'Twas ineed a fine weekend for our fair city of Canterbury (KCRF); both days did grant blessings from above in the form of white cotton skies 'twixt us of the solid Earth and the e'erpresent sun.  Finer English weather we could have and not as on Saturday 'twas still a thin veil of fog upon the ground that did linger past the hour of the gates' opening.  Refreshing cool air and the slightest dash o' rain met us well indeed throughout the day.  On Sunday I did find the sky's blessings did come with no curse of rust, and fair clouds did linger o'er our festival, letting slip sunlight in naught but pleasant moments.

Sunday was also the first I did dare venture to add a chain shirt (30 extra lbs) under my normal garb.  The added weight was easily noticed and after the royal procession I did fear, in spite of fine weather, that my heart might fail me.  (For oft it does so on matters of the fairer sex.)  Yet it did remain true in matters of marching and bodily exertion.  I must add, howe'er, that the shirt did excellent well to mitigate the pinching and poking of plate corners to which I had become accustomed.

I admit some vexation that my cloak still had not been completed by the weekend, and that during Chess Match on Sunday my helm did fail me in a way most unexpected, but these were naught but skin on the pudding of a merry time.  I do think that the "wardrobe malfunction" of the helm, necessitating a minor deviation from the script, did detract not from the pageant.

Visitors to our city were mayhap a bit light in number, but enough to keep the streets busy.  Though 'tis true that I personally perfer the sparser crowds, also 'tis my wish that the faire itself gain the revenue it doth need to keep the gates open and lanes maintained for years to come.  Sunday morning I admit surprise to learn that I had been selected for a star (a formal recognition amongst the people of Canterbury to which I am nearly a stranger) for Saturday.  Also Sunday was mine own day for the distribution of favors among a select few of Canterbury I might call firends.  In mine own tradition, I limit favors to no more than a dozen per year, and oft do I find myself in the predicament of having more than so many good folk I wish to bestow favor upon.

As for everything else, life sucks.

Ever since sunday I've had a vandal breaking into my room (daily), breaking locks, and messing with random stuff, always while I was at faire or work.  Today I found out who it is (as if I didn't already know, and it's a damn shame I didn't have a tape recorder handy so I could have documented it in a way that would hold water in a courtroom).  I'm waiting for the * to do something bad enough to call the police about; correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like I heard a thief has to take $500 worth of stuff before it becoms a felony.  I imigine it's something similar for vandalism, ie. breaking $500 worth.  So far the worst thing (in material terms) the * has done is open the car's radiator valve so I did my commute to work (20+ miles both ways) spilling coolant.  Would that qualify?

For clarification, I refer to the person as an asterisk (*) as the name I would use, given the choice, is language I don't think the people who run Renspace would look well upon.  I hope I'm not crossing any lines with my liberal use of punctuation marks, but right now I'm in a mood where this is about as clean as my language will get.

Right now there isn't **** (different astrisk) I can do about it, as astrisk-one has the keys to the house.  And car, apparently.  Being in a perpetual tight financial spot I can't afford to live under my own roof (something I absolutely loathe) and the dumb*** running this place foolishly trusts astrisk-one.

OK, I suppose I should clarify that astrisk-one is 30+ years old and has 3 or 4 kids.  You'd think someone that far along in life would be a bit more mature.  You'd think.  (This is what you get when you give humans the benefit of the doubt.  But then, if I cease to give humans the benefit of the doubt, a unibomber-esque lifestyle begins to get more and more appealing.  Now that's a no-win situation.)  Well, it's technically dumb***'s car that astrisk-one sabotaged (as I lost my car in a freak hydroplaning accident in 2006), so if astrisk-one breaks it, I ain't the one paying the bill.  Maybe that'll teach dumb*** to be a bit more discerning in the future.

After faire days I'm always eager to go grab dinner with fellow cast members, even though I really don't have the budget for it.  Now maybe you begin to understand why.  I don't want to go back to this other life.  I hate it.  It's a dead-end existance where all I have to look forward to is drooling over an armor-working tool I won't be able to afford until probably next year, and finding out how some * has gone out of its way to screw me over this time.

I need a real job.  I've been doing this one for more than a year (longer than any of my college jobs); hopefully that'll be enough to have an employment history so I can go jobhunting after faire ends and be taken at least modestly seriously.

Sorry for venting there.  I know it doesn't make for the best reading.

