I would walk 12,000 miles

And I would walk 12,000 more. After three long years of train journey's, facetime's and dealing with southerners, my girlfriend is finally coming back to Leicester.

Over the last three years, I have travelled 12,000 miles to and from Bath to see my girlfriend. 12,000 long and gruelling miles. 

I go to Bath twice a month at least, 10 months a year. Having to spend most of my weekends traveling to Bath and watching our relationship pass by on a facetime screen was not what I had ever envisaged.

My girlfriend - let’s call her Lia, as that’s her name - moved to Bath for university a month after we became a couple, a decision she made long before she met me. Bath is a beautiful city. It’s historic, picturesque - and a massive pain in the arse to travel to and be in.

I live in Leicester where the congestion is awful. But the congestion in Bath makes Leicester look like a 1930s village where the motorcar has yet to be invented. 

In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest idea to commit to this relationship at the time. We had only known each other for six months, so making such a commitment seemed ludicrous.

Which it was, in many ways.

Most people saved themselves the trouble. Why get into a relationship when you know you are moving so far away? We had thought the same. But they say when you know you know, and I had watched enough rom-coms to believe that if you both want it to work, it will. I knew.

I was under no illusion that it would be easy, but I don’t think I quite realised how difficult it would truly be. Turns out, it wasn't as seamless as they make it out to be in the movies.

Nothing makes the 100 miles from Leicester to Bath easy. The trains are shocking - I was once stranded at Birmingham New Street for five hours due to a storm - and if you decide to drive, it will take you three hours (it might be slightly less if you drive on the motorway, but that’s another ridiculous story for another day.)

No matter how bad my journey would be to Bath, it would never dampen the excitement I had once I saw her. We would be together. Brilliant.

Most of our weekends followed the same routine. I get there on Friday and have a great day. We would revel in the excitement of seeing each other. On Saturday, we try to cram in as many activities as we can, with no time to waste. Then, on Sunday, we both get sad, we remind ourselves that it will be worth it in the end and then I head back home.

Goodbyes would always come around too quickly. Once you finally settle into seeing each other, it would already be time to leave. Many journeys home were spent staring out the window wondering if all the stress was worth it.

Which it is.

We’ve had many, many difficulties. Naturally, we would have rather not spent our days speaking over a laggy Facetime screen, but for every struggle we faced would be a memory which makes you realise how lucky you have been.

This summer is her last year in Bath. She’s coming home to live with me, a stark change to the life we have had for the last three years.

I may moan, but I'll miss Bath. I won't miss the extortionate prices or how busy it is. I definitely won't miss the southern accents, the tourists or having to call a sausage cob a ‘bap’. And I can't wait to never have to see kids walking around with rugby balls instead of footballs. 

But I'll miss what it represents.

Without trying to quote the annoying Royal Navy advert, the relationship was born in Leicester - but made in Bath. It’s all we have ever known and, for that reason, I’ll always love it - despite all the things I’ve written here. Sorry Bath x.