Small print in the Magna Carta

 It was Magna Carta weekend at Chiltern Open Air Museum ...

We didn't spot Prince John or the Sherriff of Nottingham but a relative of Maid Marion chatted away to the Madwoman about her rather posh water jug thingy. We didn't pay much attention ourselves as there were some rather distracting smells ...

We rushed the Madwoman past the Robin Hood's merry men ...

... and found a sossidge stall.

We reminded the Madwoman about the inalienable rights of all wippitts to sossidges, as stipulated in the small print of Magna Carta. 

And anyway, she had promised to buy us sossidges the next time there was a stall. 

And a promise is a promise.  

Nom nom nom.

But not big enough when you are sharing between three.

Especially when you consider the size of the Madwoman's gob.

We are considering demanding an amendment to the Magna Carta to ensure a whole sossidge each next time.

Icons

It has been drawn to our attention that we have become mascots for Authors Electric (you can find out ore about them on their blog HERE or FB page HERE)

When the world beats a path to your door, you can of course, only be gracious and modest about it: fortunately we are both incredibly gracious and modest, 

so will not have to do too much practising. 

But an icon cannot live by adoration alone, no matter how well meant and well-deserved. Hath not a wippitt paws, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? If you prick us, do we not bleed? (Although attempt the latter at your own peril) If you tickle us, do we not roll over and demand more? 

So we are wondering if we might - delicately - enquire about what our fee? 

We are quite happy to be receive payment in gravy bones, roast turkey and sossidges. 

See, we are not fussy at all. Just hungry. Not fame hungry, just peckish hungry, as the Madwoman never gives us quite as much to eat as we'd like.

There are always a few corners to fill.

Awaiting our just desserts.

Just fill the buckets with sossidges and gravy bones.

We'll tell you when to stop.

Things to be grateful for

 This week we're being grateful that the Madwoman managed to flush the grass seed out of Archie's eye instead of needing a visit to the vet to remove it ...

We're being very grateful that we aren't Madonna ... 

But most of all we are grateful that we aren't horses.

Please feel free to approach us and ply us with

sossidges, any time you want to.

Or sucking pig.

We'd quite like to try that ...

Mountaineering

Here we go. 

Nearly there

Well, nearly

Are you sure?

The good news is that I can see the top from here

The bad news is that when we get there,
there are more steps just round the corner ...

Hiring out

We were a bit bemused when we arrived at Chiltern Open Air Museum at the weekend to find this sign. What could it mean? Running grass? Hot and cold trees?
We thought we should investigate further ...

Aha! We thought. A sub-branch of the Eden Project!

Another sign.
Not as sharp as us!

A bit further on we found Tudor peasants.
We unerringly led the way to the cooking demo.
Sadly, not demonstrating the right way to cook sucking pig.
There never is any sucking pig, as we have observed before.
And on this occasion not even any sucking sossidges.

So we took ourselves and the Madwoman off for a stroll through the woods.
Unfortunately when we got to this point she started singing 'Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen' disturbing the peace and quiet.
We hurried her on.

Such was the racket that the squirrels were pretty disturbed too.
One ran away and hid up this tree, probably with its paws over its ears, and refused to come down to play with us.

So we hied our merry way back to the village green where there was a Tudor

hiring fair in full flow. Not surprisingly, there were no takers for the

Madwoman, and so, dear Reader, we took her home again.

At least she has stopped singing. 

For the moment.

More bovine mendacity

Another fine example of how you just can't get a reliable weather 

forecast from cows these days.

What's this supposed to mean - sunny spells with showers?

Relaxing

The Madwoman has had a bit of a busy and stressful week so we prescribed a weekend away from writing and computers and took her out for a gentle and relaxing stroll at Chiltern Open Air Museum. Well, that's where we go most weekends, and it's usually quite relaxing.

When we arrived we found a whole Viking encampment had set up.

Some of them were either having a Saturday morning lie in or were 

perhaps prostrated by hangovers ...

We steered the Madwoman towards a promising looking campfire ... 

... and then towards another one ...

... and yet another.

Nearly everyone seemed to have an impressive cooking range but not a single sossidge to be seen, never mind sucking pig. Always seems to be a real shortage of sucking pig at these events. 

 A couple of Vikings were getting ready for a bit of a scrap ...

... while in the meantime a game of Viking skittles - or possibly a forerunner of cricket - was underway. It seemed topical, although we didn't spot any weeping Aussies ...

There was a loom ...

 And a Viking with two impressive helmets. But only one head. Maybe one is for weekday wear and the other one for Sunday best ...

Suitably relaxed, we all cluttered off home for some lunch. 

No sossidges there either. 

Pffft.

What would Lassie do?

We found a road side casualty.

We reckon we outdid Lassie: we supervised putting it in a cardboard box and got the Madwoman to take it to St. Tiggywinkles

This is the week that was

Another busy week for us ...

Started off cold enough for pj's 

Then it got wet enough that the knights from the weekend before had to leave their

canvas tent behind in the hopes it might dry off

 Then it did warm up enough that there was an outbreak of caterpillars on the nasturtiums.

Numbers beyond counting, but we don't have a wide-angle enough lens to show you.

Warm enough in fact that by the weekend we found a

barbecue set up on the village green at Chiltern Open Air Museum.

We thought things were looking up, but it turned

out to be the campfire for Sharpes Rifles and a whole load

of rioteers working themselves up for a second Peterloo

We did find out how many people it took to dress a soldier though.

Lots.

So hot did it get that even the fence posts needed

protection against sunstroke.

So we went home to top up our tans.