An Update...

It's been a while, and I've been neglecting this blog shamefully, so here's some things that have happened lately.

Munchkin turned 5. I made a cake.

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We added a new family member, Ophelia (also known as Feefee or Feely-Cat, or Get Out Of It You Stupid Git).

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My wife and I both finally accepted that we'd gained more weight than we were happy with in the long slide since the wedding, and we've joined Weight Watchers. It's working very well for us so far - they've changed the plan a lot and it's a lot more manageable and liveable than it was the last time I tried it. It's going well, and I'll update about it again when I reach goal - which I am going to this time, unlike the last few attempts!

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We also celebrated our 1st wedding anniversary. There is a mushy video of our wedding and honeymoon, but blogger won't let me upload it (probably because it's 14 minutes long and rather large)... I will look into putting it up on youtube or vimeo and linking it here.

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The day school finished we raced up to visit friends in Shropshire - an area we are falling in love with as a future home - and climbed The Wrekin, an achievement that made us both feel rather proud given how unfit we've both become!

That's the Munchkin and his best friend L in the foreground.

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The book currently stands at just over 43,000 words. Things got slow when the assessment end of the school year arrived at the same time as an unexpected plot twist, and I'm now trying to get back on track with daily writing over the summer. It's already more than double the length of my previous longest piece of work, so that is pretty satsifying. I have an idea for another, unrelated book on the backburner, so I want to finish this one by the end of the year, work on the other one in the first half of next year, then come back and edit this one next summer. The other one is aimed at primary school readers, so it will be shorter.

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I'm off to Wales in just over a week to a big SCA event. I've become reconciled with the SCA since inspirational equality was written in as acceptable, and was tried out by a same-sex couple appearing in the most recent crown tourney. They didn't win, but the precedent is now there and one day we will have a same-sex couple on the throne. That's been enough to entice me back!

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Late last year, I glanced back over my employment contract and realised that they'd made me a permanent, not one-year, offer. There was much rejoicing. There's been a bit of staff turnover and rearrangement ready for next year, but I am staying in Year 2. This is the first time I've ever stayed at the same school two years running, and the first time I've ever taught the same year two years running. Fancy that! I might almost begin to feel like I know what I'm doing.

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One of the reasons there's been a long gap on this blog is that I've found it hard to express many of the things I've been thinking about this year. I get very emotional about my hot-button topical issues - feminism, sexuality and education - and I sometimes feel too overwhelmed with  frustration to actually say anything sensible about them. However, I'm going to try, so my goal is to blog every weekend, and say something, whether it's an update or a few thoughts on something that matters.

I think that's everything. Back to the book...

Countdown to a (Same-Sex) Wedding #3

2 Weeks to Go

Erm, well. I meant to make that a weekly thing, and then 4 weeks mysteriously evaporated. I really don't know where the time goes. Where it concerns time remaining at my current school, I'm satisfied that "away" is where it is going. The wedding, on the other hand, is racing up unimaginably fast!

Today I want to talk briefly about homophobia.

I have to be honest, I've rarely encountered vitriolic homophobia directed at me as an individual. The only incident I can think of is when a random man messaged me on facebook with one of those "I saw your profile and would love to get to know you better" spams. I - being a bit bored and reckless that day - replied indicating my reason for being disinterested. I got a very vile flame in return from this person, the contents of which I won't repeat. Suffice to say, it was not nice, but it didn't offend me because the source was already a figure of fun to my mind (as is anyone who sends similar messages to strangers).

I do see a lot of homophobia not directed at me personally. Read any comment thread on any article relating to LGBTI anything and you'll see it in plenty.

That kind of homophobia is easy to identify, and while addressing it comes up against the brick wall of insecurity, stupidity and intractability, it's at least an honest reaction. Idiots that rant about "poofters" - spare me! - or tiresomely bible-thump are at least being straight with everyone (excuse the pun).

The sort of homophobia I find truly offensive and difficult to deal with is that coming from people who are in denial about their own feelings and beliefs. The ones who start sentences with "I have lots of gay friends, but..." or "I'm not homophobic, but..." or even "I'm in favour of gay marriage, but..." and finish the sentence with a statement about the necessity of restricting gay rights in some particular area.

Sorry, but no.

