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 but 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's 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 places just a giant, Georgian theme park?
The Henrietta in question was a Georgian countess who named a street, mews and park that now name these rooms. Occupying several, multi-storeyed townhouses, it is indeed 'stylish' but, judging by the speed of it, that 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 built 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 this period of construction that the Roman Baths were unearthed, the Roman Baths you say?
Yeah, like you didn't know already, they had been buried for centuries but it wasn't until nearly the 20th that 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.
They say 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 could once have been 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 see a second-century culvert?
Not that you can bathe here no more but those with a confident constitution can sample some of the water, which is best described as tepid and minerally. As a bonus, none of this stinks of sulphur or sulfur as many of today's visitors might say.
The natural hot springs were already well known to the Celts as a shrine to their goddess Sulis but then 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 here 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 being upgraded following Willie Conker's invasion and 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 settle for an abbey.
There's no stained glass window or vaulted, Norman ceiling to show, however, since they demand some £s for your entrance 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 but, 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'll soon be a Wetherspoon™s, probably.
That leaves Ashley free to supply 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 then 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.
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 have something to say about that but, dubious history aside, the Director of Contrived Waterhole Naming gets a respectable (2/5) for at least avoiding a reference to the Romans.
Phew! You'll be needing a sit down after that exhaustive mooch and the ample space of Kingsmead Square offers up some seating.
If you happen to be self-catering then you should shun the Tesco™ Express in favour of the family-run fruit and veg. stall, some of whose offerings are really quite 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 when it was first laid out.
This was, indeed, the first part of the 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.
That involved a complicated arrangement of leasing the land and charging rent to other builders to finish off what he had started but it made Wood rich and earned him the right to add 'Property Developer' to the company's letterhead.
Bookish types can get all excited at the city's association with one of literature's big hitters. She only lived here for five years but namedrops Bath in all 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 tea room will fill you a cuppa.
Mary Shelley also worked on a novel while living in Bath. Frankenstein may have been born on the banks of Lake Geneva but 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.
There's more of Wood's work at the top of Gay Street, the name of the guy from which the land was leased, and after that lug up you will be needing a sit down.
The Circus is considered to be Wood's best work but by this time he was John Wood, the Elder, and his son John Wood, the Younger, would finish it off 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 this circular arrangement and look at them first-floor friezes man!
There are 525, 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 after about eight of them.
File this under 'Special Occasion' since the classical cuisine is fairly, but not too, fancy. You might think about cancelling when you now 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 looking at 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 just the facades, these were then sold to whoever to build whatever kind of house they wanted behind making for not quite as neat a spectacle round the back, they say.
It can be confirmed 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 kind of low wall with the turf sloping below it to create a ditch, apparently, although it's not thought to be original. 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 can fill you in more on the ha-ha and the like. There's more royal patronage next door at Royal Victoria Park, Bath's prime piece of public greenery.
Highlights include a watery feature and a small, free-to-wander arboretum.
It's part of a larger botanical garden whose exotic shrubbery was brought back to Britain from Bhutan by Victorian macho men with twiddly moustaches and 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 would never, however, ever return to Bath after hearing a disparaging comment about her ankles.
It's a good job SlyBob don't employ that rule regarding our general appearance as we'd end up never going anywhere twice.
One reason for SlyBob to be back is the inexcusably overlooked Bath Skyline. That's just the name of the generally hilly area to the east that affords views of the, well, we think you can figure that for yourselves.
It's National Trust™-run but they'll let you up and around for free 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 give a sense of how hilly Bath can be, like you hadn't realised already?
The park drops you out onto Walcot Street and here be Bath hipster central, the hanging artwork is a big clue.
Everything sold along here is of the artisan variety and the Landrace Bakery gets many mentions elsewhere from foodie types but not just for their community-focused ethic or their award-winning fayre.
No. Can Gregg™s claim to mill their own flour from 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!
There's no chance of hanging over the sides for a game of poohsticks here, 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. There's an area downstairs with big-screen TVs and tables need to be reserved when the Six Nations is on.
This is very much a rugby town and here 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 although it's no longer access all areas of the colonnades thanks to boozehounds and some anti-social types.
On the other side, a riverside path is the scenic, alternative way back to the train station while, all of the while, you marvel at the marvellous Georgian architecture.
What's that? There's no such thing as Georgian architecture? WHAT!?!
Say what you see, it's handmade and fresh pasta all the way. There's cacio e pepe on the menu, yum yum, but you too might have to Google™ just exactly what sedanini is. They don't do reservations but if they're full they'll take your name and text you when a table's available, which technically is a reservation, kind of?
Who doesn't enjoy popping out for a Peruvian although that would appear 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 an option 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 town in which 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 this is 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 often, quite literally, set in stone.
Even with a day trip to Bristol, you might find yourselves kicking your heels in the last, late afternoon but worry not. There's a boat trip to be done from the east bank next to the Ponte Vecchio restaurant, which is a little cheeky, perhaps?
It's a simple, hour-long return trip up to the last navigable bit at Bathampton where a weir, a watermill and a manually operated toll bridge are the main highlights. It's a bit too early in the year for much wildlife to be out and it's even too nippy for this pair to sit upstairs but at least we can now hear the First Officer's patter.
This guy is 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 water means this trip isn't always possible but, 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, just borrowed and built here in Bath during the Georgian era. Palladio himself stole from the Romans so there you go, just don't get him started on the Victorians...
The former Empire Hotel just about snucks in as 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?