“All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players.

They have their exits and their entrances and one man in his time plays many parts.

So let me tell you a tale of one such man for whom stories were the be-all and end-all.

Always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, at the tender age of 18 he declared his love for a woman 8 years his senior.

Soon though he was in such a pickle. Married with three children, in his heart of hearts, he knew he could not support them in this small town of Stratford upon Avon.

So, he left to make a new life in London, leaving behind his own flesh and blood.

Was he cruel to be kind? Some may say so. But there was certainly method
in his madness.

London was the home of the great theatres and the theatres were the home of great stories.

Night and day he toiled, often without a wink of sleep, and though success
was no foregone conclusion, eventually the world was his oyster.

His plays, you see, were such stuff as dreams are made on.

And the name of this man? Well, truth will out, you may know him as the bard of Avon, But I just call him William Shakespeare”.