Dressing up

So, yeah, this re-enactment we went to the other week.  That was fun.

It's been a fair few years since we gave all that malarky up and sold all our kit off, but we'd been asked to go along and take part in some specific activities* with some mates, so we rejoined on a weekend membership and hoved off to Cheriton to camp for the weekend.  I say "camp."  What I actually mean is "share a rather fine motorhome with our kind mates."  There was no crawling around in small, damp tents for us that weekend, oh no indeedy.   

It was a multi-period event, so there were lots of different people in many different uniforms.

Medieval.

French Napoleonic.

British Napoleonic.

Blokes on horses.

With sabres.

Corsairs. NOT pirates, they were most emphatic about that.

Second World War types.

English. 

German.

And of course English Civil War.  Dashing, no?

My personal favourite was the little vintage "pub" that was set up in a sort of wooden framed tent, run by the WW2 chaps.  Mmmm whisky.  It's a bit blurry because I turned the flash off for Atmosphere.  They had a sign on the wall saying that due to a nearby broken gas pipe, no-one could smoke, which I thought was a clever touch. 

What was particularly interesting was that while it was lovely to see old friends, and catch up on people that I ordinarily only chat to via Facebook, at no point did I think "I wish I was still involved in all this."  I was perfectly happy to sit on my comfy camping chair, reading my book** in the shade, while most of the others rushed around in the boiling sun in layers of heavy woollen clothing, doing drill for hours, or queueing up to collect gunpowder, or marching off to the battlefield. 

It also made a pleasant change to come home from a re-enactment with no injuries, other than some mild sunburn on my shins.  Mmmm, attractive. 

 



*Swordfighting, to be precise. 
**Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell - bloody marvellous.  Read it immediately.