Kiwis and Fairy Bread

21 September 2025

The three hundred mile drive from Littletown Farm to Bath was a stressful one. It is a good thing we tore ourselves away from the idyllic view when we did.

At midday we hit our first traffic slow down. Highway signs announced an accident with one lane closed. Then two lanes, then three until it stopped completely. We went nowhere for almost half an hour. Frustrated, Mike took a gamble. Following some other vehicles he slowly made his way across three lanes of cars, to an exit ramp and onto a roundabout. Looking down we saw emergency vehicles across the entire highway. Nothing would move for some time. But taking full advantage of that roundabout got us back onto the M6 past the accident. Why were no police directing cars that same way? Was there no one available within a five mile radius to do so? We didn’t care and didn’t look back. I do hope everyone is OK though.

Another accident slowed traffic again. It delayed our planned stop for gas and suddenly the car was flashing that the tank was empty! A GPS search showed a rest stop nine miles away. Mike turned off the A/C and slowed down, eking every mile out of fumes. Five miles. If we stop, I can walk that in 90 minutes, if I don’t get hit by passing cars. Three miles. I can do that in under 45 minutes. One mile. Come on car! Into the rest area but we are in the lane for diesel! There’s no way out but to make an illegal turn. Did it anyway. Made it! Phew! We could breathe again.

The supposed five hour trip took, with breaks, close to seven. Arriving at our Bath rental apartment at 4pm I found no key in the broken lock box. I knew the place had to be legit because we’d stayed here before. Standing at the doorway with our luggage I left three frantic messages to the owner via phone, text and email. Fifteen agonizing minutes later I got a call: “Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to tell you the key is elsewhere”. Argh! A quick unpack, breakfast for dinner made on a broken frying pan that had to be cleaned first, and we were off to The Theatre Royal.

The Janeites were out! As Mike and I walked quickly through the streets of Bath to make an unusually early 5:30 curtain, ladies and gentlemen dressed in Regency costume strolled about. And despite the aggravations of the day, I knew we were in for a splendid evening.

The term Janeite was coined back in 1897 and referred to literary men who were fans of (gasp!) this female author. Suffragettes then took up the identity to further their own place in society. In our era, a Janeite is simply a devoted fan. Think Trekkie of a different genre.

I first encountered Jane Austen, and indeed the city of Bath, in 1987 in an Intro to Women’s Literature class. Reading Persuasion I thought the name of the city was just plain silly and I could not understand why Anne and Captain Wentworth didn’t just talk to each other! Now of course I have read all the books and several sequels/prequels/fan-fiction-novels, enjoyed most film adaptations, and traveled to locations that Jane writes about. I have even been to the British Library in London and gazed at an actual first draft of Persuasion. There was a time when Mike and I went to country dances, enjoying the music and the company. I have dabbled in writing my own story taking place in that era. Although I have never clothed myself in Regency fashion, that seems to be the only element lacking in my fandom. So, there it is. I am a Janeite.

How then, did we not realize that annual The Jane Austen Festival was happening during THIS trip? It had just ended today. We only found out when a beautiful woman name Sarah sat down next to us at The Theatre Royal, I admired her outfit and we got to talking.

Sarah had been to four balls during the festival and had, along with approximately 2,000 other Janeites, enjoyed herself thoroughly. She identified most with Elizabeth Bennet (I am more of a Katherine Moreland of Northanger Abby myself), but she had yet to find her Mr. Darcy. I did not get the impression she needed to.

So here we were, in candlelight, in a theatre where Jane Austen had actually attended performances. Sitting next to Lizzie Bennet. THIS was Bath.

Being Mr. Wickham, a play written and performed by Adrian Lukas, famous for the role in the iconic Pride and Prejudice series of 1995, was absolutely wonderful. Relaxing in his study, Wickham shared with us his musings on this, his 60th birthday. He set the record straight on the misunderstandings written in the story we know so well, and filled us in on what he and his wife Lydia have been up to since then. It was not all pleasant, but the couple certainly have found their way in the world. Wickham remains as charming and roguish as ever.

The excellent performance concluded, Mr Lukas took questions from the audience about his own life and career. Mike and I got to speak to him directly and admired his choice of venue, scenery and script choices. I took a moment to stroke the pillars of the stage in way of paying homage to Jane Austen.

With a fond farewell to Sarah we watched her bonneted self disappear into the streets of Bath, on her way to her next social engagement. I hope she is always this happy.

Strolling along ourselves we spent time in the Topping and Company bookstore, with its balcony, tea settings and colorful books. Mike and I walked arm and arm, as in love as ever in the twilight of this most enchanting of cities.

It was a scene worthy of our beloved Jane.