300 year old cakes
It seems a great pity they allowed her to die a natural death. Every time I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone. – Mark Twain
I’ve walked by a museum dedicated to the authoress a good umpteen times, but have never got around to going in. I suppose one day I will. Something to do and all…if it’s really cold out…and you’re a big ole bore….and you weren’t in one of the most unforgettable places in the world. Bath. I love it. When I am old and grey and tired of being tired, I want to live there. What am I saying? I want to live there now. I’m weighing up the very American side of me who wants to spend a few years on New York’s loveliest island before settling down; and the very British side of me (I was born to be British I think!) who wants to move to the Somerset countryside and frequent wine bars and Sally Lunns (circa 1483).
I love buildings. Did you know this? I like ’em good and sturdy and old. When their builders were dead before America was born. Those are the best. Tudor masonry. Wren and his churches. The Victorians’ gilded lilies. Thats why I love this country. And why I love Bath. I love its Abbey. Its Roman Bath House and weirs on the Avon. Its Georgian stone crescents and 300 year old cake shops. I love its cobbled streets and everything old. I even love its Asylum for Teaching Young Females Household Work because, ain’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever seen.
I bring everyone here. When family and friends visit from America, after the obligatory ‘Big Bus’ ride around London, we visit Bath. Because it’s just that wonderful. Man, I’m cheesy.