Find yourself with a bit more time to kill. Leave London and pick a weekend destination.
Sheffield is a city built over seven hills – like Rome – and has more trees per person than any other European city. It’s tight-knit, compact, close.
Bath is a perfect tourist city, historical in its groundings (Roman baths and ancient cathedral); perfect in its heyday (Georgian watering hole, Miss Austen and her novels) and then refined in its modernity (preserved squares and crescents, new architecture thoroughly in keeping). Every door in the Royal Crescent is painted the same colour. It is a city jewel-like in its perfection.
Broadstairs doesn’t care about the weather, its timeless appeal means it can outlast us frivolous day trippers.
It couldn’t be any lovelier. I mean, really. Gorgeous old university city, a river running through it, quaint old shops, narrow streets. Full - and I mean FULL - of tourists and hen parties.
There’s history (the docks, anti-slavery campaigner William Wilberforce’s house, maritime museum), plenty of art and installations all over the city and lots of pride in a town that’s unfairly labelled as a bit crap.
Birmingham is not only rather lovely now, with a brilliant spread of bars and restaurants to indulge in, as well as loads of decent shops and offbeat, quirky places to explore.
Set back in the hills on a deep river estuary, Bristol is a city that feels like it should be much bigger than it is. it was hard not to really like Bristol…
Ah, Brighton. The Belle of the South Coast, all Regency flourishes and decadence.