Pages

Thursday 26 February 2015

A day out in Oxford

Oxford, from Oxenaforda, which literally means Ford of the Oxen, is a city about an hour out of London. You may have heard of it before?

It’s a little bit famous. The name is derived from its positioning at the low point of where the rivers meet and the oxen could cross. Today one of the most well known universities in the world is based here. That’s right, the University of Oxford. Academia has been housed at this site for over 1000 years and this interests me a little, seeing as I work in the university circuit and all.

On Saturday, a group of us met at Paddington train station (just a fraction behind schedule), bleary eyed, coffee deprived and ready for breakfast. Ahead of us was an hour on the train which, in getting to know those I didn’t know and catching up with those I did, passed in a flash.

First stop: Breakfast. Holly, Kelly, Hien and I swooped upon the Tourist information stand the second it opened, to be confronted by a sour and largely unhelpful woman. She did give us a map, though, and between the four of us we sort of managed to work out how to read it. Down a little alley way, we saw a sign for a cafe called Cafe Puccino’s. I probably wouldn’t have mentioned food this time, however, this little cafe intrigued me (and it was cheap!) so I recommend you stop by and read the writing on the wall.

Time passed as we gossiped heartily, and then we realised it was almost time for the walking tour. Where did it start? Actually, what was the name of the company? A quick google search and we were on the look out for the lovely green bicycle opposite Fudge Kitchen from which the tour would begin. Kelly, as we discovered is wont to do, approached a man that she thought was the tour guide (ok, admittedly, we all thought it, Kelly simply took the rap for talking to him..). Upon discovering he wasn’t, we retreated into the ever growing crowd gathering around the lovely green bicycle. [NB, it was indeed lovely.]

A mildly distressed looking gentleman approached with wild hair and a rainbow scarf and shouted, “Are you all here for the walking tour?”, in his Oxfordshire accent, and ran his hand through this hair. “Would any of you like to come back for the 12.30 tour? 12.30? You’re a very large group. The tour guide at 12.30 is a very sexy man. 12.30? Are you sure? Ok, everyone gather in close, no muttering. Where are you all from?”

And so the tour began. A quick round table showed a very culturally diverse crowd with visitors from all over the globe. And here is where I began to learn facts, some I knew and many that I feel I should have known.



Interesting things of note in Oxford

  • The university is made up of 38 separate colleges. Students can either apply to a specific college or enter the pool to go to any of them. Each college has it’s own personality and often offers a certain set of subjects which attracts a specific type of student. At the end of the degree, however, everyone receives their parchment with the University of Oxford, and no college specified.
  • Christ Church College has had a building of academia on that spot for 1000 years. That is a pretty long time.
  • Christ Church was also used as a location set for Harry Potter.
  • There’s a bricked square, about half a metre squared that marks the exact spot that people (usually protestants) were burned alive.
  • Many, many impressive people came through Oxford. Our guide was keen on literature, and spoke at length about Tolkien and Oscar Wilde, two amazing literary geniuses. If you google Oxford graduates, there’s a name or two you might recognise.
And much more. If you do make a visit, I highly suggest joining a Footprints Tour. Our tour guide, Tom, was enthusiastic and funny and my face was sore from smiling.

Pinched from the Footprints Tour Facebook page
Please ignore me looking like a dag.

At the conclusion of the tour, the troupe was ready for a toilet stop, a lunch break and a sit down. We found a little pub that was able to cater to all of these necessities. By the by, and here I go talking about food again, we had absolutely delicious nachos and a sharing platter from the Three Goats Heads, while a resident dog kept us company at our feet.

Lunch under a map of Oxford

What to do next? We had a few things on our list: Have a look at the library, see the exam room, see inside at least one of the Colleges. Some Colleges are free to enter while others had a small fee - students do live there, after all, and we are traipsing our significantly less intelligent feet around their homes, per say.

