A week is a long time in blog writing. Too long. To assist my legion of devoted fans, all three of you will now have some surety (I hope) as to when my pen will next leave a trail of witticisms for your delectation. The committee in Blog Tower (somewhat smaller than The Donald version) has decided that in future, JaJa99 will be published twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays. Your correspondent will make every endeavour to stick to this new schedule, however, he apologises in advance for any lapses.
Lest you are a new reader, I should explain the relevance of the title. If you know your german (the language that is) you will realise that Ja is “yes” and 9 or nein is “no”. Hence “Yes Yes, No No”, reflecting a certain indecision on my part. There was also an element of “Jaw Jaw not War War” is my distorted thinking which now sounds rather lame. It was all in salute to a German friend who inspired me to get writing in the first place. I am already regretting the attempted explanation.
I am writing this in the picturesque outskirts of Bath, a City I first became acquainted with in 1972 whilst serving at RAF Colerne, a couple of miles outside the beautiful Georgian City with Roman undertones. My military travels dictated that two decades would elapse before I returned to live, for the next twenty two years, in the charming little village of Upper South Wraxall. A mere drive and long iron from Bath, it meant I was a frequent visitor to arguably England’s most attractive conurbation. Walking its storied (sorry I hate that Americanism, but somehow it crept in) streets on a sadly infrequent visit today, brought all sorts of happy memories flooding back. Who knows when the magnificent Theatre Royal will once again open its post Covid doors? Alongside it stands the house where Beau Nash lived and died in 1761. In about 1973 it opened its doors as Popjoys, a suitably stylish and not inexpensive restaurant named after Nash’s amour Juliana, who by all accounts was a hostess of great style and flair. As handsomely paid young officers we used to dine there so regularly the staff knew our names. It’s called something else now, I forget what. Another of Bath’s treasures, which you probably won’t find in the Guide Book, is John Moore Sports. Somewhat unsurprisingly it’s a sports shop owned and run by John Moore. The point being, it’s one of any number of privately owned shops that litter the maze of side streets that give Bath its unique character. It’s one of those rare emporiums (emporia?) where you’ve got a very good chance of finding almost anything you want, whilst being served by expert assistants who know what they’re talking about and who will offer unbiased and knowledgeable advice without trying to sell you something you really didn’t want. Matt very kindly re-gripped my tennis racket with a grip I supplied and without charge. It’s not as grand as Bath Abbey or as historic as the Roman Baths, but it’s still worth a visit next time you are in need of retail therapy in Bath. The depressingly apparent fact as I strolled around the familiar alleyways is that Covid has taken its toll. There are any number of empty premises where once privately owned ventures plied their wares. Will they ever return? Who knows, but I fear the answer is probably “no” as the recession/depression digs its icy claws into a public that has largely forgotten what mass unemployment and fifteen to twenty percent interest rates means. It was like that back in the Seventies when Bath was my playground. When Bath Rugby was an amateur club that nobody had heard of except we enthusiastic “locals”. When journeying in and out didn’t involve negotiating the car park that is London Road. When Milsom Street was the City’s hub and the whole Southern development wasn’t even a fig of the imagination. When Bath was still part of Somerset and not the hideously manufactured “Avon”, long since disbanded in favour of the unitary authority “Bath and North East Somerset” or BANES. The wonderful thing is though that Bath still maintains all its old character; in fact the recent developments have only enhanced the City and modernised it in the most delightful and pleasing way. It’s no wonder that a million plus visitors flock to the place every year…..well they did until Covid kiboshed it.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 