Stratford-Upon-Avon in the June sunshine; it was hard to park, the pavements were crammed with slow moving visitors, everything costs 10% more. It was lovely. Nick and I strolled up town between the medieval buildings, ate big fresh lunches from the Baguette Barge (cranberry and brie since you ask, a baguette made and served from a canal boat to me on a canal path, you couldn‘t make it up), watched the street entertainers, and lay on the grass. I christened my new little notebook and wrote loads but with the pen upside down so I don’t dare look to see if it is legible. With my face hidden by a hat, I peeked at the young and beautiful, then closed my eyes and pretended that I was one of them. Then, I played ‘identify the foreign language/accent’.
The town is being tarted up. The paths have been remade and there are new benches. The Swan Theatre is covered in hoardings. With all of that, it has the same feel as when I first visited 22 years ago. That’s a kind of achievement. Maybe it’s due to all of the great trees, maybe they’re holding that atmosphere and the place is still the same as when Shakespeare sat under them. That definitely happened, by the way.
We came home in time for a great episode of Dr Who.
My life is complete. Bit boring to read about perhaps though?
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