Took the tube into London, where the weather was improbably nice.
Picked up salads at Eddie’s
Got on the train towards Stratford-upon-Avon, seated across from a gay couple on their way to a wedding. As the train groaned forward along the tracks, they gracefully added bottles of prosecco and orange juice to the table between us. They shared.
Transferred to a new train at a station with the disgustingly delightful name: Leamington Spa.
Arrived in Stratford-upon-Avon, dodged River Festival revelers and checked into our hotel.
Ate Fish & Chips in a vinegary shop on Sheep Street.
Bought the last available ticket so we could both attend Macbeth that evening.
Strode into the theater for the performance. At the door to the stalls, the usher directed me upstairs. Upstairs at the circle, the usher directed me up one more floor to my middle seat in the nosebleeds.
Capped the night with honey truffle goat cheese and pulled pork pizza at an Italian restaurant down the street. Jenna and I shared a bottle of wine. I drank most of it.
Crashed the most deserved crash at our hotel, glowing from a wonderful day.