reply. ‘You said you were tired of just being stuck at home?’
Grace now looks confused. ‘I think so . . . I’m not sure. On the one hand, I’m desperate to be away from my house, but on the other, I’m terrified of going out . . . thanks to being such a shut-in over the past few years.’
I nod my head. ‘I can understand that. Doing a digital detox is something that comes with both its good points and bad. I’ve learned that fast. It forces you to confront things about yourself that can be . . . challenging.’
‘Maybe that’s what I need!’ Grace says with some excitement.
‘What?’
‘A challenge!’
‘Really?’
‘Yes! Something that gets me out of my house and challenges my fears about going out into the world.’
‘Like what?’
Grace lapses into silence and continues to twiddle with her locket. Then she looks down at it, and a smile spreads across her face. ‘Tell me Andy . . . have you ever been to Bath?’
The answer to that question is ‘no’.
Bath is not a place I’ve ever had the chance to visit. For no other reason than I’ve never had any call to go there, it’s quite a long journey away on some fairly questionable A-roads and I’ve never really had a thing for bathing in public. This is largely due to the fact that I have odd-shaped toes. They are gangly toes. Toes that require being covered up at all times. The last thing the good people of Bath need is to see the toes of Andy Bellows.
‘Are you telling me you’ve never visited Bath because of your toes, Andy?’ Grace asks me from the passenger seat of my rental Polo.
‘More or less, yes,’ I reply, noticing a sign that says we’re only ten miles from the city now.
‘I don’t think you’re required to actually have a bath in Bath, you know.’
‘But it’s right there – in the name,’ I argue. ‘You can hardly go to Bath without taking a bath, can you? It just wouldn’t be right.’
‘Well, I don’t particularly want to have a bath in Bath today, Andy, so I guess we’ll just have to fly in the face of convention on this one.’
‘Fine by me. My toes can remain hidden.’ I frown a little. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not so keen on getting my knees out in public, either.’
‘Well, rest assured I will not be requiring a look at your knees or your toes on this entire trip.’
‘Excellent. So, what are we going to do then?’
‘It’s like we discussed, remember?’
I do remember . . .
. . . and I’m still not sure this is a good idea at all.
Grace’s proposal in the coffee shop was quite simple: that she and I should take ourselves off to a large city, and try to negotiate our way around it, using absolutely nothing but our wits.
No electronic devices. No apps. No Internet. And no maps.
Gulp.
Having already driven my car into a duck pond the last time I tried to get around without technology, this is naturally something I am very wary of doing.
‘This will be different,’ Grace confidently told me. ‘Because you won’t be doing it alone.’
Which is more than fair enough, I suppose. Grace should be able to stop me from entering into too many disasters. She’s already managed to navigate us straight to the outskirts of Bath, using only road signs, without any deviations or issues whatsoever. It’s quite remarkable.
And why Bath?
Quite simple, really.
Bath is where the jeweller’s that made Grace’s locket used to be. They were called Hackett & Mostrum Fine Jewellery. Grace’s grandmother told her when she was young that they shut down a long time ago, but Grace wants to find the building where they were and see what’s become of it.
Obviously, she also wants to find out how well she can cope with being out and about in a busy city, instead of being parked at home in front of a screen. And I have to confess, I’m interested to see how I get on with it, as well.
I’m now several weeks into the detox and have settled into a routine that isn’t too traumatic. But that’s largely because I haven’t really done that much with myself. I’ve been working, reading, taking walks and watching a lot of TV – but that’s about it.
The combination of feeling uncertain about the world now I’m divorced from so much of it, and the fear of stumbling into any more catastrophes, has left me a