The things that call to you in your youth don’t really shut up…

I was recently (finally) persuaded to go along to an SCA event -The Champions of Lough Devnaree – by friends who know me rather well and have been telling me for years that I would enjoy it.   So they were right, as I had no doubt they would be, and now I find I itch to do everything, right now, all of it.  I still, as in my youth, want to know how to cultivate plants and create clever concoctions from them.  I am every bit as fascinated with making candles (though I will still happily avoid tallow, for I am craven in the face of truly terrible smells). I want to take up archery, properly for once and for all, instead of threatening vaguely to look into it.   I have dug out my pens and inks and have seen concrete proof that other people have made books, proper books, just like I have wanted to for years.   I wish I had been more careful with the handloom I had as a child.  Chain mail is fascinating stuff.  Fencing and heavy fighting look fun and satisfying by turn, though my head is still arguing that my long established lack of co-ordination will be a miserable foe to overcome.   I find myself thinking old thoughts about kinship, fosterage and households, about symbols, favours and rewards.  I’ve dug out that recipe for Birch Ale again (though I’m only looking still) and hope to actually make the elderberry wine I’ve been threatening to make for the last three years.   And yes, it appears I still want to wear 15th or 16th century court dresses.

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