Stratford upon Avon

Audree and I took a quick trip to Stratford. After running, literally, to catch our train, I got my first taste of civilized travel past the Cotswald villages and sheep. It’s too bad train travel didn’t survive in the states, I would love to read books, sip from a travel mug and look at scenery every day instead of driving. Maybe some people do this while driving, but if I tried to do that in a car I would run into things. Which, certain people might say, just goes to show that cars are evil.

In Stratford we did the usual touristy stuff – visited Shakespeare’s birthplace and his grave, saw a play. The Taming of the Shrew was my favorite part of the trip, although the interpretation of the text was rather questionable. A modern feminist reading, which completely undermined the comic ending, could not entirely obscure Shakespeare’s wit, and the production quality was excellent. And with a risky interpretation of the text, we got the added pleasure of deriding the director’s reading ability, sobriety and parentage. Just the sort of academic elitism that will help a college graduate redeem herself after a Heath Family Classic Moment:

Audree: “Hey, what’s the name of the river that Stratford is next to?”