Coronet journey, and forming the PLN (edited and finished)
...the PLN which is nicked from the Nac Mac Feegle in Discworld, in which the pictsie Big Man writes out the PLN, and says, 'right now, we have a plan, now we just have to figure out what to do!' in apprpropriate Scots dialect. (I'm re-reading the Nac Mac Feegle books to soothe myself on the Tube this week.)
I had a verrrrrrrrry long, but very enjoyable journey to Coronet in the shiny-new Vitus-vagon (a Ford Escalade, seats seven, left-hand drive, eats oil wells for breakfast), minus the trailer, with Sir Vitus, Robert, Katherine of Great Chesterford (often remembered as 'Ozbeg's lady'), goncalves and myself, along with three armour bags and sets of weaponry, a half-dozen scrolls and our regular event-attending kit. Filling the Vagon meant it was worth the cost of the ferry from Fishguard to Rosslare for Vitus, and his driving effectively enabled three couples to enter Coronet.
We started out from S. London on Thurs evening and arrived in a sodden and squelching Cardiff in the late evening to crash chez goncalves . He lives in a house owned by another Mynydd Gwyn member and has done for awhile, and it looks perfectly built for an SCA person - walls thick with bookshelves, and lots of nooks and crannies to hang banners, poles, and other unwieldy items. After some drinks and a late meal we rolled out the bedding, taking up almost all the flat's floorspace (ok, noone in the bathroom or the kitchen - this time, says Gonz), and crash.
Friday was an easy drive to Fishguard, which was the town that saw off the last 'mainland' invasion of Great Britain - the French attempted to land in 1797, and were seen off by the locals, including a band of determined Welsh women. We even had a pint in the pub where the ceasefire/negotiation was held.
The ferry ride was - well, it didn't look terribly rough on the sea's surface, but the light fast ferry had been cancelled (bad sign), and so the later slower one was full to the brim with people who have been waiting for a couple of hours for the next one.
Since I have almost no nautical experience of my own, the trip reminded me of my only sea-going connection, Patrick O'Brian, and I wondered if Lucky Jack Aubrey would call this excellent conditions for speed, or would find it tricky.
As the trip progressed, more and more people suffered from the journey (especially after eating a full greasy fish and chip lunch), and all of us except Robert eventually finished the trip standing on deck in the fresh air, staring desperately at the horizon. The interior was littered with people lying on the floors, eyes shut, trying to keep hold of their lunches. We finally rolled into Rosslare about 7pm, an hour later than expected.
We had a slow start post-ferry, to allow assorted stomachs to settle, before scoffing some excellent pies brought from Cardiff (same pies as were served at Raglan! made around the corner from goncalves ' house).
From our stop for pies in the early evening, we kept going, and I dozed in the back - I couldn't really contribute to the navigation anyway - finally waking up shortly before 1am, when we finally reached site, and staggered to our rooms.
Morning came way, waaaay too early.
I'll get to the tournament in time (posted an account to explain what happened to HE Clancy to the DWL), but honestly, much of the event was dominated by the trip itself.
This got me to thinking a bit: this must be how the Irish experience events on the UK 'mainland' all the time. It's good that we take our turn but man, if I didn't love this game, it would not be worth the trip.
The return journey started very early on Sunday. In Etienne's absence, He'd entrusted teh business of Seneschal happy hour to his student Brian, who was plying seneschals, former seneschals and anyone who claimed to be a deputy of some kind with quantities of alcohol.
As a result, goncalves was looking a trifle green about the gills on the first part of the journey, where he found himself wedged at the very back of the Vitus-vagn, riding out the curves, roundabouts, and hills like a rollercoaster. Who knew the beautiful rural countryside of SE Ireland was so hilly?
We stopped for coffee and lunch outside of Rosslare, where Sunday businesses were just warming up, and found that tea and coffee were just about what we could all manage at that point. Some preventive anti-nausea meds were also in order!
Fortunately the return ferry was much smoother, and on the fast ferry, where I cornered goncalves at length to talk about fencing. I'm still chewing over learning cut and thrust, and it occurred to me I could authorise in fencing probably faster, as there are actually fencers around to play with.
So having this handy kingdom marshal to hand I picked his brain about the basics, and we talked about different styles available. I hadn't realised just how many manuals existed from period - I'd thought de Grassi, Fiore, George Silver and I.33 were the lot.
One natural history moment: I spotted a couple of dolphins! travelling in the same direction, that dropped back behind us - evidently not aiming to keep up with us - how cool is that!
On so-called dry land, it bucketed all the way back to Cardiff, where we got an informal tour of the dodgy questionable affordable residential areas of Cardiff, where Gonz lives. These ones don't turn up in Torchwood. We had a brisk walk around in search of an open chippie, and finally settled for pizzas.
