This was our last day in England during what had been my very first real tour anywhere, back in 1983.
One of my very first posts in this blog was about how my life was nearly cut short at a five road intersection in Stratford by an articulated lorry (a semi in the US). In addition to adjusting to where the traffic was coming from, I also talked about adjusting to differences in American English and British English as well as to the food.
Both of my grandmothers had been British and, as long as I stuck to more familiar fare such as Shepherd’s Pie, Cornish Pasties, Bubble ‘n’ Squeak, etcetera, I was fine. It was those subtle differences between something like egg salad, which in the UK turned out to be sliced eggs on a bed of watercress, and egg mayonnaise, which would get me the US chopped eggs in mayonnaise. Don’t get me started about hamburgers or bacon. I learned a lot on that first trip.
We began our day getting picked up at our hotel and taken to Oxford. “Inspector Morse” had a couple more years to go before it appeared on our screens in the US through PBS. I knew that Oxford was a University Town, but didn’t yet understand the differences between a university in the UK and one in the US.
My general understanding is that, at Oxford, the students live in rooms and take meals at a college (like Hertford, Jesus or Brasenose), attend lectures mainly in small groups in the offices of their professors or grad students, and study in the libraries of the Radcliffe Camera, the Bodleian Library and others. A student will “read” for what the US calls a “major”.
The oldest colleges at Oxford were founded in the 13th century. Jesus College, the first one we visited, was founded by Queen Elizabeth I in 1571. The other two colleges we visited — Hertford and Brasenose — were founded in 1282 and 1509 respectively.
This visit was also long before the Harry Potter films. It was the dining hall of Christ Church College at Oxford that was used in the first film as the dining hall of Hogwarts.
The Radcliffe Camera was opened in 1749 and is a beautiful, round building originally built for study of the sciences, near Brasenose, All Soul’s, and Exeter colleges. It isn’t too far from the Bodleian Library either. Although the current building dates only as far back as 1602, the Bodleian Library (in some form or another) dates as far back as the 14th century.
We also paid a visit to the Old Schools Quad, which houses part of the Bodleian Library and has separate entrances for parts of the collections of the original schools — such as philosophy, religion, science, law and medicine.
Upon leaving Oxford, we went by the Martyr’s Memorial, which commemorates the burning at the stake of Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester and Nicholas Ridley, Bishop of London as well as the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer a few months later. They had been convicted for heresy because of their Protestant beliefs after a quick trial in 1555.
Once we reached the environs of Stratford-upon-Avon, we headed out to Shottery to visit Anne Hathaway’s cottage. This was where William Shakespeare’s wife lived as a child. It was a 12 room thatched cottage built between the 15th and 17th centuries and looked like Snow White and her seven companions would emerge from it at any moment. I really loved touring it and seeing a regular house that old.
Back in town, we toured Shakespeare’s birthplace. I remember it being rather cramped and dark, but that was probably because of all of the people that were squearshed into the place. It seemed totally different on my latest trip (in 2016) when I could walk through at my own pace and talk with costumed interpreters who explained what I was seeing and answered any questions I had. I also remember that everyone else had to duck down when passing through doorways. Not this girl. I was just the right height.
After the birthplace was when we had some free time before jumping back on the tour coach and returning to London. This was when I had my encounter with the articulated lorry. When the driver parped his hooter at me, I shot into the air and seem to remember levitating across the road. In my original telling of this story, I mentioned polishing his windscreen as I flew across it. At any rate, I don’t think my short little legs ever moved so fast before or since.
Fortunately for Mom, she was already across the road. I had fallen behind for some reason and was trying to catch up when I nearly met my maker.
Next time – the beginnings of a 1984 “if this is Tuesday, it must be Belgium” kind of European tour.
Jesus College
Brasenose College
An Oxford street
Lincoln College
Part of Radcliffe Camera with Exeter College
Another view of Radcliffe Camera with All Souls College
I had signed up for a five day tour with Rabbie’s to the Heart of England & Wales. Although this tour schedule would take me back to three places I had been before – Stratford-Upon-Avon, Llanglollen (pronounced something like “Clan-glock-glen”) in Wales, and York – for the most part it was all new territory for me.
