| Chapter 4 - Stratford-on-Avon |
| Or is it Stratford-upon-Avon? Both forms of spelling seem to be acceptable. For me this is a kind of homecoming - I was raised about ten miles to north in the village of Earlswood. Later on, while I was at University, my mother moved to Stratford. During summer vacations, when I wasn't doing geological fieldwork courses, I worked for the local government (Stratford-on-Avon Town Council) in the gardens and nursery. One summer another student, Des, and I planted out 10,000 wallflowers in a nursery bed. Anyone who knows anything about wallflowers will understand that this is not as easy as it seems since wallflowers have tap roots and will die if not properly heeled in. So visiting Stratford meant that I could revisit some old haunts and perhaps tell a few stories along the way. |
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Many of the historical sites in and around Stratford are connected with the Bard. We did not visit any of them so there are no photographs! But they are well worth the effort and should be a part of any first time visit to the area. Instead we concentrated our time around the canal basin, located by the River Avon and adjacent to the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre. |
| Here is April standing by one of the flower beds adjacent to the canal basin. The River Avon is behind the camera, while the Royal Shakespeare Theatre is to the left. | ![]() |
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A new addition since I worked in the gardens, this stainless steel sculpture celebrates the famous Swans of Avon. |
| More flower beds! It was a perfect morning. | ![]() |
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| Turning away from the canal basin, we walked across the old Tramway Bridge, now a much needed footbridge across the River Avon. The views of the river and the theatre are picture postcard material: | ![]() |
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Which brings me to my final story. When working for the local government all those years ago we received a call that a swan was injured and had to be captured and taken to the vet's office across town. Des and I were summoned and told what we would have to do by old Bill Williams, the head gardner. He gave Des an instrument that looked like a shepherd's crook - only the crook part was the size of a swan's neck. "Hold the swan down with the crook," he explained. Then he looked at me. "You then jump on the swan with this sack. Make sure you keep his wings under the sacking and the swan won't hurt you!" Well, somehow or other we did it. I carried the injured swan through the streets, its magnificant head at eye level. The crowds parted like the Red Sea for Moses! A week later we set the bird free and it rejoined the others on the river. A happy ending! |
| And this is the end of the Cotswolds Travelogue, at least for the year 2000. We hope you enjoyed it! |
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