Remember the time you went skiing and crashed at your grandparents' house in the Alps and raided the fridge and borrowed their car?
No? Us neither although that's the kind of thing you'll be eavesdropping on because Bath, sorry Barth, is quite possibly the poshest place SlyBob have ever been and we once went to Henley-on-Thames!
That'll be Bath, by the way, as in, erm, 'Bath' or Bath as in 'Barth' depending on how hardy northerners or southern softies pronounce their vowels. It's not exactly off the beaten track and isn't one of the UK's most visited destinations just a giant, Georgian theme park?
The Henrietta in question was a Georgian countess who named a street, a mews and a public park that now name these rooms. Occupying several, multi-storeyed townhouses, it is indeed 'stylish' but, judging by the speed of it, the lift could have been installed in 1760.
First impressions seem to confirm the theme-park fact because everything, yes everything, looks like this and that includes the new Waitrose™.
'Modern' Bath was built quickly, you see, starting roughly in the 1720s using the same stone mined from the same source just two miles south at Combe Down before they went and put a village on it.
That was good news for the architect and quarry owner who created quite a monopoly for themselves meaning that everything, yes everything, looks like this.
And that includes the new YMCA™.
It was during the period of construction in the 1700s that the Roman Baths were unearthed, the Roman Baths you say?
Yeah, like you didn't know already, they had stayed buried for centuries but it wasn't until nearly the 20th when the buildings under which they're found opened as an attraction.
Lots of this, therefore, is not quite so old as first thought, including the reproduction statues.
Geological types reckon it takes 2,000 years for water to make its way down through the limestone before being heated to forceably resurface.
That means the bubble you've just seen was once a raindrop on a Roman centurion's helmet?
Skinflints might baulk at the entrance fee for what's not much more than an hour, gift shop included, but where else can you clock a second-century culvert?
Not that there's any bathing, these days, although those of a confident constitution can sample some of the solvent, which is best described as tepid and minerally. As a bonus, none of the surroundings stink of sulphur or sulfur as many of today's tourists may say.
The naturally hot springs were already familiar to the Celts as a shrine to their goddess Sulis until the Italians came and Aquae Sulis was born.
It's not known if the naming was a concession to the Celts or whether it was a simple statement that this is all ours now. What is known is that a visit isn't strictly necessary but hey, when in Rome or even when in the Roman settlement of Aquae Sulis, eh?
For no other reason than you can see this from absolutely everywhere.
It's the usual story of a Saxon monastery getting upgraded following Willie Conker's invasion then the subsequent survival of a 'dissolution'.
Joint cathedral status was controversially revoked by some old pope or other meaning the Bishop of Bath and Wells now has only one room in which to hang his mitre and here has to be happy with an abbey.
There's no stained glass window or vaulted, Norman ceiling to show, however, since they demand several £s to enter and having just forked out for the Roman Baths, we're just about cleaned out.
A mini-maze of lanes is the main provider of knick-knacks and, just like its namesake in fancy London, New Bond Street boasts some of the city's best shopping although Sly is best qualified to verify that.
Milsom Street also has a branch of the Ivy Restaurant but that's where comparisons with the capital end.
Unlike Selfridge™s, say, Jolly's department store has closed after nearly 200 years thanks to current owner Mike Ashley, boo!, and if it isn't already then it's bound to become a Wetherspoon™s, probably.
Ashley still supplies luxury, branded clothing from a Sports Direct™ outlet on Westgate Buildings, which along with James Street West are the only two thoroughfares that don't look like everything else.
If you too find this a bit of an eyesore, just backtrack slightly where normal service is soon resumed.
A likely recruitment spot for Victorian militia, the 'Volly' is a lively backstreet boozer quite unlike much of what has been seen so far. On clocking the north-east accents, one weatherbeaten local predicts tomorrow's score for the 'lovely people' up there... Newcastle United 2 Liverpool 1.
It's not known how many other times he must have got it wrong but that's how you remember where you were when King Edward of Toonland orchestrated that historic victory.
Spoons have a tradition of naming their pubs based on the history of the town or the old building they invariably inhabit. Speaking of kings, here is a nod to the first king of all England who was coronated at Bath Abbey.