Intricate ceiling with carving initials

The examination hall. We had seen the imposing, prison-like thorny exterior where in days of old, one single student at a time sat within to present to a panel of academics. We paid our £1 to see inside (and touch the centuries old stone walls). Moving on, we passed the Radcliffe Camera (more than once, as the day would have it…). From here we made our way to Christ Church College. A little over 600 undergraduate and postgraduate students live at Christ Church, and once inside the walls we were privy to the ancient hallways, courtyards, centuries old cathedral and more.

Recognise it?

Our last stop was of course the gift shop (as one is always herded through!) and I found it ironic that one quarter was dedicated to the church and cathedral merchandise, directly besides the Harry Potter merchandise. Cashing in, me thinks?

It was awe inspiring, to think of this place of learning. As I was leaving Christ Church College, I turned to the others and said, “I understand why students of Oxford are so smug. They have every right to be. Hell, I’d be smug if I went here.”

But then again, I like being smug.

***

It's a tandem bike.


It was a lovely day trip out and well worth a visit. I would consider going back to explore the little off-the-beaten-track places, and possibly see what kind of debauchery descends on a Saturday night. It was fascinating watching the students roam the streets, friends in their shorts besides others in a full suit and bow-tie - anything goes. The students are not allowed to drive here, and so it is a city of bikes - bold and brash these riders are and the prices, in comparison to London town, are nice and cheap.

Go on, feel the poshness for yourself.
xx


The lovely Christ Church College

Tuesday 24 February 2015

I'm on the telly, Ma!

37. Be part of a live audience for a TV show
Last week I wrote a bucket list. It wasn't long before I could make my first tick.

A friend was going to be part of a live audience for a show called The Last Leg. I googled said show and learnt that it is hosted by Australia's own Adam Hills, with co-hosts Alex Brooker and Josh Widdicombe.

“Adam Hills is really funny,” I said, “that’ll be heaps of fun!”

The following day, I received a message telling me where to meet as someone has pulled out and I can have the ticket. I’d started getting sick again and so I wasn’t sure if I should go but in the end figured, #yolo.

Can’t believe I just wrote that. And I didn’t actually think yolo.
Well, maybe.

The Last Leg began as a talk show to recap the events of the day during the 2012 London Paralympics to bring further awareness to the games and treat the athletes with the same level of respect as the able-bodied ones. It was so successful it spawned a further 4 series after the conclusion of the games and recaps the weekly news. It is filmed live, which means it goes to air immediately on Channel 4 in London (so no editing!), and then screened in Australia on Wednesdays at 9.30pm.

I met the troupe early and, over a couple of beverages and some food, got to know those I hadn’t met before. I was very excited and before long we joined the cue “by the black gate”. We had arrived early enough to get ourselves a blue wrist band and to be allowed in the first wave. Mini fist pump! See, they over allocate tickets to make sure the audience is definitely full, so you still have to arrive early to ensure a seat. To give you a bit of an indication, the show wasn’t to begin filming until 10pm, with doors opening a little after 9pm, and we were well and truly in the line at roughly 7.30.

Once inside (after a number of nervous toilet stops because once the filming starts - that’s it!) we were ushered to our seats. Our group of 6 were seated behind Adam Hills which gave us an obstructed view of him, but could see the other two presenters and the special guest with ease. Tonight’s special guest was…Russell Crowe. Big, big star, funny, but ultimately a bit of a bully. But we all knew that anyway. We made sure that all phones were well away so that he couldn’t throw one at us...

While we were seated, a comedian warmed up the audience. I wish I could remember his name, but it has escaped me. Edit: @TheLastLeg read my blog and informed me his name is Mark Olver - thank you! He identified which country we were all from (lots of Australians, as to be expected), discovered the worst place in all of England to live and played cupid for a single 26 year good looking man, who was looking for a younger lady, brunette, who liked cheese.

It was time for the show to start. We practised our whooping and cheering and clapping. The presenters had come onto the set to say hello, and so they could walk off...and on...again. My face was already sore from smiling and the show hadn’t even begun yet!

