The Stratfordian….Why?

the stratfordian...why

The Stratfordian…why is, for the moment going to be mainly about what’s going on in my life. It was originally supposed to chronicle Life in Stratford upon Avon the town, but as I’m sure you realise (if you have lived here for more that a year)…there is none (life that is).

The truth is…NOTHING EVER HAPPENS HERE. (OK there is famous Stratford upon Avon=Shakespeare connection but even that is off the agenda at the moment).

Yes, Stratford upon Avon is very beautiful and somewhere deep down in my heart I love it.

The thing is, when you love something and it’s not going the way that you want it to go it hurts, and I have been hurting as far as Stratford upon Avon goes since the year of our Lord, 1971. And no-one seems to care or listen. It’s been happening for a very long time.

The Town Council are reproduced on a regular basis in a clone laboratory situated in a secret location (rumoured to be somewhere near Honeybourne). Only the names change.

The MP who gets the honour to represent Stratford upon Avon is always a rich Tory.

[To paraphrase The Who‘Here’s the New Boss, same as the Old Boss’ (something like that). And…‘We all get fooled again’.]

The thing to remember about Stratford upon Avon is that as well as nothing happening, nothing ever changes.

The rules state clearly that… ‘Change, both policy and visual are to be discouraged’.  The one noted exception is The Royal Shakespeare Theatre who the rules state...can apply ‘Architectural changes  (i.e. Appendages, carbuncles, turrets, moats, drawbridges etc) if said plans of structural renewal come sealed with approval from HRH Prince of Wales’.

Entertainment (theatre not included) in Stratford upon Avon is,  for the masses kept at its lowest level possible. Young people are not catered for because the Town Council has ruled…’That there are, as far as this Council can see, no young people’.

But anyway enough of that. 

They do say that once a very long time ago a man’s hat blew off in Bridge Street.  

Apparently, women fainted (in those days that’s what women did). Children broke out in spots and men took to punching each other. It is said that townsfolk were in such a state of unbridled excitement that nine months later births in Stratford upon Avon broke all records.

None of this is to say that my life is somehow outrageously exciting and worth writing about. However, I do have an eccentric family who should without them even realising it, provide me and you with some sort of entertainment. And as none of them have the slightest interest in what I do we/I should be quite safe (I don’t want you to worry about me). And besides, what with the plague that’s going around you should count yourselves lucky that someone (me) cares about you enough to try and keep you from going under with Lockdown Cabin Fever.

Right. I think that’s it.

I hope you will make the effort to follow me. There’s a box top right where you can enter your email address and for no charge be notified when I have posted something important. And of course should something major happen in Stratford upon Avon (which it won’t) I shall let you know immediately. 

I ought also to say that there will be lots of fiddling about on The Stratfordian because I delight it changing the look, the colour etc of the site. I get very bored easily. But apart from that, unless I have another technical breakdown all should be OK. Oh yes…and PLEASE JOIN IN. At the foot of each post there will be a space to leave comments (rude as you like). If you don’t fancy insulting me in that fashion you can always send an email to thestratfordian@outlook.com

Oh, I ought to warn you I am a bit of a lefty, at least that is what some say. I prefer to think that I judge everyone fairly, so for example if let’s say our MP (and Vaccine distribution Head Honcho) Nadhim Zahawi were to….I don’t know….set up in these dark days, a firm run by his family called ‘Warren Medical’ , I would have no qualms about mentioning it.  And however unlikely it would be that he would say, something on the lines of, ‘it’s an unused property firm from some time ago’, I would still have something to say. But hey, that’s just an example and not likely to happen, and is just an illustration of how I would not necessarily caste the first stone.

OK? So there we are. That just leaves me to say to you my future friends, behave,  do what the government is telling you to do, stay at home and if you must go out wear a mask or a large galvanised bucket over your head.

message ends. The Stratfordian. x

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