A non-Shakespearian Heroine in Stratford

This weekend Amore and I took a spontaneous trip to Stratford-upon-Avon. This is in line with our getting-to-know-England-better plan. Also, with 3 degrees Celsius extra on our doorstep (this weekend’s Sunday Times illustrated article on global warming is not for the faint-hearted), we said to ourselves maybe it’s time we did our bit and cut down on those tempting cheap weekend flights to the sunnier sides of Europe. What the heck… We live in England and when somebody mentions High Wycombe we still think they are talking about Scotland…

So, we got on the train at Marylebone Station, one of London’s oldest and most charming, my personal favourite (have you seen their florists?). Two hours later we are in Shakespeare memorabilia heaven: there are souvenir shops, statues of characters from his plays, a tour of the haunted house that once belonged to the man who inspired Falstaff (the Bard’s brother in law).

There are, of course, the theatres, the lovely country pubs, the beautiful riverside walks and the overall olde worlde charm that sold England to me in the first place, all those years ago. We had a fantastic day and I recommend it to anyone who wants to get away from the hustle and bustle of London at the weekend. Not a place for longer than two days, methinks.

The day is also memorable for the sight I’m about to describe. As someone else was commenting, it’s got to be one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen. As we were walking along the river enjoying the sunshine and eavesdropping on a tour guide, we saw this elderly lady coming from the opposite direction. When I say elderly I mean proper elderly, early 80’s at least, with a hunched back, snow white hair, a scarf and a long pink raincoat. Like any of our grandmothers, only older. She suddenly stopped, looked around her and decided on putting her large black bag by this big tree on the riverbank. Nothing strange about her yet. She wanted to have a rest. Well, here’s where I was wrong. I kid you not, ladies and gentlemen, the lady leant her bags against the tree, put herself in position and took off for a jog!! Up and down in a leisurely manner, stopping to draw her breath and then off she went again… I had never ever seen anything like this before. She was so fit, so the opposite of what you’d expect from a 80 something year old lady quietly shuffling along the river. She went on like this for at least half an hour while Amore and me were sipping our Stella’s at what we were told was the best known pub in the world (The Black Swan, also known as The Dirty Duck). She then stopped and dutifully did her stretching after which she recuperated her bag and went away. I can tell you that she made a lasting impression on a wide open air audience. She was our non-Shakespearian centre stage lady. She did make me smile. Amore thought she was not all there and felt sorry for her (How would you feel if your granny took off like that in the park?); I thought she was an eccentric fitness fan. Good on her.

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Let’s just say it was enough to make me reconsider the extent of my weekly exercise routine (three times a week walk from Farringdon to Elephant and Castle).

So here’s to you, the jogger in a pink raincoat in Stratford. You made the trip less about Shakespeare and therefore less predictable. Have you considered the marathon?

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