 30, 2003
First day in England
Cheerio and all that. Tata. Oh, something should come in between. I'm that tired, I am.
Arrived this morning in Heathrow, a crowded little airport with lots of smokers anxious to get out. Grabbed our bags, hopped on the shuttle to Avis and our waiting... Peugeot. Hmm. Don't like the French just now, but it's a nice car. I'm so conflicted.
But it's what we got, so off we trotted through the jaunty little London streets. Emphasis on Little. Narrow. Driving on the wrong side of the road. I wanna try it, but Jon won't let me, because well, we're not paying for the rental and he's the only official driver listed, so "nyah" (I'm paraphrasing his words here).
It turned out to be ok, because I slept most of the two-hour drive to Bath. Lack of sleep, plus dramamine, with a dash of jet lag and I'm seriously whipped.
Just beaten like an egg.
We found a cute B&B in Bath to give us shelter, the Marlborough House on Marlborough Lane (we're staying in the Georgian Room, to which you may follow the links), operated by the Dunlaps. She appears to be... American. Haven't spoken to him yet, but she's definitely not what I thought a B&B hostess would be. i was expecting a sonsy grey-haired lady who'd tut tut if we were out late. No. She's all business, true, but spared time to sit with us discussing the most pertinent nearby sites which we could cram in today and tomorrow, outlining them on a map.
After a (too) brief nap, we were off to the Royal Crescent Museum, to view how 18th-century people would have lived here in Bath. The half-moon of townhomes housed the rich and famous during their treatments at the pump house, where drinking the local water at the hot spring's natural temp purportedly had curative effects. Normally, I enjoy these trips to see how "they used to manage," but this restoration is a bit pompous. Bath, of course, was a spa for the rich even way back then, and these townhomes were usually rented out. No. 1, reconstructed as the museum, often housed the Duke and Duchess of York (1767-ish).
The kitchen was my favorite room. Before wire whisks, they used... give up? Straw and twigs tied together like a little broom; and my pastry cutter hasn't changed design in over 200 years. Cool.
Then we were off to enjoy our first meal of Fish 'n' Chips, which either wasn't very good, or I was too tired to enjoy. After this, I wanted to go back to the hotel. Jon pushed for Internet access (is there such a thing as Net addiction?). We compromised on 30 minutes, which I've mostly used up writing to you good people.
More soon, as soon as I can keep my eyes open.