The theme song played. The presenters walked in through a smokey mist to our hollering and applauding. Then the presenters walked off again, to enter once more - this time without the theme music because Australia’s ABC couldn’t afford the rights to the song...

And then the show got under way. As it was broadcast live-to-air, the filming took an hour, with ad breaks every little while where we could stand up and stretch our legs. The comedian would return and keep us lively and entertained, before we were whooping and cheering the return after the ad break.

The presenters covered such topics as Russia’s military aircraft sightseeing over the UK, obese people collecting benefits and included a Gladiator sketch between Alex and Russell in which Russell, as I could see the original script on the teleprompter, took many creative liberties.

It was finally time to wrap up the show and by now my throat was hoarse and my voice long gone. The night ended with the crew filming the adverts for Australian TV, in which Adam repeated the same line and changed the day depending on when the ad would be shown - Wednesday, tomorrow or tonight. Unfortunately the teleprompter displayed Friday instead of Wednesday, and so we had to film them all again (as Adam joked, he did a Ron Burgundy. In fact, at this moment the person in charge of the teleprompter then wrote, “G’day, my name is Ian Beale...”, and Adam read it out, before dissolving into a fit of laughter at what he had just done.)

And thus, with one last round of whooping, cheering and furious clapping, the night was done. We formed an orderly queue and shuffled our way out of the set.

Watch the episode here.

xx

Tuesday 17 February 2015

A List of Buckets - Sasha writes a bucket list.

When the year ticked over into 2015, I was standing in a crowded square in Krakow. Upon my return to London, I decided to make a bucket list of all the things I want to do both in the immediate future and beyond.

Bucket lists are a great way to become inspired and to be motivated. I enjoy collecting things and by making a bucket list I feel like I am collecting experiences - I like to watch as I tick things off.

The list I have made below begins from January 1, 2015 and therefore does not include all the things I have achieved so far that I had wanted to do. I will be continuously adding to this list and crossing items off as they are completed. There's also a lot of things I haven't listed - I've tried to stick with the things that really excite me. For instance, there are a good many things I'd like to do, but I'm not obsessed with the idea so I'm not writing it down (like Vegas). They are in no particular order - and if you think there is something I should do that I haven't listed, please let me know!


***
Sasha's Bucket List for 2015 and beyond
In no particular order
  1. Skydive over the Alps
  2. Travel the world - see as many countries as humanly possible (very broad)
  3. See every corner Australia - including sleeping under the stars at Uluru, photographing Uluru at sunrise/sunset
  4. Learn about my German heritage
  5. Write my novel
  6. Learn a language
  7. Shark cage dive
  8. Go to Burning Man
  9. Have a photograph win a competition/displayed
  10. Play the piano for someone
  11. Own a home
  12. Go zorbing
  13. Go to Oktoberfest
  14. Go to the Edinburgh Fringe
  15. Get a six pack
  16. Run a half marathon
  17. Do more Tough Mudders
  18. Try snowboarding
  19. See the Northern Lights
  20. Own a pet
  21. Crotchet a poncho
  22. Learn to cook steak properly
  23. Fly first class (long haul flight)
  24. Stand on the edge of a volcano
  25. Fly in a helicopter
  26. Sponsor a child
  27. Get a tattoo
  28. Get more piercings
  29. Stand behind a waterfall
  30. Eat pizza, pasta and gelato in italy
  31. See the pyramids
  32. Write a song
  33. Go White water rafting
  34. Take a hot air balloon ride
  35. Be content with myself
  36. Make it to Everest base camp
  37. Be part of a live audience for a TV show
  38. See an opera at the Palais Garnier
  39. Go to the Moulin Rouge
  40. Visit Hobbiton
  41. Climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge
  42. Meet my penpals from my youth (1 have already met, it was great!)
  43. Play Battleshots (Ha!)
  44. Be able to do downward dog with my feet flat on the floor
  45. See Les Miserables
  46. Learn to drive a manual car (I don't really want to, but hey, it would be a handy skill)
  47. Go on an African safari
  48. Go to a masquerade ball (a la Phantom of the Opera)
  49. Go to Dimension Jump (already have my tickets - booyah!)
  50. Attend Eurovision 2016 2017
  51. See a biobay (in Puerto Rico)
  52. Add more things to the bucket list ;)
Some of the cool things I've done thus far in life, from snow angels
to owning a business to eating live sushi and hurling myself out of a plane.
(poorly photoshopped)

