Bath - The End

Another bright morning greeted me, the sun coming through my small window. I had a good few hours before my tour to Stonehenge and Lucoc, so I took my time in getting ready. Feeling fresh and alive, I headed immediately out – no breakfast in the B&B today. I’d seen an adorable little place hidden close to the Abbey the day before, so I headed in that direction. I’d decided that I would be working soon, so I may as well take advantage of my mini-holiday. There’s nothing quite like feeling a tad naughty in buying a good hearty breakfast. With the sun beaming warm on my back I descended the three steps lined with colourful mini pot plants and took a seat at one of the caste-iron mosaic tables, complete with empty wine bottle acting as a vase. I had the big breakfast with a large pot of tea, sausages, scrambled eggs, home made hash browns, bacon and beans… not to mention the sneaky croissant. It was all delicious and warm and such a good way to start a day. Two ladies sat down across from me and started chattering about the weather, bringing me into their conversation. It was all so natural, there is such a welcoming sense of community in Bath, I felt so at ease.

When the tour bus arrived near the river I was greeted by the friendly tour guide and introduced to other tourists, one from Hong Kong, two from Spain, a man from California and two from New York, a young girl from Japan who I got along with quite well, and finally a mother and son from Holland who apparently spoke every language known to man. The Dutch are known for their abilities with language and I so wished I’d gone through their education system… wondering why it wasn’t the same over the world. The Dutch son explained that so few people actually spoke Dutch, and because Holland was situated between so many countries, it was a necessity to speak various languages. And also, for Holland to survive and contribute internationally, it was essential that the nation are as intellectually advanced as possible. That was an interesting slice of information.

Unfortunately I cant say the same for the tour guide. While pointing out the White Chalk Horse, he suggested that this was created in 1700 and is the only one of its kind… The White Chalk Horse is an enormous horse set in the ground painted with chalk that can be seen from the sky. No one knows why it was put were it was, but the original is thought to date back to Neolithic times, this one however, is a replica that was apparently made in the mid 1700’s. It was amazing to see it though. That, and the mounds that I’d once seen in a ‘Worlds Most Amazing Unexplained Places’ book that I’d gotten from Readers Digest. Looking left and right, in such a short time, and seeing things that existed long before Australia was even colonised, or London even founded.

We bounced along on the bus, chatting and listening to music… initially everyone keeping very much to themselves. But the tour guide – regardless of his somewhat limited knowledge of the historical aspects of the tour – enticed everyone into conversation, asking where everyone was from. When I answered, Perth… there was a bit of a silence, so I said Western Australia – still no result. I was shocked to find that people didn’t know what city I came from, but confounded to realise that some people didn’t even know of Western Australia… When I said ‘Down Under’ there was an ‘ooohhhh’ of understanding.

After about an hour, we arrived at Stonehenge and it was… freezing. The sun had disappeared and all I could think was how much I despised the BBC Weatherman, not realising that the weather in England has a tendency to do what it likes when ever it likes and never will you be 100% certain of what the sky has intended for you. My nose immediately froze as soon as I left the van, my fingers were red making it all rather difficult to take a photo. I needed tea, and soon. But for the mean time we were off to see the ruins of Stone Henge.

There is no definitive explanation for Stone Henge, its thought to be dated between 3000 BC and 2400 BC, either way – its really old, and exceptionally impressive to still be standing. Originally it was thought to serve as burial grounds and burial rituals, surrounding the area are burial grounds, humps throughout the valleys where war lords, kings and important persons were buried long before the stones were erected. It apparently took 1500 years for what we now see, to be erected. Where the stones now stand, there was originally wood. This was replaced by stones hundreds of years later, and the thing I found most fascinating, is that the stones themselves were brought from Pembrokeshire, Wales… 250kms away.

King Henry VIII actually owned the area for some time – that man constantly amazes me.

It was simply surreal to stand there, with the dark clouds rising about and the stones being silhouetted against the horizon. I get a buzz out of different cultures, beliefs, I am dying to go to South America and learn about the Myan Civilisation, go to the grand abandoned palaces in India… when you think that Stonehenge was created by culture without any written word, so we will never know the truth about it. Isn’t that magical? I think mystery should some times remain in our world of science and technology, it makes the world more beautiful some how. Its nice to be able to openly wonder, and there I stood, my 24 year old self, people milling about and taking photos, and yet completely alone, just me, the stones and memory. All those memories floating on the clouds, waiting to be discovered, but forever just whispering, and left at peace.

I took some photos for the Spanish girls, the Japanese girl and I chatted about her amazing camera, and then I headed off for a cup of tea with the tour guide. The experience made me feel so alive – who was this girl that could suddenly chat easily with complete strangers? Who was not clammy at the thought of ordering a cup of tea, or stuttered in the fear of something stupid coming out of her mouth. As if all of a sudden, that confidence that I lost somewhere along my way, had been rediscovered and I was back to ‘me’ and preparing to develop into something more.

