You are not going to forget today in a hurry. You will be quite happy just to survive. It started with a trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare's town, and you haven't the slightest idea where it is going to end.
To start with, everything went normally. Like all the other tourists you looked round the town, walked along the banks of the Avon, visited Ann Hathaway's cottage, bought some postcards, had a cup of tea, obstructed the traffic and enjoyed the sunshine. Then something went seriously wrong.
Was it something to do with those three old ladies in the antique shop, the ones who wanted you to buy their old brass cauldron? Did you offend them when you refused? Was there something funny about that pine tree? It made such a strange groaning sound when you walked past it! Now that you think back, other oddities spring to mind. Were you right in supposing that that ass's head in the museum moved slightly when you passed by? That strange asp in the pet shop -- it wriggled towards you very purposefully, and it might have bitten you if you hadn't stepped back smartly! Perhaps most suspicious of all was the behaviour of the pharmacist -- when you walked into his shop to buy some aspirins he hid the phial he was mixing so hastily that you feel sure it was some sort of illicit substance.
The town seemed suddenly rather strange, and definitely menacing, so you decided to take a walk along banks of the river Avon. It was then you knew that something really had gone wrong -- you must have taken a wrong turning or something, for the streets suddenly looked totally unfamiliar. Wherever this is, it certainly isn't modern Stratford -- those woods over there remind you of Scotland, the streets might be London, or Egypt, or Venice -- there is nothing that you can get your bearings from.
You took stock of your position. Even the ground at your feet looked unnatural. It was made of boards, as though you were on some sort of stage. You sighed a premature sigh of relief -- surely all was explained: you must be on a huge stage, maybe some sort of film set. Well, that would explain some things, but the whole area looked far too realistic -- those were real trees and real buildings.
Some people passed in the distance, and you heard their conversation: "Marry, 'tis a strange churl, that standeth over there. Methinks it knoweth not the time of day." It was then that hope died and desperation took over -- why, instead of being a warm August day, it had suddenly become a cold winter's afternoon, and it would be dark within a few minutes. Yes, something had gone badly wrong.
So there you are, standing in a world that, although it is definitely NOT Stratford-upon-Avon, does seem to have this strange Shakespearian flavour. To judge by those fragments of Shakespeare's works that you can remember, it all looks very much as though you may have been transported into the world of his plays, but it will be your wits rather than your knowledge that will help you now. Whoever it was that got you into this nightmare, it is now up to you to find your way back to the present day. Good luck!