More Canterbury Faire

Yeah, yeah, I know I said I'd get around to this weeks ago. But the flu is very tiring and I seem to have spent the last three weeks either running around like a headless chicken or having a quick nap due to exhaustion. Alas, more of the former than the latter. Now Blogger has forced me to upgrade to their new flash version, which I may one day bother learning how to use, and the cat is being high maintenance. I just want another nap ...

But instead, let's reimmerse ourselves in the fir-scented hedgehog-spotted glory that was Canterbury Faire!

While there were more people there than last year, I think there were fewer Aussies, just loads of Kiwis, many of them spankingly new. The young metal weapons people were great fun, and bore up very well to a drunken loony hassling them at the waterhole. katherine and Bartholomew had some cunning plans to avoid repeat problems next year involving an embassy and peppercorns. At the same time there were many familiar faces, which was very good indeed.

Before we get into the long and convoluted anecdotes (yes, yes, I know my flaws), I wanted to share my realisation about the New Zealand SCA groups, especially Southron Gaard. It's this: they don't function like a village, as most SCA groups do. They function like a family.

It's taken me four years to really build my model on this, and I think that I can back it up pretty well. There are long-standing debates between people that go back 20 years. And when you try to get to the root of things, discussions break down and wonderful, rational people stop talking and give the equivalent responses to "She said something bad about our Kev."

Now the first time we went over and saw this, we made the mistake of thinking that it was all related to one issue. And then we learned about another issue, and another, and another ... and eventually I woke up one morning and said something like: "Too many people used to go out with each other!" and J replied "They've all known each other for 20 years!"

And once that we made allowance for X being odd around Y because they went out for two years and Y not liking Z because he subsequently married X (no graphs, because our geometry is not that good), we thought we were on the right track. And then we met more people, and we realised that we had only just begun and that instead of acting like a group of tightly-knit friends and enemies, they instead acted like an extended family with religious and class divides running in several directions, possibly with several adoptees.

Suddenly it all made sense! We stopped trying to unravel things and just accepted that their Sharon never did like our Kev. And there's the good side, too, the huge loyalty and endless patience that come with families. But it was a huge relief in one way, because J and I aren't related to this! We're the foreigners that get to drop in and drop out of the group, so no-one minds that we like pretty much everyone and that we will listen to X gripe about Y, then Y grip about X and still be very fond of both X and Y (admittedly, while we're listening to griping, we're really playing Tetris in our heads ...)

So, with that epiphany, we stopped trying to make all our friends like each other and just enjoyed the fact that they liked us. MUCH easier!

Now, a quick warning before you read on. I began to load all the other images I wanted to blog and realised there were LEGION. So I'll be popping some into the next post in a bid to keep this one within the realms of sanity (on the far, far borders). Also, I have completely forgotten everything I did a month ago. I blame age and flu and lack of sleep.

We flew in very late Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning. Due to a string of silly events, we were horridly disorganised and left Maeve the best woman in the world with a less organised house than we'd intended. Luckily, she's the best woman in the world, so she coped with élan.

Wednesday was a day of pottering about. First we took the Baskin-Kerrs out to lunch (after the kids kindly let us sleep in till 10, despite Grace wanting to go into her room), then we swanned about with kk and Grace and did fun stuff such as buy J a new hat and meet Anne Fields the spinning/weaving goddess. Very civilised indeed. The next morning was far less organised as everyone bundled into various vehicles to get to Canty Faire.

Bartholomew insisted we take the sportscar and was adamant that we should have the top down until I had to say that my burn time is about 15 seconds in NZ (because I'm pasty, dammit!). J was happy with it up and we sauntered off after helping with trailer hitching and kid wrangling. After much faffing about, we arrived after the van and trailer, to the raised eyebrows of the B&B, we blame shopping.

The first day at Faire was, as first day generally is, a ream of catching up and hanging about. We had excellent plans about catching up with the adults this year, but were in fact beset by chilluns from pretty much start to finish.

Still, Myne, the two sets of B&Bs and Llewellyn and a few others were all available for M&D cake (we both have January birthdays), so that was fun. And the first of the late-night gossip sessions began, despite our other firm plan of early nights.

