Farewell to the Golden Antennae

(Apologies for having NO pictures of Stratford, because I left my phone on the coach).

On our final day of the holiday, we left early and headed off to Stratford-upon-Avon, which was thronged with bank-holiday makers enjoying the sudden change in weather. I wanted to try another boat trip, because they are so peaceful, and also great because D can just sit down and watch the world drift by. After walking down the main street, we found a boat and made our way  onboard for a half hour trip, which was indeed relaxing.

Then we had to wander back to the coach, because D walks slowly and the streets were heaving. Also, he worries if we are not there ahead of time. No gorgeous photos, then, of sunny Stratford!

I did manage a quick chat with our coach driver, who said he'd been one of the crew who drove ambulances while the tour coach fleet was grounded for 15 months, during the first phase of the pandemic. I'm full of admiration for frontline workers, especially during the first phase, when we were terrified of everything.

The next stop was at a massive garden centre where some people go for a day out, but which is more likely to induce a nervous breakdown in me. D wanted an indoor meal but I'd already bought a salad earlier, so I sat outside in the sunshine to eat. Then I went into a kitchen shop and looked at a coffee machine that cost 2,100 pounds. (I could do more with that amount of money than make coffee, I found myself thinking).

I snapped the Bug Face of our coach while waiting to get on. Shortly afterwards, D disembarked near Gloucester, and I was dropped off by the Stroud junction of the M5.  A taxi took me home. I'm glad to be back,  but also a little sad to leave  a well-organized holiday in which I didn't have to make any decisions at all apart from what to eat for dinner.