English Road Trip

"Come out, we're here". Slinging my backpack over my shoulder I trudge down the stairs. Each step jolts my already tender head. I was supposed to be at Caledonian Road at 9:20 am. 10:15 am and I'm still at home. My bloodshot eyes take some time to adjust to the brightly lit street. The sun is a lone fixture in the normally gray sky; I squint. The street is void of people and removed from any semblance of human life. Shielding the sun from my eyes I peer down the middle of the road. 15 metres down the road stands a silver Ford Focus. The body language is cryptic. Relaxed postures, inquizative eyes but emotionless, straight faces. I force a sheepish smile "Thanks for swinging by". My last-minute chaffuer had arrived.


If this were video the director would be switching between the hysteric scene of mixed-martial arts event and a pleasant drive through England countryside. Over-exuberant fight commentators "Fighting out of the blue corner!". The constant sound of the GPS "In 7.5 kilometers turn right". Scantily clad ring girls. Scattered livestock over lush pastures. Knock outs followed by ebullition of approval. Stonehenge appearing on the horizon. The juxtaposition would be unbelievable. This road trip had been 2 weeks in the making, two days ago I forfeited VIP box-seats to UFC 95.

I curled up in backseat and almost immediately let my heavy eyelids whisk me into a broken doze. My senses were piqued at various moments between consciousness and sleep. The sound of my snoring, darkness, passing Heathrow Airport, darkness, the sound of Dirty Dancing's Time of my Life, darkness, M4 highway, darkness, finally by "Wow, it's literally next to the highway!". The drive from central London to Stonehenge took no more than 2 hours. For £6.50 you are granted entry to the park whilst being herded (like sheep) around the rocks. To enrich the experience you are invited to listen to one of the most daft audio guides in the world. In true Stonehenge speculation, I suspect the orator himself killed himself shortly after the recording.


Again, I don't remember too much about the drive except that we arrived in Bath at around 4 pm. Parking the car in the main parking lot we unpacked and headed straight for the YMCA. We stood at the rear of the building wondering how to get in. Where was the blasted entrance? It's fun to stay at the YMCA. Our evening was a mix of wandering the streets, sight seeing and looking for food. We settled in for dinner at the local pub and then headed back to the YMCA for some casual drinks and snacks all to a throwback soundtrack.


Unfortunately for us the toilet/showers in our wing were down for maintenance. It's fun to stay at the YMCA. At around 2 am we were introduced to the paper thin walls of our accommodation. The revelers had arrived home and they let us know rousing us from our sleep. It's fun to stay at the YMCA. We had a 10 am checkout and pulled ourselves out of bed. The common room was packed with most of the cutlery and condiments used. It's fun to stay at the YMCA. Really, who wrote that song?

Sunday was designated to Bath and all things Bathy. Had a tour around the Roman baths (£11).


Lunch at the Pump Room.


Followed by a 2 hour session at the Thermal Baths which just so happen to be a glorified Aquatics centre (£22 + £3 for a towel). Mind you, the rooftop view of Bath was awesome. Arrived back in London feeling tired but surprisingly clean and relaxed. Time to do my laundry.