The good folk of Malmesbury might say something about that dubious fact but the Director of Contrived Waterhole Branding gets a respectable (2/5) for at least avoiding a reference to the Romans.
As for inside? It's a Wetherspoon™s man!
Phew! You'll be needing a sit down after that exhaustive mooch and the ample space of Kingsmead Square offers up some seating.
More shopping surrounds and self-caterering, evening meal enthusiasts should shun the Tesco™ Express in favour of the family-run fruit and veg. stall, whose wares really are rather exotic.
Queen Square provides a bit less bustle and that'll be Queen Caroline of Ansbach fame, wife of George II and a hint to the time it was first laid out.
This was, indeed, part of the original, new town plan proposed by architect John Wood in 1725 but even back then, red tape and objections meant it would take nearly 15 years to complete.
A complicated arrangement followed of leasing the land and charging rent to other builders to finish off what he had started making Wood rich and earning him the right to add 'Property Developer' to the company letterhead.
Bookish types can get excited at Bath's association with one of literature's big hitters. Jane Austen only lived in the city for five years but nods to Bath in all six of her novels. They wouldn't be published until after she'd left and assistants in period dress will fill you in further or the tearoom will fill you up a cuppa.
Mary Shelley also nurtured a novel while living in Bath. Frankenstein may have been born on the banks of Lake Geneva although significant chunks were written here and celebrated next door in what appears to be a horror-themed attraction and an Escape Room. That is quite apt, really, given her frankly, chaotic life.
Witness more of Wood's work at the top of Gay Street, the name of the guy from which the land was leased, and after the lug up you will be needing a sit down.
The Circus is considered to be Wood's classiest concept but by this time he was John Wood, the Elder, and his son John Wood, the Younger, would conclude it with Wood, the Elder, now Wood, the No Longer.
Three roads in mean, whatever your way, you're directly facing one of the curved buildings in the circular layout and look at them first-floor friezes man!
Five hundred and twenty-five, yes 525, different stone emblems, which is quite a feat in the days before mass production. When we say there are 525 and they're all different, you too will lose track at around ten.
File under 'Special Occasion' since the classical cuisine is fairly, but not overly, fancy. Lazy individuals might think of cancelling now you know about the lug up Gay Street but at least you're guaranteed a sit down.
Just for once, we're not wandering randomly in order to find somewhere to sit down. No, the Circus is on the way to the Royal Crescent, Bath's second most famous sight after the Roman Baths although it might be the other way round given the number of people?
In 1767 and with John Wood, the Younger, now in charge, he carried on the fashion of 'speculative building' pioneered by his father. Constructing only the facades, these were then sold to whoever to erect whatever kind of house they wanted behind making for not so much of a neat spectacle around the back, they say.
Countless onlookers confirm it to be quite a piece of work and, with the sun now out, it's so wide you can't fit it all in.
Looking closer at the lawn, is that a? It can't be can it? A ha-ha?
Some sort of low wall with the turf sloping below it to create a ditch, apparently, although it's not thought to be the original ha-ha. Either way, John Wood, the Younger, was laughing all the way to the bank.
The big house at #1 Royal Crescent is now a small museum and will fill you in on the ha-ha and the like. There's more regal patronage next door at Royal Victoria Park, Bath's prime plot of public greenery.
Highlights include a watery feature and a little, free-to-dander arboretum.
It's part of a larger botanical garden whose exotic shrubbery was brought back to Britain from Bhutan by moustachioed, Victorian macho men wielding machetes. Not that this pair are particularly familiar with anything exotic and botanical, not unless you're talking about a clear bottle with 'London' or 'Plymouth' printed on it.
The park was opened by Princess Victoria several years before she would be Queen, see also Royal Leamington Spa. She never, however, ever returned to Bath after hearing a disparaging comment directed at her ankles.
It's a good job SlyBob don't employ that rule regarding our general appearance as we'd never be back anywhere twice.
A reason to revisit is the inexcusably overlooked Bath Skyline, the name of the hilly area to the east affording views of the, well, we think you can figure that yourselves.
