The Dames go Gothick in Bath

Outside the Gothic arched doorway, the Dames paused, waiting for the rest of the party to catch up. Dr Allan Phillipson, their guide, paused to draw breath.

The sun beat down on the city of Bath. Graduates in robes flitted from location to location, polishing their smiles and posing outside dramatic edifices. Girlfriends in short dresses and high heels teetered over cobblestones. A mobility scooter rattled behind us, its owner likening the sound to that of a tumbril.

Thought of revolution were far from my mind in this gentle stone city. Dr Allan's accounts flowed, and themes of chaos, duels, debauchery at the White Hart Inn, and Sedan chairs jostled for my attention. A slim woman in a billowing striped dress walked a French poodle in Royal Circus.

After the walk had finished, a number of our party accompanied me to a Greek Restaurant by the river, where we dined on stuffed vegetables and 'handcutted chips' and discussed the Greek province of Macedonia. A Greek at the next table explained why Greece would never be able to repay its debts. The river continued flowing.

The Guildhall indoor market yielded treasures: Earl Grey tea, loose leaf; Monsooned Malabar coffee beans, whole and shining.

Too soon, the Abbey clock showed four pm. Our minibus drew up alongside a fleet of Japanese tour coaches. We left the hot city, weary but well informed. Bath, we shall return.

(Woodpeckers travelled as a paid up member of the Stroud Learners' Circle, an offshoot of the Workers' Educational Association, Stroud Branch, of which she is secretary.)