A few years ago I made a promise to myself to never, ever go to town shopping on a weekend as it is just too busy. This afternoon I disobeyed myself and went into town, my God I wish I hadn’t.

Imagine Hell, only instead of demons there are charity workers asking for your bank details so you can sponsor an elderly dog and instead of evil people from the past like Nazis there are masses of tourists and overweight families moving around slowly in herds.

Outside The Pump Rooms was the worst. It was like one massive tide of jam, but jam made out of people. I wished I’d had a 4×4 with a massive bumper. I would have driven that down the street, mowing down anybody who got in my way.

The main purpose of my trip into town was to buy some clothes. As I waded through the masses of people, I became increasingly frustrated with the lack of clothing available which was any good. The Officers Club was the worst of all. Some of the shit they sell there is just… well shit.

I eventually found some clothing which I was more or less happy with and after a quick excursion to Sainsbury’s, ran for the bus which would take me home to safety and tranquillity. I did think about popping into Café Nero for a relaxing fruit smoothie and slice of cake, but that too had been taken over by foreigners and fat families.

The lession learnt from today: Never, ever, EVER go into Bath on a weekend.

It was like a mass pilgrimage. There must have been a million people (maybe)

The typical, wet English weather sent a few running, but it was still too busy for my liking

Words cannot describe how pleased I was to get the bus home