You know it’s going to be an interesting day when your taxi to Bath shows up on time—but you’re immediately concerned it might be your last ride ever.

Our driver was punctual, but also deeply committed to avoiding every imperceptible pothole on the road—even if that meant veering dangerously close to oncoming traffic. I wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of uneven asphalt or death by collision, but I clutched the door handle like it was a seatbelt of last resort.

Then came the commentary.

Somewhere between the swerving and the near-misses, he launched into an unsolicited monologue about the state of the world. Immigrants were probably causing problems, he said—oddly enough, while telling me he’d immigrated from Bulgaria. He had strong feelings about declining birth rates, overpaid public employees, the influx of tourists, and the traffic (which, to be fair, was terrible).

By the time we reached Bath, I was physically intact but mentally spinning. I needed a moment.

When we arrived at our hotel, we found out our room wasn’t ready—of course. So we did the only reasonable thing: we went and found a latte. Society Café gave us just what we needed. I had a beautiful latte and a flaky croissant that felt like a warm hug after a cold and chaotic morning. It was the briefest of respites, but it helped set the tone for the rest of the day.

From there, we wandered over to No. 1 Royal Crescent, a beautifully restored Georgian home that offered the calm we’d been craving.

My daughter loved the seek-and-find activity tucked into each room, darting from parlor to bedroom like a time-traveling detective. We ended our visit in the craft room, where we made spring wreaths out of delicate paper flowers. It was quiet, creative, and—for the first time that day—peaceful.

Back at the hotel, a kind soul at the front desk worked a little magic to get our room ready ahead of schedule. We stepped into a warm, dry cocoon and finally exhaled. It was a welcome break from both the weather and the world.

But then… hunger hit.

With stomachs growling, we bundled back up and headed out in search of dinner, wandering the rainy streets until we finally landed at Zizzi. It was cozy, comforting, and exactly what we needed: warm food, familiar flavors, and a brief moment of stillness.

By the time we returned to the hotel, we were full and dry—but not entirely sure we had the energy left for one more sight. The Roman Baths were calling, just a short walk away, steeped in history and lit up beautifully at night.

We sat on the edge of the bed, looked at each other across our crumpled jackets, and asked the question every traveler faces at some point: Should we go?

In the end, we didn’t. We wouldn’t have had enough time to really enjoy it, and—if we’re being honest—we weren’t all that interested. What we were interested in was resting our feet, letting the day settle, and maybe watching something mindless while tucked under the hotel duvet.

Some travel days are about squeezing it all in. Others are about knowing when to stop.