If you believe that a person's sexual choices should in any way restrict their rights as a person or a citizen you are, to some degree, homophobic.

Now, I know people don't want to hear this, because the people at whom it is aimed are often nice, sensible, generally thoughtful people who would never in a million years class themselves with the "burn all the fags" brigade. And neither would I - different kettles of fish entirely. But still, uncategorically, afraid of the changes that full LGBTI equality would bring. And if you're afraid of full LGBTI equality, you're homophobic.

I've lately been sad to see this kind of homophobia coming out in a truly unexpected place: namely, the Society for Creative Anachronism, the worldwide medieval re-enactment group of which I am a member. Some people whom I previously/otherwise liked and respected have shown a homophobic side I did not expect to see, and I've found this revelation so distressing that I've left my membership fee unpaid this year and have dropped out of active society life for the time being. I've felt hurt and angry that people I looked up to or thought well of have let me down.

The issue revolves around the way in which the society selects its Kings and Princes, and their consort Queens and Princesses. This is done through 'heavy' fighting - full-speed, full-armour fighting with padded rattan swords as weapons. It's hard, fast and potentially dangerous, and while there are many female fighters, species dimorphism ensures that it's extremely rare for women to win fights at all, let alone hotly contested Crown and Coronet tourneys. It's happened literally a handful of times in the history of the society. The winner is almost invariably a male fighter, and he becomes King / Prince, with his wife/girlfriend/willing female friend as Queen / Princess. All entrants in these tourneys must be fighting for someone who will be their co-ruler - it's a requirement of entry that you are 'inspired' by someone.

Currently, SCA Society Law states that you can only be inspired by someone of the opposite gender. No exceptions. This law has been problematic for some time, and there is an ex-SCA group in the UK who split off from us over precisely this issue. Lately the problem of 'inspirational equality' has become a raging thorn in the side of the SCA both in Europe and worldwide.

This has opened the door to some seriously regrettable views being aired by people who should otherwise know MUCH better. Their objections don't stand up to criticism, and they all boil down to the same thing: 'gays are fine but I don't want them parading around in full view on my Kingdom's throne'.

The first and most easily dealt with argument is, "it's not period". Well, homosexuality was very much period, folks. And as for same-sex co-rulers, there are plenty of documented same-sex co-rulerships. While these people were often parent-child pairs or sibling pairs, some were unrelated joint rulers, and unless we have a time machine we can't say for certain what they were doing behind the scenes. I've never seen heterosexual crown couples snogging on the throne, so if having two men or two women up there really worries you then pretend they're cousins and be done with it.

Besides... we have female fighters. We have black rulers with white subjects. Almost all of us wear garb made from machine-woven commercial fabrics (some of which are even synthetic *gasp*). Machine stitching won't get you thrown out, nor will drinking cola from your charity store 70s glass goblet. We drive to site, and no one will tell you off for using a torch to make sure you don't fall in the moat after dark. Our royalty keeps court on flat-packable wooden thrones in everything from fields to ruins to 1970s scout halls. No one moans that their pastry was made from machine-ground flour, or cooked in an electric oven. We're the Society for Creative Anachronism, not the Society for Constrictive Absolutism. Same-sex rulers are far less anachronistic than swords wrapped with frickin' duct tape.

The second that usually comes out is "if we have two men or two women on the throne then the opposite sex will have no one to look up to/be encouraged to emulate.". This argument particularly pisses me off. The rulers of any particular SCA group are only up there because (almost always) the guy won a fight. Sure, that's a feat, but it's no more than that either. The pair might both be outstanding SCA practitioners, authentic to a tee, involved on every level and skilled in multiple crafts; or they might be a fighting-is-all-I-do guy and his I-only-own-one-piece-of-garb other half. The point is that, no matter how skilled or unskilled they may be, they are only up there because of one skill practised by one half of the couple. King / Prince is a meritocratic role only in the arena of fighting; and Queen / Princess is not meritocratic at all, merely luck/being the right person for the best fighter at the time.

