kareina

Someone asked in the laurel forum what we want to see in a candidate. I managed to distill my reply to one compound sentence, so am sticking it here for posterity.

I want to see a candidate who so loves their art that they have thrown themselves into it with enthusiasm, eagerly learning as much as they can on the topic, applying what they have learned to create beautiful and/or useful things so that others feel inspired thereby, who has been doing their art for long enough to do it very well, is able to teach it and talk knowingly about it, but also knows when to do other things, so that they have not crossed the line into burning themselves out on it.

This weekend I flew to the UK for the Flintheath Yule Ball. I wound up taking a late Thursday evening flight because it was the fraction of the cost of flying on Friday. Besides, a Friday flight, unless it were quite late in the evening, would mean not being able to work on that day anyway, given the amount of time it takes to get to the airport used by RyanAir in this area. I left home a bit after 18:00, got some exercise doing the 30 minute walk to the Centrale Station (and was very pleased that unlike the week before it wasn't raining) and caught the bus to the airport. Since I'd been fighting off a case of the sniffles I spent much of the 1 hour bus ride sort of napping, as rest is the best way to vanquish such tiny invaders. It turns out that I could have waited longer before starting my journey; the flight was delayed by an hour. As a result I didn't land and clear customs till after 01:30. I am ever so grateful to the event autocrat's husband, who was willing to pick me up at the airport that late and night, and to both of them for the comfort of a warm guest bed in which to sleep for the remainder of that night.

The phrase "clear customs" is such an innocent looking term for what turned out to be( unexpectedly stressful. )

I slept very well Thursday night. My hosts live in a small village near Cambridge, and it was quiet and the room, which faced the back yard, was nice and dark. I so want to live somewhere that isn't a city. Even though my hearing problem means I don't really *notice* the sounds of the city, I sleep much better when I am not in one.

Friday morning I helped them load the car and take stuff to the event, and spent a chunk of the afternoon doing useful tasks in the kitchen in prep for feast cooking the next day. The hall had been cold when we arrived, so we turned on all of the heaters, and while I was working I was nice and warm. However, in the evening, once people started arriving, and I changed out of my sweaters into my short linen tunic over the linen trousers I was wearing (when one flies carry-on only one doesn't have room for two underdresses, so I opted to save the dress for Saturday and go with an informal look for Friday), and after an hour or so of sitting still doing textile stuff with her Highness of Insulae Draconis I was feeling kind of cold, so she took pity on my and loaned me a wool tunic belonging to His Highness.

During evening court the main reason (even more than the fact that the event was a dance ball) for my journey was announced. For those not interested in following a YouTube link--the video is an exert from court when they called forth those of us who are members of the Order of the Laurel, and bid us to go forth and fetch the candidate that he could be sent to keep vigil before joining the order. I knew the candidate from Lochac--he was the first Crown of Lochac to whom I swore fealty, and is a person whom I admire and respect. When I heard that he would be admitted to the order for his skill in cooking and his research in period cooking, I resolved to attend his elevation if I could. His wife has long been a member of the order for her scribal arts, and had asked that he not be warned in advance. Indeed, as can be seen from his expression when they choose him, we were successful in keeping the secret, and he was surprised to be the one we were seeking.

I was very pleased that the sniffles I'd had on Wednesday and Thursday had cleared up by Friday, so I was able to enjoy the event without being troubled with any symptoms of ill health, and I hope that means I also wasn't contagious. I certainly made the effort to wash my hands often to avoid spreading it if there was anything left of the sniffle-causing germs.

Saturday during the day there were a variety of classes offered. I heard some of the bell-ringing lecture, since it was held in the main hall, and I attended the tapestry-weaving class. The teacher provided us with sturdy cardboard "looms". The top and bottom edges were cut in a saw-tooth pattern, permitting us to wrap the warp threads around the cardboard to do small test weaving projects. Alas, there were so few threads that it was difficult to actually do good patterns, but it gave a good idea of the technique. After I'd strung up and started weaving a narrow band she mentioned that with such card set ups some people choose to do the weaving in the round on such cards, using both the warp on the front and the back of the cards for a single project, resulting in a useful pouch. I wish she have suggested that before I started, I probably would have done so for my first piece, since I prefer to make only useful objects. Oh well, I suppose I could fold the tiny thing I did weave into a tiny, if funny looking, pouch (sewing the sides shut) if I wanted.

