Back in 1833, the UK observed about 33 saint’s days and everyone got a holiday. Good times. That changed in 1834 and it was reduced to 4. Bad times. Still, when given a Bank Holiday these days, the British make the very most of it and flock to outdoor spaces, throw parties, get drunk or generally find other people to have a good time with. Given the Wales-holiday-that-we-no-longer-speak-of was cancelled, we decided to do the same. After finding much of Britain on the M6, we dropped off it and swung by to gather some friends. Also, I just love hanging out in their place. They live here, which is so damn cute I want to burn down my own place in jealousy.
What’s even cuter than their cottage is their kids and the affinity they have for The Dog.
So we went to Stratford and rolled out a picnic. Because that’s what you do here.
And The Dog behaved himself, which was no mean feat given the attention, the beer and the ready access to noms.
Paws up if you’ve having a good time!
We even managed to check out William’s birthplace.
We walked by the canals til the sun set and then made our way further south to right a wrong… more on that in the next post.
Hope you all had a great Bank Holiday – you won’t see another for 4 months!
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