We left London in our rented Vauxhall heading west to and old Roman Empire hangout in England called Bath, named after it’s hot springs that the Roman’s took baths in. Everything is so literal here. It was a short drive since Engalnd is about the size of New Jersey, and other than the one wicked old church in every village and architecture that hasn’t changed in 300 years the England coutryside doesn’t look much different that New Jersey, or Kansas.


The backstreets of Bath.

Claire bought me a Thomas Campbell painting for my birthday that came with this t-shirt that I have been wearing too much. It needs a good washing.

Renault19? Why are they biting our style?

We couldn’t find a bed and breakfast in Bath so we headed up to Bristol and found a cheap room above a cafe that had a shared bathroom but the best breakfast we’ve had in a long time. It’s all about the St. Michael’s B&B vegetarian full English. Portishead is from there apparently.