Had to say goodbye to the girls and walk myself to Kings Cross Station ("Platform 9 and three quar'ers. Think ya bein' funny do yer?"). I left myself about half an hour to walk 8 blocks so I could have time to take a photo at Platform 9 3/4. Erm, no. I managed to walk about 10 steps, then would have to put my bags down, readjust, cry a little, curse society - that sort of thing - before continuing on. I finally made it to the station, bought my ticket, then accidentally dropped some change. This is why stinginess is bad. Instead of letting the change just fall, I went, "Woops!" then bent down to pick it up.
Yeah, maybe don't do this with a huge backpack on. Because you will fall. As I perfectly demonstrated. And people don't help you. In fact, they get annoyed because you're holding up the line. I have since been informed that the intelligent thing to have done would have been to go to Germany first, leave all my stuff there, then go travelling. That would make sense. So of course it didn't even occur to me. The smart thing to me was to start in London and make my way to Germany in time for Lara's sister's wedding. The end.
Needless to say, I only just made it to the train on time, and although I left from Platform 9, I didn't see 9 & 3/4, which they've set up between platforms 4 and 5.
I enjoyed the 20 minute ride to Carol and John's house in Hertfordshire. Our reunion was slightly ruined by the fact that I couldn't find my ticket when I got to Hatfield station. They're standing on the other side of the barricade, Carol tearing up, me going, "Hi! Oh, wait. Hang on..." then letting go of everything to find the bloody ticket. It was in my wallet. Last place I checked. See? Intelligence is the running theme for this trip. Then there was the finally seeing each other properly and hugs all round. It was weird,
for many reasons, but mostly it was great to see them finally.
First things first – Hatfield house. It was directly across the road from the station so it made sense to go there first. Apparently Elizabeth I was sitting under an oak tree in the grounds when she received news that Mary had died and she was Queen of England. Nice. It was a beautiful big house that consisted of part of the Old Palace, the majority of which had been demolished to build the main house in the something somethings. I don’t remember specific dates, and it probably doesn’t help that I’ve posted my Hatfield House book back home (yay! Presents will be waiting for me). But the Old Palace was pretty awesome, and they have weddings there all banquet style. Hatfield House itself was great but you’re not allowed to take photos. It was my first taste of one of these beautiful stately homes and it did not disappoint. I’m definitely taking style tips. Also, all these castles I’ve been seeing have been making me wonder: what’s the likelihood of me getting council permission to build my house with turrets?
Better than the house though was the garden! Maybe it’s because I’m not a garden person, or because gardens in Australia are so different, but it was the first time I’d been in a garden that was so naturally fragrant. I didn’t have to lean into a flower to smell it, I was enveloped by the beautiful fragrance. And the gardens were just stunning: so many colours and designs. There’s even a bloody MAZE, although it’s for the family’s private garden, not for the public. Selfish. But still, I’m putting it in my future house idea book – a maze would definitely go with the turrets and silk wallpaper.
Of course, this house I’m building would probably just be a holiday home, since I will be living in Neuschwanstein when I get to Munich. Obviously.
From here we drove down some teeny tiny narrow country roads to Shaw House, the home of George Bernard Shaw. This was my first experience with these teeny tiny roads, walled on both rides either by hedges or stone walls, with little cottages scattered along, so it was a bit of a novelty at first, but you soon find out that these are all over the place, especially in Scotland. In fact, Scotland is pretty much all tiny country roads.
So Shaw house. Is it bad that I had no idea who he was when we went there? I just knew I’d heard of him and he was a writer. The end. It was about halfway through the house that I realised that he wrote a bunch of plays I know about, but the one I was most familiar with was Pygmalion. My Fair Lady, anyone? So GBS lived in Hertfordshire, where ‘urricanes ‘ardly hever ‘appened. Anyway, the house was really cute, the gardens were lovely, and you got to see his Oscar which is a bit banged up. Rumour has it that he used it as a door stop. He wasn’t really interested in it and didn’t even go to the Oscars, eventually I think it was posted to him or something. The best thing about the house though is the little room at the bottom of the garden. It’s a rotating room so it could be moved with the sun to make the most of the sunlight of the day by following its path.
Erm, I hate to rain on GBS’s parade, and I’m all for the idea of having a building that can be rotated, in fact, I’m so pro it that I have the badge, the bumper sticker, and I’m the administrator of the fan forums. But...... maybe it would have been a better idea to just, I dunno, have windows on all the walls? But I’m just throwing crazy ideas around here.
From here we went to the Roman ruins called Verulamium in St. Alban’s. Actually, we didn’t go to the ruins, just the museum about the ruins. By this stage I was kind of tired and felt terrible about dragging poor Carol and John around, so I figured the museum would do me. It’s weird to think about Roman ruins in England. I had completely forgotten about all this, though I don’t know how, seeing as Hadrian’s Wall was on my list of "Things to do in England." After the museum we toured St. Alban’s which has a huge... Abbey? Cathedral? Church? It has one of those. And it was beautiful. And so was the town, although nothing was open as by this time it was 6 o’clock on a Sunday night – though you wouldn’t know it by the brightness of the day.
