The Travel Critic

I’ve never got on with local councils. I know they’re strapped for cash, but they seem to exist solely to make parking more expensive and planning applications impossible. And nowhere is this more evident than in Bath, a city of breathtaking Georgian beauty marred by the occasional concrete monstrosity that some council planning department inexplicably waved through in the 1970s. A decade of bad architecture, bad politics, and – thanks to the BBC light entertainment department – some very bad behaviour.

Which brings us to the Apex Hotel, nestled among Bath’s architectural mistakes, just a stone’s throw from Pulteney Bridge. The location is fantastic—close your eyes as you shuffle past the Wetherspoons, and you’re suddenly in Jane Austen’s England.

The Apex is that peculiar British hybrid: half business, half leisure. The décor is modern without being stylish, functional without being soulless. There’s a bar with enough seating to park yourself with a laptop for hours, and a pool and sauna that become a riot of over-sugared children at weekends.

The rooms are decent but could do with a refresh. My mattress was, frankly, tragic—possibly an original fixture from the 1970s, judging by its ability to collapse under the weight of a heavy sigh. And the lifts move with the urgency of a council planning committee, so best take the stairs.

All in all, it’s a solid hotel in a prime location. As long as you get a good deal, it does the job. Just don’t ask the council for planning permission to build another one.