One rather solemn duty was firing a salute over a civil war veterans final burial (he had been killed at Chancelorsville, as I recollect, and he was given a hasty burial when he was killed, dug up years later, and the bones shipped back to his family. The GAR had planned to bury him at some point, but due to some error the old fellows bones ended up in the attic of the old GAR post, until they were discovered in 1996, and the State decuded to give him a burial with full military honours - as I mentioned, we fired the salute for the ceremony, and went out of our way to be done up proper for the occasion, in full ceramonial attire. The burial took place on Memorial day (it may have been Veterans day, it was almost a decade ago now), as I recall

- Enter an insane woman. While we were waiting to preform the ceremony (the locsal press was there, of course as well as local officials and politician, the ceremony was well-publicised in the press at the time), nattily dressed in our circa 1860's togs, with white cotton dress gloves, saber belts sabers and all, a hysterical woman approached us, offended to the point of outrage - for what reason, we could not tell immediately.

The insane woman (I can only assume she had at least one screw loose), was pointing at this elderly Second World War veteran, wearing his overseas cap, and placing a wreath on the monument to the war dead of the town in the Second World War "Make him stop doing that!" she demanded of me. "This is supposed to be the burial of the Civil War soldier!" At which point I addressed her politiely "Ma'am, that man is a Veteran of the Second World War, and this is Memorial day, and he is honouring his fallen comerades, which he has every right to do, and is fitting and proper, and he has the right to do it without being bothered by some crazy person. Besides, I have no authority, and I wouldn't stop him if I did. I'm a reenactor, not a police officer - go ask one of the cops to do it, I'm sure he will be very willing to oblige your request".

At that point, exit the lunatic in a huff. Nobody of course interrupted the gentleman, and she apparently thought better of asking one of the police officers to interfere - she would have likely been addressed by them far more roughly tham I did, and probably realised that.

As PT Barum (well, him or Canada Bill Jones) once said "Nobody ever went broke underestimating the stupidity of the American public."

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Anyhoo, back on the "Traditions" thread...

Historical Seasonings

It just isn't "over the fire" cooking without ash sifting into the soup, scraping the soot off of your dropped sausage, or (if you are horsey) alfalfa flakes (unused or ABC) sprinkled on your porrige. If you have to deal with the public, you are required to have at least one surley teenager watch you stir a dusting of ash into the beans and say "Ew! I wouldn't eat that!" To which you might reply, "Then you'd have been a mighty hungry brat back then."

Nobody cooks from scratch anymore. I've deduced this from numerous encounters with big-eyed infants asking me what in the world I'm doing as I chop carrots/onions/whatever, as though they've never seen such alchemical procedures before. "What are you doing?" they ask, breathlessly. "I'm making supper." "But it's only 4:00!" "Well, it's going to take awhile to cook." They leave, aghast that civilization survived at all under such dreadful conditions.

The other question is, "Are you going to eat that?" To which you might answer, as I once did, "No. I'm going to prep and cook all day and then throw it in the fire."

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[ 08-29-2005: Message edited by: Martin ]

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I kid you not.

The Faire denizen corrected her and explained that houses were actually quite prevalent in Merrie Olde England, then checked herself and asked the woman how long ago she thought "back then" was, at which point the visitor's son chimed in, "Mom! You know, like Xena times!"

I hope the Ren Fairy tipped the visitor for providing much-needed entertainment on a hot day.

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The Patriotic Prat
Usually weighs in at 18 stone and will sing his Land of my Fathers, Flower of Scotland ...

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Originally posted by Seth:
[b]The Overbearing (insert religion here).
Will walk around the camp you have made and Look at everything. Then become exceptionally offended by the fact that you have a cross on your rosaries, or are cooking pork, or cooking meat on a sunday (isnt it eating it on a sunday thats not allowed?) or that you are saying Grace at a meal. This person may go from tutting all the way to trying to stop you doign that activity, or in one case vomiting over said pork. Tends to be either a younger teen or someone around the ages of 40-45. ay be an offshoot of: [QUOTE] The Patriotic Prat
Usually weighs in at 18 stone and will sing his Land of my Fathers, Flower of Scotland ...

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At which point a woman asked "So what did the Protestants wear then?"

