Genevieve's Journeys

TL,DR: good event, missed some friends, fencing fencing fencing.

10 days of near perfect sunny hot weather. In Wales. The 4 horsemen and their mate Ronnie Soak must be saddling up. There were a couple of very windy days, making Lynette's nusbacher tent billow like unto a sail before the wind, and proving the value of storm guys, especially when your pavilion is perched on the outer edge of a bowling green on a hill.

Robert and I travelled together w/ Man-and-van (though not our charming Lithuanian driver of 2 years ago, sadly). We put up the big pavilion, and R partitioned the inside so I had a space to change and dump my stuff. I stayed in a Burgundian bell, which was *just* big enough for 1 person and a small amount of kit, but not for hanging gowns or airing sweaty clothing. One of the reasons R always wanted a pavilion was so he could stand upright, to dress and arm himself.

One resolution post-Raglan - invest in a better camp bed. The £10 stretchers aren't sufficient for a good night's sleep.

Our encampment included the usual suspects: jpgsawyer, edith_hedingham, aryanhwy and family, Paul (with Anne for first weekend), nusbacher, and usually some guests for a meal. For the first weekend Edith's brother visited, and took part in the joint cooking effort (putting a professionally trained chef in the mix means you have very speedily diced veg, but some differences of opinion about How Things are Done over the fire); we had maryf and Rick at dinner one day, goncalves and J and baby J another, Cornelia from Austria another day.

Good weather meant camping was relatively easy; wet things dried easily, for ex, and we could sprawl in our usual space.  We ate gloriously well, again, as ever. It sounds mad to keep saying how well we ate at Raglan, but honestly it's hard to put into words how terrific the food is.

Gracie the hound proved a welcome fixture in camp, and very popular, as ever, w/ little girls.  Delia camped further along the castle wall w/ Tilly, alongside several Thamesreach ladies.

I mostly-finished a heraldic surcoat for Gracie, though didn't get the closure finished, so to model it she had the belly strap pinned in place only. L says that the coat slides to one side on Gracie the same way all her coats do, so perhaps G has a hitch in her stride that shifts her clothing. She looked great though and drew many admirers.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/29264095@N05/albums/72157670690013881

The under-7 yr set were spoiled for canine choice in our camp area, though once Tilly decides she's had enough, nothing can stir her little bulldog heart and she simply stops wherever she is. Gracie is more biddable in that way.

Thomas F brought his prototype pole lathe to play with to keep himself entertained after cooking, and it was fascinating to see it in action, even if it was a work in progress.

I spent most of my own time on fencing: marshalling, teaching and entering tourneys, though once again I avoided melee settings.

I had a very crappy incident where I injured another fencer, and my own analysis is much harder on me than his was. Not happy about it.

It was one of 2 significant injuries on the field (the other one to Lynette during her Academy challenge, which bruised her face) and both required reports.

I ended up teaching my 'stick the pointy end in the other guy' a couple of times, once on the schedule and once ad-hoc, when we had some 'free play' time one afternoon.  We got a lot done in free play time, so I'm going to suggest more of it in the schedule.

One of the most effective practice times was 2nd Sunday morning when people were beginning to break down, but still had a bit of time to spare, and once you nudged a few people, they found their kit faster than you might think.

Some familiar faces were missing from the event, because of schedules, I think, and there were fewer pavilions on the bowling green. We were warned that next year camping space may be at a great premium b/c of construction on the permanent toilets; we'll definitely lose some space, the Q is just how much.

OTOH This year I got to know some folks from Lough Devnaree better: Gytha, Orlaith, Thora, Micheal, some of the kids. That was excellent and worthwhile and I might not have spent as much time w/ them if the 'regulars' had been there.

Gytha made a name for herself by training and authorising in combat in less than a week, thanks to Robert and Yannick's efforts to work with her. It was a delight to see someone launch herself into the deep end, thrash about but really enjoy it and come out authorised and fighting-ready.

My peer-populace talk had mixed results - the bits I thought were interesting weren't of interest to others, and I didnt' answer some questions well, though I'm trying to follow up w/ them. It did prompt some discussion round campfires afterward though.

The open party on Friday with Thomas and Edith was excellent and well-attended, and they had an embarrassment of amazing food, almost all of it historic.

nz_bookwyrm gave an excellent talk on spiced wine - he's moved from just offering to get your flavourfully drunk, to researching recipes, translating them, and offering tastings for comparison. I came away w/ a spice mix for one of the recipes (dated 1525) and am hoping to try it myself.

