Date with the Bard

Autumn is upon us! I always feel the country becoming much more English at this time of year. The leaves are starting to turn to crispy browns and oranges, there is a distinct chill in the air and Christmas products start spreading like wildfire. I love the sight of England in the autumn and winter, with the rusty-looking trees and the wide swathes of snow on fields and topping trees like sweet frosting. I think of the ancient traditions and the great people of Britain’s history.

And so with this in mind, I decided to head out on a day trip to take in the pretty English countryside and see the birthplace of one of our most well-known Englishmen; Shakespeare! I spent a whole day just speeding on down country lanes, seeing the golden fields stretch far into the distance, lovely cottages whizzing by and pheasants flapping about in the hedgerows. I stopped at different cutesy Cotswolds villages, each with their yellow stone bridges and ancient mossy cottages. It’s the place that time left behind!

I loved each of the little villages I went to. Homemade jams anyone? Shortbread? Random claims to fame? And they’re all the prettiest village in England! I feel a small scale civil war erupting soon to fight that one out…

My last stop was in Stratford Upon Avon where our darling William Shakespeare was born and died. The buildings that belonged to him and his family are still standing as well as they were on the day they were built, and I spent much of my time swishing around the old streets in (imaginary) gown and ruffle collar pretending I was a rare female playwright, great enough to rival old Will. (Only I would fantasise about literary success in the smelly, raucous Elizabethan times…I’m a bit weird like that).

Anyway, I have the jam, I enjoyed the prettiest villages in England with tea in hand, I had my date with the bard…all I need now to be completely, sickeningly English is a few morris dancers prancing around, smacking each other with sticks and a t-shirt with the face of the Queen pasted proudly across my chest.

Bubble Post by Laura C. Phillips for les2coquettes