Dear Satan Goes to Bath… and Brings Back Cheese

 Bath was my second stop on this year’s wellbeing vagabondage en solo. After the mystical vibes of Glastonbury, and just before the ancient enigma of Stonehenge, Bath welcomed me with Georgian elegance and a touch of Roman flair.

But I wasn’t there for sightseeing alone—our annual meeting was being held in this historic gem of a city. Somehow, Bath felt like the perfect backdrop for productive discussions, with just a little inspiration borrowed from all that ancient architecture. While waiting for the gathering to begin, I had time to explore the past, admire the Roman ingenuity, and take in the slight, invigorating smell of sulphur rising from the hot springs—the very springs that favoured the city’s development centuries ago. It seemed only fitting, considering that for some in this group, I’m still known as “Dear Satan” thanks to a rather mischievous auto-correct incident.

Statues of Roman dignitaries surround the pool, but here’s the catch—they’re not actually Roman. They were added much later, during the Victorian-era restoration of the baths, and reflect the Victorian interpretation of what Romans might have looked like.

The meeting itself was a pleasure, filled with positive vibes - a rare opportunity to see, in real life, most of our colleagues, proving that we do, in fact, exist beyond screens. We spent time reviewing our yearly bilans - those reassuring overviews of progress and achievements - which, as always, were positive. Regional teams shared their priorities for 2025 and explored potential areas for collaboration. This was followed by an overview of emergency response plans and strategies for integrating new approaches into next year’s work. Sessions on safeguarding practices across organisations and on practical tools for supporting mental health and wellbeing offered valuable takeaways—whether working remotely, on deployment, or returning home.

Of course, we also dedicated some moments to the more enigmatic part of the agenda: the undefined changes that await us, those tricky pieces in our ever-evolving question-generating strategy puzzle. But as someone wisely pointed out, “If the Romans could build aqueducts, surely we can sort this out!”—a motivational gem that might just deserve its own line of mugs.

 

With the meeting wrapped up, our team decided to embrace the city in the only way that made sense—a Treasure Hunt through Bath’s mystic and secretive maze of streets. There’s nothing quite like following cryptic clues while getting “just a little lost” in alleys that seem to rearrange themselves the moment you turn your back. At one point, we found ourselves on Pulteney Bridge, the kind of place that tricks you into thinking it’s just another charming street until someone points out you’re actually hovering above the river. “Wait, this is a bridge?” someone exclaimed, earning a proud nod from the clue-bearer. Bath: 1, Us: 0.

Eventually, the hunt brought me to the Bath market, where things took an unexpected—and very cheesy—turn. Drawn in by the smell of fresh bread and the cheerful call of a cheesemonger who could have moonlighted as a bard, I began sampling cheddars described with phrases like “as timeless as Stonehenge” and “a slice of British heritage.” Naturally, I couldn’t resist. Somewhere between “just one more sample” and “maybe two,” I looked down to realise I had somehow acquired fifteen blocks of cheese.

“You do realise we’re here for two more days?” one teammate asked, eyeing my increasingly bulging bag with what I can only describe as a mix of admiration and concern. But the vendor, wise and unwavering, delivered his parting wisdom: “There’s no such thing as too much cheddar.” Who was I to argue with someone who clearly understood life’s priorities?

 

As I strolled back through Bath’s cobbled streets—feeling a little like a medieval cheese merchant—I reflected on how the city had effortlessly combined history, work, and a dash of pure absurdity. From playing detective in a Treasure Hunt to falling victim to Pulteney Bridge’s architectural sleight of hand, and finally carting home enough cheese to warrant a “Luggage: Heavy” sticker, Bath had truly delivered. If the Romans built aqueducts, surely, they would have appreciated a good cheddar, too.