The biggest barrier to making a medieval spiced wine is a common one for re-creation: we don't really know what medieval or renaissance wine tasted like....just like it's hard to recreate medieval clothing w/out medieval sheep and flax to start the process.

But Esbiorn had documented the limitations and identified where he'd made some comprimises to get as good a result as he could. I was impressed all to heck.

Our trip back was a bit fraught. Our man-with-van didn't show for 3 hrs, and when phoned said things like, 'on my way' and 'just leaving' and other similar remarks. His van had failed, he needed to get another from a rental agency, and he kept putting us off instead of explaining the situation, and of course we had no recourse.

It was infuriating, and meant we arrived in Ldn at rush hour on a Monday. Not a great end.

All kit stowed, R and I stared at each other and I suggested takeaway - it seemed the solution for almost everyone post-event, judging by comments In Another Place. One of my knapsacks is still not quite empty, and now as I'm getting ready for another event, seems no point. 

The best pics are In Another Place, mainly by Delia of Ely, but a few others as well. Once again, I took almost no pics.   

I'm in the colonies, visiting Mum in her new retirement home. She moved to this location in Barrie in October, and I wanted to see it in winter, when Barrie is at its least charming.

It's a lovely part of Ontario 3 seasons of the year - but mid-winter is heavy going. You have to love snow, and winter driving...or just put up with 2-3 months spent indoors.

Anyway: what I'm noticing this trip is friendliness.

It's a sign, I think, of how accustomed I've grown to the surly and inconsiderate London tone, that I'm noticing how pleasant the interactions are with ordinary people, in shops, restaurants, in the hotel, in the hew retirement home.

I honestly don't remember this tone, being this friendly before. Either I've really changed in expectation, or Canadians have done another surge in nice-ness.

Possibly, I'm doing more interactions: airport, car rental, hotel, lots of food places. It's a series of small transactions, maybe more than on previous trips - and noticing the tone and attitude.

What made me laugh out loud today is the weather report.

There's been a freezing-rain-snowstorm blow through Ontario and into Quebec and the Maritimes - only about 5cm of snow but temps right around 0 so it's turning to freezing rain and then freezing on the ground and all surfaces. It's like a very mild version of the ice storm of 1998, downing power lines and trees.

I actually opted not to drive back to Orillia (where I was staying w/ relatives) from Barrie, because the stretch of highway between them is particularly bad; it's only about 40min but very windy and unpredictable.

So CBC reporter goes to the weather guy who says:

'Hey, what can you say? It's February in Canada! Winter, it's what we do!'

There was no moaning, no apologies and now whining about the weather, just a clear description of the really varied and difficult conditions across the provinces. God I loved it.

Highlights of October (not previously mentioned) and November:

Attended Crown tourney to see my friends in Polderslot (mka NL), one of my favourite shires ever, and see Vitus and Isabel win the tourney. They'll be crowned at 12th night and step down in early July this year (Coronation bumped so as not to clash with SCA 50th year celebration).

The event organisation was near-flawless as I'd expect from the well-oiled machine that is the free republic of Polderslot, with a joyous feast, a smooth running tourney, a well appointed site (totally modern but very comfy) and a happy vigil and elevation for Mistress Ailitha.

On our trip down, I'd put forward my internal candidates for elevation at this event and my first guess was right, which is always satisfying. :-)

It was fun to be on the field again as herald - sorting the procession, working with new heralds to cry the tourney, and help gothwalk manage a two-list tournament smoothly. We had only minor hiccups as we got rolling. gothwalk managed the one withdrawl from the field 3/4 of the way through the tourney well.

It was a solid challenging effort to get through all the entrants; good mix of novices, midrange fighters but new to tourneys, old hands, and seriously dangerous folks. V&I have earned their victory.

I kept getting compliments on how well it ran, when I was only the public face of the tourney - it was the Polderslot folks plus gothwalk and heralds who did the heavy lifting. I was pleased and proud to be involved again, after not taking on this kind of role for awhile.

Part of SCA life is travelling with groups of people. This was both a pleasure and sometimes challenging, as the youngest member of the travel party (toddler Xander) had to feed, change and generally be kept entertained in a timely fashion. Most of this fell to his mum Isabel, who does wonders. A car with a built in DVD player is not to be sniffed at either.

On our way back we stopped in Ghent, managing to find the only cafe in the centre of town that only took cash (surprise!) when none of us has 2 euro to rub together... then walked into town, caught the tail end of an honest to god religious procession out of a church, then stopped for moules and frites in the town square. Overpriced, but you're in Belgium, you're supporting the economy.

