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The people watching is the best part of the festival. While we walked and walked and walked we saw people with tails and chainmail and scantily clad women and a guy dressed as Sauron and pirates and a man in a pink tutu and boys with swords and staffs and girls in big fluffly crinolines and wenches singing bawdy songs about cocks and legs and a very elderly Robin Hood with his Maid Marian and very small children with butterfly wings and fluffy dragons. We ate meat pies and lamb on a stick and cinnamon almonds and chocolates, drank beers and blackberry mead and old old port in a little glass.

We had Christmas there, with a beautiful leather hat for Alan and a nifty green leather satchel for me. Green seems to be our color. Our costumes were complimented and one woman wanted to have her picture taken with Alan. We saw Dead Bob and the jousting. I backed the French knight because I loved his arrogance and his accent, though he lost and I was sad. We walked in the garden and I never ever wanted to leave. In the dark it was the most magical thing, while pirates ran around.