Category: A Couple in England

A Couple In England – Day 7 – Part Three

After touring the Fashion Museum, I went upstairs to visit the Assembly Rooms, which were designed by John Wood the Younger in 1769 and completed in 1771.  The Rooms are primarily made up of three main, public rooms – the first being the Ball Room, where balls were held twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays.

 
Here is a plan of the Rooms
 
 
 
 
The plan, as well as an excellent article on English Assembly Rooms can be found on that most excellent blog, Austenonly.
 
 
The yellow Octagon Room was used for card play until the Card Room was added in 1777.
And the Tea Room was, naturally, where the fashionable went to take tea. Here is Rowlandson’s print of the Room –
 

 
It is remarkable that the Assembly Rooms exist today at all. During WWII, the historically important English cities of Exeter, Bath, Norwich and York were targeted by the Germans in a series of targeted attacks known as the Baedeker raids.
 
From Wikipedia: The Baedeker raids were conducted by the German Luftwaffe’s Luftflotte 3 in two periods between April and June 1942. They targeted strategically relatively unimportant but picturesque cities in England. The cities were reputedly selected from the German Baedeker Tourist Guide to Britain, meeting the criterion of having been awarded three stars (for their historical significance), hence the English name for the raids.
 
“Over the weekend of 25-27 April 1942, Bath suffered three horrifying reprisal raids, from 80 Luftwaffe planes which took off from Nazi occupied northern France. As the city sirens wailed few people took cover, even when the first pathfinder flares fell the people of Bath still believed the attack was destined for nearby Bristol. During the previous four months Bristol had been hit almost every night, and so the people of Bath did not expect the bombs to fall on them.
 
“The first raid struck just before 11 pm on the Saturday night and lasted until 1 am. The enemy aircraft then returned to France; refuelled, rearmed and returned at 4.35 am. Bath was still ablaze from the first raid, making it easier for the German bombers to pick out their targets. The third raid, which only lasted two hours but caused extensive damage, arrived in the early hours of Monday morning. The bombers flew low to drop their high explosives and incendiaries and then returned to rain the streets with machine-gun fire. 417 people were killed, another 1,000 injured. Over 19,000 buildings were affected, of which 1,100 were seriously damaged or destroyed including 218 of architectural or historic interest.  Houses in the Royal Crescent, Circus and Paragon were destroyed and the Assembly Rooms burnt out.“
 
This is how the Tea Room looked after the Baedeker raids, or Bath Blitz, in April 1942.
 
 

 
 
And this what they look like today.
 
 
 
It is of interest to note that all of the rooms are today lit by their original 18th-century chandeliers, which had thankfully been taken down and placed in storage at the start of the war. For more on the history of the chandeliers and their preservation, visit author Lesley-Anne McLeod’s site here.

For further contemporary information about Regency Bath and the Assembly Rooms, read Pierce Egan’s Walks Through Bath: Describing Every Thing Worthy of Interest, published in 1819. It contains lots of detailed 1819 travel information.

And because so much of what we know and have seen of the Assembly Rooms and, indeed Bath itself, has come to us via films, especially those based upon the novels of Miss Jane Austen, you can download the Bath Movie Map here and use it as a guide to film locations throughout the City.
 

Part Four Coming Soon!

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A Couple In England – Day 7 – Part Two

Leaving the shop with Hubby’s cold medicine in my bag, I felt as though things were looking up. I’d accomplished my mission of mercy and was now headed to the Fashion Museum via Milsom Street. Later today, I had secretly booked Hubby and I in for a couples massage at the Bath Priory Hotel and Spa. I was even in the mood to take pictures and what did I spy but this building below.
 
 
This is what I love about England, one literally stumbles upon history in every street. It turns out that Frederick Joseph owned the bookshop and circulating library at 43 Milsom Street in 1822. The premises were sold to Eliza Williams in 1829 and she remained there until 1868, when she moved the business to 19 Green Street. How the signage came to be preserved to this day, I have no clue, but I’m exceedingly glad that it still exists.
 
