Bristol bust

Despite having lived in London for almost 19 years, I had never made it to Bristol, one of the UK's major cities.  It'd been on my radar to visit, especially in recent years.  'London Leavers' porn has become a staple in the post-covid press, and apparently Bristol is the number one destination for Islington leavers (heterosexuals that is; The Gays move to Brighton).  Islington being my first, current and spiritual home in London, it was time to finally see what Bristol was all about.

I know it's hard to get the true measure of a city on a short visit, and I really wanted to like Bristol, but I just could not.  It's portrayed in the media as an artistic and genteel urban outpost, verdant with charming ticky-tacky houses ascending its many hills.  And around the edges, with your back to the centre, it is.  But the heart of the city - and I've lived in Britain long enough that I should have expected this - is a post-war planning blight that would give Birmingham's Queensway a run for its money.  While there is some better new development along the harbourside, and Clifton is as lovely an area as you will find anywhere,  it's just not good enough.  Birmingham is not an aspiration.

That being said, I did get a sense that Bristol was a lot like Melbourne - somewhere that you fall in love with slowly, with hidden joys and nuances that take time to coalesce into an urban personality.  Bristolians love their city and have effusive civic pride, and I fully accept that I was not there long or deep enough to 'get it'.  But I would've hoped that over three days, I'd've at least found an aspect or two that made me want to get to know the city better.  Perhaps I need to go again with a local.  If a local would have me now, that is.

We wound out the holiday weekend with Bath, which is the opposite of Bristol, resplendent in its period architecture (and [mostly] sensitively redeveloped where not), it's an easy city to admire.  I wonder how much soul it has, being as heavily touristed as it is, but for our short time there, it was lovely.

So, the West Country done.  My last outstanding places in the UK are Sheffield and Cornwall.  I'm gonna need a bigger island.

Looking up College Green, away from the city.

Banksy's 'Well-Hung Lover'.

The plinth where, until 2020, a statue of Edward Colston stood.  He now lies in a museum, the only place where these things should be "retained and explained".  Bristol, despite its shortcomings, does seem to be a place of my people (see: Islington leavers).

Non-Banksy Bristol.

Sushil and me in front of the iconic Clifton Suspension Bridge.

Some of the famous colourful houses; less numerous than establishing shots of Bristol would lead you to believe.

Royal Crescent, the Mayfair of Bath.

 

The eponymous Roman baths.  

Two millennia of history meet one millennial.

Bath Cathedral at night.