ABSTRACT
Many years ago, I was struck by how, at Flatford Mill, associated, of course, not with William Shakespeare, but with the nineteenth-century British—though he would have called himself English—landscape painter, John Constable, tourists would congregate around the souvenir shops and tea houses, quietly milling around, in a politely bewildered kind of way, seldom troubling to seek out any of the scenes that Constable had represented, particularly those which involved a walk. I was subsequently intrigued to discover tourists behaving in much the same kind of way at Stratford-upon-Avon, although, of course, on the larger scale, for there were many more shops to interest them. Stratford lies about twenty kilometres from where I live, and I know it well. It is not that prepossessing—there are plenty of far prettier country towns nearby—and apart from the association with Shakespeare, and the presence of the Royal Shakespeare Company, it can be difficult for local people to understand why anyone would wish to visit it: a sight of the entrance to the town makes this point. This chapter, therefore, partly constitutes an attempt, first, to sort out for myself why it is that thousands of tourists congregate in Stratford-upon-Avon (after all, McDonaldses are everywhere), and, second, to assess what the experience of the town itself offers. I acknowledge from the outset, that I am following in the footsteps of many other writers who have been interested by the same kinds of things.