It's National Trust™-run but they'll let you up and around for nowt and one way is via the mile-long Combe Down Tunnel, repurposed from the railway for bikers and hikers before a six-mile loop back to Bath.
Zig-zagging your way from the Royal Crescent back to the centre of Bath, there's more green space in Hedgemead Park although this one ain't no playground for toffs.
No, the terraces were created out of necessity following a series of landslides in the 1880s and uphold how hilly Bath can be, like you hadn't realised already?
The park drops down onto Walcot Street and here be Bath hipster central, the hanging artwork is a big clue.
Everything sold along this stretch is of the artisan variety and the Landrace Bakery gets many mentions elsewhere from foodie types but not just for a community-focused ethic or their award-winning fayre.
No. Can Gregg™s claim to mill their own flour given grains supplied by local growers?
The River Avon flows just behind Walcot Street but there's no sight nor sign of it. When it does decide to make an appearance in the centre, if only there was some way to cross? There is, of course, and you're on it!
Hanging over the edges for a game of poohsticks isn't an option, however, Pulteney Bridge's entire length is lined with shops, one of only four in the world and an idea, no doubt, nicked from the Italians.
Fleshpots are plentiful on and under Pulteney Bridge and the Boater is handy for a nightcap. The space downstairs has a handful of big-screen TVs and seating needs to be booked if the Six Nations is on.
Bath is very much a rugby town and the pub is right next to Bath Rugby's, that's their name, ground. Yes, they like their balls egg-shaped round here and it's as if they didn't even know there was a football match on tomorrow man!
The city takes full advantage of the river. On the west bank, Bath City Parade Gardens is the pick of the plots despite no longer access all areas of the colonnades thanks to boozehounds and anti-social types.
On the other side, a riverside path is the scenic, alternative route back to the train station while, all of the while, marvelling at the marvellous Georgian architecture.
What's that? There's no such thing as Georgian architecture? WHAT!?!
It's handmade and fresh pasta all the way including the not oft-seen cacio e pepe, yum yum, but you too might have to Google™ exactly what sedanini is. They don't do reservations so if they're busy they'll take your details and text when a table's available, which technically is a reservation, isn't it?
Who doesn't enjoy popping out for a Peruvian although that would seem to be just the rice and the rest can be filed under 'South American', which means steaks, really. Who knew the invasive jackfruit had absolutely zero flavour and there's a choice to dine upstairs in a dimly lit room with a DJ if you think you're Pablo Escobar.
While we're on the subject of nosh, this is one weekend where you certainly won't starve. There's a version of the Royal Crescent in Weston-super-Mare as there is a Bare Grills Restaurant.
We still can't confirm if it's the 'Best Smokehouse in the West' but is mentioned because of the bare-faced ox-cheek of whoever came up with the name.
Bath isn't all that big and is somewhere you can't get lost, the street names are, quite literally, set in stone.
Even with a day trip to Bristol, you may find yourselves kicking your heels in the last, late afternoon but worry not. There's a boat to be boarded on the east bank next to the Ponte Vecchio restaurant, which is a little cheeky, perhaps?
It's an hour-long, return ride up to the end of the navigable stretch at Bathampton where a weir, a watermill and a manually operated toll bridge are the main highlights. It's slightly too early in the year for much wildlife to be out and too nippy for this pair to sit upstairs so at least we can now hear the First Officer's patter.
He's passionate about Bath and yes, that is Solsbury Hill up there, somewhere, the same one what Peter Garbriel was warbling about. Delivered with a soothing, south-west lilt, the rise and fall of the river means the trip isn't always possible and, on the way back, the conversation turns to architecture, Bath's famous Georgian architecture.
What's that? THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS GEORGIAN ARCHITECTURE!
It's classic, Palladian architecture, from Andrea Palladio who was active in Venice 200 years earlier, but borrowed and built here in Bath during the Georgian era. Palladio himself stole from the Romans so there you go, just don't get the man on the mic. started on the Victorians...
The former Empire Hotel snucks in at late Victorian and, if you look closely, it's covered in fiddly bits that ruin the simpler and often symmetrical Palladian style.
He's not the first to consider it an eyesore and while he didn't exactly say it, he might as well have done...
Never mind the Romans, what have the Victorians ever done for us?