Stratford-Upon-Avon

Stratford-Upon-Avon is the small hamlet in England where William Shakespeare was born, approximatley a billion years ago before they knew that it was possible to write words without apostrophes. Not only did we see his abode, but we also saw his mother's farm and fed her goats while she was on holiday, we saw his daughter's home and learned of his son-in-law's medicinal practices including penicillin and open heart surgery with a stick and some sap, we visited his granddaughter's house, and finally his wife's home. They all had short ceilings, were wastefully uninhabited, and within walking distance of each other. In addition to these glamorized wigwams we saw the River Avon, two Shakespeare productions by the Royal Shakespeare Company, Shakespeare's grave inside his church, some schoolchildren doing brass rubbings, and a hand-crank boat. My favorite thing about Stratford-Upon-Avon, however, was the Bed and Breakfast we stayed at. Yum yum yum yum yum (say it outloud with voice inflection, like the 'yums' are waves). Our full English breakfast included granola, fruit, orange juice, milk, toast, marmalade, eggs, mushrooms, tomatos, bacon, sasuage, a piece of parsley, a Hugh Grant appearance, a Shakespeare performance, and last but not least, an appeareance by her Majesty the Queen. They weren't messing around when they said it would be FULL English breakfast. My overall impression of Stratford-Upon-Avon was that for a quaint town, there wasn't much to do but celebrate the life of Shakespeare, and eat.