Onward back to London. Long drive, rainy, and we arrived too late for trains from Vitus' home, so we crashed there.
I had a verrrrrrrrry long, but very enjoyable journey to Coronet in the shiny-new Vitus-vagon (a Ford Escalade, seats seven, left-hand drive, eats oil wells for breakfast), minus the trailer, with Sir Vitus, Robert, Katherine of Great Chesterford (often remembered as 'Ozbeg's lady'), goncalves and myself, along with three armour bags and sets of weaponry, a half-dozen scrolls and our regular event-attending kit. Filling the Vagon meant it was worth the cost of the ferry from Fishguard to Rosslare for Vitus, and his driving effectively enabled three couples to enter Coronet.
We started out from S. London on Thurs evening and arrived in a sodden and squelching Cardiff in the late evening to crash chez goncalves . He lives in a house owned by another Mynydd Gwyn member and has done for awhile, and it looks perfectly built for an SCA person - walls thick with bookshelves, and lots of nooks and crannies to hang banners, poles, and other unwieldy items. After some drinks and a late meal we rolled out the bedding, taking up almost all the flat's floorspace (ok, noone in the bathroom or the kitchen - this time, says Gonz), and crash.
Friday was an easy drive to Fishguard, which was the town that saw off the last 'mainland' invasion of Great Britain - the French attempted to land in 1797, and were seen off by the locals, including a band of determined Welsh women. We even had a pint in the pub where the ceasefire/negotiation was held.
The ferry ride was - well, it didn't look terribly rough on the sea's surface, but the light fast ferry had been cancelled (bad sign), and so the later slower one was full to the brim with people who have been waiting for a couple of hours for the next one.
Since I have almost no nautical experience of my own, the trip reminded me of my only sea-going connection, Patrick O'Brian, and I wondered if Lucky Jack Aubrey would call this excellent conditions for speed, or would find it tricky.
As the trip progressed, more and more people suffered from the journey (especially after eating a full greasy fish and chip lunch), and all of us except Robert eventually finished the trip standing on deck in the fresh air, staring desperately at the horizon. The interior was littered with people lying on the floors, eyes shut, trying to keep hold of their lunches. We finally rolled into Rosslare about 7pm, an hour later than expected.
We had a slow start post-ferry, to allow assorted stomachs to settle, before scoffing some excellent pies brought from Cardiff (same pies as were served at Raglan! made around the corner from goncalves ' house).
From our stop for pies in the early evening, we kept going, and I dozed in the back - I couldn't really contribute to the navigation anyway - finally waking up shortly before 1am, when we finally reached site, and staggered to our rooms.
Morning came way, waaaay too early.
I'll get to the tournament in time (posted an account to explain what happened to HE Clancy to the DWL), but honestly, much of the event was dominated by the trip itself.
This got me to thinking a bit: this must be how the Irish experience events on the UK 'mainland' all the time. It's good that we take our turn but man, if I didn't love this game, it would not be worth the trip.
The return journey started very early on Sunday. In Etienne's absence, He'd entrusted teh business of Seneschal happy hour to his student Brian, who was plying seneschals, former seneschals and anyone who claimed to be a deputy of some kind with quantities of alcohol.
As a result, goncalves was looking a trifle green about the gills on the first part of the journey, where he found himself wedged at the very back of the Vitus-vagn, riding out the curves, roundabouts, and hills like a rollercoaster. Who knew the beautiful rural countryside of SE Ireland was so hilly?
We stopped for coffee and lunch outside of Rosslare, where Sunday businesses were just warming up, and found that tea and coffee were just about what we could all manage at that point. Some preventive anti-nausea meds were also in order!
Fortunately the return ferry was much smoother, and on the fast ferry, where I cornered goncalves at length to talk about fencing. I'm still chewing over learning cut and thrust, and it occurred to me I could authorise in fencing probably faster, as there are actually fencers around to play with.
So having this handy kingdom marshal to hand I picked his brain about the basics, and we talked about different styles available. I hadn't realised just how many manuals existed from period - I'd thought de Grassi, Fiore, George Silver and I.33 were the lot.
One natural history moment: I spotted a couple of dolphins! travelling in the same direction, that dropped back behind us - evidently not aiming to keep up with us - how cool is that!
On so-called dry land, it bucketed all the way back to Cardiff, where we got an informal tour of the dodgy questionable affordable residential areas of Cardiff, where Gonz lives. These ones don't turn up in Torchwood. We had a brisk walk around in search of an open chippie, and finally settled for pizzas.
Onward back to London. Long drive, rainy, and we arrived too late for trains from Vitus' home, so we crashed there.