Obviously, there is more to Bath than the aforementioned cliches of Roman & Limestone architecture and the city’s famous Crescents.

But honestly, can we just talk about them for a second?

My first experience of Bath was as a four-year-old in total wonder. The Pulteney Bridge and the weir below were etched into my memory even then. Going back there nearly thirty years later and the awe was just as real.

This time it was a little different, however. I was there sans the family, and it was me showing around my friend on his maiden visit to the Roman city. The height of the British summer had brought to life those luscious sandy tinctures of the Bath stone; contrasted beautifully with the heavy-laden boughs of Planes and Oaks.

Even though not built in the same tradition as ‘flaneur’ cities such as Paris (even London for that matter), Bath is a city one can still be utterly seduced by its architectural aesthetic. You simply cannot ignore the prominence of the sphere. Arches, Crescents and loops define this bastion of Georgian architecture. I know, I know, here I go again about Georgian architecture, but it simply is something to cherish in this country. Bath in so many ways is the yardstick.

The shaded undercrofts provided by the tree-lined paths along the River Avon were the perfect place to sit and watch families jostling their newly graduated offspring in front of Bath’s beautiful landmarks in order to capture that moment of celebration.
That day in Bath, graduation caps and selfie sticks outnumbered any traditional tourist three to one. A fascinating contrast, not just the black gowns against the limestone, but the exuberance of energetic youth against the backdrop of Roman and Georgian statements to the world.

Love Under the Somerset Sun

Amidst these graduates, about to embark on their official journey of adulthood, stood two seasoned adults, enjoying the long sunset of their own lives. The two stood there, he with one arm enveloping his wife’s lower back, the other holding his cane aloft to the sky. They were in their own world, oblivious to the humdrum of student selfies that lined them on either side them. My camera in hand, I felt as if I had been sucked into their bubble of honest love for just a moment. “That is what I want,” I heard my inner-self proclaim.

Eventually, I did tear myself away from the love bubble and we carried along the Avon towards Pulteney Bridge. Behind the green curtain of leafy shade lay the pristine turf of the Bath Rugby Club, and then the rarely seen ‘behinds’ of the famous Georgian townhouses. The rear of the house row was a like a lesson in the history of Georgian windows and stonemasonry. It felt as if we were peeking into the inner-workings of the finest Swiss timepiece.

Rear Window

My moment of voyeurism ended and the riverside path turned into steps atop the bridge. Gorgeous bars and beer gardens were ensconced along the walls of the bridge. I couldn’t help but think how glorious being a student in Bath would have been. Post-study drinks along the River Avon would have been something I would have appreciated a great deal. Atop the bridge, it looked like any other street in Bath. Until you looked into the cafe windows that adorned the length of the bridge. How beautiful to sit at one of the sun-soaked cafe tables looking out across one of Britain’s most beautiful city vistas.

Perhaps the most-gorgeous stop along the bridge was that of a florist, positioned rather gorgeously in the middle. I felt as if I had stepped on to the set of a Country Living magazine shoot. The flower display was the perfect summation of life in Bath; a nod to the Somerset countryside in the milk churns, and the potted plants that embellish the rear window boxes of inner-city Georgian homes.

“If it’s Georgian, and it’s in Bath, it’s round.”

Eventually, I tore myself away from that heavenly floral scene and we headed onwards through the city. I started to really marvel a the sheer amount of limestone in this city. The only wood visible was on the window sashes and sills, the rest was a sea of sumptuous stone. The fascination of the Georgians with curvature was apparent at every turn. The street corners, gazebos, the streets, you name it! If it’s Georgian, and it’s in Bath, it’s round.

The road continuing up from the florist led to, of course, a rounded junction of three streets. A quick check of Google Maps for direction forced me to look up. And this marvel, this curve of columns, took my breath away.

I couldn’t decide whether the columns were holding up the roof or acting like stoic Roman or Greek guards protecting the building. The building had me at first glance, I’ll admit it. The skinny 2×4 window pane combo with the brilliant carving of the drapery above. The rectilinear pattern of the cornice, like a grosgrain ribbon on a present. As in true flaneur style, I made no enquiry as to the building’s purpose. I was far too immersed in its aesthetic (just like any professional flaneur, of course). One word kept popping into my head as I stood framing the shot: grandiose.

Light & Shade

As the sun shifted and cast its long afternoon shadows, I saw Bath afresh. I felt as if I was back in Seville dodging and weaving the scorn of Mediterranean heat.  The positions of these windows were fabulous, an abstract design all of themselves. A pleasant surprise from the regular grid formation of Georgian townhouse windows.