If you're looking for a role model to emulate or someone to look up to and think "if I work really hard that could be me", the Crown is the wrong place to look (unless you're a male heavy fighter, in which case, carry on). The people on the throne, no matter how good they are at whatever multitude of skills they employ, didn't get there by virtue of the majority of them. If you're not part of a couple where the guy is a highly skilled heavy fighter, then being on the throne is completely out of your reach. So the argument that people need sexual dimorphism on the throne to inspire them to new heights of creativity and authenticity is bollocks. Our truly meritocratic awards - the peerages and other orders - are the place to look for role models. The rulers are figureheads to provide pomp and circumstance at events, not the best players we have to offer. I see no reason why two women or two men couldn't provide the pomp to all and sundry.

(The above also opens up another rather tricky arena, that of sexual equality in the SCA; that women are all but barred from participating in the meritocratic selection of rulers, due to their relative strength, is another thorn in the SCA's side. And the arguments against other forms of selection are equally specious. *sigh*).

At the end of the day, what people are really saying is "I want to see traditional marriage reflected on the throne because that's The Way It Was and when I play I'm trying to get AWAY from the modern world and all its trappings, not have it shoved in my face here too." (this is a paraphrase of an actual statement by an SCA member on the Facebook page). If you regard gay visibility as less desirable / uncomfortably modern, then no doubt about it, you're homophobic. If you'd make a rule for same-sex coupled players that you wouldn't make for black players or disabled players, you're homophobic.

Like the gay marriage debate in real life, none of the genuine arguments against Inspirational Equality stand up. The opposition to both  is based on peoples' fear, ignorance, distaste or religious beliefs. Frankly, in this or any other day and age... that's not good enough. It's time to take homophobia out of the SCA statutes, for good.

Feasts, Friends and a New Year...

Last weekend I took my first step into autocrating SCA events, running a Winter Feast at the marvellously-named Place House Hall in Ware, Hertfordshire. It's a medieval hall, small but picturesque inside, and it makes a lovely venue. My best mate A was my feast cook and mentored me through the autocrating process admirably. We had a couple of food stuff-ups along the way, but between the two of us we put an elegant and extensive repast on the table in a fantastic location. I also introduced my Thamesreach Singers group with great pride - we sang six period pieces very competently, to the general approval of the attending populace. It was a great night, and a successful start to event-running for me. Yay :)

Term has been underway for a little over two weeks now. I'm so glad to have my own class again, and I've had compliments from every quarter about how quiet and settled they are under my guidance. I feel competent and confident, quite unlike a lot of my earlier teaching experiences! My class are lovely, and I can have a giggle with them and still get them to work, which is great. I am really enjoying myself, and never go to work feeling any apprehension. What a lovely change from so many past workplaces.

These past few weeks I've been struck with joy and gratitude for the friendships I have. E, of course, first and foremost, who is best friend and lover and everything in between. I had never, ever imagined that a relationship could feel like this! Every day I relish it a little bit more for its marvellous perfection, and each day I'm a little more convinced that trying to be in relationships with men was a big part of what I was getting wrong all these years. Being with E just works.

As well as E, I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by a group of people who know the real me, nothing hidden and nothing to hide. And they love me, and care for me, and look out for me, and appreciate me. And beyond them, a wider group of people who perhaps don't know me as well, but nonetheless care for me greatly and will always be there for me. I had the strange experience before Christmas of walking into a pub where a corner was filled with these people, and seeing every face in the group of about 15 light up as I walked in, just because I was there. How bizarre and heady for someone whose deepest demon is invisibility!  I feel so secure in myself these days, and it shows in the quality of my friendships.

These wonderful relationships stand in stark contrast to the negatives, backhanded positives and subtle undermining I was used to from various family members and a few extinct friendships. Every now and then something of that behaviour will intrude from people from my past, and it's amazing how poisonous it feels when once it was normal. I am finding myself better able to ignore it now ... a few peoples' email addresses have been blocked so that I need only read their communications if I feel like it! And I have learned not to react, and only to respond if absolutely necessary. Poison and misery are not things I choose to engage with these days.

So generally... I'm busy, and happy, and loving my life more with every week that passes. It feels good!

Oh yeah, I have a blog...

Well, that was a bit of a hiatus. Sorry about that. Life's been ticking along at a rapid pace, and has been distinctly lacking in long, quiet, blogging-suitable alone times. Which is a good thing, in a way, but also means I have been keeping everyone waiting for an update!