It was at this point that I was caught unawares and was again violently assaulted, this time by my bowels. You, Dear Reader, have stuck by me through my narration of this trip to England up to this point and I thank you for that. I have done my level best to report every part of this trip, good and bad, exactly as they happened and so I cannot but do the same now. I will try to make it as quick and painless as possible for you. Certainly less painful than it was for me.
 
Of a sudden, my bowels were gripped by a giant hand, which twisted them violently and endeavored to pull them from my body. Think childbirth, or two laxatives too many. Panicked, I clamped my sphincter shut and looked about wildly. The street was deserted. Nothing, and I mean nothing, was open. There was no hope of popping into a shop in order to use their loo. A cold, clammy sweat broke out upon my brow as I searched vainly for a bench, although I don’t know how wise putting myself in a seated position would have been at that point. Nothing. No relief in sight.
 
Have you been to Milsom Street? The sidewalks are cobbled. I was wearing boots with heels. I was headed for the Fashion Museum, meaning that I was walking uphill. It was freezing and I was in the grip of intense bowel pains. It was imperative that I find a WC. What in the world could possibly happen next? A plague of locusts perhaps?
 
Shivering and slightly bent over with the pain, blowing my nose on purloined loo paper, I forged ahead. You’ve got to hand it to me – I’m nothing if not determined. Oh, Lord, please let me get to the Museum in time. A few more steps . . .  Stop to pant . . . . More praying. . . . . . .Blow nose . . . . . A few more steps . . . . . I finally made it to George Street, the cross street at the top of Milsom, and wended my way through the back streets to the Assembly Rooms.  The Museum, and more importantly, the loo, was finally in sight.
 
 
 
 

Inside, the place was deserted save for the girl behind the desk. Truly not knowing how much longer I could hang on, I pasted what could only have been a rictus smile upon my face and asked her for the loo. I imagine that I looked something like this, and cannot for the life of me imagine why she didn’t run screaming for her life.  
 
Of course the loo was located down a long hallway and then down several flights of stairs, which I bounded down at Olympic speed. I hurled myself through the outer bathroom door, hastily dropped my bag to the floor without a thought for germs and sprinted into a stall. Reader, I made it just in time.
 
It took me several minutes to recover from my ordeal, as you may well imagine. However, once it was over with, the pain disappeared and I returned to merely having to deal with the symptoms of cholera – a cake walk, comparatively speaking.
 
The good thing was that, this being New Year’s Day, I had the entire Museum to myself for the length of my visit. There was a special exhibition on, titled Sport And Fashion, as a nod to the recent Olympics – I looked, but there was no outfit specifically made for the Downstairs Bathroom Sprint event.
 
 
 
 
 
The permanent collection offers many old favorites, from panniers
 
 
 
 
 
to Regency gowns
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
To Queen Victoria’s dress
 
 
 
and right through to today. The collection also includes menswear, shoes, accessories and more. You can visit the Museum website here and search the collection. If you don’t mind, I’ll save the Assembly Rooms themselves until next time – recounting the horrors of the day has left me exhausted.
 
 
Part Three Coming Soon!

A Couple In England – Day 7

I dragged myself awake on New Year’s Day to find Hubby already awake beside me.
“We’ve missed breakfast,” he said, blowing his nose. If possible, he looked even worse today. Had I looked that bad when I was in the throes of illness? Egad . . . . .
“What time is it?” I asked.
“After ten. Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten much in the past two days.”
I took stock. “Nope. Not hungry. You?”
“No, but juice would be nice.”
I got out of bed and padded over to the desk, where we had shoved a bottle of juice into an ice bucket the night before. It was still moderately cool and so I poured a glass each for Hubby and myself. “Here,” I said, handing him his glass. “You’d better take your cold medicine, too.”
“There’s hardly any left.”
“What?” I picked up the bottle of cough and cold syrup from the nightstand and shook it. It was almost empty. “Did you have friends in last night?”
“I needed it. I was sick.”
“You’re supposed to take two tablespoons at a time, not half the bottle. We’ve still got the pills, so take those and I’ll get you some more syrup when I go out.”
“Out? Where are you going? Aren’t you still sick?”
“If we were at home I’d be in bed, moaning and calling for a doctor. But as I’m in Bath, I’m going to the Fashion Museum.”
“You’re nuts. Stay in bed.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
 
