Stratford-upon-Avon

Stratford was really nice! I kept hoping the weather would be good while I was there, and I was not disappointed -- otherwise, I would have been really annoyed, since it was such a nice weekend here in Lancaster, from what I gather.

I took Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix with me, hoping to make some good progress in my data collection for my dissertation. I planned to get at least through the chapter "Snape's Worst Memory" and maybe a little past. And that's just where I did get, by the time I got home. Yay for me!

Friday night, I arrived and found my B&B, then went out for a little walk. I thought I would go find Anne Hathaway's Cottage, just to see what it looked like and decide whether to go back in the morning to go inside. Halfway to the cottage, though, I found a lovely park, strewn with people walking their dogs, children playing football (that's soccer, for most of you), and clumps of summer-scented, recently-mown grass. It was just such a perfect scene, and I couldn't stand to walk through that park without stopping, so I plopped down on the grass and read for a while, then just lay in the sun, enjoying life to the utmost. I got to know a few lovely dogs this way, who were all quite happy to walking and frolicking in the sunny grass. Finally, I moved on to complete my walk to the Cottage. Just outside the park, though, I had to stop again, as I then came upon a little triangular field with a horse grazing in it. I clucked at the horse, and he came over, and then I felt bad that I didn't have anything to give him. As soon as he realized that, he went happily back to munching the grass by my feet. Continuing on, I came across a black cat, which was absolutely beautiful and let me pet it, though not too pleased about it (I could see his tail swishing). After making it to Anne Hathaway's Cottage and peeking in the garden, I decided I would have to come back in the morning and take a look inside.

The next morning I went back to the Cottage and had a nice look around, and then strolled through the gardens. I walked the labyrinth (which, to my utter annoyance, they insisted on calling a "maze"), which was rather fun, even though the yew trees outlining the path were no higher than 3 feet, so you never really felt lost or overwhelmed at all. I suppose that's just as well, since that's really not the point of a labyrinth. I finally walked back into town then, vaguely thinking that I might stop at the Shakespeare Birthplace House. By the time I got to town, the sun had come back out (she'd been hiding in the morning), and the town was filled with people eating ice cream and enjoying the sunshine. I walked down to the river, got a little something to eat, and then sat and did some more reading. Then I got my theater tickets, but discovered that I had another hour before the doors opened. So, I walked around by the Swan Theatre and found a nice spot in the grass to read some more, intermittently watching the family picnicking nearby, whose kids were playing tag with each other.

Finally, I went in to the theater. My seat was right at the very back of the theater, and I mean the back. However, there wasn't anyone directly next to me, and I found it easy to stretch out and enjoy my comfort. The play, Twelfth Night was definitely worth it. I love Shakespeare's sense of comedy, and this performance did not disappoint on that front -- Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Feste the fool, Malvolio the steward, and Maria the maid were all marvelous. The others, though, left a little to be desired, particularly Viola, which is just a shame. Sebastian (Viola's twin brother ... in the play, not in real life) was only slightly better, Olivia was rather too emotional, and Orsino -- apart from being really good looking, which is definitely a necessity -- played the tragic lover just a little too strongly. But it was still worth seeing.

I often think that Shakespeare is highly over-done, but then I watch something else of his, or I read a few sonnets, and I think, "He may be over-done, but he probably deserves to be." And there are plenty of other over-done things I can think of that I still really enjoy (Harry Potter, for example, and Orson Welles). And I often remember a student in high school claiming that Shakespeare was nothing but a bawdy old man, and then I think, "Maybe he was, but he sure could write!" For that matter, I know plenty of other artists who were little more than bawdy old (or young) men, or even women -- except for the fact that they were blessed with a great talent, which they chose to share with the world.

The journey home was probably the worst part. I had to walk from one Birmingham station to another, which was a little annoying, even though short. And then, I had to take a coach from Crewe from Preston and another from Preston to Lancaster -- the trains are still terrible on the weekends right now, even though they were supposed to be done with their work by March or April.

I kept my journal for the trip in my copy of OotP -- and every time I wrote something, it made me first think of JoAnna, and then of how apalled Dad would be if he knew what I was doing. :)

"Words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them." (13 points)