Unwinding

We left the alarm off this morning, and slept in for an hour and a half. Today was to be a day without obligations or commitments.

We went for morning coffee at Bristol's Oldest Cafe in Corn Street. I imagine the building has seen better days, but I was aware that in the 18th Century that coffeehouses were centres of economic and political decision making.

From there we walked the Christmas Steps to Bristol Museum, greeted with a very welcome display about anti-racism, and about Bristol's long connection to slavery, slave money, and white supremacy. It's not just the "great men of Bristol" like Wills and Colston who derived their wealth from slavery, but the very buildings and assets of the city were funded from sugar and tobacco plantations in the Americas. Bristol's riches are Black riches. It's great to see Museums pivoting from Nationalist mythologies to egalitarian truths.

I enjoyed the art gallery, especially the chance to enjoy another Hubert Robert, and a spectacular statue of Daedalus and Icarus. The Gift Shop underwhelmed us for free, but we still gave a 10 pound donation to the Museum. It looked a little worse for wear.

The rest of the day was unremarkable. Some shopping at Next and House of Fraser. A beer at the art nouveau Clayton Hotel (with its magical Kubrickian toilet). A few griffin sightings. Some squid. Paying the congestion tax for tomorrow's return to London. And a nap.

Stu and I are starting to reflect on the trip as a whole, and reminding ourselves that the important thing is to look forward to the future, not dwell in the past. We've just been through such a riotous hurricane of hedonism, exoticism and inconvenience over the past four weeks, it's hard not to be captivated by Whatever The Hell Just Happened. But we are making plans for work, for Stu's retirement, for my mental health, for our physical health. And I have been nurturing the seed of another trip for years now anyway - back to San Francisco, down to New Mexico, and then to wherever Stuart wants to go. It's important to have something on the horizon.

I've just paid the 15 pound congestion tax in the middle of typing up this footprint. We discussed tonight that we probably won't want to do another driving holiday. It is a world of trouble for us. So far from liberating our movements, it has lumbered us with this huge chunk of metal we're supposed to care for, protect, and pay for. Parking has been a nightmare. Driving has been a needless stress. And catching buses, trains, ferries, taxis, and ubers is such a great way to get to know a city.

It's our last night in Bristol, this deliciously imperfect place, everything just a bit scuffed and scarred, but pointed resolutely toward the future. I hope I take some of this energy with me.Read more