This year was different. Usually we visit The Yard in Bath around December to immerse ourselves in the Christmassy vibe – soft lights, the smell of a real tree and an excellent location for Theatre Royal, good restaurants and the stunning Christmas market amongst the warm, honey coloured stone of the Georgian period.
This year, we are here in May during a particularly beautiful spring with lots of blossom on the trees, wild flowers blooming along the riverbank and birds of all sorts flying around the river deftly catching insects for their babies. The man on the early morning Pulteney Cruise said to keep those eyes peeled – birds fliting to and fro amongst the newly ‘minted’ leaves – a solitary heron standing in the shallows ready to pounce at a passing fish – two swimmers lazily floating along with the current in clear water – archers (yep, still here in the 21st century) practising at the local sports area. This England on a unremarkable Saturday was at its best . . . the architecture (Pulteney Bridge not dissimilar to the Rialto Bridge in Venice with its shops and ‘sheds’ on one side) – converted listed buildings now reimaged into houses/ restaurants/watering holes – a quayside filled with punts for hire (mostly by ‘hens’ clucking with pleasure not yet completely inebriated) – and meadows filled with wild flowers stretching towards the hills.
There was even a game of rugby. Standing on the side of the gardens, people watched people . . . a quirk of the stadium is that you can see across to lines of supporters (mostly in their teams colours of blue and white); cheers of happiness drowned out the city noise as the ‘warriors’ charged to victory.
We stopped . . . trying to figure out how to capture the evening on the camera. There is a tree, a bridge, a building, the setting sun . . . is there ever too much to choose from?
The ‘blue and white’ now flow out along the river, over bridges fanning out to car parks, trains, buses alive with noise – happy in their teams endeavours. We were happy too just watching two grey wagtails in their splendid yellow skimming the water catching food for their little ‘uns. Then a flash of turquoise . . . can it really be . . . yep, a kingfisher. Who knew that a life long ambition would be realised in the midst of a city with all its noise and commotion . . . to see a kingfisher happily doing what it does best . . . fish.
Brilliant. I love the links too. U 2 r so clever. And Bath sounds really lovely, the way u describe it. Well done.