A little bit of Stratford

I stand on the tramway bridge looking at the Avon in, at last, the Spring sunshine, and take a moment. The new theatre is finally taking shape, and from this distance it looks almost finished. Despite what the others said about its appearance yesterday, to me it isn’t about what it looks like. The building has never been attractive, and the main house was always a difficult space where you could feel miles away from the action, but the theatrical history, the memories of performances past, along with the hope for what will be to come, makes it so very special. When it opens we will finally have more than one theatre again.
From the same bridge, as the river curves away, I can see the spire of Holy Trinity. This is Shakespeare’s town, and oh how I love it. I’ve said it before, but there is just something about this town which lifts the spirits. It’s always been a place of escape for me, away from any stresses and pressures of the day to day. I’m someone who hates going into a pub on my own, but in Stratford I’m quite happy to go to the Duck, where there’s usually an actor or two in sight. It’s a small town, so you do tend to trip over members of the company. Yes, in many ways it’s commercialised, and you’re always within a stones throw of a ‘Hathaway’ tea rooms or a ‘Shakespeare’ bookshop, but somehow the mass tourism doesn’t matter. To visit the houses where he lived, and, this time, even the deer park where he allegedly did a bit of poaching, and to hear his words spoken on stage is just magical.

It breaks my heart slightly to leave it. I don’t want to return to the ‘real’ world, where I’m still trying to adapt to the new job. But I know it’s never goodbye. I just have to plan the next opportunity to visit.

It’s just 'farewell', until the next time.