Med brinnande lunta...

All good things must come to an end

2010-07-16T08:24:00.003+02:00

As you may have noticed, I am no fan of Blogger. I will therefore move my blog to this adress:

www.indemejarecristi.wordpress.com. Be sure to update your links, and to tell all your friends.

Also, I have found a co-author - Maria. Hopefully this change will be for the better, with more posts, different subjects (not only boring museum reports) and a better blog interface for us as users and you as readers.

My report on our trip to Germany will continue there. Hopefully I will have enough time to write soon.

Thanks to all readers. I sincerely hope you will begin to read at www.indemejarecristi.wordpress.com. If you don't, I guess I'll see you on some battlefield ;)

Jungfruburen

2010-06-23T10:39:00.001+02:00

One of my favorite girls are blogging about Albrechts Bössor. I would like you all to have a look at Jungfruburen. Right now!

Finally finished

2010-06-07T22:10:00.002+02:00

Those gloves are finished. Both. The second one looks like the first one, although a bit better. I will never do it again if I can avoid it.

Hamburg

2010-05-22T22:49:00.007+02:00

When we were finished in Lübeck, we went to Hamburg. When we arrived we looked up our hostel, and then we were off to meet Thorsten Stoye - bagpipe maker extraordinary. That's where I collected the King of Noise. We had tea and talked about bagpipes for a while, and then we went back to Hamburg to meet our dear friends of Elvelüut Hamborch. They booked a table at the Gröninger Privatbrauerei and I can dearly recommend food, drink, company and service. We ate about five kilos of meat, had a good few beers and nearly fell asleep.

Next day it was time for one of our main goals - the

Hamburger Kunsthalle
Web: http://www.hamburger-kunsthalle.de/
Rating: 5/5

At the Hamburger Kunsthalle you can see two magnificent altarpieces by Meister Bertram van Minden, who died about 1415 or so. He was a master of his trade and very well known; his will has even survived to our days. He worked at different places in middle- and northern Germany. His style is to a great extent naturalistic and he spares few details. His works are a goldmine for any late 14th century reenactor. There were also some other interesting pieces but I was tremendously impressed by Meister Bertram's sculptures and painting. We had no problems taking photos there, even with a tripod.

Next stop was
Hamburg Museum
Web: http://www.hamburgmuseum.de/index2.html
Rating: 2/5

This museum is a good one in general, but the medieval section is way too small and poorly organized. Almost no datings exist, which means that you can never be certain if a certain artefact is interesting for you. I was a bit impressed by pretty cool weapons, and I liked the fact that we got to take photos - although without tripod - but otherwise I was disappointed.

Blogger is in deep trouble

2010-05-07T19:08:00.001+02:00

I am very close to leave Blogger for something else. I really, really hate working with pics here. There is a good name for it in Swedish: Användarfientligt.

Lübeck churches

2010-05-05T20:49:00.008+02:00

And now - time for the Lübeck churches.

We started with Marienkirche - a huge brick church.

Marienkirche
Web:
Rating: 3/5

This church is awesome in its own respect. As a building it is magnificent, and we were breathtaken. There is absolutely no doubt about the might and importance of the Hansa cities - most Swedish churches are tiny in comparison. When it comes to late 14th century art, the church has little to offer however. The only thing we stumbled across was a tucked away effigy of Bruno von Warendorp. He died in 1369 after a battle in Helsingborg in south Sweden.

Lübeck Dom
Web:
Rating: 3/5

The Lübeck cathedral is packed with cool art. However this was a first premonition of what the trip was going to be like: we found oh so pretty altar pieces dated to the 1420's - too late for us but splendid in detail and technique. The church is worth a closer look just because it's so nice.

There were loads of other churches. We visited a few, but generally they were of little interest for the late 14th century nerd. It also seemed one of our goals for the trip, Katharinenkirche, was closed. Too bad, but it gives us a reason to come back again.

May I present - The Lübeck Museums!

2010-05-02T16:04:00.012+02:00

First of all, a bit of general info.

The trip lasted three whole days, and there is loads of stuff to mention about it, but I'll just mention the best stuff. Plus, I'll write a short review about each of the places we visited. And there will be pics!

We travelled like this:

Rostock > Lübeck > Hamburg > Wismar > Bad Doberan > Greifswald > Stralsund > Rostock. We travelled a bit further than necessary - we "missed out" Bad Doberan and Wismar on our way to Hamburg and went more or less the same way back - all because it was too early in the morning for anything to be open. We used that time to travel instead, and arrived in Lübeck in good time to have breakfast and to check out where the museums were situated.

And now - get ready for museums (close your mouths, you nerds!)!

Lübeck
Lübeck has, as far as I know, three museums of interest for the medieval reenactor, plus loads of churches, but let's begin with the museums.

Burgkloster Museum
Web: http://tinyurl.com/382dz8c
Rating: 5/5

This museum is one of the best museums I have ever been to. And I have been to many, believe me... I believe there is only one museum I visited that can match it. The collections were very nicely displayed, there were loads and loads of artifacts, well preserved and interesting. The pottery nerd will have his fill - they have an entire floor just packed with pottery of different types in near mint condition. All of us were stunned if not to say over-excited, and we left the museum exhausted but happy. The museum is situated in an old monastery with some wall paitings and sculptures, which are also very nice indeed. This is a must see!

Holstentor Museum
Web: http://tinyurl.com/39doukt
Rating: 3/5

The Holstentor Museum is cool in its own respect, as it is in fact a gate house of the old city wall. The building is intriguing really. But then it's not so cool anymore, at least not if you are into the latter part of the 14th century. The only thing that saves the museum from a 2/5 rating is the gambeson on display. It's from the 1430-ies if I am not mistaken, but it can nevertheless teach us a lot about gambeson construction.

Kunsthalle St Annen
Web: http://tinyurl.com/3767j5h
Rating: 4/5

This museum of art contains smashing examples of naturalistic, beautiful and very interesting art. I believe I have never seen a cooler altar piece, plus there is some very well preserved chests and some decent art in general. But the altarpiece is some work of art. The only problem is that it is dated to 1405, which puts it out of reach for us... The museum as a whole is very well worth a visit.

Independent

2010-04-25T07:10:00.004+02:00

In Albrechts Bössor we have the ambition to use sources between 1364-1389. It is a rather exact time frame, but it has to do with the reign of the king - he sat on the throne between those years. It is also a nigh impossibility. It's not much more than 20 years, and when it comes to most sources they are not dated as exactly. Normally you will have to do with "latter part of the 14th century" or if you are lucky "the third quarter of the 14th century". To put it short: we use sources from the latter part of the 14th century, but aim for sources 1360-1390.

And we SHOULD use sources from Scandinavia or Germany only. It is hard and sometimes frustrating work. Until a couple of years ago I mainly used French sources for a lot of things. You guys on the continent may well frown and ask yourselves "Why French sources? It is totally wrong!". You are right there. My big problem has been that my German hasn't been good enough to work with German sources (don't ask me how I could find French ones - I have absolutely no idea what so ever how I managed as I don't speak a word French).

Now a days I can manage pretty well, as I used my German to find out stuff and as I made new friends in Germany. And that means that a whole new world has opened up for me, especially when it comes to historical recordings, as for instance Urkundenbücher - books that describes this and that from various areas or cities. I estimate that about 70% of medieval German is so similar to Swedish that I can read it without any greater efforts. Sometimes I miss out on details, but most of the time it's not a big deal.

So far so good. Here come the next problem. We also have an aim to use two or more sources that are independent from each other (unless we are making exact copies - that is rare). That means that it doesn't count to use the same altar piece or manuscript (for example) twice when you are reconstructing something. You can't have two pictures of a similar jacket from the same manuscript and say that they are two sources. It is one and the same.

It is also a question of how meticulous you should be - is it two different sources if you find two sculptures on different geographical locations, where one is made in the 1370's and the other made circa 1380 - by the same sculptor? I am not entirely sure - all it tells us really is a single person's interpretation of the same object. It is really a git.

To summarize:

- Use two sources independent from each other.
- Use sources only from Scandinavia and Germany.
- Use sources from between the years 1364-1389.

In practice I don't believe that anyone in the group has really managed to complete an outfit within these boundaries, but never the less - that is the ambition.

However. Our German trip was part of an elaborate scheme. Me and the new guy Kristofer decided that we were going to be the first to do it. Better still - we aimed for a time frame of 1370-1380 and a geographic limitation of cities in the vicinity of the Baltic sea. And we really thought we were able to succeed.

