The Wonder of the Wander

"Why are you going to Bath?" came the question from everyone I spoke to about my upcoming day trip.

In response I shrugged and thought about it (after at least the fourth time I'd been asked). Then I answered honestly that I was going for a wander; I was going to see stuff. What stuff, I wasn't sure, but I'd know when I saw it. This was the kind of day the word 'mooching' was invented for.

The week before an email had popped up informing me of cheap train tickets.

"Cheap, you say," my brain pondered, and the easy decision was made. I was off on a jaunt.

A jaunt is such a jaunty word. It leads you on a fun, yet not too ambitious adventure. I'm a fan of a mild adventure and this was everything that I look for in a mild adventure. I packed my sandwiches, shouldered my backpack and boarded the cheap train. My favourite type of train.

A good train journey is sometimes all I need for a good outing. Give me the window seat with the countryside dancing past and I don't even need to get off when I reach my stop.

But I did. I was ready to see Bath.

Well, I say ready, but I had no plans. I still didn't know why I chose Bath (apart from the cheap ticket offer), what I wanted to see in Bath, or any idea how I'd spend the next eight hours. It was exciting. I had a blank canvas of a day. I could go anywhere (within Bath); I could do anything. Yet I didn't want to do anything. I wanted to do as close to nothing as possible whilst still doing something. A mild adventure was on the cards.

And so as I arrived at Bath Spa train station, my blank canvas of day started to fill with colour. My feet would take me wherever I wandered. When I got back on the train later that night, I realised how quickly the day built up with tiny, seemingly insignificant moments of quiet joy that knitted together to create a beautiful day in a beautiful city.

Here, I unpick some of the threads that built the tapestry of my glorious free day dedicated to the joy of wandering.

• Bath Spa train station toilets are a Victorian art deco place of beauty. I wanted to take a photo of the white tiles, black iron fittings and green ferns, but cameras are generally frowned upon in public bathrooms. I didn't mind waiting in that toilet queue. 
• Exiting the station to be met by two bright blue anorak-clad tourist shepherds. I must've been their easiest customer of the day. "Why yes, I would like a free map, thank you very much." 
• A walk over the famous Pulteney Bridge where the thing that made me smile most was not the bridge (shocking for me), but this exquisitely adorned florist. The shapes, the colours, the framing and the sunlight made my heart soar high into the blue beyond. 

• Sitting by said bridge to eat the first of my cake-based snacks and watching the dozens of tourists, even on a cold February morn, posing and taking pictures in joy. 
• A crisp morning walk in the eye-watering sunshine to walk the length and depth of the impressive Royal Crescent. 

• Finding the perfect window seat in a cafe for my next beverage to be accompanied by reading the local free paper and people watching. 
• A shuffle through the Green Park Station market to admire the weird food stalls and expansive glass roof above. 
• Marvelling at the sight of a gentleman sat drinking a mug of tea sat in a bathtub-sofa atop a converted lifeboat as it drifted down the canal. 

• The cloud speckled blue sky being dissected by a grey yet rusting industrial bridge I came across on a walk along the canal. 

• The nerdy excitement of visiting a new Picturehouse cinema and settling into a cosy seat for an afternoon feature. 
• Finally discovering the joy of the Bath Bun. I stopped at Sally Lunn's famous eating house (what every house should aspire to) to pick up some of these soft, sweet bread pillows. 
• Following the deafening pealing bells towards Bath Abbey as I left the cinema at dusk, only to find the biggest, brightest full moon over the imposing, honey-coloured Gothic structure. 

• A quick stop in the grandest cinema bar I've ever set foot in to hunker down in a squidgy, cushion adorned armchair to continue my people watching over candlelight. The atmospheric Tivoli Cinema was like stepping into a gold-trimmed scene from The Great Gatsby. 

Bath is a lively and history-laden city and I could've planned to take advantage of more of the tourist attractions. But I preferred my mooching method. It was only one day and it started as a day with no plans. In spite of having no plans, I packed a whole lot of something in. It's a wonder what you can find when you let yourself wander.

The journey that wouldn't start but then wouldn't end

Sometimes you start off on a journey and you don't get very far.

Sunday started off feeling like that sort of day.

We were only taking a short trip down to Southsea. Or so we thought.

Jenny and I got in the trusty Corsa and set off. But there was a sound. Not a good sound.

I don't know if you've ever had a car like mine but this car, as much as I love it, has a tendency to make strange noises and flash up random lights whenever it feels. It's independent. Independently annoying at times. I usually try to drown out the peculiarities by turning up the music - assuming the stereo's working at that point. However, this sound could not be ignored.

