Everyone has a story and yesterday began with a cracker.
An Australian couple, who'd been trying to find the Church, were disappointed to find it closed for repair of the roof (due to reopen in a couple of weeks).
I asked if they were on holiday?
"Yes," she answered, "we're staying in Stratford. We came here because my great, great, great grandmother had a son christened in the church before she was transported to Australia."
I was fascinated, two ladies who had come in a few minutes before were fascinated. One of them knew of someone who'd written about those transported from Worcester and swapped email addresses.
Amelia Jones, the "convict" in question had been sentenced in 1831 for the theft of two shirts.
Also in the tearooms early doors was Geoff, a stalwart of the village who managed to get them inside the church where they had a proper tour, apparently, from one of the guys working there.
They came back for lattes and toffee cake with smiles on their faces and a donation to the restoration fund.
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