We started out with Internet research. I asked around on forums and we browsed thousands of pictures in for example www.bildindex.de to get a grip of which cities could have the most interesting churches and museums. I searched the part west and northwest of Lübeck. Kristofer searched the area to the east of Lübeck. We limited ourselves to go no further south than Hamburg. My parts seemed to be of little interest in comparison, so we chose the Meckleburg-Vorpommern area.

Before long we had found enough places to put together a crazy research trip that was planned by the minute - eat, sleep, travel, visits. And by the look of it, we should have enough sources from 1370-1380 to succeed! We set out with great hopes, Thursday the 1st of April, and drove our car on to the ferry 22:45. We rolled onto German soil in Rostock 06:30 in the morning the 2nd, and set out for our first goal - Lübeck.

Why so German?

2010-04-23T20:10:00.002+02:00

First of all I would like to explain why I have been going on outings to Denmark and Germany. After all, I do reenact Swedish 14th century, not German and Danish. Yeah, that's right.

But. Swedish 14th century reenactors (really most Swedish reenactors that reenact anything else than the 18th century and onwards) are having a bit of trouble.

- The Royal library burned down in the late 17th century (1698). The oldest (i.e. the medieval) accounts were stored in the back, and weren't saved. Almost all medieval archives went up in flames that horrid night.

- The reformation was particularly ruthless up here. It was backed up by the sly and hard nosed king Gustav Wasa and loads of accounts were destroyed along with monasteries, churches and church art.

- During the Black plague (that reached Sweden in 1350) about 1/3 of the population died. And in a country the size of Sweden with about 1 million inhabitants, the blow was fearsome. There was hardly anyone left to build churches or to decorate them. And after the plague came the agrarian crisis...

- Sweden was a bit backwater by the time. For instance, we had very few knights, and the concept of effigies was little known. We had few mighty cities and as we were situated far in the north, influences from mainland Europe took time to establish themselves. What is left of church art during the 14th century is for the most part kind of crude and poorly kept.

These are some of the reasons for my fascination in German and Danish sources. We simply don't have enough Swedish sources to work with when it comes to art and litterature (I can think of one single manuscript from 14th century Sweden that is adorned with miniatures).

Another reason is that we had lot of contact with both Danes and Germans. Particulary German merchants were abound in Swedish cities - it is even stated in laws from the time that a city can have no more than three German mayors - if there were more, the Germans would have too much influence. Also, in the mountain regions lots of German miners came to lead and develop mining. During the latter half of the 14th century even more Germans came. Sweden had seen German nobles before, but during this time I would estimate that the German nobles were nearly as many as the Swedish - they followed King Albrecht from his homelands in Mecklenburg to be in his service and to receive estates and wealth. Some names of these are Vicke von Vitzen, Rawen von Barnekow, Heyne and Gerhard Snakenborg and Heinrich Parow (the last mentioned is a bloody traitor, but that is a different story :-)).

A third reason is that the guys in Albrechts Bössor reenact so called "Garpar". A Garp is a word with the meaning "a person that is a real pain in the ass". It also means "German person" or "Person of German ancestry". In other words - we reenact German or Swedish/German mercenaries serving the German elite in Sweden, including King Albrecht, who was a duke of Schwerin (and Rostock, I believe).

There you have it. This is why I am so German. I will tell you more about the circumstances under which I try to do research some time in the near future.

Pitiful contributions

2010-04-22T08:08:00.002+02:00

I haven't written for quite some time. Work is really a git, and I am still up to my ears in that divorce. Nevertheless. I will soon give you full accounts on the German trip, plus our blackpowder course with test firing. Stay tuned!

Enough said...

2010-04-06T11:00:00.000+02:00

...The king has arrived. I posted some notes on this earlier. Look here.

The trouble will be to make it sound right, without freaking out the neighbors...

Look here Isis!

2010-04-05T17:03:00.003+02:00

I got something for you!

The noble woman Floria Sukow, 1385, Kloster zum Heiligen Kreuz, Rostock. I would say that is pretty much northern Germany...

Gauntlet #1

2010-03-17T10:25:00.005+01:00

Finally - pics of my gauntlet mounted on my leather glove! Enjoy!

Before and after.

The glove allows excellent movability...

...plus nimble-fingerness...

...and rock and roll!

Weekend

2010-03-15T17:22:00.003+01:00

This weekend I had quite the happening in my apartment. Some of our newer members, along with some veterans and friends from Fraternis Militia Carnis came to Växjö for a crafting weekend. It was mostly textile - I fixed up my worn out hose, there was naalbinding and embroidery going on and some distance away, in a workshop, some of the participants were working on reconstructions of Wisby gauntlets.

We had great discussions, worked with sources, made new patterns, had some beers and good food, and watched medieval themed movies. It was fantastic to have them all gathered, and I even got to started with my second glove for my gauntlets (which reminds me - this week I'll post pics on the finished one - I borrowed Roger's camera so now all I have to do is transfer the pics and write the blog post. Just you wait!

Frilled veils, 14th century, Northern Germany

2010-03-11T19:07:00.011+01:00

This one's for you, Isis!

------------
Hamburg, 1379
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Halberstad, 1376-1400
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Havelberg, ca 1400
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Mühlhausen, 14thC - OK, not really northern Germany, but somewhere in the middle.
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Mühlhausen, 14thC - OK, not really northern Germany, but somewhere in the middle.
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Crazy slow

2010-02-24T15:16:00.004+01:00

Hey hey.

Long time. This whole business with the divorce is grinding me down, and I do not often find the motivation to write. But I am still here, don't you worry. This spring I will start to post more frequent as I am feeling better and as various crafting projects start to come to an end. However, as soon as I can get hold of a camera (the-soon-to-be-ex-wife seems to have claimed our camera for herself) I will be posting proud pics of my first upgraded gauntlet.

I have had the gauntlets for three or four years, but they were mounted on a pair of makeshift workers gloves, and hence fitted kind of badly. I had very limited movability and they were sometimes seriously uncomfortable. Now, after tremendous effort, I have finally stitched the first tailored glove to fit one of my gauntlets. I am satisfied, more or less. It is my first glove, and it is a git to stitch gloves I'll tell you! But I'll tell you more as soon as I get pictures uploaded to the blog. Stay safe in the meantime!

What happens in Denmark...

2010-01-26T13:00:00.004+01:00

(This post might be a bit boring, as I am mainly listing different sites we visited. bear with me, please...)

In October, me Simon, Malin and Kristofer went to Denmark. I had planned a trip for a long time, and now it was finally time to make it. I put together a series of places I wanted to visit - churches and museums throughout the distant parts of Denmark, where you never really put your foot; normally us Swedes go to Copenhagen or just pass through Denmark to get to Germany. But now I felt it was time to really open my eyes to our neighbors and what they have to offer.

We started out at early evening and went across the bridge to Copenhagen, and just went on driving. We arrived at Louise and Mikkel about ten or so in the evening, and we were offered splendid food and as splendid drink. I guess you know by now, that I have been working as a chef, but I was truly impressed with Mikkels cooking. After dinner we sat doing stuff reenactors usually do when they meet; we were discussing crafts, showing of craft, telling stories and drinking beer. It was regular hygge and we really enjoyed ourselves.

It was so nice to finally meet Louise and Mikkel (and Simon); we've been reading each others blogs, chatting on Facebook and so on, but we have never met. It was truly a grand gesture of the, taking us in and letting us stay in their wonderful home. It's one of the things I appreciate the most with medievalism; people are hospitable and friendly to a great extent. You can always count on your fellow nerds! We haven't got around to it, but there is a simple gift for our hosts, to show our appreciation. Just you wait, guys! ;)

Next morning we started out early. We had a tight schedule. We were to visit the museum of Randers, the Cathedral of Århus, the museum and Cathedral of Odense, the church of Sorø abbey, the church in Højby, the church in Skamstrup, the Cathedral and museum of Roskilde and the National Museum in Copenhagen. This, plus travel time, was to be covered in two days.

We arrived in Randers, just to discover we were nearly two hours early - the museum wasn't open yet. We took a stroll in a nice town before we went to check on the exhibitions. The museum was really good, with quite a lot of artefacts. Some months have passed, so I can't really recall any favourites, but I remember I enjoyed it.

Before we left Randers we had lunch, and Simon thought it would be a good idea to put a sharp eating knife in my butt. I am not kidding you. My best trousers were pierced and it hurt like hell. It was of course meant as a joke, but I became really pissed off. We finished our meal, and I decided not to be grumpy - it was a silly thing to do, but it wouldn't help to be sour about it. So I cheered up and we went for Århus to visit a nice cathedral, but with no vivid signs of the 14th century (which makes it a dull spot :-))...