Saturday 14 February 2015

The Scottsboro Boys

Ding. An email pops up from my boss (who sits immediately to my left).

This show is ending soon and it’s just so so good. 

Definitely try and see it before it closes. Honestly, I’ve seen it twice already and I’d go and see it again.

I had seen discount tickets released through TimeOut but they had to be purchased before midnight. I'd forgotten to mention the time constrained nature of the ticket buying to my friends, so ended up missing out. I decided I wouldn’t see the show and didn’t think any more of it.

A week later, I was playing with my phone as I was struggling to sleep. I noticed that TimeOut had re-released some more tickets to the show that had to be purchased before midnight and on impulse, I bought two. It was 11.45pm.

***
The Scottsboro Boys depicts the story of 9 black youths in 1930’s Alabama who were falsely accused of raping two white women. They were tried and found guilty, repeatedly, all because of the colour of their skin. It is based (and extremely closely) on a true story which you can read in detail here.

This was The South when racial segregation was still in full swing.

It is a very dark subject matter, presented with a humour and lightheartedness that did not detract from the gravity of the topic. The almost entirely black male cast played all the black, the white, the male and the female characters with irony and exaggeration which drove home the absurdity of the situation: to be denied basic rights simply because of the colour of ones skin.

At times, I felt bad laughing, but that was the intent: laugh at it, but learn from it at the same time.

The cast were incredible. They sung in harmony in a large range of different styles, they danced and tap danced, they were emotive and funny and gut-wrenching and tear-inducing then BANG, they made you laugh again. The elderly (and only) white gentleman of the cast was a little underwhelming and, upon a bit of research I discovered he was the Grand Maester in Game of Thrones. I feel a bit bad saying he was a rather doddery on the stage, but thems the truth.

The set was simple - a series of metal interlocking chairs that could be shifted to suit the location; bars for jail or the court room.

Finally, the end. I had to pick my jaw up off my lap. I had a sneaking suspicion...I will say no more.


Thought provoking, ironic, difficult, funny, the production is ending next week so get yourself along to see a show on the other end of the spectrum from the likes of The Lion King and Wicked.


Friday 6 February 2015

Rhapsody in Blue by Candlelight

Once upon a time, I played the piano and played it reasonably well. Then life got in the way, I played for my piano teacher’s funeral and music became an ever-present sadness but a part of me I thought I had tucked away forever.

Until I started working at Imperial College London. Imperial runs in conjunction with the Royal School of Music, and two floors up in the building that I work in is a suite of piano practice rooms (albeit poorly cared for and largely out of tune). Over the last few months, I have tentatively begun playing again; simple pieces and those that I once knew like the back of my hand. Chopin’s Nocturne in E, Moonlight Sonata, Fur Elise. Pieces I could download from the public domain. Recently, I bit the bullet and bought one of my favourite books of piano arrangements I had back in Australia. I am only playing once or twice a week, my hands begin to ache after a short while, and I find my forgetfulness distressing but I am slowly and surely gaining a little bit of confidence and some of my old ability is returning.

Muscle memory is an incredible thing. Watching my hands move while my brain has little to no idea what is going on is fascinating.

So when I saw a very inexpensive classical piano recital advertised through one of the discount websites, I decided to grab two tickets (and then find someone to go with me afterwards).