Friday saw Everybody else arrive. Art and Blayney showed up (Yay!). The King and Queen emerged from their bunker (having arrived v late at night), Finn and Kass appeared with Persi and Ulf and Alys came in late (or possibly that was Saturday, it's all a blur. Whichever, I'm always happy to see them!)

We had a most amazing lunch with Adele and Therese catering for Their Majesties. Gavin and Ginevra were there, too, with us invited to bump up the numbers and also to amuse the royalty if everyone ran out of things to say. So, you know, the comedy guests. But the food was good and the conversation even better. Not thanks to me, of course, I managed only to make everyone laugh at my inability to say anything without accidental smut, but then, that was part of why I was on the invite list, I'm sure ...

BTW, for those who are wondering, Gavin continues to be the Gold Standard of Therese boyfriends. Hurrah!

Opening court allowed everyone to come up to speed with the weekend's events. There was to be a wedding and a fighter auction tournament on Saturday, after an auction that night, with a feast to round Saturday off and a market, which was possibly on Sunday? No idea anymore; brain made of sago. Finr the skald declaimed a long, but very good and apt poem about the Kingdom, surprisingly apposite for baronies he'd never met ...

There were some very well deserved awards given out, including some buttock-prodding AoAs and a Lily to Ginevra, who does genuinely lovely costuming and who is adorable (see below). There was one very unexpected award when the King gave me a Rowan (the Lochac courtesy award). I was more surprised than anyone, and G can stop laughing now (actually, she probably can't), and later asked if I had managed to somehow achieve graciousness without noticing, or if the definition of courtesy had finally enlarged to take in relentless honesty. His Majesty, however, was quite genuinely gracious and gave one of the nicest and most amusing speeches I've ever heard about myself. And alarmingly accurate in some points.

I enjoyed the court apart from the startling bits, and felt that Alfar and Gudrun made a series of excellent choices with both the awards and the inclusions for guardsmen. Good stuff.

After Court I managed to meet some more people, including new ones!

This is Caid's Sir Philipe. (All the best Kingdoms have one.) We met him early on in the event and he was wearing this swishy white houppelande. At the end of the event, he was still wearing it, and it was unstained. I wish to know if he has sprayed it with Scotchgard or made a deal with the devil.

This Sir Philipe was a lovely chap and fun to look at. I quite enjoyed his company, but he made the fatal error of not paying off his ex-girlfriends before he came back (he was from SG originally). So every time I would have an amusing chat with him, someone would follow hot on his heels and say "Pretty, but not so bright." It's a cruel world. I liked him, he was very polite to a doddery old duchess.

He did, however, have an excellent sense of timing and humour, regardless of the true state of his intelligence (which people younger than me can make into a project if they need to know). Young Matilda was harassed by a gentle for making a comment about Sir Phil's undoubted prettiness. "He's not enjoying all this unwanted attention!" they roused at her. The story was relayed to me, along with Matilda's subsequent teary moment.

I was immediately suspicious. I used to be pretty, and I LOVED people looking at me. Sure I loved it more if they subsequently grew to fear me, but it was best when they found me irresistible and terrifying. So I took a moment of the good knight's time that evening when he sauntered past Ulf and me. "Philipe," I said, "a young lady was told that she shouldn't comment on your looks because you find that objectifying and oppressive. But I don't think you'd strike so many mighty poses if that was true."

"God no," he replied in good humour. "I love it. Nothing like having your prettiness appreciated."

Ulf chimed in: "Is it true there were 11 girls waiting for you to finish your shower?"

Philipe tossed his (shiny, bouncy) hair and laughed. "Eleven? No! There were 15!"

Matilda was later reassured, and she thanked us, saying something al0ng the lines of "I was just complimenting him, it's not like I wanted to do anything except look."

Yes. Quite so.

We also caught up with Sir Vitale, also a Master (from the last time we saw him). This is a photo taken straight after the above one. If a picture tells a thousand words, then several of this picture's include "You may want to marry him, ladies, but I'm the one you want to shag you senseless." To which I'm forced to reply: "Not with that facial hair, you're not."