I puzzled the waiter by asking for a takeaway container for my mussel shells, for paint pots.

I can totally recommend the Eurotunnel (where you drive your vehicle onto a cargo train for a very speedy trip). It's way faster than you expect Dover/Folkstone to Calais, it's cheap for a full car, and you can get up and walk around. It's about as glamourous as touring a long skinny parking lot but you can stretch your legs and the service on and off is speedy and courteous and runs regularly.

I got to catch up with my favourite folks in Polderslot, mostly, though it's never really long enough.

A great aspect of Polderslot is their love of the arts; one of the stewards had invited 2 blacksmiths to demonstrate and give people a chance to test their metalworking skills, very popular, and a leatherworker who did waxed leather demo and helped people make leather mugs. They love making stuff in Polderslot - no sitting around idle!

Since then the main SCA activity has been a local revel and prepping for Yule Ball this coming weekend. The revel proved a surprise; we have 4 guests who spoke mostly French, and I was on the hook to teach dancing, mainly silly dancing. I girded up and launched into enthusiastic but probably painful explanations cutting back and forth from French to English to get people moving.

I was impressed that most people kept up, and those who knew the dances supported me, and our guests were lovely. I hope I didn't scare them off.

Sunday, after that...I snoozed most of the day!

At Yule this weekend, I'll be teaching a class on ink-making, which is mostly the hard work of Lady Órlaith, a splendid lady from Ireland, who has done the research and prep. thorngrove and I spent a weekend testing recipes, which was an excellent prep for me, so I have done the process, but it's Órlaith's work that's the basis of the class.

I'm being pushed by better artists than me to step up - which frankly is a good thing. I've had ink-making on my 'round tuit' list for years, but Órlaith made it possible.

Also hoping to dance at Yule Ball. :-)

On the less-fun side, my lower back is still giving me grief, so I've not run in a few weeks. I have to go 2 weeks without pain before physio recommends returning fully to high-impact activities like running and fencing. I'd almost, almost made it through 2 weeks, but then danced and led dance at the revel in my hard 16th c shoes, which blew my streak.

OTOH, physio doesn't want me losing condition entirely. We're trying to work out the combination of factors that trigger the back pain. My back prefers movement - walking is good, and running doesn't actually hurt. It's sitting on my butt all day and all evening that is damaging.

So I can do a *very little* running, so I don't lose heart entirely. I am missing it.

I probably dislike this time of year most - the shortest days of the year, when the daylight ends at 4pm. I have to get out of the office at lunch or else barely see daylight, whether there's sun or not.

I'd planned an entry titled, we went all the way to IKEA and all we got was these lousy candles.

After much putting-off, we bought a new sofa, because the old one was part of the cause of my back pain - poor support while seated doing crafts. This required a foray into that commercial vortex that is IKEA on a weekend - awash with families, people walking waaaaaay too slowly, people doing all the annoying things that you are doing while trying to decide on a capital expenditure.

The proposed title was because after all our careful shopping the sofa, and patient waiting at the picking-out poit in the warehouse, we wanted wasn't in stock. So we spent 2 hours shopping for £20 worth of candles and a tin of Swedish biscuits.

Robert ended up calling the next week, ordering and getting delivery.

We settled on something dull gray and quite firm, that still folds out into a bed, and apparently weighs a ton (says Robert who helped carry it in round the back way). Also, has great all-graphic instructions, that aren't anywhere to be found before you actually start putting it together from first principles...

Robert also invested in an extra sofa cushion bought separately, so I can sit upright on this fairly wide sofa without slumping.

We now have a knackered sofa waiting 3 weeks for large-item pickup from the council.

Haggis has no particular opinion on the sofa. Her dead mouse did fall out of the old sofa ('that's where I left it!') when it was moved. She's brought the mouse in on my birthday to play with, let it go, and it promptly shot under the sofa.

While icky, this is preferable to having a smell develop from behind the quarter round or wainscotting.

For my birthday last month I treated myself to a haircut at my favourite salon (2x a year whether needed or not) and a trip to the British Museum to see the Celts exhibit.

This was a bit disappointing - strong on metalwork, weak on textiles and a whole quarter of it about modern perceptions of Celts that interest me not at all. I expect more of the BM than a rugby t-shirt as an exhibit.

But it was a day to myself, with a dinner with Robert to follow at Chang's noodles, which was excellent. Chang's has expanded so the old premises is now a hot-pot centre, with electric 'burners' built right into the table. You get a pot of broth (plain or spicy) to cook a selection of meat, veg or seafood in. Fab.