It was held in the imposing St Martin in the Fields church right in the heart of Trafalgar Square (which I thought was the Coliseum due to it’s impressive frontage and walked past it a number of times). After being shunted from area to area, Becki and I were finally able to pick up our tickets from a strange man sitting at a makeshift desk with “Groupon” written in texta on a piece of paper. 

Back upstairs we looked at our tickets and realised they were not next to each other. Really? After showing the tickets to the attendant, who had a very what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it and frazzled air about her, we stood, unwilling to be seated apart.

There was a lady standing behind me waiting to be seated, and on impulse I inquired what her seat number was. It was the adjoining seat to one of my tickets, and so I asked if she would be kind enough to swap with one of my tickets so that Becki and I could be seated together. The other seat was not far away, but on the other side of a barrier. After a bit of hesitation, she agreed to switch tickets and for that I am grateful. Thank you, lady! To be honest, I think where she ended up had a better view, so I hope she wasn’t too upset.

We were seated almost directly above the grand piano where the pianist would be facing towards us. This did not lead to a clear view of his hands, but we could see his slightly balding scalp very clearly.

The programme ran as follows, with a slight digression:
Beethoven: Moonlight Sonata
Schubert: Impromptus Nos 2 and 3
Grieg: Wedding Day at Trolhaugen
Liszt: Hungarian Rhapsody No 2
Debussy: Clair de Lune
Chopin: Scherzo No 1
Chopin: Revolutionary Study
Chopin: Black Key Study <- I believe this one was not played, instead swapped for the Fantasie Impromptu
Chopin: Military Polonaise
Rachmaninov: Prelude in C# minor
Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue

Of these, I had played the Beethoven, Grieg, Liszt, Debussy, Chopin’s and the Rachmaninov. The pianist was Warren Mailley-Smith (who I think might have used a profile picture from a few years previously?) and he took to the floor as a hush fell.

He was, of course, very good. One has to be to play to a reasonably large crowd, very difficult pieces, by memory. He felt a tad rusty at first when starting the Moonlight Sonata (only because I know it intimately), but then again - would I have been able to do it? No. So I am not one to judge. Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody was one of my favourites - a rousing tune it is and brought back fond memories of my time in Budapest. All of the Chopin’s made my fingers move of their own accord, in particular the Military Polonaise which was one of the last pieces I was learning before I stopped. It is not easy.

The concert ended with a rather strange speech made by a man who biographied the life of Gershwin, which basically reiterated everything written in the programme. He eventually stopped talking and the pianist was allowed to play. 

One of my favourite parts of attending classical concerts is watching the crowd. Some people (the elderly or boyfriends and husbands) get the best sleep of their lives. Others are slouched in their chairs, boredom painted across their faces. A select few are poised entirely upright, ecstasy painted across their faces - these are the ones who, in the interval, walk laps around and inspect the piano. I spend as much time watching the people as I do looking at the piano. 

It was a pleasant concert and the playing was very good. I found his slightly balding head top a little off-putting (I know, how shallow of me!) and at the conclusion of most pieces he bounced the final chord - in two instances I thought he was going to fall backwards right off the stool. But I’ll say it again - could I do it? Not then, not now, so my upmost respect.

Except maybe reign in the violent end-note ricochet...

Finally, thank you to Becki for joining me. As bizarre as it was, I hope you had a reasonably enjoyable evening.

xx

Always with the selfie with the tickets. It's a thing now.

Thursday 5 February 2015

Scones and Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon

"What do you think of Stratford-upon-Avon?" my housemate Alesha asked one day late last year.
"What's it good for?" I replied.
"It's Shakespeare's birthplace. There's a deal on Groupon."

And so we booked a weekend in January to head to the quaint little town.

***
We both had become so caught up with Christmas and New Years and the end of 2014 that we spared little thought for our weekend away. Being the off season, there were few theatre shows running and those that were were either booked out or the remaining tickets expensive.

