Stratford upon Avon

Hamlet, holding poor Yorik’s skull. Apparently he used to know him quite well.
People around here driver very veeeery slowly. Well, they do just outside the town. We crept along behind a red Volvo, registration 166AD, which probably denotes the year it left wherever it was coming from.
So anyway, we got here. The second stop in a week of travelling around. The first was the impossibly twee Woodstock, where Churchill is buried, and they filmed some Miss Marples. The town still looks like someone could be knocked off using cyanide and it would be a woman in a tight twill skirt-suit that would solve it, not the clueless policeman who’d fail to spot even the obvious footprints in the flower bed.
We didn’t find Churchill’s headstone. We did hunt for it in the graveyard of a church, but it’s supposed to be quite obscure and well hidden. Looking at the guidebook, we were in the wrong churchyard anyway, so it’s not entirely surprising all we found were a bunch of anons. Instead we drank coffee in a tea shop populated by old ladies for whom the epitome of lively conversation is to describe the various ways in which their bodies are falling to pieces.
Stratford isn’t as drenched in Shakespeare as I thought it might be. Even the atlas shows you Anne Hathaway’s house, but not Shakespeare’s birthplace. The actual birth-house itself is very nice. All wood and plaster and authentically old, but the visitor centre next door, through which you have to enter, is a nasty eighties mess. It probably looked spangly and flash when they first opened it up, but now… ugh.
By the time we were ready to eat, Stratford was pretty much shut up for the night. It was only nine. We ended up in Cafe Pasta, where we were clearly nothing more than a minor irritation for the bleached and tattooed woman on duty. We didn’t tip well after that.
It’s turned cold since the clocks went back on Saturday night. Then again we are a bit north, too, so perhaps that makes a difference. It’s going to get worse. Tomorrow we head to Warwick, and then Nottingham. After that, it’s the frozen wastes of Yorkshire.
If you liked that post, then try these...
Gas on November 26th, 2004
Help the aged on September 2nd, 2002
Athlete on April 1st, 2005
Cluck cluck on August 18th, 2008
Just like old times on June 3rd, 2003