Oh, two more straps broke on the armor.  (I've replace 5 already; replacing four in the arms with longer ones is the reason I now have enough room to wear the chain shirt under the plate.)  I haven't had a chance to get to those two since I've been dealing with setting my stuff straight after asterisk-one's continued malicious antics.  (Does anyone know how to make an IED booby trap for a door?  Preferably one that won't hurt cats?)

Hair update!

I wouldn't say I'm at the point where I have hair again, but I've grown a pretty substantial halo of fuzz.  Also, I now have visible if insubstantial eyebrows.  At this point, when I look into a reflective surface the voice inside me that freaks out at what is looking back is very quiet.  Still, I don't think I'll be truly used to being bald until after I have hair again.

Later.

We're less than a week away from the start of festival.  I'm busy trying to budget last-minute costume bits and getting all the final details done.  This is what it comes down to; all the dozens of promo hours spent baking in the July Sun in garb meant for winter, the thousand-dollar a year costume budget, the hour-long commutes to rehersals, and the million-odd minutiae I can't even remember.

Looking at the sunlight through the trees this morning I can't help but think of the same sun lighting the leaves of the trees at faire site before we open all those mornings as we hushedly try not to let the boss see that we're derssing during his meeting.  I think of the smell of dew and greenery on the wind, and wonder if the day will bring mud or dust.  I have to remind myself, on the drive to work, to not take the exit that leads to the festival grounds.  I need to go to work, I remind myself.  Work begets the money from which I pay for festival expenses.

Sometimes I wonder if I don't belong in that world, that of faire, more than I do in this one.

Rehersals for Chess Match are now underway, and I'm very pleased to be in on it this year. I played a fighting role in '04 and from that have a good deal of professional respect for our fight choreographers. Plus what they've done with my character is fun. I don't want to spoil anything, but anyone who has worn a Hound's Skull (aka. pig-faced bascinet) or other late-period great helm will recognize life imitating art.

For anyone who doesn't know (that is, anyone who doesn't go to KCRF), the Human Combat Chess Match is the most interesting chess game you'll ever see, or at least the most exciting. Chess pieces (like me, king's knight, black) fight for control of contested squares. The usual Chess Match team took a break last year, so I'm not sure there was a chess match. (Seems like I heard that Bawdily Harm did something to fill in the open spot, but I don't remember and could be wrong. I didn't see it as villagers are discouraged from watching shows. They might have had a kick-ass chess match without my knowledge, or they might have just danced jigs and thrown pies for half an hour.)

During rehersals we had a bit of trouble figuring out exactly who goes where, so when I went home I graphed out all the moves in the script, page by page. Mostly I just wanted to make sure I was in the right spot, but once I started I figured I may as well see the whole thing through. I don't know if that means I'm dedicated or just have no life outside faire. (Probably the latter.) But I now know how move notation works and can say where everyone should be at any point, down to the square's color. So, yeah. I really don't have a life.

-S

I'm new to this 'blog' thing and not exactly sure what I'm doing.  Seemed like a good idea.  The 'profile' editor lists all sorts of possible categories for 'purpose': networking, hookups, friends, et cetera.  There's no "no clue" box to check.

I imagine that if anyone reads this, it'll probably be someone I already know from KCRF, so I won't bother introducing myself in any detail.  Suffice it to say, yes, I'm the armored knight.  The first two years, '04 and '05, I protrayed a Royal Guard, rather sloppily due to a bad leg, and then was a rather insignificant scribe.  This'll be my second year as can-o'-man, starting over with a new name and single character status after then change in period from Elizabethan to Tudor. I like playing the steady, chivalrous knight (even though I have no talent for wooing) and woudn't mind settling into this role on a permanent basis, despite last year being almost ruined by some backstage drama with the actress playing my 'wife'.  (And, for the record, I still don't know what I ever did to her...)

And since I graduated college I have no life outside of KCRF, so there isn't much to talk about.

As far as what I've been up to lately, after going on two years of wearing and learning to maintain armour I'm finally getting into making it.  I have none of the pricey tools I need, so I'm trying to carve plates out of sheet steel with a hammer and chisel.  (That will sore your fingers after a while.)  When this piece is finished I'm to sell it for enough money to help buy a fancy cutting tool so I don't have to go through this again.  I'll have to sell it for less than what I'd like as I did screw up in a few spots already.

My ultimate goal is to make a living doing this, which I know is a fine idea in a recession.  I can't seem to get any other kind of decent work (currently working part time for ten bucks and change per hour), so I might as well try to be self-employed.  Maybe I should have tried to go for a marketable bachelor's degree rather than going for self-enrichment.  There's no money in being a better person.

-S, aka Baron Julian Wolfe