Waking up painfully early for a Saturday, we quickly threw together the remainder of our packing for the night and set out into the freezing morning air that had created intricate frost patterns on the parked cars.

The coach ride there was largely uneventful; out of the city, a frosting of snow lazily covered the landscape, a bit of a shut eye, chat and a play with the phone and before long (3 hours, roughly) we stopped in the little town of Stratford-upon-Avon.

NB: The ‘upon-Avon’ part of the name is derived, unsurprisingly from the fact that the little town is situated on the River Avon.

A quick google search showed that our hotel for the evening was not in the city centre, but a reasonable distance out. No matter, we’ll catch a bus! Google maps also showed it was roughly a 45 minute walk so we decided to dump our belongings at the hotel, and then walk back in.

“I’d like two tickets please,” I asked the bus driver.
“To?” (Note: I thought the driver was reconfirming my want for two tickets, and so there was a moments confusion as we bantered back and forth until he said…)
“Where are you going?”
“Oh. I don’t know…”
“Don’t have my crystal ball,” he joked, as I fumbled with my phone to try to figure out where on earth we were headed.

It then occurred to me that one pays by distance and not overall fare and so, with the driver and remainder of the bus laughing at me, Alesha and I found our way to a seat.

Finger trigger ready to hit that stop button, it wasn’t long before we’d passed through the town and popped out into the country side. It was beautiful, and we decided that the walk back in would be well achievable. With a laugh and a thank you, we jumped off the bus and navigated towards our hotel. It was an older establishment, but cozy with a very little-country-town feel (which was strange, seeing as we were in a..little..country..town..). Our room was already prepared, so we threw our stuff in and made our way back down the restaurant for our coffee-and-cupcakes-on-arrival and to make a game plan for the next two days.

Cue: amazing coffee. And delicious cupcakes. And the finding of a 50% off the Shakespeare’s Family Homes experience voucher. We set off out into the chilly but sunny afternoon towards the Holy Trinity chapel  where Shakespeare, his wife and family have been buried.

Did you know: There are no direct descendants of William Shakespeare living today. His children either sadly died young or remained unmarried. The more you know.

The walk was beautiful and seemed to pass in an instant. Alesha and I nattered away about all and everything, with me stopping every 15 seconds to take a photo of something, periodically squealing “Sheeps!” as we passed fields. At one point, I decided to check the map and realised we were actually very close to the church. We took a sharp left and soon we were positioned on the opposite bank of the river to the church. Cue: Photo pop.

“Shall we just climb under?” Alesha asked. There was a gate (mostly surrounded by..nothing..) and a bridge that appeared to lead straight to the church. My inability to break rules won out and so we walked the long way around (up the river to another proper bridge).

I whipped out my big camera, poised, snapped a photo. Looking at my screen to view the incredible picture I had just taken, I was confronted with “No memory card.” Bugger. I had been carrying my heavy camera this whole way as a deadweight. The card was back in the hotel, so I hadn’t forgotten it entirely but I pushed my annoyance aside and endeavoured to take pretty pictures with my phone.

Turns out I have a fascination with graveyards. It’s a far cry from the girl I was at 7, whose father tried to take a shortcut through a local cemetery. Hand held, he tried to drag me through the gates, my heels digging into the soil, absolutely petrified. Needless to say, he didn’t succeed. These days, I find them extremely fascinating and, moreover, cool to photograph.

The allure of the graveyard.


The afternoon light was filtering through the trees, the headstone etchings worn indecipherable, the moss growing strong out of the cracks and the shadows stretched their limbs the length of the small cemetery.

Not ducking under the Caution Very Low Door sign, we entered the church. The afternoon glow gave the inside of the church a soft yellow feel, as we made our way towards the plaque laid for Shakespeare. Strangely, he and his family are not laid to rest outside, but inside the church. Next to him rested his wife and children.

Good friend, for Jesus' sake forebear,
To digg the dust enclosed heard;
Bleste be the man that spares thes stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones.