Entertained through dinner by a large loud group at another table, with a couple of Europeans loudly telling their Chinese friends what China is really like, from their year abroad. Hilarity ensues.

That's it for the mo.

Jesus, can't these people stay home with their freaking infections?? of course not. Bloody martyrs.

I'm prone to respiratory infections as is Robert. Really, really not impressed.

I can totally see how some 'hakas' rip off the NZ sentiment. I can only see the fun in this one though.

I found out about parkrun this year after 3+ mentions of it in a copy of Runner's World - there was a cover article about 5k running, which is why I picked it up. I wondered if parkrun had sponsored the mentions, there were so many.

I've been thinking about going for months, but just before Double Wars wasn't the time to start. At that point I couldn't even picture getting out of bed before 9am on a Saturday.

Don't know why exactly today was the day - possibly watching the world championship athletics this week put it in mind - I loved watching it through lunchtime while I was in the gym. Beats the hell out of news and crappy music videos. Puts your own efforts into perspective, but in a good way, not a depressing way.

So today I ran the one closest to me - one I could find on the bus route - in Harrow.

I figure it was my running that inspired Mo Farah - he's just won the 5,000m in Beijing. :-)

Don't yet know my time. I was so shattered as I crossed the finish I didn't hear the time. I wasn't absolutely last, but I think I was the last runner - the rest were run-walkers.

I did walk 3x - there is a gentle slope on the course in this park, and I found on the laps that it was a good point to walk for 30 paces.

The run director was very kind - asked my name, how I'd found parkrun, then how I did afterward, my impressions, would I do it again.

I suggested setting one up in the local county park - he said he'd run x-country there, but it was potentially muddy - guess they have to choose routes that will be reliable and predictable, even w/ poor weather.

The ceremony to welcome Lord Aodh O Siadhall gothwalk into the greater house Sylveaston went very well, with advice from nusbacher on some important details. This rounded out the ceremony in a way that I really appreciated and I would not have known of, without her help.

I was amused that when I brought the belt of obnoxious brightness over for sizing, it was a knight, Sir Jonathan, who instantly saw significance in the colours. I know that Dame Oriane still wears her green belt with yellow borders as her connection to Sir Richard Gilchrist and thus her connection to the house. Aodh will find many Sylveaston descendants to meet yet.

The tone was dignified and pleased, which is what I wanted.

Aodh's role in the house is as 'dalta', which apparently in old Irish is 'student of the bard' - someone who might, or might not, be a bard in his own right, but even if not, gets a fine education and benefits from the support of the bard. I liked this title; it seemed very apt for him, and avoided the 'protege' which is a bit loaded in Society terms.

Photos are courtesy of Lady Agnes, Aodh's lady, who got Lord Aidan to record the occasion.

We're sitting within the castle, in the fountain court, shortly after principality 'thing' (Parliament) to talk about principality business.

Me introducing the ceremony, and managing to recite the lineage from Sir Merowald (as it applies to us) correctly. (Lyonette told us later of 'Merowaldry', Sir Merowald's offer to paint up arms people wanted, no registration required. Now Robert has a name for his guerilla heraldry...)


The intenture (read by Robert), belt (continuity with the greater house) and livery (as promised n the writ) all went as I had hoped.







Having cut the signed indenture in 2, I show the 2 pieces indented to witnesses.






I wanted to incorporate some statements that originally came from Sir Menken chequey and Dame Eleanor kes_zone, about dependents being neither slaves nor servants, but nobles in their own right.

This is important to me, as Lord Aodh has his own household, with his lady Agnes, that they care about a lot, and I wanted to make clear I wasn't taking it over.

A completely unplanned and unforseen effect was me commenting, as I held Aodh's hands as a vassal, that he was paterfamilias of his house, with his own duties and obligations; that in that role, he remained responsible for his house,

...but that I was available to advise him on dependants, suitable placements for children or orphans, or places in convents for those who were unsuited to marriage.

This raised a small laugh, but apparently struck shock and terror in the Catholic hearts of the ladies of House Green - particularly single ladies, or whose other halves don't play - who all assumed I was referring to them directly.

I found this out later, as Lady Agnes passed it on, and it now has common currency that at least one lady of House Green is destined to a nunnery...

I had warned Aodh of the Belt of obnoxious brightness...I'm hoping he'll wear it fighting.




Aodh's livery: 3 ells of good cloth and 3 more of linen, to outfit himself suitably.