On my way out, I met the owners of Duke’s Hotel, Chris and Carol Cameron. Neither had been in the hospitality business before, but had just weeks ago purchased the hotel and moved to Bath with their two daughters. They are the epitome of good innkeepers – helpful, warm, welcoming and full of concern for myself and Hubby. Upon hearing that Hubby was now down with the cholera, both assured me that we need only to ask for anything and they would provide it, no matter what time of day or night.
 
Thus assured, I went out the door and into the sunlight. Yes, it was mildly sunny, a nice change from grey skies and pouring rain. You’ll see that I was feeling a bit better by the fact that I actually took photos. Here’s one of Great Pulteney Street.
 
 
I even took an interest in the service areas, a particular favourite of mine. The area above had its very own mailbox and a cupboard – maybe for deliveries?
 
 
 
 
Looking down the next side street, I saw the sun shining over a green field. It was such a welcome sight that I took a picture for posterity.
 
 
 

 
 
Before long, I came to this set of stairs.
 
 
 
 I’m sorry now that I didn’t take them down to the River, but at the time I simply wasn’t up to the task. I continued over the Bridge and into town, where it became obvious that nothing, and I mean nothing, would be open today, it being New Year’s Day. I had done my homework and so knew that the Fashion Museum was open, but I hadn’t counted on the rest of the City being shut up tight. I walked to Boot’s Pharmacy (closed) and finally found a sort of discount store a few shops up that sold a little bit of everything. In their pharmacy section, I found something called Bells Cough Linctus, “For relief of colds, sore throats, irritating and chesty coughs.”

I handed it across to the girl at the register. “Is this stuff any good? I asked.
She peere
d at the label. “Don’t know, but I can’t see it doing any harm.”
With that ringing endorsement, I paid for the medicine and shoved it into my bag. It was only after we returned home that I went online to investigate it’s contents further. This is what I found – do try not to laugh when you bear in mind that I fed this muck to Hubby:  Ammonium chloride (a white crystalline salt found on burning coal clumps due to condensation of coal derived gases), sodium citrate (sometimes used as an emulsifier for oils when making cheese), menthol, extract of horehound  (popular as a cough and cold remedy; used by the ancient Egyptians as well as modern health providers. As an expectorant, it will promote mucus and ease the pain of a dry, non-productive or hacking cough. Horehound treats painful, chesty, non-productive coughs, colds, croup, asthma, bronchitis, sinusitis, earaches, glandular problems and infectious diseases. Horehound is a well known lung and throat remedy), tolu tincture (The resin is still used in certain cough syrup formulas. However its main use in the modern era is in perfumes, where it is valued for its warm, mellow yet somewhat spicy scent), squill tincture (In ancient Greece, Egypt and Arabia physicians used the squill bulb as the base of an expectorant, diuretic and remedy for cough. They were also aware of the fact that extra consumption of the chemicals contained in the squill bulb was harmful and led to rigorous vomiting), extract of tussilago (commonly known as coltsfoot, coltsfoot has been used for thousands of years as an herbal remedy in ancient Chinese medicine. It was primarily used as a cough suppressant. One recipe for a cough syrup involved mixing coltsfoot with brown sugar and water and boiling until it was half the original volume. A spoonful was consumed three or four times a day for two or three days to treat colds and headaches. To relieve other respiratory ailments such as shortness of breath, asthma and bronchitis, old folk recipes called for inhaling the vapors of fresh or dried coltsfoot leaves or flowers boiled in water).
 
