So on Saturday my Shakespeare class took our required trip to Coventry and Stratford.
Coventry wasn't really part of the Shakespeare trip, but it was all just wrapped into one. Coventry is a city southwest of Grantham. Its claim to fame is that its main cathedral burned down in 1940 after a bombing raid caused it to catch fire. Now all that remains is the ghostly figure of a once sacred edifice. Almost immediately after the cathedral burned down they began construction on a new cathedral, situated a mere 30 feet away from the ruins. The new cathedral has a very modern church look and is definitely a product of the 50s style of architecture. I couldn't tell you what style of architecture it is, other than that it's weird. There's lots and lots of vibrant stained glass and weird, yet interesting uses of metal. There's a lot of symbolic articles within the new cathedral that were salvaged from the old one. The crucifix over the alter is made from bent pieces of metal from the wreckage of the old cathedral. There are chapels that are brightly lit and have class walls and doors. Very modern.
The ruins of the old cathedral are pretty sparse, only some of the outer walls remain. The inner columns and the roof are non-existent. It's beautiful, but in a somber way. Where the alter was there stands a crucifix made from burned timbers they found in the wreckage after the fire. And carved out of the back wall and painted gold are the words Father Forgive. Elsewhere on the expansive cathedral grounds is a statue so appropriately named Reconciliation. I include a picture of it here, because it struck me as one of the most powerful messages for our world today. It is a message we need to come back to time and time again. No-one is to good or not good enough for reconciliation.
Coventry is a bustling city and I do not think that I shall return to it. It made me feel like I was back in the United States. It had such a generic feeling I could have been anywhere.
After we left Coventry we continued on till we got to Stratford, which for those of you who don't know is William Shakespeare's birthplace and therefore of great interest to me. For those that are wondering the title of this post is a line from the play Romeo and Juliet. Points for anyone who can name the character that speaks these words (No looking it up!). After we got off the buses we were given pretty much free reign of Stratford. The group of friends I was with wanted to check out Shakespeare's birthplace first. Some of you may not know this, but Shakespeare spent very little time in Stratford as he grew older. He was there until about the age of 10 and then he went off to school. When he was writing his plays he was in London, and although his wife, Anne Hathaway, had a cottage in Stratford he did not return home that often. Today we would call him a "womanizer" or perhaps a believer of "free love". Either way he was born here and we visited his house. To be perfectly honest it was incredibly disappointing. It was a glitzy, but sparse den for tourists and nothing about the house interested me. I felt bad for not being overcome with joy about walking on the same planks that my hero Shakespeare had once tread, but the fakeness of the whole place ruined any genuine excitement.
After that we left and went to Nash Place or Shakespeare's New Place which was the house of his Grandaughter and the place where he ultimately resided before his death. It too was incredibly disappointing. We ventured on to the church where he was buried, it cost to go to the part of the church where his grave was and like typical pennyless college students refused to pay the price. Instead we headed to the pub. We had dinner at the Dirty Duck which was a pub frequented by actors and technicians and directors working at the Royal Shakespare Company, but has become more of an attraction. It was packed with people, but we all got a table and settled back for awhile in the warmth. The food was good and you'll be disappointed to hear that the penny saver that I am refused to buy a pint. I did try some mulled wine that my friend Amy had ordered and thought it was quite good; and I tried some coffee and Baileys and thought that was good as well. Don't worry though I will have a pint when I go to Ireland this weekend. I may not like it, but I'll do it to keep my Irish ancestors from rolling in their graves.
After dinner we went to see the RSC's production of Romeo and Juliet and while I thought it was pretty good I don't think that it was amazing. And I expected a little bit more out of the premier Shakespeare company in the world. I did think the lighting and the sound for the show was amazing, but the acting left something to be desired. Tomorrow in my Shakespeare class we are commenting on it and I'm going to rip it apart which will undoubtedly bring about argument and will end with me getting some scathing looks from other students and possibly the professor. But really, when you get to the end of the play and you just want R & J to kill themselves to get it over with... I'd say somebody isn't doing their job right, and I don't think it's Will's problem.
Well I'm off to get some more work done, but I'll leave you with these immortal words.
"I wish you well and so I take my leave,
I pray you know me when we meet again"
Cheers!
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