10 - 14 September 2007
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Lowest of the lows for me came from on high. It was the third evening, upon arrival at Pensthorpe (the nature reserve where The Mediaeval Trust have built the beginngings of a 14thC house, in the form of the roof of one bay): when a bird crapped on me as it flew overhead! I'd only just set foot on the reserve and had only just been commenting on how clean my veil still seemed to be. It put me in a right old sulk and led to one of the more hard-core living-history moments of the trip, as I got out my castille soap and, with my skirts hitched up in my belt, I re-enacted being a mediaeval washer-woman in the lake
The only other downer was the pain in my knee. I can cope with blisters (and did on my heels - god bless Compeed plasters) but joint pain is another matter. I reawakened an old injury dating back more than 10 years to a hike across Dartmoor. It still hurts a month on and I am thankful that in the 21st Century we have such a thing as Ibuprofen gel!
Above all, the highlight on the trip was really great people and good companionship. Considering many of our company of 12 first met on Norwich cathedral steps on the Monday morning, we bonded amazingly well.
Leaping out above all:
Daniel emerging from the church at Great Snoring, looking like a kiddie in a sweetshop as he excitiedly urged us all to go and look at the stained glass.
John the Miller's musicianship.
Picking blackberries by the wayside and just being out in the middle of gorgeous countryside in glorious sunshine.
Swannington church: the first hog roast of the trip with the best crackling I've ever tasted; the delicious mead and melomel donated by the churchwarden's husband. We couldn't carry it, so had to drink it!
Arriving in Walsingham all together to the sound of bagpipes, feeling that we had really achieved something (especially after overhearing modern pilgrims on the Holy Mile, comment "look, they're doing it properly", as we limped past). That evening we had a hog roast (about our third of the week) and plenty of beer and took over the local pub benches in the village square. maybe it was the clothing (more likely the ale) but I found myself confidently striking up conversations with anyone and joining complete strangers at their tables! It was wonderful to be mingling both with townsfolk and with other pilgrims, listening to mediaeval music, juggling and dancing.
The reactions of the public were varied. In the smaller villages people rushed out of their houses to talk to us and wish us well; in Norwich, we may as well have been invisible; along the main roads we may have nearly caused an accident or two as we emerged from the footpaths. We of course smiled and waved. The only time we were at a bit of a loss in this regards was when a funeral cortege drive past us up a lane towards a graveyard: the men removed their caps (although medieval man would I think have kept his head covered as in church) and we stood solemnly to let them pass: a moment of reality in our playacting.
John the Franciscan was a highlight of the trip. He travelled light as any true mendicant and blagged bowls, spoons and bedding pallets off everyone. The first night, he chose to do his begging in an inebriated fashion in the middle of the night, waking everyone in his search for a sleeping pallet he had neglected to lay down in the first place!
The other part I found truly strange was having a journalist with us on the Wednesday night at Pensthorpe. She was a lovely woman and copied incredibly well with spending an evening and night in close proximity to this bunch of nutters. We were all on our best behaviour of course (plenty of mediaeval music and storytelling and absolutely no dirty jokes!). Her story and a video clip is posted online here. She claims that she didn't sleep a wink but I have it on good authority that she was out cold in her modern sleeping bag when someone got up to answer a call of nature in the middle of the night.