Have I mentioned how long the days are here? Yes I know that it’s summer, but it’s really bright in the evenings here. In the evening it resembles early afternoon light. 6 o’clock at night resembles maybe, 3 o’clock sunlight. So weird, because you walk up to something expecting it to be open but it’s been closed for hours, or you eat dinner at about 9pm because it’s so light out.
But I digress.
After this great long day of emotional upheaval we went home and had dinner and stayed up late talking about what Carol went through growing up, my understanding (or lack of understanding) of things... When I go back home or when I have more time to actually speak to Nan I’m going to have to talk to her about dates and things because I’m not too sure about the dates of things and when certain people were divorced and when certain people met and were engaged...
All I need is a talking doll and a basement leading to Hell and it’s an episode of Passions.
Other things that are weird – meeting cousins and realising that they’re the same relation to you as the cousins you’re super close with. Carol and John have a daughter, also named Sarah, and a son, Matthew, both in their 30s. It was incredibly weird meeting Matthew. A little awkward. He went for the handshake, I went for the cheek kiss cos I figured there’s a certain level of familiarity that’s implied when you know you’re family. I didn’t meet Sarah because she lives a fair way away. Hopefully I can meet her one day.
The next day we set off for Stratford-Upon-Avon. I hadn’t realised how far away it was – about 2 and a half hours away. We had set off late because I take forever to get ready but we got there in time for lunch. John had packed us some sandwiches and fruit and it was lovely sitting by the canal with the narrow boats under this great big tree. People had tied notes with wishes on them, and from the shape of the tree I’m assuming it’s like the Wishing Tree in the children’s book? There was no explanation so I’m not sure.
So after lunch we went and paid the entry fee for all five Shakespeare Houses and entered Shakespeare’s Birthplace. It’s a lovely Elizabethan house with the black and white wood thingies on the outside walls which I’m sure have a proper name we were told about but which I can’t remember now. You all enter as a big group and kind of go through together and they have people telling you a bit of the history. I kind of wish they had left the first lady until last. As you enter the first room the lady gave a bit of history about Shakespeare’s family and old Bill himself, then as she concludes her talk she informs you that, really, they aren’t sure if Shakespeare was actually born there, they just know it was a home that his dad owned at the time, but he also owned other property at the same time but this house is the only one still standing. OK. So you’re walking through the house – this is the room Shakespeare may have been born in, Shakespeare would possibly have used this kitchen etc. It was a lovely house, and it was great seeing it done up with the sort of furnishings and decorations it would have had 400-500 years ago, but they should have just lied and said, "Hells yes this is where Shek-a-speare was born! In fact, here’s some graffiti he wrote on the wall: BILLY WUZ HERE." The best thing about the house though was the man wearing costume in the courtyard, glowering at everyone. I thought he was just there to have pictures with, until he broke into a monologue from Macbeth and was joined by Lady Macbeth. Great fun.
The next two houses were a bit of a stretch – Susanna Hall’s house, who was the daughter of William, and Nash’s House, his granddaughter’s. They were really plain, and Hall’s house was so BORING – it was all about her husband who was a doctor, so it showed lots of medical books he would have read and medical instruments of the time. Yawn. Nash’s House also had the site of where William’s house was, but it was demolished in the 1800s. But you can see the well William Shakespeare would have used, and where his cellar would have been. Oooher.
I was beginning to feel terrible for dragging poor Carol and John all the way out there, and there was time for one more Shakespeare House. I decided to give his mother’s farm a miss because, well, it’s a farm, so we went to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage. Listed as being incredibly romantic, it does not disappoint. First we got a little lost on the way (stupid misleading signs!), so we were exhausted by the time we got there and cranky, but then we rounded a corner and there it was! So beautiful! I was already perking up, and the promise of a coffee afterwards had me rearing to go. You walk through a long garden filled with beautiful flowers and lots of fruit and veggie plants. Then you enter the cottage and a man tells you the story of how the house came into the possession of the Shakespeare Trust. It could have been incredibly dull but he was really entertaining. Then he pointed out a bench in the room and told us how that would have been the courting chair. Anne would have sat there when Shakespeare came a-courting. Awwww. (Though in reality, Anne was 26, Shakespeare 18 when they got married, and it was a quick wedding because he got Anne preggers. Oops. Not so romantic.) Bits of the chair had been chipped off because apparently the owners of the house used to sell bits of the chair off to Shakespeare pilgrims. Anyway, very romantic, and of course I had to sit in the chair. It was funny because the guide asked a lady standing next to it if she wanted to sit on it, and she kind of freaked and was like, "Nonononono!" Then he looked at me and said, "I can see you want to have a seat." Hells yes I do. So I sat, waited, but no one came to court me. Oh the shame. But it’s so lovely. Apparently a couple of years ago a guy arranged with the Shakespeare Trust to propose to his girlfriend on that seat. So sweet!
The rest of the house didn’t disappoint either. It made the entire day worthwhile and you really have to go there one day.