The feast was held almost early enough that I could have eaten some of it--with food actually being served at 18:30. However, knowing that I don't eat in the evening, the cook had invited me to come in early and test stuff, so I was fed before the meal started. I really recommend her hazelnut, leak, and bulger wheat dish. This time I didn't wind up serving feast--instead I did my yoga during the first part of it, and then hung out with some of the people I'd met. The meal was over and the tables cleared away for the dance ball to begin at 20:30, and I danced pretty much non-stop till the dancing ended somewhere close to midnight. After dancing I went and packed my back-pack, since I knew that I had to leave for the airport at 04:00. When I went back downstairs I was delighted to find people sitting on the couches singing songs, and I happily joined them. The singing lasted till around 02:00, and ranged through many different styles, from "traditional", to SCA filks, to period songs. I knew a really high percentage of the songs already, since so many of them are sung at SCA events in other Kingdoms.

Once the singing ended there were only a couple of hours more before I had to leave for the airport, so I stayed up talking to the handful of folk who were still awake, and did some more yoga, since my legs were starting to protest having spend much of the day dancing (during the classes) and much of the evening as well (during the ball). I'm glad I did, because by the time I finished the yoga they didn't hurt any more, and didn't bother me again.

I am most grateful to the autocrat's husband for being willing to return me to the airport so early--he'd been sensible and went to sleep fairly early, and got back up for our 04:00 departure. The return flight departed on time, and wasn't full, so I was able to lay down across three seats and sleep. I slept deeply until the flight attendant woke me so I could sit up and lower the arms between the seats for landing. She apologized for doing so, but when I looked out the window and saw the display of the Alps below me I commented that the sight was worth waking up for! And it was. Makes me wish I hadn't sept for the whole flight, it would have been nice to have seen more of them--we must have been flying over them for a while, since we were pretty much past them and over the flat part of northern Italy by the time I woke up.

This time, rather than taking the bus from the Bergamo airport to Milano Centrale Station I opted to take the local bus to the town of Bergamo and the train from there to Milan. This was a huge savings in money--the train is about half the price of the bus, and, once I was in Milan, made for a faster walk home, as I could get off the train at the Lambrate station, which is only a 15 minute walk from my house, rather than the full 30 to 40 (depending on how many people are also on the side walks at the time) it takes from Centrale. Alas, it more time overall, since I just* missed a train, and the next one was an hour later. However, the next train was at the platform when I went over to it, so I was able to lay down and go back to sleep well before we departed. Unfortunately, that train wasn't exactly heated, so I was feeling a little cold by the time I woke up when we approached Milan, despite not having taken off my coat etc. However, the short walk home warmed me nicely, and the hot shower when I got there finished the job.

Can I tell you how much I will miss the shower at my apartment? It has amazing water pressure, and the hot water heater is good--it heats the water so hot that it is necessary to add some cold to the mix in order to take a shower. This was so welcome after taking a shower at the event site, where the water heater is set cooler for reasons of safety. As a result I took my shower with the water set to the hottest possible setting and it still wasn't as hot as I wanted it. It was warm, but not hot.

In other news, there was one other misadventure on the outward bound journey. As I always do when flying I went to the restroom and emptied the water out of my backpack, and put the empty bladder back into the correct compartment of my pack before going through security. However, once I'd cleared security and went to re-fill the bladder there was a hole in it, near the bottom of the bag, that resulted in it gushing water out of it in a very steady stream. Yikes! I briefly considered going in search of some tape to seal the hole, then realized that being at the bottom of the bag the pressure would result it in leaking no matter what, which would be all bad. So in stead I purchased a bottle of water to take with me, and I will have to replace the bladder as soon as I can get to the right sort of store. I am pretty certain I know what caused the hole, though I can't check, since I tossed the damaged bladder into the trash at the airport, figuring that the pack would be that much lighter without it, and no point in keeping the bad one.

The pack I have is a Camelbak brand, and their water reservoirs come with a hook next to where it opens for refilling. The hook attaches to a loop in the pack, to keep the bladder distributed across the full space of the compartment, rather than letting it sink down to the bottom. However, the hook on mine had broken off while I was at the Textile forum back in October, and ever since then I've been tying it into place with a bit of string. When I emptied the reservoir at the airport I folded it in half to quickly shove it back into the compartment, rather than trying to work the empty reservoir into a full pack. Therefore the broken end where the hook used to be must have come in contact with the bottom of the reservoir, and the pressure of being carried, or perhaps putting the pack down when I went through security was enough to puncture the reservoir.

*just missed = walked up and touched the closed door on the train, only to have the train start moving instead of opening the door.