Oblivious to my connection to Dr. Crippen, I headed uphill to the Fashion Museum and the day went downhill from there.
 
Part Two Coming Soon!
 
 
 
 

A Couple In England – Day Six – Part Three

After our two bus tours of the City of Bath I insisted that Hubby and I visit the Roman Baths.
 
“So we’re going to see the Roman part of Bath?” Hubby asked as we walked the few yards from the Abbey to the Baths.
 
“Well, they are Roman, but they’re actually baths.”
 
“Like bath tubs?”
 
“Like huge bath tubs. They’re underground hot springs that come to the surface. Bath was a popular place for invalids and people who were sick to come to take the waters in the late 18th and 19th centuries. And, no, they didn’t actually take the waters away with them. To take the waters meant to drink them and to soak in them. They hadn’t any real medicine back then, so the only alternatives were what we would call holistic or herbal remedies.”
 
“Huh.”
 
“Originally, wheelchairs were called Bath chairs. They were invented here since the invalids needed to be able to get around the City.”
 
“And the Wellington connection is what? I know it’s coming.”
 
“There is no Wellington connection to Bath. As far as I can make out. He did go to Cheltenham Spa with Kitty and the boys when he had that ear thing,” I said, blowing my nose on some loo paper.
 
“What ear thing?”
 
“He came down with a bad fever while he was in India and it settled in his left ear. He had pain in that ear ever after and sought out various cures, none of which worked. Then, when he was in Verona, a cannon went off very close to him and the Duke suffered a temporary hearing loss in both ears. Finally, in 1822, he went to a doctor who poured hot vinegar into the left ear, which only served to make him deaf.”
 
“The doctor made Wellington deaf?”
 
I nodded. I would have said who? who? at this juncture had I been with Victoria, but as I wasn’t, I left it alone.
 

 

In we went to the Roman Baths and Museum and, once again, we each picked up an audio guide. Hubby was becoming a dab hand at using them by this point. I must say, the Baths were very atmospheric when we visited, the day being cold and dreary, they had the torches going, as you’ll see my pictures below.
 
 

 
You can see a video tour of the Baths here and another which shows even more of the museum and its antiquities here. Hubby thoroughly enjoyed the tour and seemed inordinately interested in the mechanics of the plumbing, cisterns, etc. Go figure. However, by the end of our tour, he had started to look a tad peaked himself.
 
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
 
“I hate to say it, Hon, but I think I’m getting sick.” Oh the irony – for centuries, people had come to Bath in order to get well. We, on the other hand, had apparently come to Bath in order to meet our deaths. And have I mentioned that today was New Year’s Eve? Dinner at the Cote Brasserie? Fireworks over the Abbey? Oh, the best laid plans . . . . . . for which I had waited for months. Sigh.
 
“Let’s get back to the hotel. We can walk from here.” Hubby gave me a skeptical look. “Really, we can.”
 
So home we strolled, passing by chance the take-out place Hubby had discovered the day before.
 
“Look, Hon, it’s the place where I got the chicken wraps. Let’s get some.” I really had no appetite, but it was now close to five o’clock and, honestly, it didn’t look good for our keeping our dinner reservation. And seeing as I hadn’t eaten a meal for more than twenty-four hours, I agreed to a wrap. It really was a take-out place, with nothing inside but a counter to place one’s order at and, behind it, a kitchen. When our food was ready, I grabbed a couple of Coke’s out of the cooler and added them to our order. Strictly for medicinal purposes, you’ll understand.
 
From there, it was a short stroll to Duke’s Hotel and we went in and climbed the stairs to our room. I began to understand what Hubby meant when he said it seemed as if they kept moving the Wellington Suite up a flight. Each time we arrived at a landing, I was certain it would be ours. But it wasn’t.
 
