Sunday F##$@!ing Sunday

Ahhh, Sunday. A day of relaxing and quite contemplation. Or not.

Following the Stonehenge/Salisbury debacle, there was no way IN HELL we were going to miss our second scheduled tour. 

After all, we did spend hours with the people to get our money back from the first one. 

Here was the game plan: 

Get up.
Make sure EdieBaby is ready.
Hobble over to the Meeting point.
Enjoy tour.

Getting up wasn't a problem. Sleeping, that was the problem because it didn't actually happen.  We dragged our bodies out of bed on a very chilly morning. Having a stroke of genius, mom called down to the concierge to order a taxi for 5:30. Our pick up was confirmed for 6:00 am. We get dressed and go downstairs to wait. 

The taxi pulls up more or less on time and we crawl in and take the 6 block ride to the front entrance to the British Museum.

We get there really early. Which is fine, we were prepared. We had a pack of cookies, two bottles of Diet Coke and a bottle of water. I was bundled into my coat three layers of clothes. All was right with the world.

As we wait, a family joins us. Turns out that the family is from New York, but the lady is from New Orleans. Man, you can't get away from Y'ats. Half way around the world and we run into a 'Wanka'. That's a 'West Banker' for those not learned in the language of the Y'at. Whatever the case, they were very nice and we chatted amiably until the shuttle arrived a few minutes later.

The shuttle pulls up and the guy gets out and opens the door for us. Ah... I knew this going too easily. Momster, being all of 3 feet tall was too short to climb into the shuttle. The guy had to root out a square bottle of water, (which I'm assuming is to cool down the radiator) and put it under the door as a step.  Whatever works, right? After that, we all climb on. The shuttle has to make two stops to pick up other passengers and then we were on our way.

I'd love to say that we had a wonderful ride through the country

side as we made our way to Stratford Upon Avon. I'd love to say that. The truth is, I really don't know. As soon as the van started moving, I fell asleep. I know the tour guide was saying something, but I have no idea what it was.

Some time after the sun came up, we arrived at the birth place of the Bard himself. If you're not sure what Stratford Upon Avon looks like, watch Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows parts 1 and 2. Harry Potter's original home, Godrick's Hollow was based on it. They shot some scenes in the church yard as well.
 

Harry Potter's house

 

 

 Now, I'm no Shakespearean scholar. And I won't even try to get into an argument with someone over whom wrote all of the plays (Marlowe, Shakey, Duke of Oxford), quite honestly, in real life it doesn't matter. What does matter is that there was a Shakespeare and I went to his house. But first, we visited the Shakespeare trust and checked out a whole bunch of hand written documents. 

His handwriting is a lot better than mine, although I can't read his either.
I don't remember what these documents are, but I did buy a book.

 

From the trust, we were allowed a few minutes to scramble around the small area of Stratford.  I found this: The Creaky Cauldron. Now, I'm not a big Harry Potter fan girl, but I did read all of the books, and due to the nature of my work, worked on ALL of the movies. So, I felt a kinship. I also thought it was cute.

I also got one of these: Butter Beer. Oh yes I did! It was good too. I don't know what was in it, but I felt the fat immediately adhere to my ass. It was delicious.

We piled back on the bus for the short trip to Shakey's birth place.

This was made into a weird tourist attraction. Not that I'm complaining. I thought it was amusing. There were tour guides dressed in period garb leading you through the tour. Upstairs, down stairs, playing with the gloves and other leather goods Ole Bill was said to have made and sold. It was a sweet little experience. My favorite, I have to say, was at the end of the tour, a little Troubadour guy was singing songs of the era. He encouraged us to sing along with a 'Clink! Clink!' chorus. Insert Chinese tourists and hilarity ensues. I'm pasty white, so I'm not allowed to comment, but please, allow your imagination to run wild. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shakey's House

Our next stop was a cute little Cotswold town called Stow-on-the-Wold. I have no idea what that means, but it was adorable.

If you've ever read an Agatha Raisin novel by M.C.Beaton, she speaks a lot of the Cotswold towns. This is one of them. If I were to go back, I'd probably want to stay in their little pub houses as an experience. Just to people watch for a couple of days.

After we visited the church, the Moms and I had lunch at a place called Talbot. I didn't take any pictures of it, but mom had this really interesting cauliflower and cheese dish. I don't remember what I had. Of course Diet Coke was on the menu.

After another rest room break, it was back on the tour bus to make our way to Oxford.

Ah, Oxford home of a semi- famous university and a bunch of buildings with pointy things.

Once again, if you've ever seen a Harry Potter film ever, you've seen Oxford University. Hogwarts is, in reality, Oxford. It's where they shot all of the exteriors, all of the Great Hall shots and based the entire school upon the layout. Make no mistake about it, Oxford is proud to be Hogwarts. If you go to any of the Oxford U stores, not only do they have Oxford Rowing jerseys, they also sell t-shirts, jackets and jerseys for all the houses of Hog's. It's weird.

It's a stunningly beautiful school. Probably had I seen it before embarking on my Uni career, I would have wanted to go there. How different my life would have been!

Anyway, there was a walking tour available for Oxford. One that promised to show beautiful architecture and historical sights. Moms had enough hobbling around for one day, so we hit up the stores instead.

We found a candy store. Mom was low on her supply of sour gummy things, so she filled up there. We tottered around for a few minutes, then copped a squat on a bench to wait for the shuttle.

 

 Back up the plastic bottle and into the shuttle we went. A short nap later and we were deposited back at the British Museum. To me it felt like 2:00 am, but was really more like 6:00 pm. The sun goes down really early there. It's hard to adjust. Weirdly, mom wanted to hit up the Indian place again. Whaaaa?????

I know! Miracles never cease.

We had this:

After which, we made our way back to the hotel room. I bathed and crawled into bed. 

Thus endith Sunday!