Next stop was Odense. We visited a newly opened medieval part of the city museum, but I must say that I was not impressed. They had a grand exhibition on iron age and viking age, but the medieval bit was really pitiful. Too bad. The cathedral wasn't very impressing either - at least not from a 14th century point of view - but it was chilling to se the remains of the murdered S:t Knud, which are on display in the crypt. At the same spot you can also admire the beautiful Ørnetæppet, a form of tapestry from the 11th century. On our way to the car we passed a bakers shop where we bought honningkage - honey cake (OK - this one says "merry christmas" but I couldn't find a better pic)

We left Odense, before agreeing that we wouldn't stay in the hostel there, and pressed on for Sorø. We were in luck, as it seemed the hostel wasn't really open this time of the year, but they had some kind of a party going on, which meant we could get accommodation anyway. We took the car to Sorø town center and bought a couple of bottles of Danish porter, which was excellent! And then we went to a restaurant, where I wasn't knifed, but instead had a great meal - a kind of Danish speciality called Stjerneskud (Shooting star). It's a fish dish, and I really enjoyed it. We had a quiet and nice time in Sorø that evening. We returned to the hostel to have some porter and some honningkage for dessert. After that it wasn't long until we fell fast asleep. I didn't sleep very well - it was kind of hot and stuffed in the room.

In the morning we went to Sorø again. We had a quick breakfast (on top of the car) with coffee and rolls with cheese, plus some yoghurt, while waiting in the morning mist for the church to open. We managed to get into the church, just 15 minutes before mass. We had a quick run through the magnificent church and took loads of photos of an effigy from our period, before we had to evacuate to leave room for the church goers. The effigy is kind of famous, as it shows a king and a queen, and the queen has a frilled veil, which is really cool.

Then we departed for Skamstrup and Højby. Louise had made arrangements with the caretakers of both churches, so we were welcome as soon as mass was finished. Both churches were amazing in their own respects. Perfectly good murals and frescoes from 1350-1380. It was pure joy to see. I will try to post pictures when I have time. I would say this was the best part of the trip. The pictures show male fashion and armour in great detail, and as such images from our cultural sphere is very rare, it was like manna from heaven for us! The colours and the people depicted seemed so vibrant and alive. I was quite taken by it; it really made my day, in spite of an annoying headache.

Next stop was Roskilde. It turned out that we couldn't get access to the cathedral as tourists, so we skipped it for a later date, and went to Roskilde city museum instead. I for my part, have visited the cathedral before, so I wasn't very concerned. Also, Roskilde is not very far from Malmö, so it gives us possibility to go back another day.

The city museum was a good museum with a decent collection of medieval stuff. I especially remember a cistern, a really cool one! Me and Kristofer had a handful of photos, but Malin was having a severe headache, and hence she and Simon went looking for painkillers, which I happily accepted when we got back to the car.

The trip was all but finished at the National Museum in Copenhagen, where we had a proper look (for the 10th time or so) and had loads of pics taken. We arrived in Malmö about 18:00, and that was the end of it. I had a pleasant time and got to know Kristofer a lot better, and I also had the chance to meet some of our Danish colleagues. Next time I will find new ways and new places to visit. Just you wait!

The green markings on the map show how far we really travelled. Louise and Mikkel live in a village south of Århus, and that's where we stopped before continuing to Randers. The orange markings show our route the second day, whereas the yellow markings show the third day's route.

03.50 in the morning

2010-01-02T21:03:00.003+01:00

It is pitch dark, but an eager moon lights the half metre snow I'm forcing my way through. I'm walking to Vigilia. It is bitter cold. I can't remember the last time it was as cold as it is this morning. The snow creaks under my feet, as I open the door to the chapel. I stomp my feet to rid them of the snow, and walk inside. It is warm. The smell of incense and burned candles has impregnated the room. I make the sign of the cross. Then I sit down on the murky green wooden bench and close my eyes. It is dark in the chapel. Only two candles light it. I am alone with my thoughts. I pray, silently, asking for blessings and protection for my family and my friends; even for those that people say would be my enemies.

Then one of the monks appear. He walks slowly round the room with a long match, lighting the candles. Soon, as the other monks enter the room, it is filled with soft candle light. It is still dark. Then the Vigilia suddenly begins.

Herre, hur många är inte mina fiender!
Många reser sig mot mig.
Många säger om mig: ”Det finns ingen frälsning för honom hos Gud.”

I read the words in my mind. I haven't yet learned the monotone chant. I think of what they mean, and I try to reach beyoind their apparent meaning.

Men du, Herre, är en sköld omkring mig.
Du är min ära, du lyfter upp mitt huvud.

My thoughts are drifting. I restrain them.

Jag ropar högt till Herren, och han svarar mig från sitt heliga berg.

I think again of the words. I think of the saints. I ask their help.

Jag lade mig och somnade, jag vaknade igen, ty Herren håller mig uppe.

I pray for forgiveness, strength, wisdom and courage.

Jag fruktar ej för skaror av många tusen,
som ansätter mig från alla sidor.

One of the brothers has started burning incense. Its grassy smell fills the air. I'm not sure if I like it or not.

Stå upp, Herre, fräls mig, min Gud!
Du slår alla mina fiender på kinden, du krossar de ogudaktigas tänder.

I decide I like the smell of the incense.

Hos Herren finns frälsningen. Låt din välsignelse komma över ditt folk!

I try to chant along, but there are no words from my mouth. I sit silent. The monks start their next psalm. It is early morning, and I am trying to get back on my feet.

Deserted?

2009-12-22T07:36:00.002+01:00

No. Just having a break. My real life has had a tremendous backlash, as my wife is divorcing me. My emotions plus practical limitations has made blogging harder. I will try to use some time in the near future to update you about what's happening and what the future looks like. Until then - Merry christmas and a happy new year.

Neulakko has risen from the grave

2009-11-06T08:01:00.003+01:00

Elina at http://www.neulakko.net, a fellow medieval blogger, suffered from a hacker attack some while ago. Everything turned out fine, apart from general confusion, and I just wanted to let you know that she's still there. If you haven't visited her blog, please do - I myself find it very interesting. It is written partly in Finnish and partly in English, so you should be able to understand it all.

Ronneburg - a magic tale

2009-11-05T21:20:00.000+01:00

It seems I am always a step behind when updating my blog. Life is chasing me from one strange experience to the next, and I hardly have any time to settle down. I am dead tired at the moment, yawning constantly, but this story must be told!

In september we finally got to visit the Ronneburg about 40 minutes drive from Frankfurt am Main in Germany. I dreamt about the place since last year - everyone talked about it. I just had to see it. This year it was time, and our good friends in MiM - lead by Ronnie and Constantin - had made a tremendous job organizing, lasting months before the event took place. I reckon a great number of the MiMs were involved in planning and execution of the event: http://www.14tes.eu/

Generously enough, they invited the whole of the company, and at first there were many of us planning to go, but as the event drew nearer, more and more decided to step down. In the end, we invited friends from Fraternis Militia Carnis to fill the ranks. Carl and Guffe decided to join, and the three of us went by plane from Gothenburg, after quite a drive from Växjö. Alex, Johan and Simon went by car with our equipment.

We were picked up at the airport by Constantin, who was good enough to drive us all the way to the Ronneburg, and then he actually went back to Frankfurt to spend the night with his family. I was a bit touched - such hospitality and friendlyness I have seldom experienced. But the best part was really that he handed us a pilz, first thing when we got to the car. Ah! What a welcome!

After some time we could see the lights of the Ronneburg on a hilltop. It was a splendid sight, and as we parked the car, and hauled our packs up the pathway, through the first gate, I was astonished. Nowadays, I seldom have the feeling of "the middle ages". I have become blasé. Not much amazes me anymore - I have seen a lot of stuff, and experienced many things. But the lantern hanging in the passage outside the guard room gave me shivers down the spine - this WAS the middle ages, even though I saw that the lantern was an electric one. Johan met us half way, and greeted us. He showed us the way into the courtyard, and even before I was there, I felt confused and lost. We were shown to a room where we were going to sleep, and managed to arrange our stuff and make our beds. Then we had food and beer.

I met a lot of familiar people. Kyra, for example. She is really nice. And Anne from Nürnberg. Ages ago she sent me a CD with pics from Nürnberg, and I have yet to return the favor; I already fixed up a CD full of pics, but I never get along to posting it, and I forgot to bring it to the Ronneburg. Don't fret, Anne. You WILL get your pics.