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Martin

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quote:

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The Faire denizen corrected her and explained that houses were actually quite prevalent in Merrie Olde England, then checked herself and asked the woman how long ago she thought "back then" was, at which point the visitor's son chimed in, "Mom! You know, like Xena times!"

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The Mercenary Group

A well-known phenomena. This group is made up of (poorly dressed) nobles who each have wandered all over Europe (usually in full plate) and ended up in England, although nobody can tell how. They have a marked tendency to own kit that can't be provenanced for any period, something they are very touchy about.

Which leads onto...

The Badly Dressed Group

The person who has come claiming to be a leper. This doesn't stop them being armed with a hand-and-a-half of course. When they actually do get treated like a leper, they leave the group in a huff. No great loss.

The Back-Stabbers

Both of these happen to me every event I attend.

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Originally posted by Charles I:
How about...
[b]The "Cling-On"-- The obnoxious teenager who latches on to you because suddenly you are cool. He follows you everywhere and continually prattles on about utterly meanigless stuff.
[/B]

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Oh I know him - they seem alright at first, but are still hanging around the campsite two hours later asking completely inane questions.

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The Fourteen Pound Sword Guy -- He gives you grief about how your sword isn't right because it is too light and pulls out a sword that would make Conan cringe. He tells you that his is right because it is heavier (you know, all swords take 10 minutes to draw back for a swing).
or

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Possibly the worst archer you have ever seen. Whenever someone wins an archery competition, he is first to go and lecture them on how to use a bow properly, despite being knocked out in the first round.

Snoring Loudly

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The Archer
Possibly the worst archer you have ever seen. Whenever someone wins an archery competition, he is first to go and lecture them on how to use a bow properly, despite being knocked out in the first round.

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For the past five years we have spruced up our camp with a pair of imitation roosters (capons, one would presume as they're awfully peaceable with one another). We have up to ten tents, armor, banners, fire implements, and a twenty-foot tall trebuchet and the most fascinating part of the camp is the $15 fake roosters.

We have considered just setting up the roosters behind a set of ropes.

Can I Hit You In the Head?

Usually asked once every other year or so, by a drunk young man feeling his oats against a steel bascinet.

Yes, yes you can...

The Uninvited Neighbor

The drunk from across the street of one of our members who shows up and imposes himself.

quote:

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Originally posted by chef de chambre:
Those would be les barbarians (sauvages?) in le plateu Fantastique... The are often found in the company of zombies and vampires...

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At least they made the effort to separate them from us! Could you imagine the pike formation against the zombie horde? ...Shudder...

Unfortunately, they are as part of the "medieval" scene as we are, and we have to live with them somehow. Fantasy is what draws people into this game. The once that join our rank are those would get tired of it and want more out of the experience than plastic fangs and slashed fur coats.

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Originally posted by Charles I:
...wearing a kilt and calf high plainsman moccasins with an Errol Flynn shirt?

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Dat's der bunny.

Martin

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It is still a nice touch of the organisation to have physically separate the 2 crowds by more than curtains!

Back on topic:

Tha adventuring group. Consists of 5 or 6 15-year-olds, dressed in character, and being in-game from the moment they set foot in the park. They talk to each other in that wierd "play language" (you know what I mean...), and offer their help to rid the world of evil...

These guys showed up on our camp twice! Needless to say that the Burgundian Army has nothing to do with blond elves wearing electric blue nylon capes...

So, that is what is up with the kid in the wierd long unaturally blonde wig - I thought he was a person of confused gender, or a transvestite want-to-be! I didn't know he was supposed to be an elf. Got an involuntary shudder up the spine every time I saw him, although he seemed a nice enough kid.

The Fantastique barging through the camp was getting increasingly bad during the weekend - does anyone have a monks robe or clerical attire? I suggest that Saturday we sieze some of these chaps, arrest them, and hand them over to the "church" for a mock trial for witchcraft, heresy, and communing with the devil (hey, elf ears are obviously the sign of a demon).

That might be good for a laugh from the crowd, and interject some of the religious side of 15th century life.

When you guys come to our Calais event, you will have an all 15th century event, with naught an elf or zombie in sight.

What is up with that odd person running through the camp and being driven off (it seems to be part of an animation) ? I am never close enough, and my French being tres Mal is not enough to catch the gist of what is going on when people talk fast. Guy had a mask with horns.

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If we ever get this far I know a few people who would turn green of envy!

Martin

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