South Of Pulteney Bridge

 We recorded our next interview at the back of Pulteney Bridge, the location of another sighting of the goddess of the Roman Baths. We took some photos, which you can see below. It was a nice change of pace to look round the actual spot. Pippa, our interviewee, was polite and energetic throughout. If she was a con artist or a liar, she deserves recognition for her performance.  

Us: OK, so here we are on the path at the back of Pulteney Bridge.  We’ve got the bridge to our right, and the Avon curls round the corner to our left. There are some modern houses on the other bank, although they are a bit battered from the flooding a few years ago. Pippa, can you tell us more about what happened? 

P: Yeah, so this is a little back street that sneaks along the side of a car park. I reckon this used to be frequented more often. There were better shops up the top then, and you could use this route to avoid crowds. It’s a pain to walk through the car park, but why wouldn’t you take a nice calm route near the river, rather than take on the traffic? Why not look at the water? 

Anyway, a little while back I lived up in Larkhall. Those were the days. An awesome flat near loads of pubs. Coming along here at one, two in the morning wasn’t uncommon. That’s what time it was when I saw her.

:::At this point she pointed to a spot in the centre of the river::

Us: Over there?

P: Yep. About halfway across. 

A view of Pulteney Bridge

Us: Can you tell us what happened?

P: Oh sure, yeah of course. So, it was one or two in the morning, on a damp night sometime in October. It was dark, sure. I’d had a bottle of wine, sure. But no doubt, it did happen. 

So, I’m walking along the path, and though it was drizzly, I took a moment to enjoy the views. To enjoy the late night silence.

At first I thought I spotted something sticking out of the water. Like a buoy or something. An art project maybe. I don’t know, your mind tries to make sense of stuff like that when it happens, doesn’t it?

But it was definitely a woman. I’d guess in her thirties or forties, wearing a dress, with her hair tied back. And she was standing on top of the water, staring up at Pulteney bridge. 

I don’t know why I didn’t shout out. It felt inappropriate. This sounds weird,  but it was like seeing some kind of exotic animal, like a lion or tiger of something like that. Maybe she glanced over at me for a moment. But then she was gone. 

Soon I was back in my flat with a cup of tea. A cup of tea at one in the morning! I’d never do that now. It was only then I remembered something about the history of  Bath, about a spirit of something in the water. It sort of made me laugh, and shake my head. The next morning it was nothing more than a strange conclusion to the evening, no different to an odd dream. 

But I did see her. I really did. 

Us: Did you ever try and look for her again?

P: No, it was just a funny thing. A weird end to a night out. You don’t go looking for the bloke you met at a kebab van do you? 

Us: So why do you think she was there? 

P: I mean, I don’t know for certain, but I guess the way I see it in my head is that this is her patch. If you were the thing most known for an area, the most famous thing in a certain part of the country for thousands of years, wouldn’t you wander about a bit? Maybe she was looking at Pulteney bridge, and thinking about when it was brand new, or what was there before, I don’t know. But I wasn’t scared, I can tell you that. 

Us:  Thank you. 

P: Thank you. 

Pippa saw the goddess on the river near here