Stratford-Upon-Avon, Warwickshire

From the moment I bought the train tickets, I second-guessed my decision to visit Stratford-Upon-Avon. Would it be worth it? Would it be tacky, touristy and Shakespeare-manic? Yes. Yes, it would. And I thoroughly enjoyed it all. In fact, I’d say that anyone who travels to England and has even the most remote interest in Shakespeare must visit Stratford.

My hostel was ages away from the train station – a good half hour walk, as I discovered during the next couple of days. As it was, my suitcase required a taxi and a set of strong taxi driver arms. Once I arrived, I was pretty impressed with what I found there. Sure, there were downsides to the hostel. There was a surprise surcharge for non-members, and you had to pay extra for breakfast and wifi. On the other hand, the room was enormous, I’d been placed in an all-female room, and every single person in that room was incredibly friendly.

I spent my first night in Stratford trudging to a supermarket for essentials in the rain and getting to know my roommates. I bought a microwavable meal for dinner, mostly because it didn’t contain peanut butter and did contain meat. One of the girls in my room, Claire, suggested that we sightsee around Stratford together; another woman promptly handed us a brochure full of two-for-one deals, and we were set.

We left the hostel bright and early in the morning. Well, not early, but definitely bright: it was a wonderful, sunny day. Once we’d reached the town centre, we crossed one of the picturesque bridges and found our way to the bank of the River Avon. It was a great little boat ride. The commentary wasn’t exactly historical, but it was pretty entertaining. The guide seemed largely concerned with pointing out all the weird and wonderful things that rich people had done to their river-facing gardens.

After the cruise, we decided to head towards Shakespeare’s birthplace and museum. Along the way, we saw a good part of the town. It felt like I’d wandered right back into Hogsmeade in Harry Potter World! All the houses are decked out in the Tudor style, with cream walls and dark wooden slats.

Here’s me with Hamlet.

The street containing Shakespeare’s birthplace was an incontestable tourist trap. I saw life-sized toy soldiers, Shakespeare’s ghost, more bookshops than you could throw a stick at… It was great.

Like the boat cruise, our tickets for the birthplace museum were effectively half price, and it was well worth the money once we got in. First off, they stick you in front of a short film of Shakespeare history, then you enter the beautifully arranged gardens before continuing into the actual house where the bard was born. Every room contained a costumed guide who gave you a summary of how the place would have operated in Shakespeare’s time.

Best of all, our birthplace tickets let us into two other Shakespeare houses for free! We headed off for Nash’s house, the final home of Shakespeare and, currently, the site of an archaeological dig. We didn’t spend much time there as it was mainly targeted at children, so we hurried off and joined a walking tour – again half price! – of Stratford. The guide was incredibly enthusiastic about Shakespearean history, so the tour was very fun and informative. Apparently Shakespeare’s dad, John Shakespeare, was a person of questionable character. As well as becoming mayor of the town, he had a series of jobs dealing with the treatment of animal skins and illicit money-lending operations.

The tour took us all over the city, and ended nearby the church containing Shakespeare’s tomb, as well as those of his wife, sister and brother-in-law. The guide ended the tour with a neat little poem about Shakespearean idioms, and we then walked on to our second free house visit, Hall’s Croft. This was the house owned by Shakespeare’s sister’s husband, the eminent Doctor Hall. It was filled with medical instruments, plants and dubious bottles of bile.

Having used every minute of the day to the best Shakespearean advantage, Claire and I finally sat down in a pub and had a great pork roast dinner. [To beef or not to beef? This was on the wall.] Yorkshire puddings are the best. The plate contained two different types of potatoes but alas! no chips. Two of the girls in my room, both from Somerset, informed me that the best place to eat chips is out of newspaper on a dodgy beach in the rain. This is, apparently, the authentic experience.

So that was Stratford! I really enjoyed it. It was definitely one of the most interesting and attractive places I’ve visited on this trip so far. Next up is Cardiff.