Despite the fact that he attracts the mocking of old women in the same way that chocolate attracts costume laurels, Vitale is good value. He spent a lot of the Faire helping out with everything and rescuing small children from each other and from tedium. He had his nice new girlie there for a bit, but I missed her (I think. Or I've forgotten. Sago ...) Still, nobody does dodgy with as much flair as His Excellency, and when Their Majes made him a Court Barony, it seemed very appropriate.


Myna, as mentioned in an earlier post, took her clothes off. I suspect that's why the boys came and sat with us ...

It was surprisingly hot for the first few days of CF. There was a rainstorm, which cooled things somewhat, but no cold nights. Which was good for those who were camping.

We had a wonderful dinner that night with Marienna and Asbjorn and the girls. We are very fond of all four of them, so were extremely happy to have been invited, although J forgot to tell me it was M's birthday, so he was in the doghouse afterwards (not for long, he forgot, too. We're not real bright but we can lift heavy things.)

Maria, their eldest girl, charmed me completely earlier that day when she introduced me to someone by my mundane name and added "Yes, she's my friend, we've been friends for years, haven't we?" I agreed and Maria graciously said to the other child, "But you can be her friend, too." After dinner the girls had bedtime lunacy, so we told a series of increasingly ridiculous stories that ended with tragic death for the evil princesses who refused to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Then we had a little adult time before J and I had to duck out to Fighter Auction and then were able to come back and chat properly. Which was grand. M&A are very very cool, and the girls went to sleep very sweetly after a bit of mouse-like giggling.

The Fighter Auction itself was in aid of the entertainments at MidWinter. People were bidding furiously, even for J, so I just emptied out my wallet so that I could maintain my stranglehold on his patronage. In truth, it's for the best, since he is the most inconsistent fighter I know in auction tourneys. More often than not he'll bomb out in three.

The actual tournament was held on the Saturday, and was a good afternoon's fighting. I'll post some shots in the next entry, although most of them are rubbish, due to a technical problem with my camera that Blayney calls 'filthy lens'. Thanks for trouble-shooting and fixing that one, Mr B! Each fighter had seven ribbons and would lose one for a limb, two for a head or body shot. So a right bastard (Baron Inigo) could cut of his opponent's four limbs, then head and leave them down to one after a single bout. When you lost all your ribbons, you died.

J did not do badly at all, losing only to Alfar and Philipe (I think), although someone else (or two) wounded him grievously. He came fourth, behind those two and Somerled of Redcliffe, who was without doubt the best-value fighter on the field ($25) and in very fine form all weekend.

The tournament stopped briefly for a wedding (more in the next post), which was very lovely and very good to see! That night there was a feast. OH the feast ... I had to stop eating after the first remove because it would have been gruesome otherwise. So VERY yummy. This time we were sitting with the Wiltons; Ulf, Alys, Llewellyn, Peregrine, Emayne, and a lovely woman to the left of J that I am having a sudden mental blank over ... seriously, how is anyone ever going to be able to tell the difference if I do develop dementia? ... Er, someone else we like a lot.

It was a hoot of a meal with much intentional and unintentional comedy on the part of our table. The kids were mostly trapped outside, so I was not a cushion for once, and the long twilight lent everything a soft glow of pleasantness. Or perhaps that was the wine. Brilliant food, though.

The next day there were wars, so I had a nap, and then the boffer tourney! It was a corker! The Baskin-Kerr kids were the finalists (due to their ruthless training regime) and Pippin knocked Grace out in the semis (due to an unfortunate shield charge, this was nearly literal. With tears in her eyes, Grace was very anxious to let us know she was hurt, not having a sook.) This left the boys. They mounted up on their valiant steeds, Sir Vitale and Sir Philipe. NB the spanking riding harness here modelled by Sir V.

The kids had been enjoying the straight tourney (is it necessary to point out that Ethan was a fiend and wielded his weapon with unholy glee? Young Willy, too, though more restrained, showed a keen eye for tactics and a loose leg.) but this aspect was new and exciting. The actual final did not last long; Dickon rode in against Pippin.