I needed to meet up with Rabbie’s at the Victoria Bus Terminal, which is across the street from the Victoria Train Station. Since luggage was involved, I took a taxi. We had nine people for the tour on the van that could handle sixteen. I was the only American with people from Canada, Australia and New Zealand. Our Tour Director/Driver was named Jamie.
Our first stop on the tour was Stratford-Upon-Avon. Jamie drove us around and showed us some of the sites before he parked the van. Then he led us to Shakespeare’s Birthplace on Henley Street, where he set us free for several hours with a time to return to the van.
Since I was already there, I started with the birthplace. I had been to Stratford back in 1983 when I had encountered an articulated lorry (a semi) a little too close for anyone’s comfort. That had been my first ever trip to the UK. I was much better versed regarding where to look for oncoming traffic by 2017. It had become second nature.
I remembered the birthplace as being small and cramped. I also remembered being schmushed into the tiny rooms to listen to a guide tell us about the place. This time, we could walk around on our own and chat with the costumed interpreters who were in the various rooms to answer questions. I could see everything so much better and even take photos.
Downstairs in what would have been Shakespeare’s father’s glove-makers shop, they had a woman who demonstrated what the gloves for men and women would have been like and how they were made. We could feel the gloves and even try some on. John Shakespeare was also a wool dealer.
There were costumed interpreters not only in the house, but tending the garden as well. Some actors were giving mini performances in the garden area. After touring the house and garden, I had some lunch in a patisserie across the street.
There must be something about Stratford. First visit, I had a near death experience with a huge truck. This visit, I turned down the second turn on the right from Henley Street as I had been instructed only to discover much later that, as it was a pedestrian only street, the person giving me directions hadn’t counted it. I turned one street too soon. It took several blocks before I realized I was not heading for the church in which Shakespeare had been buried. What did I learn? Make sure I have my own map – even if it is printed off of the internet or hand drawn.
Coming out to a fairly busy street, I asked someone I saw there where I could find Trinity Church. Because the street I was on had angled away from where I wanted to go, it was a bit of a hike from where I was. When I reached the intersection with Hall’s Croft (the home of Shakespeare’s daughter, Susannah, and her husband, Doctor John Hall), I sighed with relief. If I turned left, I would return to Henley Street eventually and, if I turned right, I would end up at the church. I checked my watch and turned right.
I had lost quite a bit of time with my detour. So, I figured I could spend time at the church, but didn’t have time to visit Hall’s Croft again or the site of New Place or pop on over to the Royal Shakespeare Company’s theatre. On my way back up the road towards the birthplace, I found that the school was now open to the public. Pooh! I didn’t have the time to wait in line to go inside. So I vowed to return on another trip when I had more time and a map. I made it back to our rendezvous point on time.
Our next stop was Ironbridge Gorge, which was a deep gorge containing the Severn River in Shropshire, England. It is a World Heritage Site because in 1779 the first ever iron bridge was built there. It is still there – pedestrian only now. Jamie drove us through town and dropped us off at the other end, so we could walk out onto the bridge and then back through town. Actually it was a village and a small one at that.
There was some time to stop off and get an afternoon snack or tea or a pint or something. I joined some of the others in the group who had gathered in a tea house and had some tea with a pastry. Then we headed down to the rendezvous point at the bottom of the village.
For accommodations, Rabbie’s gives choices regarding whether you want to stay in a hostel, a B&B, or a hotel. They book whatever you choose and drop you off and pick you up there. But you are on your own to pay for it. I chose B&Bs for this trip. Rabbie’s informed me when I made the reservations that most B&Bs take only cash. They gave me an approximate amount per night with the idea that I would make certain I had enough cash on me (in British pounds, of course) to cover the cost of the rooms. I would be two nights in Shrewsbury and two in York.
The rest of the group had chosen hotels. They were all dropped off in Shrewsbury, mostly along the main road. I was dropped off last at a big Victorian house on a more residential street. Jamie was staying at another B&B next door to the one I was in. So he parked the van for the night, helped me into my B&B with my luggage and introduced me to the couple who owned it. They were friends. The couple apologized for having run out of rooms and putting him up with their neighbor. But he was an easy-going type and was fine with that.
