Paul Gaffney

After the minor chaos of two flights and two train trips my jet lag caught up to me with a vengeance once we checked into the YMCA at Bath. A short naps forestalled the worst, then our group splintered and scattered to explore central Bath, a very compact, busy maze of streets. Lisa Zamecnik and I speculated about whether we could see Prior Park, a Palladian mansion on a hill overlooking Bath. When the friendly man at reception suggested to Lisa that we could likely see Prior Park from a road up the hill called Camden Circle, seven of us walked the fifteen minutes up the steep Georgian slope through Bath’s parks and streets and it was well worth the effort. Even more memorable was our visit, on the way back down, of a little antique shop. An self-proclaimed “eighty-four-year-old Prussian” woman gave us an engaging, good-humoredly gruff tour of some of their treasures, including waistcoats, dresses, suits, and bonnets from Jane Austen’s time. She lectured us about handicraft and prodded us to move around in the tight space; “now you can say you’ve been poked by a Prussian,” she said. She insisted that Soya, Nicholas, and I each try on a Napoleon III army officer’s hat. She told us about her sister who lives in Carmel, California and her son who lives in New Zealand. Lovely.