When our writer took the waters in Bath, he found the spa at a new hotel so luxurious he felt he was back in Roman times

For Scots, it’s a source of pride that we stopped the Roman Empire at the Antonine Wall. We kept our roads wiggly, our plaid coarse, and Tommy Sheridan had to travel to Manchester for a decent orgy. But sadly it has also led to a widespread belief among the English that we never discovered the joy of washing.

To see what the fuss is all about, I headed to that most Roman of cities in England, Bath. It’s a pretty place – like a poor man’s Edinburgh. It was particularly gorgeous last weekend, leaves falling from the mighty plane trees in the Circus, the Palladian masterpiece of its Georgian architects.

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