After hauling my cases up the stairs for me (which was really kind of him) and letting me know what time we would be leaving in the morning, he was off. The couple showed me what was what, gave me the key to my room (and the house) and left me to settle in. I decided to head for the nice looking pub across the road. The food and the cocktail I had with it tasted great. There were some local women on a “girl’s night out” at the next table who invited me to join them. After spending an enjoyable time with them, I headed back “home” to the B&B to turn in.
There was a shower, sink and toilet in a little room in a corner of my room. I had specifically asked for an en suite room when I booked since I didn’t really want to go down the hall in the middle of the night. However, I couldn’t get the toilet to flush. The man of the house showed me how he did it and it worked for him. However, he exerted quite a bit of force on the downward movement of the handle. It took me two hands and a little bit of a jump to give it as much force as he had. But then it worked for me too.
In the morning, all of the guests had breakfast together at a large table in the dining room. We could have whatever we wanted. It would be cooked for us. I went for an almost full English breakfast with eggs, sausage, beans, and toast with orange juice and tea. Good thing as it would be a while before lunch. I met Jamie out at the van and we set off to pick up everybody else.
We had just entered Wales when we were diverted by the police from the route we were on. Because Wales is so mountainous, it can be quite an adventure to get from one place to another in the best of times. But a diversion (detour) can complicate matters – especially when there are no signs to direct anybody to the alternate route. The GPS kept trying to get us to go back to the route from which we had been diverted.
We ended up a tad lost for a bit. We were in an area that was sparsely populated, which made asking for directions difficult as well. I was the only person on the tour who spoke any Welsh. But my two phrases (that I had learned from my Welsh grandmother): “Siarad Cumraeg?” (meaning “Speak Welsh?”) and “Cau eich ceg” (meaning “shut your mouth”) just weren’t going to cut it. Yes, I am kidding. Pretty much all Welsh people speak English.
He had a compass, so Jamie just continued to head north and west as best as he could until he finally found a fella working on repairs to his barn. We had just come up a steep road that a full-sized tour bus would never have been able to manage. The fellow directed us around a tight bend and another narrow, steep road and said we would find a village when we came down on the other side.
We did find the village and it was one with which Jamie was familiar. We took a rest stop, a group photo, and piled back onto our intrepid van. Jamie had found out that we were only four miles from Llanglollen and had just one more mountain to climb before we got there.
Since we were behind time, we ended up zipping through Llanglollen, giving it a little wave as we went. We headed straight for Betws-y-Coed – a much smaller place that seems to be good for tours to stop for lunch. When Mom and I had been on the tour that took us to Caernarfon, we had stopped for lunch in Betwys-y-Coed (which is in Caernarfonshire and means “Prayer House in the Woods”). So this ended up being another place I had been to before.
As we were running a little late, some places had stopped serving. Despite the later time, I wasn’t overly hungry, so I stopped off at a place that had homemade food at the counter. I got some cauliflower cheese soup with Welsh cakes and hot chocolate. Welsh Cakes are a cross between a pancake and a scone. They are made on a griddle, not baked. These particular Welsh Cakes had red currants in them and were sprinkled with sugar.
After lunch I visited the village church. It was not long after Easter, so they had banners up by the altar. The English one said, “Christ is Risen”. The Welsh banner said, “Atgyfododd Crist”. “Atgyfododd” means “He Rose Again”, the banner literally said, “He Rose Again Christ”.
We had a shorter time at Betwys-y-Coed to try to make up some of the time and still have plenty of time at Conwy Castle, our main excursion of the day. To reach Conwy, we needed to travel through Snowdonia National Park – a beautiful, very mountainous area. Fortunately we had no detours or anything else to slow us down and arrived at Conwy with plenty of time to spend at the castle.
Next time – Conwy Castle, the Peak District and Chatsworth House.
Shakespeare’s Birthplace
The garden at the birthplace
The best bed (for guests)
The kitchen
Second best bed (where Shakespeare was born)
Hall’s Croft
Trinity Church
Memorial to Shakespeare
Shakespeare’s Grave
Shakespeare’s School
The Iron Bridge at Iron Bridge Gorge
The river and some of the village
The pub in Shrewsbury
The village in Wales we eventually found while driving in the mountains
