We were at a park the other day, when I had the enormous privilege of spotting a large group of people dressed up as Medieval warriors. To say they looked awesome with their manicured beards, prescription glasses, chainmail and plastic swords would be a terrible understatement.
I looked on in awe, dumbstruck to think that people actually did this. In real life. The leader (Lord Edward Longshanks IV of the House of Wolf Castle?) was laying out a few ground rules, speaking short, throaty, inspirational phrases of battle. Off to the side a few other fearsome figures practiced their swordsmanship, the flexible clackity ckacking of the plastic swords causing devastating sparks across the playground.
I left them to their business, thoroughly impressed, and then later passed them again, as they had apparently stopped for a lunch break. I was slightly disheartened to see them eating a packed lunch. They could have at least hunted some native marsupials or something and roasted it over some coals.
But I consoled myself with the idea that what appeared to be ham and cheese on those sandwiches, could well have actually been wild boar and goats' cheese from the Outer-Hinterlands.
To battle, men! And then back to my Mum's house for jam and scones! YAAAAH!!