A spontaneous day trip to Stratford-upon-Avon

Alas! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy..
—–Hamlet, Act V, scene i

I woke up on Sunday morning with a raging, insatiable desire to visit Stratford-upon-Avon, the fabled village where Shakespeare was born. This was rather surprising. Usually, when I wake up, the first thing I want is coffee. Or chocolate. But today it was SUA.

Ever since my return from Romania, my sleeping schedule has become super healthy (which is GOOD!). I go to bed at about 11-12, and wake up at 7ish. Today was no exception. I booked my railway tickets online (19 pounds round trip with my 16-25 Railcard), and went off to Marylebone to take the 11.09 train operated by Chiltern Railways.

The air conditioning on the train was a godsend, but less amusing was the fact that there was a very noisy family in the QUIET ZONE where I was sitting. The children were screaming/caterwauling/shrieking/crying while their mother basically did nothing to rectify the situation, and we fellow passengers had to suffer the consequences.

I arrived in SUA at around half past one noon, and went to see the house where Shakespeare was born. The town centre where most of the places are located is about ten minutes walk from the railway station.

Awash with tourists..

And everything’s signposted so clearly. I didn’t have to look at my GPS or google maps, not even once.

Wish they did this in Romania

This is the house where Shakespeare was born. It’s right in the middle of the high street. You can’t miss it – and even if you did, the hordes of tourists milling around taking pictures would be a huge giveaway.

The house where Shakespeare was born

This is what the courtyard of the house looks like. Since it’s a Sunday, the crowds are everywhere (spoiling my pictures).

Talk about a photobomb

This is what the house looks like on the inside. It’s been maintained very well – if there’s one thing the English are good at, it’s taking care of their cultural heritage. They do an outstanding job.

A large relief of Shakespeare in the cafe

After I’d finished Shakespeare’s birthplace, I went to a pub called (rather fittingly) the Marlowe for a quick lunch. And I was actually rather taken aback by how GOOD the food was. (I did not see this coming.) Best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had in my life. Although I still miss polenta and Bulgarian salad.

Walked along the road down to Nash’s House and New Place, which are adjourning sites. Nash’s House was owned by Thomas Nash, who was married to Shakespeare’s granddaughter, while New House was bought by Shakespeare in 1597, where he lived till his death in 1616.

Nash House

Across from Nash’s House is a small but beautiful chapel.

A little further down the road is the chapel best known for being the final resting place of Shakespeare. It’s situated right next to the Avon, and was built in the early 13th century.

Again, you can’t really miss it.

Just a heads up

It’s 2 pounds admission for adults, and 50p for students. The people managing the till were local grandfathers, who were very sweet people and seemed to take a genuine pleasure in their work. I talked with them for a little while about things like Tory politics and EU policies (I really should stop reading the Dailymail so much), and was very flattered when they told me I was extremely well spoken.

I’ve seen about thirty chapels/cathedrals/churches on the Continent, but haven’t seen that many back here at home. The ones in England, from what I can see, are lighter and less imposing. The Continental churches (with the exception of the Eastern Orthodox ones in Romania, although those were very dark too), feature towering turrets, endless ceilings and grand, sombre facades. In England, they give off a much friendlier, relatable aura, and there is much more light. But I haven’t seen the Canterbury Cathedral yet (on my bucket list along with Warwick Castle), so I’d better not pass judgment too quickly.

The Shakespeare family crypt. It was a very humbling experience.

A marble effigy of the great poet.

Afterwards, I went out and looked around. The Avon is a very picturesque river that reminds me immensely of Cambridge. I can see why Shakespeare would want to compare people to a lovely, temperate summer’s day. There were lots of people out here enjoying the sun.

Walked back to the town centre.

450 years of Shakespeare

Caught the 17:38 train back to London. There was a French father with his young daughter in our carriage; when the little girl tried to go to the toilet and there was a woman in the aisle fiddling with her luggage, she (the little girl) said, very loudly, “EXCUSE ME!” The woman straightened up hurriedly with a grin to let her pass, while the father, clearly embarrassed by his daughter’s frankness (the whole carriage was chortling), apologized profusely to the woman before hurrying after his errant daughter. As he went past me, I could hear him muttering under his breath, “Jesus! Excuse me?”

Saw the announcement BREAKING NEWS – BELGIUM:RUSSIA 1:0, in the marquee section where they usually have things like HIGH BARNET – 4 MINS; STANMORE APPROACHING, STAY CLEAR OF THE PLATFORM EDGE. World Cup fever continues to run rampant, despite the fact that Team England’s out of the running.


(A/N: This is a post from June 23 from my old blog, which I incidentally forgot to move at the time. I had a zillion things in my mind at the time. Hence all the football commentary.)