Starving in Stratford

The best part of Stratford was the friendly people. Everyone was helpful and jolly.

Quick Tips:

After we finally got lunch we tried to do laundry - forget it. This is a tourist spot only.

Best Way To Get Around:

We got there by rental car. Getting there was great but parking was scarce. There's a large car park in the center of town. This would be a good day trip from London on the train.

This is where we wanted to eat - we were looking for the English tea experience. Unfortunately they were very full.

Located in a Tudor building the down stairs features a bakery out front. Dining is upstairs and in the back in charming little dining rooms.

We bought a couple of cakes to tide us over and they were very good.

After circling Stratford for what seemed like hours looking for a place to land, we spied this little deli and gave up the idea of 'tea.'

Once again the happy accident came to our aid. Not only did we get excellent food and service at this bright, comfortable and friendly spot, they also served cream tea.

We actually had not planned to see this except, perhaps, from the outside. It always seemed to me to be one of those things only older women were interested in – those who bought ceramic Cotswold cottage teapots and Thomas Kinkade prints. Our serendipitous stop was due to the desperate need for a restroom after the drive from Bristol.

We were glad we stopped. There’s more to it than you might think. The building itself fascinated my kids and me. We live with a builder who analyzes every structure he goes into. He would have been amazed at the methods used on this and all the Tudor era buildings we visited.

The grounds and garden were interesting and the well-stocked gift shop sold stuffed hedgehogs for £1.00. We came out of there with a lot of souvenirs.

But the best part of all was our guide.

Hours
March through October, Monday through Saturday 9-5 Sunday 9:30-5
November through February, Monday through Saturday 9:30-4 Sunday 10-4

Admission £3.90 children £1.60

To get there we simply followed the signs for Stratford and Anne Hathaway’s was the first sight we came to.

At the bank in Stratford we got two recommendations for places to have tea. One was Hathaway's Tea Room. The other Drucker's was described as very expensive and fancy, the kind of place you go for your birthday.

We tried Hathaway's and found it full so we asked another shopkeeper where we could have tea. She pointed across the street to Pizza Hut. Puzzled we thanked her and wandered on.

The menus posted outside the pubs didn't excite anyone so we decided to head for the expensive place. It proved to be a cafeteria. We could get a baguette, a pasta salad, soup, or espresso. Not a cucumber sandwich in sight.

Again and again we asked for tea. Again and again we were directed to places that served fish and chips, pizza and burgers.

In our low blood sugar stupor it took forever for the truth to finally dawn on us that tea simply meant lunch.

We walked up to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage and found it quaint as expected. No, not just quaint – the definition of quaint, fairy tale even. White stucco and dark half timbers, overhanging thatched roof trimmed like bangs around the windows. Eyebrow windows made of chips of glass leaded together to produce a whole pane. Hollyhocks and roses and a kitchen garden fenced in bent willow. A pheasant strutted on top of the hedge.

From the setting, I expected our guide to be a blushing young maid trussed up in 16th century garb who would put on a display of spinning or something. Instead our group gathered in the kitchen around a tiny, white-haired woman with a severe overbite. She was wearing a skirt and sensible shoes. Her hands were thrust into the big patch pockets of a pink coat under which she wore a matching pale pink blouse with the biggest bow tie collar I have ever seen. Her little narrow face was engulfed in pink rayon. She looked like someone who would be painfully shy and I wondered at her speaking in front of a group.

My expectations were proved wrong again as she revved into her presentation. First she wowed us with facts about age, history and structure of the house. This was no dry recitation but a vibrant story told in graphic, gritty detail. The wattle and daub was mixed of manure. My fairy tale evaporated.

The most memorable architectural detail I find hard to believe I heard correctly. I think she said the thatch of the roof weighs twelve tons. Twenty four thousand pounds of straw above my head! Everyone looked up, cringing slightly, wondering if we should run out the door before the thing collapsed. The beams holding it up were nowhere near straight and some of them appeared to be scarfed together out of several pieces of timber.

Next our guide described daily life in the Hathaway household and how Will would have courted Anne here in the kitchen sitting on a particular settle. It did not sound terribly romantic. Using a trencher – a square wooden plate with two circular dents carved in it – she pantomimed the meal the lovebirds would have enjoyed. The big dent was for the meat. The little dent was for the salt. When the food was gone, you would take a piece of bread and mop up all the juices, then eat the bread. Last, you washed the trencher. She stuck her tongue out full length and showed us how with several long, enthusiastic, pretend licks along the wooden surface. And then she put the plate back on the shelf with a cool comment about the provenance of the condition known as trench mouth. Everyone cringed again.

Before sending us off to test our scalps against the beams overhanging the winding ladder, she gave us one or two details of household maintenance. The fireplace figured large in daily life, and, of course, the chimney would need cleaning. Now how did they approach that task in Will’s day? They went up on the roof and "let the chicken do a bungie jump."