I wasn’t planning to write about the semiquincentennial of the birth of Jane Austen, born on this day in 1775. After all, I’d already written a post on the bicentennial of her death some years ago.

But when I woke up this morning, I thought, “C’mon. It’s Jane Austen! You need to post something.”

However, I’m a bit low on photos that represent Jane. The only place I’ve been to that connects with her life is Bath — and she didn’t much care for Bath. I was planning to visit Winchester, where she died and was buried, and where the house she lived the last eight years of her life has been turned into a museum.

In fact, I left Bath fully intending to go directly to Winchester. But after changing trains in Southampton, and realizing the train I had boarded was continuing on to London after it stopped in Winchester, I changed my mind. (You can do things like that with a BritRail Pass. I have to say: it’s very freeing, travelling that way.)

And so, I ended up in London that night. Winchester — and Jane Austen — would have to wait.

I always say, when travelling, that you should leave something undone to make sure you come back. One of these days (years?), I will return to Jane Austen country.

In the meantime, in honour of Jane Austen’s 250th birthday, here’s a photo of the Roman baths in Bath. I like the idea that Jane and I have both been to these baths — even though I missed her by almost 200 years.