Which you can see in these next two images ... then they exchanged a flurry of blows, Dickon got one good shot in, Pippin fell off and thwacked his knee on Philipe's fan giving himself SUCH a bruise ... Unfortunately my shots of that all make Pippin look like a goose, and he was actually extremely brave about the whole thing. And courteous, he applauded his brother and thanked the 'horses'.

And, theoretically, that was that. But the two knights are very good sports.


So when the crowd of kids watching all came close looking just a little bit as though they'd missed out by not making it through to the finals, both lads got back down on their hands and knees and made neighing sounds. I think they were intending to give the munchikins pony rides.

However ... kids being kids, what actually happened was that it was on for young and old. Every knight who could be dragooned was suddenly on his knees covered in munchikins ...






















Luckily most had been fighting in the Gods and Monsters tournament (er, next paragraph) and were sensible enough to be wearing boxes. Soon every child was locked in mounted melee with every other child, and some of the bigger kids had been roped in to pony duty. Hilarious.

The Gods and Monsters tournament saw most of the Chiv and past barons up against the king, Ulf and the rest, with the former as gods and monsters and the latter as mortals.


Oh the humanity ... I may never recover from the bare-bellied sight of Callum as Buddha. hilarious, yet oh-so wrong. Tycho was Thor (of course), Vitale was Zeus, Sigurd an utterly inspired ghost of fighters past, and Inigo an ill-fated Mercury. They could all only be killed by blows to their weak points. Poor Inigo could only die to the lightest touch, and was thus a bruised piece of baron by the end of the day.

It was enjoyable to watch, but very very silly. Many thanks to Baron Master Sigurd and Vitale who insisted I join the consorts thought J was slacking off and just marshalling. There were treats! And I had a brief chance to hang with Eleanora, who is so calm and adorable.

I also got to see Christia being just an angel, and she knows why, but it was a really lovely act of grace that was beautifully given.

More things then happened, which if I'm very lucky J will tell me about tomorrow in time for the additional images post. I next recall things happening on Monday night, although I know that I enjoyed the market and Art's class some times before then, and also had fun hanging in the kitchen for an hour or two with Del and Stefano. Anyhoo, this is Arabella and Jeffrey's yurt. It's lovely! And extremely orange, which is a good thing. I discovered that the two of them are more deeply perverse than I had imagined (which I should have guessed at after the boobah doll revelations at MidWinter last). We should hang out more often ...


The ball saw mosty people in their best (er, I can't dance ... actually I couldn't be arsed. I did make some of my best jokes!). Here are the lovely newly weds Claire and Master not-Yoshitoshi. Is it Christopher now? I think so. Whoever, they were very happy and it is always good to see people who are meant to be married being so. I love the fact that while she is beaming at the camera, his attention has already diverted back to his bride in this shot. Awww ...



Adele had a spanking new gown and balzo and generally looked quite gorgeous. She has the most amazing colour sense and wears things that I would never dream of matching with her colouring, only to look divine and oh-so-period. Plus she can smuggle a few books in those sleeves for periods when the event gets a bit boring ...















The above shot is Matilda with her lovely new boy whose name starts with a vowel, probably E? He's great, and quite the handsome young fellow, which she very much deserves. to the left we can see a bit of Sancha and to the right a masked Ulf and possibly Sir Sebastien. Ulf and Alys were wearing VERY old garb, which was a hoot, and surprisingly pretty on Alys (who I am used to seeing wearing beautifuly made simple stuff, not shiny shiny blue, but on her it worked. maybe we need to hunt down cornflower wool next?)

Here we have my favourite bunny killers. The highlight of CF was the bunny slaughter, butchering and tanning by these two cuties. It was all done very swiftly and without pain to the bunnies, though a few of the onlookers were dazed. I stayed away because bunnies are below my happy to kill mammal size limit, but little Madeleine found the first half instuctive and intriguing. When you see these lovely young folk wearing wonderful fur garments, ask what the names were ...

In all seriousness, Peregrine and Emayne are very inspirational and adorable. If I could steal them back to Rowany, I would. As it happens, Llewellyn apprenticed them both at CF and they are now official parts of the Wilton hive mind of much researchy goodness. Plus oh-so-cute!



