From Akbar, the Great to St. Rupe

As I posted on Facebook today, 4 years ago RP assumed the title, Akbar, the Great, when we toured India. Today, I bestowed upon him the honour of St. Rupe. After 22 days of driving on the left, innumerable rounders, no dings, no scratches, no flats, a gas tank minus 1/8 gallon and only one bloody, parking ticket we made it safely to the Enterprise car rental return at Heathrow. He is a hero and we are so glad the driving is now left to someone else, driving on the left. BRAVO!

BTW - the closer one gets to London the better the roads are. Today we travelled on I-5 style freeways, the difference being the driver's are more courteous, the truckers stay in the slow lane and the passing lane is exactly that. The best part, no rounders, just on and off ramps, much better engineered than ours. No photos share about this but I must give praise.
We are also patting ourselves on the back for arranging a limo pick up to move us from the car rental 20 miles outside of London to our hotel in the west end theatre district. David, the Mercedes driver, graciously crammed golf clubs and too much luggage into the luxurious, leather seated, oh so comfortable sedan. He then took us on a guided tour of the city. We just sat back, relaxed and took it all in. It took one hour ten and it was oh so loverly! A happy couple, I would say.

We fell in love with London before we got out of the limo. The history, the magnificent architecture, the familiar names, the hoards of people, the sounds, the vibrancy, the eclectic menagerie of a world famous city has captured our hearts. Once out of the limo we were at the Strand Palace, our home for the next 4 days.

Not only that, we have plumbing we understand, hot and cold water on the left and the right, one facet which combines both, a rare ice machine nearby, space to store the clubs and daily towel service. To top it all off we are a mere 3 blocks from Covent Garden as well as within walking distance to the theatres and many famous places. I think the Strand Palace may be an ideal location. Directly opposite is the famed Savoy. It is under total renovation but I snapped a photo of the clock.

Covent Garden, in itself is delightful, but there was an extra bonus for me. My last ancestral visitation on this trip was to #13 King Street, Covent Garden. Great Grandpa John Evans was sent from Berriew, Wales, the small village with farm adjacent, to live with his mother's cousin. His mother died when he was 10 and before he made his next birthday the family home burned to the ground. He was packed off to London for a year in private school in Belgravia, a district, now home to many national embassies. One year later, at age 12, in 1858 he was assigned to become a draper's apprentice, living and working at #13 King Street, Covent Garden. He writes extensively of this in his memoirs.

His home/work building was demolished and rebuilt in 1874 but the buildings on either side remain to this day. Where the drapery was stands a slightly newer building and today houses the business of Oliver Sweeney, a high end men's shoe and clothing shop.


Behind is St. Paul's rectory garden and just down the street, also viewable in Grandpa John's time, is the Garrick Club, a prestigious club founded by David Garrick who also supported Shakespeare in his youth. The paths that cross are somewhat mind boggling. I only know of this because John Evans recorded it while in his 80s during the 1930s and Google filled in the blanks. I marvel at it all, from then to now.

Once the ancestral location was found we let ourselves be immersed in the cacophony of Covent Gardens. Words cannot begin to describe the experience on a fall Sunday afternoon. Noise assaults from every angle, aromas permeate, bargains beckon, crowds are thick, the air is festive and we stood there agog taking it all in, not knowing which way to turn. We saw everything from crazy contortionist to catchy classical.


From line-ups for outdoor Paella to indoor gourmet delights, which, though tempted, we resisted. Just might return for Paella tomorrow.

We opted for traditional pub style beer with humous and wings at the iconic Punch and Judy.


I discovered the best arts/craft market ever and cursed the darned airline weight restrictions for curbing my shopping desires. The crowds were remarkable an and the quality of goods exceptional.

We have been inLondon less than 8 hours and we are hooked. The day was finished with our first and only roast beef carvery complete with Yorkshire pudding.

That was topped off with a wee bottle of bubbly and truffles to celebrate the turning over of keys to Enterprise! YAY!

London, bring it on!
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"With mirth and laughter let the old wrinkles come." W.S.

A somewhat fitting title for today's blog given that we are in the birthplace of William Shakespeare. Mirth and laughter have been the bones of this vacation and a few old wrinkles are a little more prominent as a result of the every present rounders, maybe some silver streaks too. Speaking of rounders, RP manoeuvred a monster triple rounder yesterday. Seriously, one must enter one rounder to enter another to enter yet a 3rd. The 3rd was brand new which meant Bonnie's mapped brain had a wee freeze. Bonnie, however, had no need to "recalculate" for the master rounder driver got it right. The photo below is not about rounders (waaaay to dangerous to snap one of those), but how would you like the task of pruning this Virginia Creeper?

