Paradise

It might be presumptuous to call your B&B “Paradise,” unless you can back it up. Our home here in Bath is living up to its name.

Room view

But first … we had to get here. Departing the maze of reconstruction that is downtown Birmingham was no cakewalk, but miraculously we found the highway.

Most of the way to Bath was smooth, albeit uninteresting, sailing. Then we took a few turns off the highway, wound down a narrow, winding hill, and arrived within sight of a roundabout leading into the town.

A totally choked roundabout. It took 15 minutes to get into the roundabout, and another 15 to get halfway through it. Maybe longer. And town was still a couple of miles away.

GPS to the rescue. We were able to sneak into the escape lane so we could return in the direction whence we had come, and reroute to the back way into town.

Twenty minutes later we arrived at Paradise. Perfectly trained, attentive staff. A relaxing flute of champagne in the parlor. Recommendations and reservations for dinner at the nearby White Hart Tavern, where we had a truly memorable meal. Seclusion from the hordes of tourists who clog Bath during the daytime, yet an easy walk into town. Poached eggs for breakfast cooked to perfection.

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