A lack of sossidges

We never know quite what we're going to find on our weekend walks at Chiltern Open Air Museum. We would if the Madwoman wasn't so bone idle of course, and bothered to check online, but that would just be hoping for too much.
Last weekend we found lots of vintage cars quietly grazing on the village green. We picked this one out as being suitable for wippitts of our calibre and style.

There was something for everyone. Including a stall selling sossidges. We dragged the Madwoman over to it, cast long and piteous looks at it, sucked in our sides so our ribs showed. She looked at the stall next to it and counted her change. "It's sossidges or cake," she said. We voted for sossidges. "Let us eat cake!" the Madwoman said. Yeah. We're still waiting for OUR slice. But she did promise we could have sossidge next time there was a stall.

This weekend there were medieval folk and knights milling around everywhere.
And no, no sign of Excalibur, although the Madwoman did spend a ridiculous amount of time trying them all out for size. They will learn one day not to let her handle them, as they have to virtually break her fingers to make her let go. 

Either a bad hair day, or more like a stress headache coming on at the sight of the Madwoman approaching. Although she had let go of the sword at this point.

Looks like everyone is having a bad hair day.
Or maybe trying to draw attention away from the knobbly knees.

We posed.
The lack of sossidges from the week before showed.

We practised being medieval lap dogs.

And then we spotted the medieval barbecue.
We reminded the Madwoman of her promise from the week before.
Sadly it was for the re-enactors, and posing with Sian didn't qualify us.
There weren't any sossidges anyway. Or even any sucking pig.
So we went home.
But our memories are long, oh yes they are, and a promise is a promise.