We pulled over and discovered the culprit was a flat back tyre.

Not to worry, we thought. A quick tyre change and we'd be set.

Not that simple.

We changed the tyre (well, a secret spy / racing driver I happen to know changed it whilst Jen did the heavy lifting and I looked on earnestly: teamwork.) I've never seen a tyre change so swift and efficient outside a pit lane. But the spare tyre turned out to have a somewhat serious, although less catastrophic affliction. The bottom line was that we were unable to drive it on the motorway. Curses!

Not to worry, we thought. A quick car change and we'd be set.

And so we confused the dog by dragging her out of one car and into another before we'd travelled out of the postcode.

Jen drove her car to the end of our road and her engine advisory light came on.

Now, her car is prone to random lights as well. It happens quite a lot. It'll go off in a minute we thought. It's been checked out. It's not an issue. She can usually bypass the problem by the age-old 'turn it off and on again' solution.

Not to worry we thought. A quick stop and start and we'd be set.

Not that simple.

Jen killed the ignition and then rebooted it. The warning light was still on and this time it had been joined by its flashing friend the "stop the car immediately" light. Hmm. Things were not going well.

We assessed the situation and bearing in mind the whole morning was starting to take on a Final Destination type sense of foreboding, we probably should have called off the whole excursion and gone back home to loaf on the sofa.

But we weren't to be outdone. The world had us on the ropes but we still had fight left. When we left the house that morning, we were moderately keen to go to the festivities in Southsea. However, once the obstacles had been put in our way, we were now hell-bent on getting to that pebbled paradise.

So we headed to the train station.

Who doesn't love a train journey anyway? As time had ticked by, at least this way we wouldn't have to contend with parking pressures.

Not to worry, we thought. A quick train journey and we'd be set.

Jen and I ventured aboard the train, leading Deefer the dog onto yet another vehicle. I would have liked to have asked for her opinion at this point. I like to think she enjoyed the journey as much as we did, looking out the window, gazing wistfully at the backs of palatial mansions (us) and looking longingly at endless fields of grass (her).

It was all going swimmingly until Cosham. There we were joined by a line of police officers who dashed along the platform to join the train, not because they were late. They were looking for someone. I tried to mind my own business, honestly I did, but they were right there looking for a woman.

Not to worry, we thought. A quick police chase and we'd be set.

Yet in truth, Jen and I both had the same thought that our journey had reached another pivotal moment. I had a vision of being asked to leave the train and being stuck in Cosham for the day. Oh the joy. Or at least until another train trundled by.

My pessimism was unfounded. After a short delay, we were off again. And no, I have no idea if the police got their woman.

Eventually we made it to Southsea!

That part of the day went relatively to plan. We mooched along Castle Road, ate lunch and wandered amongst a VW sponsored car-boot sale. Good times.

Our party had been expanded by this point by our friend Lou who is local to Southsea and couldn't see the reason for such extreme efforts on our part to get there. It was a matter of principle. I think.

The sun was out and it seemed apt to have an ice cream at the seaside. A quick look at the vans and kiosks nearby showed snaking queues in all directions. I don't queue well. The ice cream idea seemed like it had come and gone.

Then Lou came up with an ingenious solution. We could go to the Isle of Wight for one.

Not to worry, we thought. A quick jaunt across the Solent and we'd be set.

Lou works on the Isle of Wight so she has a season pass for Hovertravel and complimentary tickets for friends and family: we were friends! Yes!

We'd put the effort in to get down to Southsea, by eight feet, two cars and a train. We might as well continue our travels on the water. And so we got a hovercraft ride over to Ryde just to get an ice cream. Just because we could. That's how we roll.

The journey was worth it alone to see Jenny's excitable face as the hovercraft swung round off its landing patch. Her pure, child-like joy was infectious. But we used our time on the Island wisely: we walked along the prom; I paddled my toes; we watched some men and women dressed as a bee-like 50s era Cher sing into hairbrushes (I kid you not); we saw some donkeys and we had the obligatory ice cream. Which tasted amazing.

The journey that I had thought would never start at several points in the morning, was in fact a wonderful, unexpected success. It may seem like a long way to go for an ice cream, but when you've had all those obstacles in the way, it's only a small skip across the water.

On the way back over the waves to Southsea, we saw an advert for a special offer from Hovertravel to take you to Cherbourg for only £21.

Riding the travel wave as we were, as soon as we set foot back on land, we bought tickets and headed off to France.

Not to worry, we thought. A quick boat across the English Channel and we'd be set.

Nahhh! Only kidding. That would be a step too far for one day: I'm not an idiot.

I've filed that idea in the must-do new adventure pile for future me to take on.