We got middle aged this weekend!
Not as in old and frumpy of course, but as in visiting the
Chiltern Open Air Museum, where all sorts of mediaeval activities
are planned for the weekend.
Dancing and singing and on a less civilised note, bashing away at each other
with swords, that sort of thing.
and leaking canvas awnings weren't doing much to keep the population of the mediaeval encampment which had sprung up overnight very dry.
Still, at least soggy peasants and rusting knights* adds to the realism of the whole mediaeval experience ...
We visited the kitchen.
No sign of any suckling pigs.
All that effort just to produce hot water for a brew up.
We could have told them there's a café just a stone's throw away, but we didn't want to spoil the whole authentic mediaeval experience for them.
Some things never change, whatever century you're in.
Like men not being able to tuck their underwear into their trousers properly.
Or maybe he's a mediaeval flasher?
*Actually they used olive oil to keep the rust at bay and stop
their hinges from seizing up.
Or so we were told.
We didn't actually get a chance to run our tongues over any
armour to check out the truth of the matter though.
That was Saturday: this is Sunday.
We returned again.
Still no suckling pig.
And still improperly dressed.We once again firmly averted our gaze.