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SOMERSETBATH PRIORY HOTEL
If you love fine architecture, you will need no prompting to visit Bath, which is without doubt Britain’s most complete and most beautiful Georgian city. But you might perhaps need a nod and a wink to point you towards this particular hostelry. For it is slightly out of the centre. Indeed, if you dislike long walks with the vehemence with which I dislike them, you will need taxis to take you to the Abbey, the Pump Rooms and even the (much closer) Royal Crescent. So why consider the Priory when there are other good hotels which are located right in the middle of the sights?
The garden, friends, the garden. Four of the loveliest acres in the land: the essence of Englishness in lawn and tree and shrub. Nothing vulgarly spectacular. Everything serenely harmonious. I sat on the terrace overlooking this modest marvel. A green shade kept the sun at bay as I nibbled deliciously moist fruitcake and sipped a glass of iced coffee. All around feathered musicians competed to outdo each other’s melodies. I suddenly realised that the only sound I could hear was the birdsong. In a town as busy and crowded as Bath, this was luxury indeed.
Early 19th century Gothick is the style of the main house, built, of course, in Bath stone. To this handsome villa have been added various additions in keeping with the original. The result is an hotel of 28 bedrooms – each with the name of a flower or plant. Mine on the first floor was Wisteria (a climbing plant, I believe). Classified as a ‘deluxe’, this was £290 a night, bed and breakfast for two. Its bay window overlooked the garden. I liked its space, its comfort and its quiet. There was no air conditioning, but it was pleasant to have a breeze through the open windows and continue to listen to the birds’ recital as I sat on the red damask sofa.
Thus did I drift into a peaceful doze, waking in good time for dinner and, on my waking, much comforted by the civilized atmosphere of my surroundings – created in no small measure by the pieces of Georgian mahogany furniture dotted around the room. My pre-prandial ablutions were fairly pleasing, too. I liked the two washbasins and the good-sized tub. A pity there was no shaving mirror, and an even bigger pity there was a pedal bin. (Why is this device of the devil so popular in hotel bathrooms? It is wilful, awkward and noisy. Let us be rid of it. I usually try to prop the top open, but this one defeated me.)
Downstairs, the public rooms have much changed in character since I last visited a decade ago. Now they contain an interesting collection of paintings – most of them late 19th or early 20th century. The atmosphere has thus gone from late Georgian to just before or after the Great War. To one picture I took a great fancy: the portrait of ‘Mrs Henry Dutton of South Australia’ by George Washington Lambert (1873-1930). Think Scottish Colourists, and you will have something of the style. A marvellous canvas. It is quite easy, in these surroundings, to believe one is staying deep in the countryside, perhaps in a former hunting box.
In the dining room I was disappointed by the wine list. The cellar is only mildly interesting and the notes on the list – at least in the case of the two bottles I tried – are woefully misleading. Take the 1993 Brunello di Montalcino (Corte Pavone - £42.50). The List: “Rich, complex, plummy, deep aroma, mouth-filling Italian red at its best”; my notes: “Poor nose with a slight hint of cabbage, initially very lean, after 30 minutes in the glass smooth and alcoholic but almost totally lacking in fruit”. And the Californian chardonnay (Estencia Pinnacles, 1998 - £34.50) was no better. The List: “Nutty and buttery with good balance”; my notes: “Oily nose with a tiny touch of toast, in the mouth some bitterness, very lean”.
Thankfully, chef Robert Clayton’s food (awarded a Michelin star in the current guide) was a bit better. The menu is commendably short (half a dozen starters and the same number of main courses) and the style is straightforward, with French and Italian influences. (£45 for 3 courses.) Pan-fried scallops with crisp garlic parcels and a basil sauce (substituted, at my request, for the ginger one on the menu) were wonderfully executed – sweet, tender and luscious. If the other courses did not reach this standard, they were still enjoyable enough: a warm salad of rabbit, with fried loin and sausage; roast leg of guinea fowl with steamed breast; and a white chocolate crème brûlée. Breakfast deserves a mention, too, not least for the opportunity to quaff some excellent bacon and a proper British sausage.
One important tip about staying at the Priory. If you are travelling by train and are leaving Bath after mid-day (the hotel check-out time), do take advantage of the receptionist’s offer to store your bags. I was told by the hotel – correctly – that the railway station had abandoned its left-luggage facilities. I was also told – incorrectly – that the adjacent ’bus station still had such facilities. The result was that I found myself stranded in the middle of Bath with my suitcase. Not good.
Still, this one glitch did not shatter my high opinion of the Bath Priory. It is a good hotel, which will be immensely improved when it has a better cellar. And I love its garden. | ||
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© Francis Bown 2003
I love gardens – as long as I do not have to do any of the gardening. And if I can find a really good hotel with a beautiful garden – so that the cleaning, cooking and housekeeping are also done by someone else – I am at least halfway to paradise. Which is why I wish to recommend to you the Bath Priory Hotel.