Last Thursday, bus passes in our hands, we wandered up to the local bus stop, to hail the Stagecoach to Stratford again.
Well, I say again, I’ve done it before, but it was a first for T.
Waiting in the sun at the bus stop, it was a pleasant change from the recent rains we’d had, I was even beginning to think I shouldn’t have brought my jacket, but I was pleased I had later in the day.
The number 26 pulled up, and we hopped on, flashing our bus passes at the driver for our free fifteen mile trip.
Forty five minutes later, after travelling through some of Warwickshire’s quaint towns and villages, we arrived in the hustle and bustle of Stratford upon Avon.
We could have been mistaken for it being mid summer instead of late September, the town was heaving with tourists of all nationalities, cameras of all sorts and sizes snapping away at the sites, I heard more foreign tongue spoken than English.
Whether it’s because Stratford is more or less on our doorstep, and I’ve become rather blasé to it, but I’ve never understood the hype surrounding it, yes it’s a picturesque town, with the lovely river Avon flowing through, but there are many other beautiful places in Britain. Obviously the Bard attracts a lot of folk 😉
We wandered through the crowded streets, and made our way down to the Stratford canal basin, where the canal joins the river.This area has been restored over the years, but as we crossed the new canal bridge, my mind drifted back to thirty odd years ago, and the little chinaman, who could always be found on the canal bank, pen and paper in hand, a scribe I guess, he certainly drew the crowds. We both commented on him almost simultaneously, such was his presence.
We crossed the new canal bridge and onto the road bridge over the river, popping our heads into the butterfly farm as we passed. One of these days, when my deep Yorkshire pockets allow, I will venture inside, as it’s supposed to be a photographers dream, though I did get some pics of butterflies in the gardens outside, were these escapees?, who knows.
We continued along the river bank, past the old hand wound chain ferry and to the footbridge to cross the river again, then through the grounds of the church of Holy Trinity, where Shakespeare’s body lies, past the well known pub, The Black swan, nicknamed the Dirty Duck, and back into the town.
By this time we decided we needed a coffee, so finding a nice little cafe, on the river bank, we ordered our coffees, T went outside to find a seat amongst the crowds, while I waited for our order. Two minutes later, I walk out of the cafe door, wondering if T had managed to find a seat, I didn’t have any difficulty finding him, there he was, sat all alone outside under a canopy………was it something he said?………..NO!!……. in those two minutes the heavens had opened, and what I thought was suddenly a very busy cafe, was everyone rushing inside. Perhaps they were in fear of a pending flood, as the river had been quite high a few years ago 😉
Waiting for the rain to ease off, we finally ventured into the town for our stagecoach back home.
It was a double decker, so giggling like kids, we went upstairs, hoping for the front seat, but as they were already filled, we decided on the back seat 😉 little did we know it called at all the schools en route back and it wasn’t long before the whole top deck was heaving with kids 😮
Getting off at out stop, we both made a pact never to catch the 15.10hrs stagecoach back from Stratford, or a least to stay on the lower deck.
odd choice of music?
Stratford=Shakespeare=Romeo&Juliet=Dire Straits………my minds works in peculiar ways 😉