Week Five: The Medieval Banquet

For one night only, I was Lady Jo. That’s right… a LADY. No burping, belching, snorting or farting. No jokes about boobs, bums, or bits. I laughed delightfully at appropriate intervals, and maintained a polite interest in the 40 head of cattle owned by the sweaty, red faced man sitting next to me. ’40 head. You DON’T say?’

My saving grace was the rather fortifying mead served in giant stone carafes. Thank god for the mead. A few glasses of the stuff, and voile!!- I’m a Lady… or maybe by then I was more of a Laydee. My snooty accent suffered somewhat, a side effect of the slurring no doubt. ‘I’m Laydeeee Joe. From Ooostraylya.’

Mead aside, I was a perfect model of decorum. The very essence of respectability and decency. Just the right amount of snootery and haughty-taughtiness to be unlikeable in the most agreeable way. The Ladies of yesteryear would have been applauding me with their white gloved fingertips clapping together in tightly reigned abandon.

Oh- I have also included a photo of the Castle’s butler, who wears VERY funny pantaloons. Check it out.

The next night, we were peasants. We ate in the corn barn with the dregs of society (no acting needed for this one) and again, we indulged in large amounts of mead. Both dinners were great, with singing, dancing, poetry and general merrymaking. Eating with cutlery was a big no-no and only a ‘dagger’ was provided to stab your meat. Apart from that, you had to tear your food apart and eat with your bare hands. Uncouth I know, but wonderfully liberating! Even ‘Lady Jo’ savoured the experience, in her own snotty-nosed way.
Next stop… the little town of Knock, County Mayo… where a HUGE surprise awaits.