Stratford-upon-Avon is everything from tranquil to ticky-tacky, from cultural high brow to recreational fitness, from peacefully quiet to crazy busy (think our inner harbour during Symphony Splash x two! It has been another surprise on adventure of new experiences. In the entrance of our B&B is this beauty. Makes me think of "Ride a cock horse to Banbury cross to see a fine lady upon a white horse". We could give that a try; Banbury Cross is but a few wiles away.

We began the day having a pleasant chat with a couple from Yorkshire during breakfast. We have managed well with the accents but I had to be very alert in this conversation. Stuffed with a full English breakfast, reduced to half size by request, off we went for the tranquil part of the day - 40 minute cruise on the River Avon.

The graceful swans greeted with hopes of being feed. The Canadian geese were more than happy to see someone from home. The river boat captain, a retired bobby entertained us with typical British wit.


We noticed all kinds of activities - rowers, kayakers, motor boating, strolling, dog walking, jogging, reading under the shade of an old oak tree, photo shooting, artists sketching. Yes, very tranquil.

Just when we though "ah, what a peaceful start to the day" we heard familiar chanting and the sounds of "large Tablas", drums used in Hindu festivals. Two days ago we had a made in Indian experience with cows walking down the street in front of the Berriew hotel. Today we met on the river boat loads of Hindu worshippers celebrating the birthday of Lord Ganesh. Ganesh Chaturthi is a 10 day festival of feasting and puja, which culminates in the immersing of a Ganesh idol in a river or the sea. This festival was happening today in Varanasi on the Ganges, Mumbai on the Indian Ocean, Delhi, London on the Thames, Liverpool, Vancouver, Toronto and, of all places right here on Stratford on the Avon. Who would have thought? I just missed the photo of Ganesh sinking as someone stood in front of my camera but did catch the traditional flowers which followed Lord Ganesh into the river. Later on the river bank hundreds of Hindus were feasting on roti and Dahl picnic style. I know you are thinking "what has she been drinking." but here are the photos of proof:). The picts aren't the best but it truly happened.


What an absolutely beautiful place this is. The bard of all bards has left the most incredible legacy. His history is so well preserved. I doubt he would have ever imagined that four centuries later three million people would visit his birthplace. The bridge in this photo was built in the 1400s, before Will, to accommodate the horse and carriage. Other than the Victorians increasing the height of the wall and adding an iron foot crossing in the 1800s nothing has been done to it. Today it handles all the traffic of Stratford. The magnitude of the edifice blows my mind.

We wandered the streets past the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, where countless performances are held daily 24-7, sometimes twice a day.

We took a stroll to the Holy Trinity Church (1200) where W.S. was baptized and buried, opting not to pay 2 pounds to view his burial place near the alter. We also chose to pass on the ticket to view his 5 historical places offered for viewing. As seniors, the concession rate would have been 40 pounds. It seemed a tad steep considering we visited multiple museums in Wales at no cost.

Next we meandered past his daughter's home and the home he purchased once well known as a playwright. At the moment there is an archeological dig happening in the yard.

Would you believe Stratford has its own version of the Las Vegas wedding chapel? It is called Trinity House, just down the block from the home William lived in with his family. During the 5 minutes we were on the street we saw one wedding just completed and one wedding about to happen. Bride's attendant in mauve with hair to match.


Now past lunch time, we found ourselves in the Antiques Arcade and decided on a traditional lunch of corned beef/tomato sandwiches and a spot of tea. Look who poured; look who has pinkie extended; look at the best lemon pie we have ever had. Poor old guy had to come to England to get lemon pie. As many of you know the wife has been on lemon pie strike for years. Those of you who don't know, it is a long story.



Lunch finished we continue to stroll through the town. RP was able to use the public loo discreetly encased with an old brick wall. Ladies need to walk further to the closest car park and then pay 20 pence for admission. You can even pay another 20 pence to find out how much weight the full English breakfasts have packed on. Not telling and hoping the picts don't show.

The closer we got to Shakespeare's birth home (1564-1616) the more touristy it became.

Hoards of people, buskers of all sorts, tourist trap shops and fabulous eateries were all available. First on the list was the fairy jester or ??? Then I just could not pass up on the Stratford version of our Inner Harbour Plaster Man. I got the right royal bow when I put a pound in the hat. Finally a Will Shakespearian orator leading a tour group and posing with Falstaff. The day was bright, sunny, warm and absolutely wonderful.



We picked up some wine and a wee dram of the single malt at the local off licence store and meandered back to Arden Way to rest the weary feet. Dinner, a couple of hours later, was at the trendy ENCORE with the evening finished strolling under a full moon across the Avon and the bridge built in 1400s. Only problem was the footpath built by the Victorians was on the other side, with no warning sides to proceed at own risk. We finally safely crossed to the footpath only to discover we needed to cross no less than 6 rounder crossings all without pedestrian signals. AND we thought the rounders were only a nemesis of drivers. All jesting aside, we had a terrific, relaxing day. Ta Ta! and off to bed we go dreaming of the journey to the car drop off at Heathrow tomorrow.

