We got off to
a nice early start today, up and out the door before 9:00. We arrived at Chedworth Roman
Village shortly before
its opening time of 10:00. It was my
(Margaret’s) turn to drive, and I found driving a much larger vehicle than I
have driven on the other side of the road down narrow country lanes to be a bit
of a challenge. Our first stop was Ann
Hathaway’s cottage, which has lovely grounds and extremely helpful
docents. We went on to the RSC and
bought our tickets, which gave us a chance to visit Holy Trinity
Church, a still active
Anglican Church where Shakespeare and his family are buried. We went to “Food of Love” for lunch, then saw
Shakespeare’s birthplace before wandering down Henley Street. The production of Twelfth Night at the RST was wonderful. Even the minor roles were so well portrayed,
and one could tell the play was meticulously rehearsed. The set was imaginative, and although most of
the pieces were on stage the entire time, they were used in so many different
ways in the different scenes that one never had a sense of confusion. The image of Malvolio’s cross gartered
stockings is permanently etched in my mind.
Ian drove us home through the dark – bless him! – and we arrived safe
and sound. We have just eaten the Subway
sandwiches we purchased on Henley
Street, and everyone else is off to bed.
Ian and I had
been to Chedworth
Roman Village
in January of 1990, but it wasn’t open, so instead we tooi a romantic walk in
the gloaming through the woods to a tunnel under the road, where a young girl
in traditional English riding gear went past us. The place is very different now, with a large
reception centre and a protective covering over the mosaics, which have been
uncovered. What we had thought was
someone’s house is actually a museum built in Victorian times. At first we thought the cost per person was
quite steep, at £8.50, but this included a really excellent audio guide, so
everyone got a lot out of the site.
Alanna and I got in “free” as we had purchased a National Trust
Membership at Avebury yesterday.
The Romano
Britains of this villa were wealthy and must have led a relatively nice life. The setting was on a hillside with a spring,
which made both the religious pool at the top of the site, perhaps used for
baptisms by later Christians, and the more prosaic latrines work very
well.
Chedworth has
an idyllic site, deep in sheep country, and it is also a sanctuary for native
plants, some of which I hadn’t seen before.
Although we got the odd sprinkle of rain, it was a lovely day in the
English countryside. Getting to and from
the site in our big vehicle was a bit scary, as there is not enough room in the
lanes for two cars to pass, and there are often stone fences on either side
that run for miles!
I drove us to
Ann Hathaway’s cottage, and Ian was just as nervous as a passenger as I was,
with perhaps more reason, as I came within inches of hitting a bus as I
navigated an unexpected traffic circle in Stowe-on-Wode. We drove to Anne Hathaway’s cottage, and
arrived at the same time as two coach loads of French-speaking high school
students. We tried to outwait them by
viewing the garden, only to discover that one had to queue to go in, so we saw
the first section with the students, in both French and English. Anne Hathaway’s cottage imparts a good sense
of what life was like in rural England
in the Sixteenth Century. We especially
liked our own personal tour of the kitchens, with a description of bread
making. After looking in the ovens, Ian
hit his head, but Beverley was a good five inches below the beam.
We drove to
the Royal Shakespeare Theatre Company (RSC) and Alanna, Ian and I ran down to
get our tickets. We returned to find
Dorothy and Beverley happily wandering along the river Avon
in a rare few minutes of sunshine.
We next
viewed Holy Trinity
Church, Avon,
and first walked around the church. I
somehow thought that Shakespeare’s grave was a cairn outside, but instead it is
inside the church, under a flat piece of marble flooring, in front of the high
alter. The family curse is there. The graves of his wife, Anne, daughter,
son-in-law, and granddaughter are also there.
Make sure you
see this church if you are in Stratford. The stained glass is brilliant, and the
Becket Chapel from 1331 is beautiful.
There is also something wonderful about being in a place of worship that
is still active, and which has been for hundreds of years.
We drove to a
car park, and walked down to Henley
Street, which is very touristy, but the site of
Shakespeare’s birth. The streets of Stratford are fascinating,
with wonderful examples of architecture from Fifteenth Century Tudor houses to Eighteenth Century Georgian public
buildings to Victorian row houses standing cheek by jowl.
Fortified
with some very nice paninis, we went to Shakespeare’s birth place. Dorothy had thrown her ticket to all of the
sites away, and Beverley, who had paid for the tickets, had ended up with one
that was only good for Anne Hathaway’s cottage, (as British Heritage members,
we got two-for-one tickets, but had an odd number) so we had a bit of
explaining to do getting in.
The first
part of the site is a bit hokey and commercial.
Timed entries admit you to audiovisual presentations narrated by Patrick
Stewart and Judi Dench, and there are various original artefacts from the city
and Shakespeare’s life, including a very nice model, but they are either hidden
behind silk and revealed by lights or behind glass, and in any case there isn’t
time to look at them before being ushered on to the next section. However, once one has left the Shakespeare Institute Building,
one can go into the actual house where Shakespeare was born.
We passed
Queen Elizabeth and two courtiers escaping the rain, and entered the
building. Once again, one is not allowed
to take pictures. The docents were
excellent, and the presentation was fascinating. Not only is one in the room of Shakespeare’s
parents, where he was presumably born, but the history of the house itself was
absorbing as well. So many famous people
have made the pilgrimage to Shakespeare’s birthplace, and the caretakers have
been colourful characters as well.
I think we
spent as long in the gift shop as we did in the house, and arrived back in Henley Street just
as everything was closing. We made a
necessary trip to the ATM, and then headed off to the theatre.
I seem to
attract high school groups, and we had several busloads of English schoolgirls
in their burgundy jumpers and gray skirts.
They sure squealed and giggled when the handsome young Sebastien
appeared shirtless. They play was
excellent, set in a modern European resort, and we all loved it.
It was a
pretty happy, if exhausted crew, that drove through the darkness to
Tetbury. We saw an owl on the way!
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