We left the church and investigated seeing a show that night. Shows were either
a) painfully expensive
b) standing tickets only (which, was fine, except for a 3 hour show)
c) at an awkward time that didn’t allow us to have dinner or
d) not Shakespeare.

After a quick consultation, we decided to forgo seeing a play in Stratford-upon-Avon. We wandered around the town, including into an old bookstore where I found an incredible turn-of-the-century book describing London in Shakespeare's time, before returning to our hotel where we were to have a carvery dinner and some wine.

Here’s me always going on about food. Well. This was a rather homely hotel, but the food was divine. They loaded up our plates with all the different kinds of meats, and then let us run free with all the vegetables, sauces and other bits and pieces we could squish onto our enormous plates. We overdid it, slightly. Dinner was followed by dessert - all still included and soon it was time to call it a night.

We were both rather excited to have an early night and a sleep in - something that’s not afforded to us often back in London and with the heater finally working drifted off to sleep.

***
Sleeping in was divine. An enormous breakfast, too, was included, and with it came that delicious coffee again. Our plan of attack for today was: check out, carry our things into the town centre (no buses run on a Sunday, so walking it was), visit Shakespeare’s birthplace and the other Family Homes of Shakespeare.

We prepped ourselves for the 45 minute walk back into the city. It was another lovely day, although carrying our stuff made our tread a little heavier than the day before and our pace a little slower. Once arriving in the town centre, already tired, we figured a sit down was in order and wandered into the Hathaway Tea Rooms. Very glad we did - one of the oldest tea rooms in Stratford-upon-Avon, named after Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare’s wife. We had a delicious pot of tea and warm scones to share, and I felt decidedly British.

Care for some scones?


Energy revitalised, we made our way to our first stop: Shakespeare’s birthplace. This is a house, seemingly in the middle of the town that has been preserved since the mid 1500’s. It underwent a few changes in the subsequent centuries but thankfully had remained within the Shakespeare family until it was decided to be kept for preservation reasons. The museum attached was fascinating, with books and artefacts of the time, and soon we walked into the house itself.

I’m not a fan of recreated spaces, but some of the inside items were considered to be originals (such as the bed). Upstairs, the floor buckled and creaked, and the windows had been etched with the names of thousands of pilgrims from across the centuries.

I should possibly mention that the day before we had bought an enormous wall map of the world to decorate our house. I had this map sticking out the top of my backpack which made for quite the thigh exercises when I had to duck to pass through low doorways.

The cottage in which Shakespeare's mother did all the hard work.
One seems to forget about that part.


We signed the guestbook and moved on to Anne Hathaway’s family cottage. Unfortunately a couple of the houses were not open due to the time of year or construction (including a little farm) but the passes last a whole year so who knows?  I may make it back there in the summer as it was such a pretty little town.

It was a relatively big hike to the cottage and we were laden with our belongings. The cottage and surrounds were gorgeous. Orchards, the forest, the preserved home where Shakespeare would visit to woo Miss Hathaway. We sat and took in our surroundings after exploring the cottage with centuries old wooden beams, in places you could see down to the room below.

It was starting to get late, and so we trekked back to the city centre to see the last house which wasn't part of Shakespeare's realm, but was included in the package (partly because I think they felt bad 2 of the other houses were shut). Harvard House, is a 16th Century preserved house right in the centre of the town, owned by the Harvards who would then go on to create the university. It was a bit dull, but it was warm inside, so that was nice.

Finally, we collapsed in the pub that Shakespeare used to frequent, before finding some dinner and boarding our coach back to little old London town. It was a lovely, gently-paced-but-active weekend. Stratford-upon-Avon is a gorgeous little town, with it's beautiful river and riverside walks, and seeing the centuries of history preserved to honour one of the greatest writers we have ever seen was remarkable.

I think I'll go back for a cup of tea and some scones in the summer time.
xx


Oh you.