I really can't remember if I went to bed early our late. Early, I believe, as we stood up early as well. We put our armour on, and started Swedish army gymnastics on the courtyard. We were looking for Lars, a young boy, as Johan said he needed the practice - his mother wanted to make a man out of him, and we were determined to try our best. But we just couldn't find him. We looked all over for him, and finally, we spotted him. He saw us first, and dashed to get to safety, away from burly, Swedish soldiers. Eventually we cornered him, and he promised to join us for morning gymnastics. When he came, we started out, lead by Johan.

It turned out, very quickly, that Johan wasn't 20 anymore, and that he hadn't in fact made any harder physical excercises clad in 14th century armour before - as soon as we started the pushups, he wilted and fell like a lump of dough. I tried my best. I think I managed about ten pushups or so, but it became painfully obvious that I myself aint 20 either... The situps were impossible in rigid body armor, so Johan had to pull me up. The gathering crowd had a good time, and so did we. Lars just shook his head, we grunted (like the old men we are becoming) about cocky young boys who should be taught a lesson, preferrably by sword (which we actually did later on, but in the form of proper fighting training). Before the morning PT was over, we ran through the castle, guns held high. It wasn't very far, and I was pleased I could manage, even though I'm getting a bit fat. As we headed back, I nearly threw up. I had to sit down and rest. It's tragic, really. When I was in my early teens, I was the 8th best 800 metre runner in Sweden :-)

As the old Norse Poetic Edda states:

Cattle die, | and kinsmen die | And so one dies one's self

I have one foot in the grave already.

Then - breakfast. German food is like Swedish, only made with love and concern. The Germans have proper butchers, proper bakers, proper brewers - the make food into an artform. It is not often tinged with finesse - the better. It is food for people in general. Robust, tasty, well made, with pride and effort. Cooked to give you strength to work, love and laugh.

One of the best meals I have ever had, was smoked pork, fried in its own fat, eaten along with coarse, freshly baked bread, by the fire, in the mist and drizzle, taking shelter under my kettle hat, my cloak and a couple of pavises. Another was bread, fresh out of the oven, with genuine, salty butter, home brewed, red beer and home made sausages made from lamb, spiced with herbs.

It is all really simple food, but made with the purpose of eating it yourself. I know all German food isn't made like that, but some of it is. And it is divine.

That breakfast was exquisite. The bread and the sausages from Hessen - by the Lord - were they good. I even tried a sausage where the meat was stuffed inside a pigs bladder (rather than from pigs entrails). I love sausages far better than just meat; you can make whatever you want out of them, and that is a wonderful trick!

We took our position in the guard house (one of the inner gateways, really), and set up our dice board, our jugs and our armour, to look like proper guards. Guffe, portraying a knight, had a bit of a problem fitting in, as he really shouldn't hang out with the craftsmen in the halls, the people in the kitchen or the soldiers in the guard room, plus, he didn't know many people except the rest of the Swedes. So he mostly hung out with us anyway. We spent the better part of the day in the guard house, drinking (apple juice - sometimes mixed with a bit of beer - a classic Radler!), gambling and chatting. Some of the boys joining us came from different parts of Europe. Alexander, a MiM, was in charge of the guard operation. There was a handful of other Germans as well, plus a Belgian guy. The guard room connected to the guard house was really something. It was utterly perfect, exactly like I imagined a guard room. Small, but big enough to store weapons and to keep one man on post.

I had time to saunter the castle, and as it was light outside, and as I kept to the parts of the castle I knew, I didn't get lost. I checked the craftsmen in the halls - without exception they were excellently skilled. That is maybe the best thing about the reenactment scene - people have vast knowledge about their specific areas, and you can learn so much. I am not a craftsman, but I love crafts, and to learn about them, so I had a needle maker tell me about how he made pins. It was a proper science! I could never believe all the shrewd tricks and tools used in the making of such tiny things. I believe I bought 18 of those pins for Elisabeth.

But there were loads of other craftsmen too - shoemakers, cobblers, belt makers, painters, chain mail makers, paternoster makers, makers of wax tablets, embroiderers, tailors, dyers - I really believe that I missed some of them out, in spite of that dire list. This photo shows Bertus and Isis, our dear friends from Deventer Burgerscap, sewing and embroidering.

And then, there was the kitchen. Good lord, the kitchen. Lead by Kyra, loads of people worked their fingers to the bone, cooking for well above 50 people (someone told me that we actually were more than 80 people taking part in the event). The kitchen was always bustling, and I might have annoyed more than one kitchen worker when I was trying to get the perfect photo, but I got a few splendid pics. That evening, we were treated with loads of dishes - all cooked in that period kitchen over open fire. They even baked patés, and made their own marzipan - skillfully worked into the shape of an eagle. I'll tell you more about that banquet later on - the day wasn't half finished yet - but before I continue I would like to show you a pic from the ambiguos kitchen - serene, yet pulsating with effort.
The smells, the noise. The words. The sights. Light sifting in through the smoke from the fires. Heat. Sweat. I really love kitchens. I love working with food (did you know? I worked as a chef for nearly two years!). In that aspect I can become what I most desire. I can become a craftsman, and I can make wonderful things.

I stood devotional in that kitchen for at least an hour, snapping photos when I could, trying to keep out of the way (I make people standing in my way in my kitchen into sashimi). Then I had to go. I had duties to perform at the guard house, and soon we were going to take part in a gunnery display. But first, I took a breathtaking (in many ways) tour up the tower. The view was really pretty, but as with most places today, you can always notice the modern world in some way. That meant I could see villages on all sides, roads and other things belonging to the 21st century. Too bad, but still very beautiful.

When I got back to the guard house, nothing had happened. The boys were still gambling and drinking, and admiring the peacocks striding along here and there. I had a seat and joined the game.

Some hours later it was time for us to make ready the guns. First of all we were (a bit unwillingly, I admit) dragged into a fashion display at the inner courtyard. They wanted to show different kinds of warriors, from knights to simpler mercenaries, like ourselves. But after that, we loaded up our guns. We wanted to make a good display, and as we practiced quite a lot this summer, we hoped to really give that audience something to look at.

To my dismay, we hardly made three shots in a minute. I was really disappointed, plus I got a nasty powder burn in my face (that's just manly). This calls for even more practice! We need to get better. We need to impress, otherwise we will not be much more than just regular medieval guys with a couple of guns - and really - most fighters in the reenactment world has bought one. We promised Lars that he could have a go at the guns, under our supervision. Like everyone trying it out, he left as a true believer.

We packed up our gear, and returned to the guard room. During the lull between dinner and display, we took quite a few pictures of each other on the walkways along the battlements (we were later told that we weren't allowed up there, so we have no intention of ever going there again. The pics were nice though.), where some of the boys collected peacock feathers. As dinner drew nearer, we had some sword practice with Lars. He is becoming a proper soldier, and when he gets a bit older, we'll recruit him.

In the dying daylight, we had some more photos taken. We convinced bertus to portray a Swedish Burgher that we assaulted in a gateway (we portray Germans living in Sweden, or Swedes of German descent - in some epoques of the middle ages, the two groups (Swedes and Germans living in Sweden) were bitter enemies). On the left is one by Franziska.

Then it was finally time for the banquet. We drank loads of good beer, and we were amazed by the skills of the kitchen staff. They had worked like slaves in that kitchen, in the heat and smoke for a whole day, and I was really thankful for the food. I hope someday I will be able to repay them. If they ever come to one of our events, I will give them such treats! Heck! I will even do a dirty dance.

The food was good, but what I appreciated the most was the work put into it. People working "below deck" seldom gets even a "thank you", and that is why I am making such a big deal out of it.

I stayed up late, drinking and chatting and probably bragging, and then came morning. And really, that was more or less the end of it. We didn't have much time to do anything but get up, pack our stuff, eat and leave. Our plane was leaving much too early, so we had to go. Oh, yeah - I had time to give Johan a shave as well, but that was it. We said quick goodbyes to people, and then headed for the car. Constantin drove us to a nearby train station, we took the train to the airport, and suddenly we landed in Gothenburg again. And gone was the magic...

My dearest thanks goes out to the MiMs, and in particular Ronnie and Tino, for having us. Furthermore, I'd like to thank everyone taking part in this splendid happening. Hope to see you soon!

Feast of St Stefanus

2009-11-02T07:15:00.004+01:00

The 12th of december the company will host our traditional feast of St Stefanus, an important saint in Scandinavia (and the first christian martyr). Usually we gather and eat medieval sweets and drink hypocras until we feel sick from sugar overdose, while we watch a mysetryplay picturing the martyrdom of St Stefanus, or as he is known in Sweden - Staffan Stalledräng.