Above- Swan tribute unveiled by the Queen herself in 1996 to mark the 800th anniversary of Stratford being granted market rights and borough status in 1196 by King Richard I and some bishop. Now that is a loooooong time ago. The people are still coming to market and to worship.

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A Quick Walk in The Footsteps of My Paternal Ancestors

Today it was "Dialch and Hawl Fawr" to Berriew and all of Wales. We packed a lot into our our 8 days in the beautiful country of Wales, had remarkable and memorable experiences and met some lovely people. England is less than an hour away from Berriew. There were no signs saying "welcome to England" but we knew immediately that we had changed countries as there were no more bilingual signs. Sheep, yes, but signs only in English and none saying ARAF, SLOW. Drat, I was just getting the hang of Welsh.


Now that we are somewhat experienced UK adventurers we decided that for the next couple of days we would amend the plans slightly. Originally, the idea was to visit several ancestral towns in the Midlands, also known as Black Country (rich in coal). My Dad's family came from this area not far from Birmingham. The towns of Bloxwich, Bilston and Walsall are all within a few miles of each other in what is known as Staffs or Staffordshire. Grandad and Grandma left this area in 1908 and 1919 respectively. Things are much changed since then. After a lot of research, much chatting with people in the know and having experienced driving in towns of all sizes we decided to scrap the plan of visiting B, B and W today and tomorrow. This area has pretty much been rebuilt since WWI and WWII. Little remains to show what it was like at the turn of the previous century or even earlier. Why drive to the old census addresses I had tracked down only to find a parking lot or a TESCO. It is urban sprawl from the centre of Birmingham to Wolverhampton. Somewhere in that mix are Bloxwich, Bilston and Walsall. We know; we saw the signs as we drove along the super fast motorways. Instead of going to Walsall et al we found the history all in one place at the Black Country Museum. Photo below of the bakery from Walsall circa 1850 complete with a great granddaughter.


We wisely opted for The Black Country Museum in a small town called Dudley, just 6 miles from Walsall, my Grandad's birthplace in 1895. The UK certainly knows how to showcase the history. Visiting here for a few hours was a good choice. Mind you it cost us pounds, unlike Wales where almost all the museums are free. It was money well spent for we found an amazing outdoor complex complete with original buildings, working shops and businesses as well as knowledgable guides dressed in period costumes. It was complete with a ride on the Bilston trolley.


I was able to get a sense of what life was like for my great grandparents during the peak of the Industrial Revolution and for my grandparents born just as that era was waning and the world would soon be at war. Photos of homes from Bilston, Bloxwich or Walsall circa 1840-1900.






I now have sense of what life was like for the great grandparents I never knew and for my grandparents in their youth. Granddad wont mind that I gave Walsall a pass. Grandma is always close to my heart wherever she or I may be. A few photos to,depict day to day life - the laundry, the fuel, the heating system and the privy.












So here we are lounging in our last B&B of the trip, Arden House, located in Stratford-Upon-Avon.


That we are but a stone's throw from Shakespeare's birth and burial place is not wasted on me. After all I studied the Bard extensively at UVIC. That too is part of my history. I loved English 200 and then signed on for more courses in year 3 and 4. RP groans at the thought of English 200 and the need to repeat the course. Nevertheless, here we are at the home of the bard.


Stratford is, as expected, a charming English village set on the shores of the famous River Avon. Lots to see and do, much related to the history and the theatre. Guess who has nixed a play here but has been given word we are doing the theatre in London. Photo below on the river footbridge with the renowned theatre on the background.


On our saunter to find a place to eat we discovered the Gower Memorial, created by Lord Ronald Gower in 1888 to honour of the great man and some of his memorable characters. Just a couple of tribute photos below.





As we were contemplating the menu outside the Garrick Pub, the oldest on the Avon (1594) and said to have served William himself, we struck up a conversation with a delightful elderly couple, who live here. They had just come for a pint before heading home to supper. They told us the building next door is famous in its own right. Built in 1596, it was owned by the mother of the man who established Harvard. The exterior carvings are incredibly ornate and very well preserved. What a cheery, friendly couple they were. He walked with 2 canes and told us it was her ancestors who caused him to do so. She playfully slapped him and off they went, wishing us a happy visit.


We decided to dine in the Garrick. I wonder how many pints have been served since 1594.





Since we have a free day tomorrow RP thought he would find a last chance golf game, but it is Saturday and there are no times until later in the day. The city is bustling with tourists of all ages. We will just take the day as it comes. It will be minus the theatre but he is being dragged to the site for the photo op. There will be no driving to obscure addresses anywhere. Cheers!


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