Bath time

Generally I make an annual visit to see friends in Bath. But rarely do I pick as nice a weekend as the one past. Glorious sunshine, but being October somewhat lighter on tourists.

Now I don't blame tourists for thronging to the City. It really must be one of the most beautiful towns or cities in the country. For my money its the very finest. Golden glow of Bath stone, ample Georgian architecture (rarely broken by any Sixties awfulness) and plenty of hills to add height and depth to the townscape. And of course, lots of gift shops (ie shops selling things YOU wouldn't want yourself but for some reason you think someone else will be pleased at you giving them. Uselessness of items seems to be the common theme.)

And if the city isn't nice enough for all that, there is a canal too...

See what I mean?

Well apart from just walk about, in order to earn our Sunday lunch, we went to the Holburne Museum. A stunningly pretty building its own right (originally a hotel with pleasure gardens to the rear, but now with a rather dubious modern rear extension) housing a rather lovely collection, mostly built up by a wealthy Victorian. Nice but manageably small. Fine collection of Georgian portraits, particularly nice collection of smaller Dutch seventeenth century works, and plenty of pots, silver and bronzes to entertain one for an hour or two.

We also ventured outside Bath. Unfortunately by now I have pretty much visited every National Trust property within a half-decent drive of Bath, but Dyrham Park is an old favourite. Lovely grounds, especially on such a fine day, and a deer park to boot. Well every fine house should have one. Stately animals and venison for the table.

Of course we had to spend some time out of the sunshine, so inevitably there was a bit of sport time in front of the TV. Rather disappointing Australia v New Zealand in the rugby, some Premiership football (of course) and some American Football. I am convinced that the latter is just a visual version of Mornington Crescent.

Rather than incomprehensible rules, the joke is that there are no rules at all. Suddenly everyone runs around randomly and before you know it there is another break.

And then Monday back to London, but not before a late breakfast with my friends in the Pump Rooms, just the most pleasant place for a cup of coffee. Starbucks eat your heart out.

Then back in London and a quick theatre trip to see Playboy of the Western World at the Old Vic. London traffic being what it was, the number 4 bus took us almost to the door, but with no more than a couple of minutes to spare. Still, once settled into it (and you need to get your ear in as the Irish accents are pretty full on) it was an enjoyable play, and one of those famous ones you want to see if just to add to your collection. Ever so well cast and a rather nice comedy based on the hypocrisy of small village types, and the rather optimistic view that even the boastful but feckless hero could turn out to be brave and forceful if only people believed in him. Self-confidence can do wonders. Well that was the moral of the tale anyway. Robert Sheehan (of Misfits fame) couldn't be a more perfect Christy (the "hero") and Niamh Cusack is wonderful as the calculating widow.