As I sat chatting to the tour guide about other places to go in the area, and how he was finding fatherhood (he had a 5 month old and was finding the sleep depravation quite difficult, but absolutely adored his wife, which was lovely to hear) I spotted a man running naked in the distance. Not the most normal of things,
‘This sort of thing happen often?’, I asked
‘You’ve got excellent vision’, said the tour guide, crining to spot the bear bottom hop, skipping and jumping down the hill, ‘there is an Army Base not too far from here’,
‘Mmm’, I replied, ‘Interesting way to go AWOL’.
Getting back on the tour bus we all started to discuss the ‘Naked Runner’ and someone thought it might be some sort of strange Druid-Exhibitionist thing. The Druids decided to take ownership of Stonehenge, claiming it was some ritual place that their ancestors had developed… infact the Druid religion didn’t appear until much much later, post King Henry VIII owning the area – gave me a new view of the Druids, I didn’t realise that the religion was actually younger than Catholocism – but there you go.

I was loving the trip, my new Japanese friend and I tried to take photos out of the window, I just wanted to shout ‘STOP’ every couple of minutes, the landscape was just so breathtaking. The weather kept changing, the sun would peep through clouds and highlight peeks of valleys, there were sheep and cows and no houses for miles and miles. Even when the rain started splashing on the window, I couldn’t help smiling, I didn’t want the journey to end, I wanted a car so much! To drive around and stop and take photos, I would have loved to hire a cottage for a week, no TV, just the cottage, a warm fire and days on end for wandering around in the open air taking photos and writing. There is a soft beauty to this part of England that is so different to the striking and sometimes harsh beauty of the WA country.

We stopped at an Abbey where apparently the first flash photo was ever taken, I’ve tried to find information of this on the internet – but no luck as yet – still, I’ll take the tour guides word for it at the moment. The Abbey has since been transformed into a home, however once served as a very popular brewery for the area.

We came into a town called Lacock, it was the second and last stop on our tour. We had an hour to wander the streets. Apparently, in order to live there, you have to prove your genealogy and have a family connection to the area. New builds were not allowed because they are retaining the historical virtue of the village. Its exceptionally small, you can imagine it fitting into the palm of your hand. It dates back to the 13th Century, I walked into the Medieval Church, having to push the creaking door and suddenly going into musty darkness. The church yard was overgrown and simply perfect, I was walking into a Bronte novel.

Parts of the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice were filmed here, which simply blew me away, I couldn’t take the smile off my face. But also, parts of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince were also filmed here. Infact, this appeared to be one of the most popular sites to film historical dramas, and I didn’t wonder why.

It’s a beautiful little town and I wish I had more time, atleast an entire day, to take photos. The sun was fading which allowed little light for photgraphs, but the town will forever be etched into my memory. I crept almost humbly through the few streets, taking in the lantern street lights, the structure of the houses, slightly leaning, the wooden beams observed from the exterior of houses all astrew. They were houses for a purpose rather than for perfection, and in being so, they were beautiful.

A small stream ran through the town, weeping willows weeping over the banks, and a small stone bridge allowing passage from one side of the town to the other. I loved the miniature doors, the cobbled streets, everything awkward and nothing symmetrical. As you walked the streets you could see the town growing over the ages. Children played on their bikes, wide eyed taking in these visitors snapping their town – they must think they lived on another planet.

I needed to use the loo and the tour guide took me to the local pub. Oh so warm and welcoming, the fire was burning and as you walked in everyone smiled at you. The tour guide new the staff and was chatting away. There were photos of the productions that had taken place in the town, and sepia coloured prints of the town through the centuries. I went to the back garden and took some photos, what a place to come to on a war summer afternoon… again, if only I had a car. Near the fire were copper pots, I could just imagine stews brewing in them. Everything was so quiet and warm and… historical.

The light was turning pink, a striking pink, and the time had come to enjoy the journey back to Bath. When I reached the bus everyone was sitting and waiting, I laughed an apology, I felt like I was leaving a place I should stay, and I was sad to go.

On the way back the tour guide pointed out a particular hill… he asked everyone if they new who Peter Gabriel was – strangely enough I was the only one who knew, I think because the guy from California was asleep at the back of the bus, and the Spanish girls were busy brushing their hair and re-applying lipstick, I assumed for a night out in Bath – the tour guide proceeded to tell us that Gabriel was one day walking up this hill when he had an epiphany, a new realisation about life, about making a change to his career and his perspective. He apparently sat down on the hill and started writing the song. The song and the hill are named Solisbury Hill. The tour guide turned on his cassette player and the song started singing out. I was so happy, I was smiling and singing and enjoying every emotion that was now rushing through my body.

What a perfect way to end my Bath experience. I had a quick dinner at a local pub, returned to the B&B and packed my bag for my trip back to London in the morning.

It was a wonderful idea to come to Bath. When I came I was contemplating getting on a plane and going home, but this had completely rejuvenated me. I enjoyed interacting with new people, seeing new things, deciding to do what I wanted when I wanted to do it, and having this slight sense of accomplishment when I discovered new things. I knew that I wasn’t in some third world African country, and to so many people, this whole experience is nothing more than a rite of passage… but for me, it is the world, every moment is a learning curve, and I’m collecting memories that I, alone, am responsible for. To me – that’s enough.

So today… I am just looking forward to my continuing adventure. I cant wait to meet the person I am when I’m finished.