I managed to finish the term without going insane, but I am still very much feeling that I don't want to be back in a mainstream classroom. Supply is fine, but the whole-deal classroom teaching thing just isn't doing it for me any more. I've found a couple of really neat museum education jobs to apply for, so the plan is for me to get a reasonable junk job / work supply and keep on sending in applications to kinds the jobs I want, until I get one. So I've been doing a lot of applying for jobs, and a lot of pounding the pavement handing CVs to any shops or cafés willing to take them. It's frustrating, and means I haven't really had a holiday, but it's all for the bigger picture so I don't mind too much. What makes it even nicer is that it's *our* bigger picture, something SK and I have agreed upon together.

I spent most of the first two weeks of the summer frantically making SK a full set of Viking garb ahead of Ffair Rhaglen VI, our first SCA event together and SK's first SCA event of any sort. It's an incredible camping event, held amongst the ruins of a medieval castle in Wales. During the day the public were allowed in, but we didn't demo, exactly - rather we just went about our merry business as if they weren't there (apart from chatting to interested-looking ones - recruitment is a good thing!). Several times I had a funny feeling of dislocation as if they were the ghosts from another time and we were the reality. Total immersion events are awesome! In the evenings we had the place to ourselves. On the Saturday night there was a masked ball, where we danced bransles by flaming torchlight in the courtyard of the castle, to live music using medieval instruments... it was amazing. And on the Sunday night, under clear cold skies, we had bardic circles and some impromptu dancing (yay for spontaneous Goddesses), while the leading edge of the Perseids meteor shower lit up the sky with sporadic falling stars. That is a night I will never, ever forget - it was truly breathtaking.

SK barely stopped grinning his face off the entire weekend, and also won some lifelong allies by wading through the castle's moat and battling through thick brambles to rescue a hat that had blown off the head of a lord while he stood chatting to some mundanes. The hat had on it site tokens and award tokens going back years, and the lord was devastated to have lost it, so SK was roundly applauded for his gallantry. He's a good 'un ;)

We made some new friends and I reunited with some friends from the Winchester Pilgrimage, and I'm once again amazed at the way the SCA brings me into contact with kindred spirits. Sometimes I just want to stand around going "SQUEE FRIENDS!!!!!" and jumping up and down :D

Some pics from Raglan Castle:

 Fighting in the courtyard

This was really very close to us, and apparently worried some people on top of the castle's tower! 

 Yes I know it's not really a TARDIS, but...

Various views of SCA period tents and the castle itself:

My other big adventure for that weekend was that, halfway to Wales, SK decided that his legs were tired, and therefore I was driving. o_O It was my first experience of driving in the UK. Luckily his car is small, the road layout is similar, and we were mostly on the motorways. It was a little nerve-wracking and some laws are different (you can change lanes in roundabouts! You can change lanes without indicating!) but SK is a good teacher and I did fine. Driving over the Severn Bridge was a big thrill. The whole thing was a grand experience.

My biggest bit of news at the moment is that, resulting from some conversations at Ffair Rhaglen, I am now the chatelaine of Thamesreach. It's my first SCA office and I'm both excited and intimidated over it! I'm also putting together a costing / bid for my first run at autocrating an event (a winter feast, probably in February). I feel enlivened and excited. Good times :)

Since moving in with SK I've begun running regularly. He's a keen runner and cyclist (he's run marathons, and recently cycled from the southwesternmost point to the northeasternmost point of Britain ... yeah, he does that :D) and has been kicking my butt about fitness. We live close to a big park, so I've been running a ~5.5km course around that, approximately every second day. I think I'm about two runs away from being able to do the whole thing without dropping to a walk, which will be awesome! I'm booked in to run in a 5km fundraising run on the 18th of September so the aim is to be well and truly ready for that.

Si recently acquired a new heart rate monitor and gave me his old one, so you can see my more recent running stats here (that was today's, click through to see the others).

