10 Weeks in a Box - Day 18

Motorhoming; As you like it! - 26/07/2007



The next morning we decided to skirt as close as we dared to Oxford, driving through Banbury, catching a glimpse of a delightful statue immortalising the “Fine lady upon a white horse” who rode to Banbury Cross; the words to the old children’s nursery rhyme carved around the base. Finally, we reached today’s destination; Stratford upon Avon, the bard’s birthplace.
Driving into the historic town, we were alarmed to find the waters lapping at the riverbank, but we nevertheless parked up for the day and night in the Marina car park. We enjoyed (if that’s the word) a drizzly afternoon, wandering the old streets, Miki excited to be shopping in England for the first time. Our enthusiasm paled however, as we slowly came to realise that our primary target, second-hand bookshops, were in very short supply indeed. We returned to the Boomobile replete with Toiletries, but sadly no books. Shaking off our disappointment, we were rewarded with a brief appearance of the sun, and Miki set to work sketching the narrowboats and bridges, while I headed over to the tourist information centre which inexplicably had a life-size head of a Tyrannosaurus Rex on wheels outside the door. Perhaps Shakey had written the first draft to Jurassic Park before Spielberg got his hands on it?

Come not between the dragon and his wrath - Coriolanus

My reason for venturing into this monster’s lair was to find a postcard for Miki to send to her parents; our first from England. We were sending them on a regular basis throughout the trip, with a simple route plan on each one, so her Dad could follow our progress. Mission accomplished, I returned to the Boomobile, the T.Rex grinning wordlessly at my back.
The Marina car park was a lucky find, it being reasonably priced and very central. Close inspection of the tariffs revealed that, if I paid until 6pm, and then bought an overnight ticket until 9am the next morning, it would only cost £2. Well done, Stratford! And a Pox on the robbers of Clackett Lane! It’s an expensive lark, this travelling, and as Shakespeare himself put it in Henry IV;

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.


The car park regulations were very firm about “parking in marked bays” and the rather hefty financial penalty for not doing so. As luck would have it, we had found a corner space, the only one in the entire car park that accommodated our lengthy vehicle. I sought assurances from the patrolling security guard that we hadn’t transgressed the letter of the law, and we settled down to an infinitely more peaceful night than that spent in the Beaconsfield lay-by.




Text by Kev Moore
Drawing & Photos by Miki
Both on Planet Goodaboom