“That’s you, that is,” Jackie intoned at the sign for the Metropolitan, and I DO still seem like the hick coming to the big city; but this sign is even more familiar (see the sign for Jude the Obscure). Regardless, we were easily the most cosmopolitan couple in the crowd of hayseeds squeezing through the stalls at the Bath Xmas Market. Squeezed out of the shops like the last portion of toothpaste, we needed food and drink and we needed it now.
The front rooms of the Met were packed but we placed a food order and headed back to the rudimentary function room which was open to take in overflow customers since the England v All Blacks rugby match was soon to start. The room wasn’t a great atmosphere but, then, the main bar and lounge were a little scruffy. However the food was tasty and it and the drinks were cheap (unusual for Bath).
“How are you finding Bath?” the bartender asked. “A bit crowded,” I answered. “I know,” he offered, “full of bloody tourists.” “That’s you, that is,” I told Jackie.