It's been interesting for me, as I've learned to run and to keep running, just how much emotion is caught up in it. When I'm pressing myself to keep going, just another minute, just to the end of that... I'm pushing against a whole avalanche of negative emotions. At first it was distress, hoping I'd collapse or break down so I wouldn't have to keep pushing, and an overwhelming belief that I couldn't do it. Then that phased into anger. Boiling, frustrated anger at everything and everyone who has ever fed me negative self-belief, intentionally or otherwise. I had no idea I was still so angry inside. When I got tired the anger would dissipate into grief for all the mistakes and stupidity and neglect and wrongheadedness that went into moulding those self-beliefs in the first place. Crying while running has become very normal for me over the past few weeks!

Today I tried listening to music while running, as I'm now confident enough in the route to afford the distraction. I was amazed at how that changed the dynamic. The running became something that my feet were just doing in time to the music. I still had to push and encourage myself, but a lot of the fight went out of the activity. I found that listening to the music freed me from the desperate, churning thoughts and let my mind rest while my body got on with it. There was still a little grief flowing through (I chose uplifting music and some of it reminded me of the murk from which I've emerged) but I generally felt better about myself, about running and about my life as it is now. I think I'll keep listening to music - while I do like the catharsis of using exercise to work through this stuff, sometimes one just needs to give it a break.

Ok, this has been a huge post and I hope everyone's appetite for updates is now sated! I shall attempt to be a little more forthcoming from now on. You can expect squeaky excited posts as the season turns ... my first northern autumn! Deciduous trees! Whee! ... etc ;)

I'm glad I'm in London, glad I'm living with SK, and glad my life is moving forwards. Oh, and I've lost 5cm off my waist. Good night :)

PS: The old template was borked (as are a lot of others from the site where I got it) so I'm trying this one on for size. I like the general look but I'm still fidgeting with details. If anyone can tell me how to move the blog title down, I'd be very appreciative! My html-fu is letting me down.

Almost there...

It's two days before the end of term. I've been AWOL for a while, I know... the whompingness of my life has kept me fairly silent as I work through it.

The class I've had have been difficult and generally un-fun, so I've been hating school and wishing desperately that I'd chosen a different career. Again. I'm so burned out that I can't imagine going back to a full-time, classroom teaching position in 5 weeks' time :( I want to do a sideways shuffle into museum education. Just have to find a job! It's been 5 years but I have finally started to miss the heritage sector. So I've got a long stretch of job applications coming up.

Life otherwise has been pretty stable ... sightseeing, running in the park, learning to live with a partner, generally getting on with the business of becoming.

And trying not to fall into my usual pattern of life!

The other thing that has kept me from blogging is a sad mystery. A friend - more than a friend - has suddenly withdrawn from me. She won't answer my messages, won't talk to me in chat programmes, ignores threads in which I've commented, etc. I don't know why, and I don't understand. I'm angry and hurt and don't know what to do about it. I have issues with being abandoned by loved ones, and every fibre of my being wants to flail around madly shrieking and prodding and doing anything I freaking can to get her attention and make her snap out of it. I know that's an unhealthy reaction so I'm sitting on my hands and trying to alternate pretending that I haven't noticed with just not going near her online. Neither is satisfying. There's nothing I can do except grieve and hope that she comes around before I decide that too much damage has been done.

I'm not taking a full 5 weeks' holiday this summer (I need money before that, so I'll have to get work of some sort whether it's ongoing or not!) but I'm looking forward to a couple of weeks' rest, and an SCA trip to Wales as a bonus! It should be a good summer, I hope.

A Journey to Winchester

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain,
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And here is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart runaway in the road;
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill, and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone forever!

"From a Railway Carriage", Robert Louis Stevenson (Child's Garden of Verses)

I loved this poem as a child. We had a copy of the Child's Garden of Verses in a "Big Golden Book", and it seemed as a whole to capture the magical Victorian childhood that prevailed in the literature I preferred. "From a Railway Carriage" in particular had an Englishness and magic about it that delighted me and called to me.

I am quoting it here because it was naturally the first thing to spring into my mind as my train to Winchester freed itself from the London suburbs and began its trek through the fresh, spring-green English countryside. This was my first trip outside of London, and despite being tired after a long day's work and a frustrating suitcase-dragging marathon through three train stations, I was excited to be on my way.