“I told you,” Hubby said, as if reading my mind. “Just when you think you’re there, you’re not.” Finally, we arrived at our room, where I found an envelope on our bed. Opening it, I saw that it was invitation from the owners of the hotel, asking us to j
oin them and our fellow guests for a New Year’s Eve drink in the lounge. Reader, I truly could have cried. Instead, I made myself a rum and Coke.
 
“Drinking?” Hubby asked as he bit into his chicken wrap.
 
I nodded. “Do you want one?”
 
“God, no. I feel awful.” Come to think of it, I still felt awful myself, but as I said earlier, the rum and Coke was strictly for medicinal purposes. And it was New Year’s Eve, after all. Besides, a little rum never hurt the Royal Navy. Hubby urged the chicken wrap on me and I took a few bites, but I had no appetite.
 
Done now with his meal, Hubby lay down on the bed. “Would you be really disappointed if we didn’t go to dinner?”
 
“Yes. Very disappointed, but to tell  you the truth, the last thing I want to do is get all dolled up or eat anything or stay up until midnight. I feel like crap.”
 
“I’m sorry, Hon. I know how much you were looking forward to tonight.”
 
“S’okay,” I said, gathering up what was left of my cold syrup, ibuprofen and tissues. “Here,” I handed everything across to Hubby. “You’d better start dosing yourself now.” I finished my drink and then made another and took it with me as I went for a long, hot soak in the bath. It really was a gorgeous bath. In Bath. In England. Then I thought about how much I’d looked forward to being in the Wellington Suite on New Year’s Eve. I just hadn’t counted on seeing quite so much of the Wellington Suite. Sigh. Have I mentioned that I could have cried?
 
 

 
By the time I returned to the bedroom, Hubby looked the worse for wear and was soon asleep. I climbed into bed and watched Miss Marple for a while before I, too, fell asleep. Sometime later, I woke to the sound of cannon fire. Had I been dreaming about Wellington going deaf at Verona? Boom! . . . . Boom! . . . .Boom! What the Hell? You’ll understand that it took me a few moments to get my wits about me and to realize that what I was hearing were fireworks. Going off over the Abbey. Without me.
 
And a Happy New Year to you, too. Sigh.
 
Part Seven Coming Soon!


 

A Couple In England – Day Six – Part Two

 

 

Hubby and I left the Skyline Tour bus and walked over to the City Tour bus, climbed aboard and settled in. Here’s a view out of the bus window – still drizzly, grey and cold, but I had half a roll of loo paper left in my shoulder bag to use as tissues so I was good to go. Well, maybe not good, but I was still alive. Had you asked me the chances of that yesterday, I’d have said slim to none.
 
Before long, the bus pulled out and headed toward the Grand Parade.

Can you see the colonnades at the bottom of the photo above? Interestingly, there’s currently a scheme to re-open them to the public and to redevelop the surrounding area. You can read more about those plans here.  We traveled down Avon Street and past the Westgate Buildings until we reached Queen Square, developed by architect John Wood the Elder. Queen Square is a key component of Wood’s vision for Bath. Named in honour of George II’s queen, and was  intended to appear like a palace with wings and a forecourt to be viewed from the south side.
 
 
 
 
 
Although outside the city walls, Queen Square quickly became a popular residence for Bath’s Georgian society. It was away from the crowded streets of medieval Bath, but only a short walk to the Abbey, Pump Room, Assembly Rooms and baths. To the north, Wood’s vision continued with Gay Street where Jane Austen lived, – and the Circus which became home to Thomas Gainesborough.
 
 
 
 
During the raids, a 500 kilograms (1,100 lb) bomb landed on the east side of the Square, resulting in houses on the south side being damaged. The Francis Hotel (above) lost 24 metres (79 ft) of its hotel frontage, and most of the buildings on the square suffered some level of schrapnel damage. Casualties on the Square were low considering the devastation, with the majority of hotel guests and staff having taken shelter in the hotel’s basement. Today, all the buildings are listed as Grade I.

