As I’ve written before, I’ve long held the view that the posher the location, the worse the breakfast. It’s a complex dilemma: do you opt for somewhere warm and welcoming, where the service is lovely but there’s a real risk of unnecessary garnish on your fried eggs? Or do you brave a hard plastic seat next to a man muttering to himself while devouring the fry-up of your dreams?
Well, today we went posh.
The Ivy in Bath is a feast for the eyes—genuinely one of the most beautiful dining rooms in the city. And after a night on the tiles, it’s exactly what you want: a warm welcome, a comfortable seat, and a hot coffee placed in front of you before you’ve even remembered how you got home. The service is impeccable, the food arrives swiftly, and yes, there’s something green and decorative perched on my eggs—but you know what? I don’t mind.
Because a Sunday morning at The Ivy is exactly what Sunday mornings should be.
The Travel Critic 
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