All readers are very welcome, provided you can come up with a late 14th century outfit, and that you tell us that you want to join before the 5th of december.

Welcome!

Danish trip

2009-10-26T07:43:00.001+01:00

I just got back from a weekend research trip in Denmark. I have had a smashing time, and I got loads of pictures. I'll tell you all about it when I get around to it.

Slingerbult

2009-10-09T07:23:00.002+02:00

lThe other day I had a visit from a blogging girl with the tag Slingerbult. Her real name is Elin, and the funny thing is that she commented on one of my earlier posts - about the haggis-making. And now she moved to Växjö, and will take part in our weekly sewing-meetings. It was really good to meet her - she seems decent. Welcome, Elin!

By the way - check out her blog here http://slingerbult.blogspot.com/

A trip to the land of stroopwafels, episode 2

2009-10-08T08:04:00.000+02:00

Next morning Eli was hungover. Like really. I took Isolde for a long, long walk, where I found a small St James chapel. Further down the street, I found a park, where Compagnie van Cranenburgh was encamped. It's really funny; I met them already, five or six years ago, during my first reenactment events in Azincourt. And it turned out they knew about Albrechts Bössor. It's really nice to be known for the right reasons, and the guys in Compagnie van Cranenburgh held us in esteem. We chatted for a bit, before I turned back to camp. I invited them to next year's edition of the Battle of Ystad.

And by the way - in that park I actually saw - Black swans. I'm not kidding you. They were actually black. I thought the talk about black swans was only fairy tales, but now I know (if someone didn't just spray paint the poor animals...).

When me and Isolde came back to camp, Eli was still sleeping, but Isolde wanted her mother, and she was steadily growing more and more whiny - she needed a nap. But it's not easy to get a 2,5 year old kid to sleep in a camp in the middle of the day. It was time for lunch as well, so I started cooking. Eli got to hold Isolde down - it was not something any of the appreciated, but before long they both slept like logs in the tent.

In the early afternoon it was time for the dreaded parade. It was a big one this year, and we were put in the back of it. We also met Fritz, another acquaintance from Azincourt. He took a flag from us in battle, but returned it again. However, we have ever since had the opinion that it should be his. We haven't got hold of him, but as soon as we get his address, we shall post him that little flag - if we can find it.

Me and Lunda were the only ones of the Swedes partaking in the parade. It's not much to say about it, other than it was a quite long walk - all the way to the Valkhof. As we got back to camp the actual festival had begun, and the church square where we camped was filled to the brim with curious tourists checking out what we were cooking and what clothes we were wearing.

At five o'clock in the evening, it was all over. We had a last meal, and packed up camp. The organizers were nice as usual, and brought us catered food. We were finished about nine, and set out for home. We reached Sweden maybe ten hours later, and that was the end of it...

I almost forgot: Lunda got caught on Dutch television. He was inteviewed, and can be seen 4 minutes and 15 seconds in the movie clip. Enjoy!

A trip to the land of stroopwafels, episode 1

2009-10-06T09:37:00.000+02:00

We went to Nijmegen. It was time for a new trip to the land of beer and stroopwafels. We missed it last year, so we were really looking forward to it. At first we were supposed to be enough people to fill up at least two cars. We ended up with three adults and one toddler.

We wanted to leave early, but because of life being as it is, we didn't leave Sweden until 2 in the afternoon. The trip south was kind of alright, although we went into a traffic queue, plus it was raining a lot. We arrived in Nijmegen at night, about half past 12, and put up our tent plagued by stormwinds and heavy rain. Thomas Schatek from MiM was up using the "bathroom", and greeted us as we tried to negotiate the canvas against the wind. He offered his help, we said thanks but no thanks, and he went quickly to bed - a smart man!

There were three of us, but we still managed to get the tent up alright. That was so good, as we usually need at least four to fix it. We pegged one part to the ground before stretching it out on three sides. In 37 minutes we managed to put up the tent and make straw beds for all of us - it must be a new record. Eli and Isolde were dead tired, so they instantly went to bed. The rain whipped the tent, but they kept dry and warm between the blankets. Lunda and I wiped the rain from our faces and went over the square to our favourite pub - Camelot (http://www.cafecamelot.nl/). Our camp is situated by the church in the background, by the way - this is a map of the surroundings:

Visa större karta

As you can see, we camped in the middle of the town!

Camelot gave us the warmth we needed. We tried a couple of different brews (and realized that they no longer serve the delicious/disgusting Duchesse de Bourgogne; with each sip you have to decide whether it's utterly excellent or magnificently gross) and had a chat about life, before heading home to our tent. We went to bed abou 2 in the morning.

Morning light woke us up, and we rose to have breakfast with the Schateks - Thomas and Franziska. They had bread, coffee and tasty German sausages - a good start on the weekend. I planned the food for the weekend with Franziska - a way to practice my bad German - and then we went to shop food at the market. Thomas, fluent in Dutch, accompanied us to help us with interpretation - especially the names of different spice should prove difficult to figure out, although I managed to work it out in the end, with the help of Thomas and friendly bypassers, interested in my strange clothes.

We shopped a lot. We bought sausages and delicious cheese along with dried ham - we have found that it is a good idea to have food you don't need to use pots and pans for when it is intended for the last meal of the event. It is heaven not having to do the dishes just before leaving. Once again I planned the cooking from En sås av ringa värde and hence, the shopping was aimed at chickens and some vegetables, plus bread, wine and beer. And stroopwafels! If you don't know what that is - go to the Netherlands. You haven't lived until you tried them! An I found Duchesse de Bourgogne (or however it's spelled)! Our usual outlet didn't carry them anymore, so I had to scour Nijmegen for them. I eventually found them in a really nice wine store and bought ten of them. You can never decide whether they taste divine or utterly disgustning; each sip you have to ask yourself *yuk* or *yum*. This makes drinking Duchesse kind of fun - I never really stop being fascinated by it.

It was very windy during the Saturday. It was windy enough to blow plates off the tables. The wind made it nigh impossible to do any crafting at all. I cooked instead, and that worked alright. It is lovely to work with fine ingredients, and I cooked great food as well. This time I got to try out the recipe for En sås av ringa värde - "a sauce of lesser value" - a broth, really, served with bread, parsley and red onions. I also tried the so called Vitt mos - a porridge, more or less, made by eggs, milk, bread, sugar, cinnamon and saffron. It was a lovely change from porridge, and it let us use the old bread, which otherwise had been thrown away.

Two English scribes who were really nice (and really quite old - in their 60's and 70's!) also camped at the square, and during the day a happy few from the Deventer Burgerscap showed up: Lea, Isis, Marisca (with Oriande and Zenaïde), Laurens, Nijso and Bertus. I might have forgotten someone. Sorry.

As we were really few, we consorted a lot more than we usually do; we shared kitchen with the Schateks and had the Dutch about five metres across the square. This gave rise to a very familiar feeling that I really enjoyed, and we constantly "visited" each other.

Isolde kept busy with Oriande, Marisca's daughter. They kept holding hands and ran around the camp site to everyone's enjoyment, while us grown ups did this and that. As the day went to evening, we had our evening meal, and something to drink. As it grew late, we (the men) decided to have a boy's night out. Franziska didn't like this at all - she wanted to be a part of it, but you can't have a girl tagging along on a boy's night out. So we named her Bertus instead, as the real Bertus was stayiung behind anyway. We called her Bertus and made her drink like Bertus.

We went to a pub called In de blauwe hand. It is many centuries old, and if I understand it correctly, it was the hangout for indigo dyers. Now it's just a great pub; it's crammed, warm, murky and comfy. And they have great beer. I got a bit tipsy. But Franziska - sorry - Bertus got drunk, so we asked him if she wanted to leave. We didn't want to press him into drink anymore. But then she got a little sour:
"That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to leave! You didn't want me to come along from the beginning!" There, there Bertus...

She/he and Thomas left eventually. Me, Laurens and Lunda stayed for a bit, and when Lunda went to the loo, me and Laurens decided we wanted to teach him a lesson for being tardy. We rolled up our hoods into hard knots, and held them in the end of the liripipes. This way they resembled flails. We waited outside until he came out, and then we gave him the thrashing of his life. He tried to defend himself of course, and soon we were running through the backstreets and alley-ways, having an all-out war all against each other, stealing each others caps, smacking each other with our liripipe flails and having a grand time.

