Water, water .....

Days don't get much wetter.

My sister and I had put this Saturday in the diary months ago. We were to meet in Bath, L travelling up from the south coast and me coming south from the Marches. On the way to the station you could see that the river had flooded, covering the watermeadows opposite the cathedral. The driving rain continued as the local train headed south to Newport and as I caught the connection to Bath.

The streets of the town were a maelstrom of shoppers and battling umbrellas and dripping raincoats. L and I headed towards the Christmas Market but couldn't cope. Too many people, too much frustration.

So we did what we should have done in the first place and descended into the Roman Baths of Aquae Sulis, the extraordinary hot springs - part temple to the healing goddess Sulis Minerva, part thermal baths. The Romans merged the existing local deity Sulis with their own Minerva and this spot on the marshy floor of the Avon, where steaming thermal water bubbles from the ground, was sacred.



Forbidding. Sulis Minerva wearing a Gorgon face.




The sacred spring of Sulis Minerva.



Mosaics.



Steam rising. The drainage channel, taking water from the baths towards the nearby river.



The Great Bath. The marks are raindrops on the camera lens.

This was my second visit to the Roman Baths and L's first. Each time I marvel at this steamy elemental world beneath our present one. The price of entry is - in my book - far too high and must deter some visitors, but I would probably pay double if I had to. Bath isn't simply a genteel, well-mannered spa. Nor a university town. Nor a consumer's paradise with excellent shops. At its core it is a holy place, a destination for pilgrims, a site of of hope where an ancient goddess was invoked and petitioned through prayer and animal sacrifices. So very different from Jane Austen and the Regency terraces. And from Santa and Waitrose and W H Smith and French Connection, .

When we resurfaced the rain had stopped. Crowds were emerging from the carol service at the Abbey. A red balloon had escaped and soared and bobbed over the Christmas market.