Arriving at Winchester I took a cab to The Hospital of St Cross. This is a Hospital in the old sense of the word - a hospitable place. It was founded in c. 1130 as a home for 13 poor men who could not otherwise support themselves. This tradition has continued unbroken to this day with elderly and impoverished lay brothers still living in residence. WOW. The architecture is chiefly Norman with Medieval and Tudor additions. Since then it has been left largely unaltered apart from the provision of modern kitchens and toilet facilities. It's simply stunning, in excellent condition, and just... wow. As a site for an SCA event, it's beyond words.

Those of us without our own tents or the ability to bring them dossed down in the "ambulatory", a hallway of interconnected Tudor rooms accessed by a narrow winding stair. The stair and I were not friends, but I forgave it on account of its age.

That night we ate simple travellers' fare of bread and cheese, and sat listening to readings from Chaucer and da Vinci while sewing pilgrim scrips, hemming veils and the like. Then we repaired to bed (and, if you were me, were called a wuss by hearty Englishmen for feeling the need to fill a hot water bottle for protection against the cold!).

Saturday morning dawned grey and grizzly. We broke our fast again with simple fare, then gathered in the porter's gate to set off in small groups on our pilgrimage to Winchester Cathedral. We were given bread and coin to carry, and a score card on which we could record our answers to the challenges that we would encounter on the way.

It began to rain before all of the groups had departed, and seemed like to continue all morning. This did not dampen our enthusiasm and like the faithful pilgrims of yore we persevered. I was idiotically gleeful about seeing my first buttercups and my first white swan, and covered myself in glory by preventing my own small group of pilgrims from purchasing a spurious relic, having remembered one vital fact about that saint that made said relic impossible (I believe this was the only useful fact I did remember though).

It was nearly noon by the time our cold, wet, hungry band reached Winchester. Before we even got to the cathedral our labours were rewarded with the wholly unexpected discovery of the house in which Jane Austen spent her last days. The Middle Ages were forgotten for a moment while we revelled in Regency lit geek glee.

And thence to the cathedral, which retains some of its original Norman architecture along with various Medieval and Tudor additions and improvements. Our physical state was forgotten as we went into transports over stone, wood, paint, plaster, paper and tiles. We were not allowed to photograph the 10th century Anglo-Saxon document in the gallery, so you must believe us that it was there, and it was amazing. We saw many wonders, including a Norman bench:

Norman stonework:

12th and 13th century painted chapels:

Medieval tiles:

Stunning stained glass:

Jane Austen's grave:

And the whole cathedral itself, which was just too WOW for words:

After a couple of hours we realised that we really were wet, dirty, hungry and thirsty, and went in search of comfort. A hearty English lunch later, we set off nursing take-away hot chocolates and tried to get back to St Cross without any further exposure to the elements.

We didn't get far before we found a second-hand bookshop. This was a problem . . . we were in there for a long time and barely escaped with our wallets intact. I picked up a 1917 copy of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for £1, which is a win both for content and for format (ancient lit in a heritage copy? ftw!). I masterfully resisted the 3000 other books I wanted, purely because I could see no feasible way to get them back to London.

I had an archaeologist moment while we were in the bookshop. I believe I said "wow" again ...

And so we ended our pilgrimage at last, and made our way back through Winchester to St Cross.

When we got back to the Ambulatory, it became immediately clear that we needed to be clean and dry ASAP. The other girls, being in rather more sensible ankle-length gowns, fared better, but my floor-length chemise and bliaut suffered rather badly; not to mention my white socks, which had been stained grey by dye from my black shoes, and were thick with mud besides:

The chemise and socks have not come clean, even after two washes. Oops.

After getting dry and as clean as hand-washing would allow, we had time to wander around, mingle and explore.

After the public fighter demo (for which I didn't have my camera), we made time to go and see the St Cross church. It's pretty, Norman and full of interesting bits and pieces. Unfortunately the low light made for fairly poor photographs, but here are some regardless:

Then it was time to change for the feast. With the King and Queen of Drachenwald and the Princess of Insulae Draconis in attendance, it was a spectacular affair. I was a volunteer kitchen helper and spent a lot of the feast running to and fro with platters (in between plentiful time to sit down and eat - I was not deprived of that pleasure!). The food was delicious, and the ambience in the Norman feasting hall delightful. The Court before and after were full immersion experiences, and I was enjoyably exhilarated by the experience. I was also blown away by being (along with all the other kitchen helpers) thanked personally by the Queen and given a little tin of home-made, period hand balm. I've been using it on my hands and elbows since I've got home, and it's great. Another moment in which I was just so glad to be a part of the SCA.