Working man

2009-10-05T21:25:00.002+02:00

I haven't written for some time, and that's because I'm starting a new job in a couple of weeks. That means I have loads to do at the place where I'm working now, and no motivation to write when I am home - I'm just too tired. This will change soon though, and I'll post stuff about our trips to Nijmegen and Ronneburg, plus some crafting I've been involved with - eating knives, new hose and a pair of gloves for my gauntlets (those gloves will look like crap, and I bet I have to adjust them again before being satisfied). I'll keep you - posted :-D

Ystad

2009-09-22T07:30:00.001+02:00

Ystad. A small town at the south coast of Sweden. Outside - the castle of Bjersjöholm, the site of one of the biggest (the biggest?) 14th century events in Sweden, spanning over four and a half days. Our friends in Fraternis Militia Carnis are kind of co-organizers of the event; they have the responsibility to set up the battle. The event was set in the beginning of July, but I haven't had time or motivation to write anything about it yet. But here I go!

Me and my daughter Isolde was first on the spot of the guys from Albrechts Bössor. Elisabeth had business elsewhere, so she couldn't come.

I more or less set our whole camp myself (with some help from our friends in Fraternis Militia Carnis), and I was about finished when some of the others turned up. We made straw beds in the tents. Me, Morgan and Isolde were to bunk together. I made the tent as comfy as possible, with blankets and sheeps fleece. The small tents really are a bit small when you want to bring your equipment along; you won't feel that it is roomy if you are more than two people. Luckily we finally finished our bigger tents, which means we have space enough for the whole of the company.

The light was fading, but as Swedish summer nights almost never go quite dark, there was still light enough to make Isolde think it was day. And she behaved that way, plus she was really really tired. I put her to bed, and made up a story about a cow and a calf. She still likes
that one.

I had a couple of beers and a chat with the other guys, as the camp was beginning to form - even in the dark people arrived, and set up their tents. White shapes were risen against the night sky as I sat shivering from the chilly air with a mug in my hand. It is a funny thing to let your ears do all the "looking round" - it gives a whole new perspective. You know what happens, and you can picture it in your head, even if your eyes can only see shadows and a lonely lantern here and there.

At Thursday the event started. We were to have one battle each day, and we were having kitchen duty at least one of the days. As I used to work as a chef, I had the honor and the responsibility to organize the food one of the days. Sebastian, a more or less well known character at this blog, had planned it all before, and he had a lorry come all the way out to the area, and unload food enough for more than 60 people. He didn't want to cook, though, as that is what he does all day long. I'll get to the cooking part further down.

The day was used to check out the market for a bit. There weren't much for the serious reenactor, although some of the stalls had some stuff that could pass as decent.

Furthermore, we practiced gunnery. During calm, focused conditions, our best gunnery team can fire 4 shots in one minute and 3 seconds. That is exceptional, but we WILL be able to fire four shots in a minute blank. It is a matter of routine and practice, so we'll get there. We were very proud of ourselves, and of course it looked stunning.

The rest of the day, we built barricades for the battle. Henrik, a pyrotechnist, made up holes in the ground, which were filled with blackpowder and charcoal - these small harmless "bombs" were to be ignited by electricity when the cannons fired at the barricades - and it created a marvellous effect!

I mostly fired handgonnes during each battle, although I picked up my sword from time to time; when the fight came closer I had to protect myself. I'd rather not, if I can choose - My gauntlets have never really fit me, probably due to the crappy leather gloves I have as a base for the metal. They are really uncomfortable and restrain my movements. I am going to sew a pair that really fits - then I'll be happy to pick up the falchion and ward off the scabrous dogs that assail me!

Lots of groups took part in the fighting, among others our pals in Tyska Orden, our great friends of Deventer Burgerscap (it was really a blast to see them - they came all the way from the Netherlands!) and some other groups that are new to the Swedish 14th century scene. It is really good to see new groups emerge; it will be a blast when we get to work with them!

One of the guys from the great Norwegian tournament group Frilansene has made a quite decent film of the battle. It can be seen here. Be sure to check out the "bombs" exploding (Oi! Have a look after you finish reading)!

I could write on and on about the fights, the good company, the drink and the late nights, but I'm afraid I would only be repeating myself. That's why I'm going to tell you more about my day as a head chef in a kitchen serving more than 60 people, three times a day over an open fire.

First of all - the kitchen. It was the biggest reenactment field kitchen I have seen. The cooking fire was big enough for three or four pots, and the fireplace was made by bricks. We had lots of working space, and I had maybe ten people at my command. I was prepared for hard work as we began cooking breakfast; porridge, smoked susages, cheese and bread.

Second I'll present the menu for the event as a whole, although I was only responsible for two of the following meals (I guess I already broke my promise about spamming you with food details. Sorry. I am a terrible person...):

- Russet soup, from Le Viandier
- Legs of duck a'la Dodine, from Le Viandier
- Pork, cabbages and apples seasoned with cumin (one of mine!)
- Salmon covered in herbs served with frumenty, from Faite de cuisine (also one of mine! :-))
- Onion soup served with sausages and bread, from the Forme of Curye
- Grilled lambs and piglets along with root vegetables and camelina sauce
- Chicken with onions and almonds

And third I'll tell you more about the two dishes I was in charge of making.

The first dish we prepared was the pork seasoned with cumin. This was easy enough. We cut the pork into dice, 2x2 centimetres or so big. It was already seasoned with cumin seeds. At the same time we cut like a million cabbages and fried them with butter and honey, plus some vinegar. When it was close to finished, we started to boil the pork for some minutes - in the meantime we cut the apples and put them in the pot with the sliced cabbages. I tried it with salt and pepper - and it was a huge success!

Next dish (for the evening meal) was salmon covered with herbs. A time consuming process was to prepare the frumenty. The problem is that the barley always stick in the pot when it starts to swell and become thick. We solved that in an easy way: we boiled chicken stock and poured it over a big trough filled with barley. And lo and behold! The barley swelled, and was finished to eat in just a matter of about ten minutes. In the mean time, I used my skills as an old sushi chef to fix up the salmons. I got quite decent filets, but I saved the skin - it protects the meat when you fry the fish. My trusty helpers started to fry the fish, as I mixed the now finished barley with cream and more chicken stock. The result was a lovely, thick stew. Sadly it lacked salt. I'll do better next time.

Something that put a bit of damper on my dinner mood was that one of our boys came running from one end of the camp to the other - he was running from the training grounds. He came running back with another members personal effects in his hands. This usually means trouble, and boy, was I right.

Scan, one of our prospects, was down and out. I wanted to throw everything aside to go check on him, but I didn't; several of the boys are old combat medics - and Dr Bob was about, which meant me getting involved would only complicate things. So I took a deep breath, grasped my ladle and continued to stir my pots in the chilly wind.

One of the company members brought me a damage report. Scan had been cut in the face during practice. Three teeth had been broken, and he had a wide Joker grin, as the sword had cut his left cheek open. The cut was about three centimetres long, and he was taken to the Ystad hospital for serious patching up. I didn't have the focus to eat just then, so I finished cooking and put a couple of guys to do the dishes, so I had the possibility to get in the car and drive to pick the guys up at the hospital.

Scan had been fixed up real nice, but he was a bit down, as the effect of the adrenalin and the painkillers were wearing off. We bought soup for him, so that he could eat, and in the same time we tried to get hold of emergency dentists to fix up his teeth.

As far as I know, all is well with Scan, his cheek and his teeth. You just can't forget about that cut - nowadays we call him Smiley :-)
The most perfect thing was that the man actually stayed the whole event through! Pure and utter quality! He was even fighting the next day. No matter what happens, that man will have my respect for not stepping down, and for not submitting to fear. I am certain I would not have been as strong and composed.

Cheers to you, Smiley!

Varberg - recipes

2009-09-21T11:25:00.002+02:00

A sauce for noble men
- Cloves
- Nutmeg
- Cardamom
- Peppers
- Ginger
- Cinnamon
- Roasted bread crumbs
- Salt
- Vinegar

How to:
- Mix it all. Finished.

Chicken boiled with sage and smoked pork
- A chicken
- Salted/smoked pork
- Sage
- Salt
- A little vinegar

How to:
- Chop the pork in small dice
- Chop the sage
- Put it together with the chicken in a pot, and boil for about an hour

Grön sås (Green Sauce - a sauce made from vinegar with different herbs)
- Parsley
- Sage
- Thyme
- A pinch of cinnamon
- Vinegar

How to:
- Grind the herbs
- Add the cinnamon
- Add the vinegar

Simple chicken
- A chicken
- Lard or butter
- Wine
- Black pepper
- Water
- Salt

How to:
- Boil the chicken for about an hour
- Pick the meat of the bones. Fry the meat
- Add some wine, salt and pepper
- Let it boil for a short time

Kaliis
- Diced bread
- Egg yolks
- Fatty milk

How to:
- Mix egg yolks and milk
- Pour eggs/milk over the bread
- Fry slowly until thick enough to cut

Späckad mjölk
- Lots of eggs
- Fatty milk
- Smoked pork
- Saffron

How to:
- Chop the pork in small dice
- Beat eggs and milk
- Mix it with the pork
- Boil the mixture, and let simmer until it resembles wet scrambled eggs
- Let it cool
- Put in a cloth and a sieve, and strain the water over night
- Cut it into slices
- Fry it in butter

There (*pant*). I'll never do this again. It was a bit tedious...