Aodh complains of being a mammal and having warm blood and thus not liking wool clothing, so I dug up the lightest wool blend I could find - it may even be linsey-woolsey, I'm not certain. It's for him and his tailor to sort.


I'm kicking myself because I can't find a picture of the uncut indenture. I nicked the text wholesale from a previous contract Robert wrote for Sir Vitus for one of his dependents, with only small changes.

I like the line about protecting from unjust harm - if the harm is justified, apparently you're on your own. :-)

I came back from the colonies with a lot on my mind.

Summary:

Ageing sucks. Avoid at all costs.

If you cannot avoid, start now to strengthen your body so you're not as vulnerable to falls, fragile bones, collapsing vertebra, and loss of muscle tone. Just keep at it.

Nurses (and other medic types) remain the worst patients. They know it all and are lousy at taking advice from their own GPs.

If you insist on getting old, start downsizing now. Do not leave emotional cluster-bomb crap for your relatives to deal with.

My mum's house is thick with photographs and it feels physically oppressive to me, this celebration of the past; no photos less than 10 years old, most of them much older. Cannot imagine inheriting a stately home, if just a bunch of pictures make me feel loaded down with expectation.

Do it now, whatever it is.

I attended the funeral of a man 2 years younger than me: son to my parents' longtime friends K&A. I grew up w/ Tom and his brothers, though as a teen you stop going to dinner at your parents' friends' homes, so I'd not seen him since late teens.

Tom lost control of his motorbike on a dry straight road on Father's Day. Of the 4 brothers he was the only one with a wife and 2 small kids of his own.

The funeral service was packed with people who, I suspect, were not used to mourning; adults who have not yet seen elderly parents and ageing friends die, who had little experience with death.

I'm not an expert, but it felt to me like there were a lot of people not certain how to mourn; men, in particular, used to being happy, angry, outgoing, but not grieving. It was really breaking them.

Once again I had a chance to observe a good 'court herald' in the funeral home staff - setting the tone and pace, directing people and providing cues without appearing to push - and an experienced minister who was excellent at keeping it brief, and focusing on the joyful life rather than the sudden death.

There's real skill in making people welcome when they're not at their best, when emotions run high, and to make them as comfortable as possible. I was impressed by the funeral home's professionalism.

One slightly eerie aspect: Tom had recently started playing guitar again, after giving up his teen dreams of stardom. Just this week he'd recorded himself playing and singing one song, about 3 minutes, on his phone. His wife found it after he'd died, and she played the clip at the funeral. It was peculiar, but very apt, for Tom to sing a song at his own funeral.

The takeaway message though was - live today like it's your last. Don't put off plans, dreams, goals. Do them now.

My extended family remain a pretty remarkable and cool bunch of people. I caught up with several cousins and 2nd cousins, and am grateful that they are still really awesome folks.

I was deeply, profoundly grateful for old friends in Canada who were untroubled by my phoning them out of the blue, to ask for help. My friend Julia and her household made me welcome and I stayed more than a week, mostly just overnights, as a place to unwind, close to Mum's house.

I didn't manage to reach everyone I wanted to, which was disappointing. Will have to follow up online.

Am finishing this post and going to bed. Hoping to get to sleep sometime before 3.30am this time...

Last weekend, I dropped a wad of money on yarn for a long-term knitting project.

I've ordered 4kg of Shetland yarn; it will require hours of processing even before knitting.

It's 'yarn in oil' so you *can* knit it as-is, and wash it after knitting, but honestly it's not very nice to knit with as is, and much nicer after washing the skeins.

Said yarn is probably going to sit at Robert's office, while I'm in the colonies, yarnless and unable to reach it.

I can take another project, but with all the glitter of the new, it was the *new* project I wanted to take with me to the colonies.

First world problems.

Last week I bought 2 blouses that, I discovered at home, gape at the bust (I know, you're surprised...). They fit well aside from that.

So on the weekend I diligently stitched a snap between buttons on both blouses, carefully lining it up w/ the grain of the fabric and the existing buttons.

I was really smug: small fixes tend to get neglected for ages before actually happening, so here I was ahead of the curve for once.

Today I put on blouse 2 and discover I've meticulously stitched the snap in the wrong place.

I now have a blouse with a very modest neckline, that still gapes.

And if I did it wrong on one, I've done it wrong on both.

Blouse 1 (my means of discovering the gape) was laundered and pressed...and now proves to be about 3/4 " shorter than blouse 2 (not yet washed), because I didn't read the washing instructions.

There are other signs of my complete gormlessness today, but they're not fit for company. Sigh.