It was to be another day in travel status. Cait and I wanted to see the Liverpool Philharmonic Building (and, specifically, to locate a plaque dedicated to the memory of the musicians of the Titanic). So we ventured out early, to the Philharmonic Hall just a couple of blocks away. Sightings:
The ‘Fly in the Loaf.’ I wish we’d had time to stop in. Maybe next time.
The Philharmonic Hall exterior, and the plaque from the lobby
Mission accomplished, we headed back to the Roscoe, passing this along the way:
It’s not all Beatles.
After a change between trains, we arrived in Stratford-Upon-Avon at about 3:30 p.m. It’s a lovely little town, a bit too pretentious and geared toward the tourists to suit me, but a pleasant place on the whole. Unfortunately, our first order of business after checking in was to find a laundrette.
Our host at the bed and breakfast (I’ll refer to him as “P”) was unavailable but his partner directed us to the nearest laundrette. After paying a fee to exchange paper for coins at a nearby pub, we were ready to do some much-needed laundry. These places really are efficient — if you buy washing-up powder, it doesn’t come in a box or bottle; it’s dispensed directly into space, and you’d best have a plastic cup or something else underneath to catch it all.
Once the laundry was underway, we walked to a Shell station and bought some pre-made sandwiches and drinks. It was probably the most “American” portion of the entire trip.
On returning to the laundrette, I picked up a discarded newspaper and read a story about an incident in Warwick. One fellow thought another had broken his car’s windows, so he went after him with a friend. He didn’t find him, at first, but along the way the pursuit involved machetes, a Samurai sword, a cricket bat, nunchucks, and planks of wood. And, in the end, no one was hurt. That story would have had a different ending in Pennsylvania.
We gathered up our clean laundry and returned to the bed and breakfast and our cramped room (it was impossible to walk across as one person, never mind trying to pass two other adults). I’d read about the host (P) on line. I should have read between the lines … some folks may be at ease with extreme unctuousness and chattering along as though all silence must be avoided, but we’re not. I suppose we truly are dour Americans who wish to be left alone — and P was not the man to do it. He’d repeat the rules three times, then later invite us to break them, and be miffed when we wouldn’t take him up on it. But I digress …
The chemist’s shop – a typical street
After a bit of a nap, we decided to head over to The Vintner for a true supper. A 400-year-old building (the site claims, “It is more than likely that William Shakespeare purchased his wine from here!”) was a bit upscale compared to our other dining, but very nice, and a pleasant way to end our first night in Stratford. Then back to the B&B for much-needed sleep.