Varberg - menu

2009-09-21T11:24:00.002+02:00

Friday evening:

Meats:
- Fried sausages
- Bread
- Butter
- Sauerkraut

Veg:
- Eggs
- Olive oil
- Salt

Preparations:
- Making of En sås för herremän - a sauce for noble men
- Frying meat
- Pickling the above meat in the above sauce

Saturday morning:

- Porridge
- Honey
- Milk
- Butter
- Bread

Preparations:
- Soaking peas in water

Saturday lunch:

Meats:
- Späckhöns (chicken boiled with sage and smoked pork)
- Grön sås (a sauce made from vinegar with different herbs)
- Bread
- Butter

Veg:
- Frumenty
- Boiled carrots

Preparations:
- Reducing the stock left from the chicken

Saturday evening:

Meats:
- Enkla hönor (simple chicken)
- Bread
- Butter

Veg:
- Peasoup

Preparations:
- Späckad mjölk (a dish consisting of eggs and milk heated up, then mixed with pork and put in pressure over night)

Sunday morning:

Meats:
- Kaliis (a dish made from dried bread and eggs)
- Bread
- Cheese
- Butter

Veg:
- Kaliis made with water instead of milk

Sunday lunch:

Meats:
- Pickled meat, prepared almost 48 hours before (and yes - it kept fresh in spite of the heat!)
- Späckad mjölk

Veg:
- Boiled and then fried root vegetables
- Fried eggs

Preparations:
- Saving the stock from the boiled root vegetables
- Saving four eggs

Sunday evening:

Meats:
- Assorted cheese
- Ham
- Sausages
- Apples
- Pears
- Raisins
- Nuts

Veg:
- Stock saved from lunch
- Eggs
- Bread
- Apples
- Pears
- Nuts
- Raisins

There you go. A menu. Next step - the recipes (yeah - I know this is bull shit boring. I'll try not to do it anymore, OK?).

Varberg

2009-09-20T22:21:00.003+02:00

We had a great time in Varberg, at the west coast of southern Sweden. The event was hosted at Varberg Castle - which also houses a museum where the Bocksten finds are on display. We had two different kinds of display - fighting and a fashion show. The fashion show was not as good as Johan wanted it, but it gave us some ideas for the future. The public was really interested to check out our clothes and how they were made; stitches seem to be really cool :-)

The fighting wasn't bad either. Me and Morgan made a very good show when it came to wrestling. Johan followed up with dagger techniques, and I displayed the longsword. The display ended with Johan and Thomas beating each other to bloody pulp in a full contact clash. The audience was struck with awe, as the monster-fight-extravaganza took place.

For some reason, we didn't get a lot of photos from the event, but the few we have can be viewed here.

The main thing about the Varberg event was, however, one of my biggest challenges as a camp cook. I'd like to point out that it is something that is important to me, although I am a bit afraid you guys don't feel the same way. Please bear with me.

I put together two menues (one for the vegetarians and one for the regular omnivores), three meals a day for two days and one evening. Almost all of the recipes were from the book En sås av ringa värde, written by Daniel Serra and Hanna Tunberg, based on a Danish cookbook from around 1300. It was a serious piece of planning to be able to fix everything together. I planned to use the same broth several times, but I didn't have the means to store it, so I had to plan the different dishes with my mind set on that. Plus - I didn't want to serve similar meals in a row, and a lot of the food could turn bad in the extremely hot weather - I would say it were the hottest days this summer - over 30 degrees celsius! The meat and the chicken had to be cooked as soon as possible, and some of the dishes prepared more than one day ahead.

All in all everything went really well, except for the späckad mjölk - I'll present the recipe further down, but first I'll list the menu for the weekend, along with my working schedule. In the next post.

New helmet

2009-09-10T08:00:00.006+02:00

A new helmet has been peeking out on different photos on the blog (you can have a look at me wearing it in a previous post - the one about the chain mail). I have finally the motivation to publish some of its history here.

I wanted a helmet made from one piece, so I contacted Ralph Snel, an incredibly talented Dutchman who lives part time in Sweden. He made my earlier helmet, and I was happy with it. But that was in 2003, and since then I have become more picky, and Ralph has become a lot better. We met in the spring/summer 2008 and had a chat about how I wanted it to look. Ralph measured my head and we discussed various aspects of helmet making. I wanted a kettle that that looked like ones in Skamstrup church in Denmark. It is dated to 1350-1375, which is perfect (well, 1375-1380 would have been better :-)) for me. It's the helmets on the topmost picture. I also looked up some other, similar helmets for reference. They are posted below. The two at the far left (top row) is from French manuscripts, while the right one (still top row) is from a Polish fresco. The photos in the next row is from a museum in Nürnberg, Germany. I am not sure about the dating, but it basically looks like the helmets in the top row.

So Ralph started working.

I think it is an incredible study of craftsmanship.

It's really smashing, if you ask me!

As it was finished, I made a lining for it.

Altogether, I thought it was a bit big. It was too heavy. The brim was too wide, and if I was going to wear it with my ears outside it, it would look silly on top of my head. So at first I wasn't as happy with it as I thought I would be. But as soon as the lining was put in, and I could wear the helmet with my ears inside it (it sounds a bit funny, but it looks alright, plus it's really good when you want to conceal the earplugs you use when firing guns), I started to feel a lot better. The real turn came in Morimondo, where I could happily grin at archers doing their best to shoot me - their arrows just bounce of, as the brim is wide enough to cover my shoulders. When I came close and personal with other fighters, I only needed to raise my shield and duck down to be perfectly safe. The weight of it "softens" the blows to the head, and when firing guns you can hear a faint "clang!", as from a church bell, as the boom from the gun resounds in the metal. It fits my needs, and I look sinister in it, as my eyes are always shaded from the sun. Probably I won't need another helmet in my days, even if some people might think that I look like a giant mushroom!

New skillet

2009-08-31T18:11:00.001+02:00

Some time ago Anders, one of the company members, and I had a chat about skillets. I wanted to buy one from a caster, but he (the maker) told me that it would cost about 5000 euros just to make the mold, as I wanted a special skillet from Sweden. I wanted a cast one, and had finally decided that a Mary Rose model was looking similar enough to a 14th century one. It wouldn't be very expensive, as the maker already had a mold for it. At this time I spoke to Anders. Earlier I had found pictures of forged skillets, but I had the notion they were rare in comparison to forged ones. Anders talked me into abandoning the idea of a cast skillet, and I started looking for forged ones.

It was slow work. There are not many skillets in pictures from the time, and not many findings either. However, at one point I hade found enough pictures to order a reproduction. One of these pictures was a picture of a skillet from Vreta Kloster in Östergötland, a province in Sweden. The skillet is dated too 1100-1500 - a broad time frame really, but it shares aspects with late 14th- and early 15th century ones, like these below. They are all from French manuscripts from the end of the 14th century and the beginning of the 15th. The original skillet is quite small, but as we are becoming quite a few members in the company, I asked Anders to make it bigger. And he did. We have been using it during the season, and I am very happy with it.

Anders have been posting a description, including pictures, of his work at his blog, which can be found here. Check it out!

It's finished!

2009-07-29T08:00:00.007+02:00

After years of sporadic, hate filled work, the panzar is finished. It has left me with a feeling of emptiness, but more important - a will to make a new, better one. This one isn't perfect from a cosmetic poin of view, and it doesn't fit as good as it could. It is in part based on an Italian fresco (this was a long time before I decided not to use Italian sources), but I have made a lot of changes (i.e. mistakes), because I am simply not a craftsman. This picture of the original is scanned from my copy of Medieval Military Costume by Gerry Embleton - a must have for the military reenactor. I am certain I have a photo of the same fresco somewhere, but I can't seem to find it.

I really liked the type of panzar pictured here - the "bags" to fit the elbows are really vivid, plus the quilting is unusual in recreations. That's why I immediately decided to give it a try, about four years ago.