After dinner we cleared the hall and Mistress Judith lead the willing through a couple of hours of dancing. My feet and legs are still sore three days later (thin jazz slippers on stone flagged floors? Not a great idea) but it was a fun, convivial time with lots of opportunities to mingle and dance with some new people. We weren't a-bed until 2am.

Sunday morning was a time of packing up and clearing out. The clergy of St Cross church traditionally offer the SCA pilgrims the opportunity to attend the Sunday services in garb, and myself and two other girls took them up on it this year. The congregation seemed equally bewildered and delighted to see three gowned, veiled girls at the back of their church! For me as a churchgoer it was rather strange and wonderful to combine my love of the Anglican church with my favourite leisure activity. Communion in garb was quite the experience!

After church the moments ticked down towards the farewells. Before we knew it we were saying our farewells and being ferried to bus and train stations. And the train whisked me back to London, the modern day and reality.

Torn in Half

This evening I went to the Newcomer's Feast, which will probably be my last SCA event in Aneala (aka Western Australia). I leave in 8 weeks and although there's a couple of events between now and then, I either can't go or they're not major ones.

I had a wonderful time, but after court was closed I got a heavy, sad feeling and although I would normally stay to help clean up, I realised that bailing before bawling is usually the best option. The tears started on the way to the car and lasted most of the way home. I'm feeling a little better now that I'm home and out of my very warm bliaut and showered and in comfy clothes, but I can feel that the tears are still lurking. One of the GPYP tenets is to give sorrow words, so this is me, wording my sorrow.

I have made a whole lot of wonderful friends in the SCA here in Perth. I love the way they play the game, and although I'm still a newcomer and still feel on the outre at times, there are some people with whom I've developed great bonds and friendships, and whom I will miss dreadfully when I leave.

I know I need to go and I would regret turning away and never having the wonderful experiences that are waiting over the horizon in the UK. I need to do this, and yet part of me thinks I'm incredibly stupid to be taking my life apart. Bits of it didn't work at all, but other bits work very well and I feel awful leaving them behind.

I want to be in two places at once, and I can't, and right now I feel like it's tearing me into two pieces.

I also feel lonely at the moment. I watch and admire and adore the couples in good, healthy relationships - I can see pretty clearly which ones are and aren't, these days - and I want that. I know I'm supposed to be building my life and being whole and happy by myself, but sometimes I just want someone else to share things with. I know it will come in time, and I should enjoy the moment, but I right now I'm just impatient. I want real love, and I want it now, damn it.

I'm sure tomorrow I'll get up and go on, but tonight my spirit is sore.

Giving and Getting

I was reading an "agony aunt" type blog today in which the original correspondent had asked whether she should feel guilty about refusing a charity donation request at work.

The blog writer acknowledged that we are allowed to be choosy about when and where we donate. But then she went off into a long, passionate exposition about the difference between keeping our own money for our needs, and depriving others of the basic needs of life for the sake of our wants. She reminded the readers that we are hugely affluent compared to the vast majority of the world's population, and we should be grateful and humble and giving, not constantly blowing all our money on the latest 'thing'.

One burning burst of guilt later, I now have a World Vision sponsor child. I've been meaning to do it for ages but have never quite got around to it - you know? But I have no excuse. I have the money, I have a computer, it only takes a few minutes. So I made myself do it. My sponsor child is a 5-year-old girl from Sri Lanka.

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I got all of my readers and unit info for my three classes this week. All three have exams, which will be all sorts of exciting as I'll be in London by the time exam week rolls around. I'm going to email the three tutors and introduce myself so that they know well in advance what is going on!

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I'm currently suffering terrible headaches due to a prodigious set of neck & shoulder muscle cramps. I've been to the physio today ("... you've made a real mess of this, haven't you!" he said) and I'm going back on Friday. Unfortunately it's being caused by the register work, and I can't afford to give that up so I'll just have to keep treating it for the time being.

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This weekend I have a Saturday off finally, and I'm spending it sewing my latest bliaut and helping my friend L sew her first ever garb. Should be fun!