And while we're talking about cute, here's the worst photo I've ever taken of three of the prettiest girls in the barony. Sybilla on the left has wonderful skin and a voice like honey, Ginevra in the middle has the cutest face and lovely large chocolate eyes, and Matilda on the right has one of those classic china doll faces. Alas, I shot from below and made them all look ghastly. But in real life they were all like a chorus of cuteness at this moment. Actually, they're like that a lot.


On the topic of good looking, Myna made the most attractive Death I've seen in a while, combining Phantom, Peter S Beagle, Ingmar Bergman and a complete Bob. And yes, many giggles at the Latin. The ball was not a high point for me given the limpiness (TWO gammy legs is enough to get me out of dancing), but then they had a brief court, which we attended, and there WAS a high point when Iarnulfr was made a Court Baron. Riotous cheering all round. I thought it was a very good move and, in a lovely touch, Alfar bestowed a coronet made of fencing wire. So very apt for the man who can build Europe from dirt. For the rest of the event, Iarnulfr had an expression that was half "Wow." and half "If you say Your Excellency, I will poke you."

There are more tales of Iarnulfr, but they are for the next post which will need a bit of colour, so flames should do nicely.

By Tuesday we were all a bit tired. Here's Alfar, Gudrun and Art looking a bit tired, but very clean! I'm afraid that I did not do the best job of entertaining Gudrun. She kept disappearing, so I thought she'd found something fun to do! Maria, however, decided that she was her new favourite queen because they have the same hair colour. Eh, if I'm going to be dropped, it may as well be for Gudrun, she's pretty cool (and she was great with all the kids, which is quite the challenge when they assault en masse). You can see the latest SG map in the background, quite the work of art in itself, if only I'd thought to take shots ...


Final court rocked through quickly. I took photos but can't actually recall what was happening because I was being used as a trampoline by a four year old. But this is a nice shot of sundry B&Bs and Lea. Callum did a great job heralding the final court, standing in for the new herald whose name I am also blanking on, but who is now seeing Isobel and who is a bit of all right, in all senses of the term. Fine speaking voice, too. Again, more awards were handed out. Er ... they were good ...



Grace won the coif of chivalry for the page school. She gets very embarrassed when she wins things or is rewarded publicly. I think she may be a changeling, since it doesn't run in her brothers' gene pool at all.

Shortly after this she ran off barefoot followed by a horde of younger children, so I guess she really is a proper baskin-kerr wihtout any shadow of doubt.



And then it was time for pack-up, with some children being packed more than their luggage. Here Baxton sweeps Willy off away from his adoring fans (mostly Nicky). Note Willy's tiny little braies that he ran around in merrily all weekend (I suspect several pairs).

On the subject of Baxton, he had a kicking time at the biff and made his lady very proud of him. She is such a wonderful consort the way that she watches so intently and with so much support.

In the background of this shot are all the bags of bedding that the Baskin-Kerr family sorted for visitors. About 20. They are simply amazing. And their washing machine should get a gold star for effort above and beyond the call. the next day their many bannisters were draped with drying, and I suspect the day after, too ...


We traisped down to say goodbye to Amberherthe, and found the yurt naked, so took shots. Then we made Domus Canum eat what was left of the chocolate cake (Belle having evaded previous supper invites due to hanging out down the bottom commitments) and played Luggers, which we are both very good at. With many hands, it was all eventually light work, and Sir Philipe kept taking his shirt off to make it all seem less stressful. Thanks, Philipe!




The next day was a very good drive and lunch over the peninsula with Christia and Tycho, bad jokes abungo. Christia sent me home with her copy of In Service to the Crown, which I love beyond words and am thinking of doing a Broadway-style tribute to. She did NOT make me watch the Aveloc porn video, for which I am eternally grateful. We found this sign, which made me laugh an inordinate amount. As we have since established I was coming down with Angus's flu, I blame hysteria. And FINALLY we ate at Cooking With Gas. Lamb was great, hot chocolate not so much. But the desserts looked brilliant!

My last note for this post: if you are an old woman, and need to be at the airport at 5am, go to bed at 9, do not stay up all night. SO very un-pretty by the time we got home ... but so very glad we'd gone.