Before I realized it, we were passing the Jane Austen Centre. I took the photo above out of the bus window. If you look closely, you can see the mannequin dressed in blue Regency garb at the front door. The audio tour informed us that it was the JA Centre, prompting Hubby to groan aloud.
 
“What’s wrong with you?”
 
“Jane Austen. You’re going to want to get off the bus and go and look.”
 
“No I’m not,” I told him.
 
Hubby stared at me for a few beats. “Are you sure? Come on, I’ll go with you.”
 
I shook my head. “But it’s Jane Austen,” Hubby insisted.
 
Sigh. “Thanks, but I’m really not in the mood,” I told him while blowing my nose. And hacking.
 
Hubby gave me a searching look, probably trying to figure out where exactly along the route I’d been switched for a Stepford Wife. Before long, we were passing the Assembly Rooms and Fashion Museum. The audio guide told us that the Rooms had been at the centre of society in Georgian Bath, prompting Hubby to nudge me.
 
“Assembly Rooms, Hon.”
 
I nodded. “Beau Nash,” I said. I had been anticipating returning to the Assembly Rooms, and the Fashion Museum, for months and now that I was at them, now that I could simply step off the bus and visit them, I had no enthusiasm for them at all. I was still feeling awful and it was all I could do to watch Bath roll by through the bus window.
 
 
 
On our way to the Royal Crescent, we passed Number 1 Royal Crescent, below, which is currently closed. It’s a fabulous museum that illustrates upper class life as it was in Georgian and Regency times. Each room is furnished as it would have been then and it truly gives visitors a sense of what it was like to live in a gentleman’s townhouse of the day. Currently, the museum is expanding to incorporate servants quarters, which will also be open to the public, thus allowing visitors the full, upstairs/downstairs experience. Click here to visit the museum’s webs
ite and learn the story of it’s past and future.

 

 
 
 
Next we saw the Royal Crescent itself, designed by the architect John Wood the Younger and built between 1767 and 1774. Interestingly, each original purchaser bought a length of the façade, and then employed their own architect to build a house behind the façade to their own specifications; hence what can appear to be two houses is occasionally just one.
 
 
 
 
 
Traveling down Upper Bristol Road, we passed Royal Victoria Park and the Botanical Gardens. The Park was the first to be named for Princess Victoria, who opened it in 1830, when she was eleven years old. This all took place during that misguided press tour organized by her mother, the Duchess of Kent. Supposedly, a journalist made derogatory remarks at the time she opened the Park regarding Victoria’s choice of dress, prompting her to turn her face against Bath for the rest of her long life.
 
 
 
 
On our way to our final tour stop, we passed Sally Lunn’s house at Number 4 North Parade Passage. According to legend, Sally Lunn, a French refugee, arrived in Bath in1680 and established her bakery. The original ‘Bath Bun’ baked by Sally Lunn was a light, round bread similar to traditional French festival breads. The popularity of the Bath Buns was such that they were mass-produced for the Great Exhibition of 1851 in London. You can visit the Sally Lunn website here to read more about it’s history and traditions.
 
Hubby and I exited the tour bus and I walked us towards the Abbey.

“Do you want to go inside?” I asked him.
 
“Inside what?”
 
“The Abbey.”
 
“Not particularly.”
 
“Well then, we’re going to the Baths. You can’t make your first visit to Bath and not see the Baths.”
 
“Are you sure you feel up to it, Hon?” I really didn’t, but I wasn’t going let this cold/flu/cholera defeat me or make me miss any more of the City.
 
“Yes, I’m up to it,” I told Hubby, taking his arm while thinking about the fact that we were supposed to return here tonight in order to see the fireworks over the Abbey. Please, God, I silently prayed, send me a minor miracle. Sigh.
 
 
Part Three Coming Soon!