This is how I went about. The top of the shoulders are heavily padded to reduce chafing from my plata (coat-of-plate), as are the outside of the arms and the chest (four layers of woolen blanket). The waistline and the lower arms have very little padding (2 layers or less), whilst the inside of the arms plus the armpits have no padding at all. This is to allow easy movement.

So far so good. You veteran readers have certainly read about my "button making industry" earlier (check earlier posts under the topic "arms and armour" for example). I made 70 buttons - 15 for each arm and 40 for the chest. It was a tedious work, but it came out alright. The help to give the armour a tight, nice fit. Plus it looks gorgeous.

If only it was true. Let's look at how it really turned out. I look more or less like a stuffed crab in it. When this picture was taken, in Morimondo this year, I was just about finished with it. I very soon realized that I had to remove tons of padding from the elbow joint, as I couldn't bend my arms. To look a bit normal I also needed to remove padding from under the arm. You can have a closer look on how this turned out at the picture labelled "4" below. The patches and the extra, tacky seams are clearly visible. And by the way - the "elbow bags" are nowhere to be seen...

Next error: The damned patching. My opinion is that a panzar was made by a professional, and that would mean that beginners mistakes like mine would be absent in a finished panzar. My biggest mistake was to forget that the outermost layer have to be bigger than the ones closer to the body. This mistake cost me lots of extra work, as I had to patch every edge keeping the armour together. The patching can be seen at the pictures labelled 1 (the side), 2 (back) and 3 (front) below. As the quilting form a quite special pattern, the patches form really distinct contrasts. And it looks ugly.

Next, we have the chest (labelled 3). It is also patched (it's hard to see in the picture, but I marked the seams with yellow), but the big thing is that I was forced to abandon buttoning; the edge was simply to stiff (and the panzar itself too tight) to allow buttoning. I tried at first, but it took me about 5 minutes to button two of them, so I decided to skip the buttons and go for lacing instead. 70 buttons in the bin, and another step away from the main plan...

I also needed to remove quite a lot of padding from the cuffs, as my gauntlets couldn't fit over them.

All in all, it's crap. And I have already started to buy new materials for the next one. Hopefully I won't be making all those mistakes again.

New cauldron

2009-07-27T19:22:00.000+02:00

We have a new cauldron. On the picture it is filled with enough porridge to feed the whole of Lund. It contains 25 litres and it is really, really heavy. And I love it. Robin, the blacksmith of Kulturen, made a handle for it. Now it's complete, and I am looking forward to years of good use, together with the steadily growing collection of kitchen utensils.

The tent is finished!

2009-07-27T19:18:00.000+02:00

It was a lot of work but we finished the tent a couple of months ago. I haven't got around to post anything about it yet, be here goes.

At present, Albrechts bössor have three smaller tents and two bigger ones. All of them is made by triangles sewn together. The bigger ones aren't much bigger than the smaller ones, but the difference is everything; there is much more space in the bigger ones. You can actually keep your equipment at your bed.

We recently found out however, that we need some sort of device for shutting the tents - when it's windy the flap that forms the "door" is really out and about. Let's see if anyone will make it happen...

New knives

2009-07-27T19:02:00.000+02:00

I have been lobbying for a set of knives for the company. Up until now we have been chopping onions with daggers and hunting knives, which is creative, but not very practical. Besides I am going ballistic if I have to chop another onion with a weapon.

First of all, I ordered a couple (the first two) from a business dealing in reenactment/LARP-stuff. They were really cheap, so I decided it couldn't hurt much if they sucked. I worked a couple of hours to sharpen them (I had to remake the edge totally), and then I found that they worked satisfactory. The steel isn't very good though - you have to sharpen them quite often for them to stay sharp enough to use. I like their shape (especially when cutting meats) and balance, but they are a bit too light for me. My days as a chef has left me really picky when it comes to knives.

The second buy isn't really a buy yet. I have lent a couple of knives made by Simon's pal Kristoffer. He seems a good man, interested in joining the company one day. The knives are kind of rough to the finish, and the sharpening is uneven, plus I'm not sure I like the shape (either I really like it or I really don't - I haven't decided yet) and size of them (they should be a bit shorter). The most important thing is how they will work when they are properly sharpened. A great and significant difference between the first ones and the second ones are that the second ones seems to be made from a much better steel - they will be able to keep their edge a lot better than the others. We'll see.

It is however a good thing that we have decent knives - it will greatly improve the cooking.

My chain mail finally arrived!

2009-07-27T15:14:00.009+02:00

Here it is. It's a flat ring, riveted chain mail. It fits like a knife when I wear it, but I had severe trouble putting it on, not to mention taking it off. It must have been quite a sight; I was on the balcony (Eli didn't want me to put grease stains everywhere in the flat), wearing underpants and a gambeson. I was panting and sweating like a pig, and really needed help to put it on. I jumped up and down to make it slide down, but it stuck on my nose and on my ears, and pulled my beard and hair. Solid pain. Grunting. Muscles tiring. Panic closed in - hot dam - I was stuck, and could never get out. But as soon as I had negotiated my head through the almost too small head opening, it was a lot easier. Great. Let's put that helmet on and take some photos. Done.

And then I needed to get out of it. Not possible. Not even remotely. Damn. It stuck halfway, on my ears and nose again. Why, mother? Why the big ears and the potato nose? A close up on the picture reveals how close a shave it really was - it is not only sun burn on my face... I asked Eli to go get a pair of pliers to cut me out of it, but before she had gone I managed to squirm my ears and nose lose. 75% of all the hairs in my beard and on my head followed as I bent forward in the shape of an upside-down "U", jumping like a kid in dire need of toilet. Again - solid pain. Clad only in underpants and gambeson. Out on the balcony. The chain mail finally slid of. And I realized I need to get a few modifications done...

But it sure is pretty!

Happy days in Lund - Gunnery and storming the Dean's house

2009-07-24T17:46:00.011+02:00

Sunday, the last day of the event. We were to show off the same combat display as Saturday and then we had a gunnery display a well.

We started off with the gunnery. Johan held an excellent lecture on early fire arms. He has been fine polishing the same lecture for years, and it is getting better everytime. Me and the others waited to load and fire - Guffe and Roger from Fraternis Militia Carnis were posing as gunners as well. Guffe felt kind of naked without his full plate, but I believe he had a good time anyways. He smiled a lot, although not in that picture; he and Roger are far too concentrated keeping up with the loading speed of the rest of the gunners.

Johan finished the lecture and ordered us to load and fire. It's all caught on tape. The gun teams all load up really quick and fire even quicker. I felt it was a splendid display, which showed that we have been growing better - the practice in Morimondo payed off. It is always more fun to shoot the guns than you remember, so I was quite happy with it. That's me in the big helmet by the way.

After lunch it was time for yet another combat display, but this time, we weren't as many; some of the guys had gone to the Dean's House ("Dekanen") to prepare for our storming. They brought a couple of handgonnes and waited lazily at the top floor, scouting our display out from a window. Johan was supposed to give them a sign, and then they would fire on us. We would take our stuff and storm the place with the ladder via the balcony. Simple enough.

Before the display was quite finished, the first shot was fired. We stopped in the midst of everything, glancing at Johan. He shrugged. The second shot was fired. We pushed our way through the audience and ran towards Dekanen, with a huge tail of spectators following us. As we came up to the building we were taunted from the balcony by the enemy. We told them our minds and reached for our sturdy ladder, only to discover that we had forgot it... Me and Simon ran all the way back to get it, only to discover that it wasn't in our camp. I was a bit confused. We ran back. And there was the ladder. I was two bits confused. It turned out that the helpful blacksmith of Kulturen, Robin, plus Stefan, an old friend, had seen us leave the ladder behind. The promptly picked it up to help us out. Funny.

We put the ladder to the balcony and I started to climb. The first step of the ladder broke. Then the second. Then the third. And the fourth. Then the left side of it collapsed. I hung onto it like a rat to a piece of wood in a stormy sea, but was forced to let go. The ladder was tested! I couldn't understand why it just crashed at that moment, but I soon realized that it wasn't tested for armoured people...

Simon, the smallest of us, took point, and scaled the remains of the ladder. We pushed him up to the balcony, but there were the defenders. Simon later told me he was inches from falling to his near death, as Ville pushed a sword in his chest when Simon tried to climb the banisters. He managed to "fight them off" and to gain ground on the balcony. The crowd cheered, while we stood wondering how on earth we were supposed to pull Simon's stunt off, once again.

We decided to charge the "locked" door, and to take the fight to them. I was first up the stairs, and put my shoulder to the heavy door, it slid open, and I barged in. My first sight was Simon, sitting on a bench, resting. He was dead tired and grinned at me when I pushed him on his feet - we were supposed to clear out this nest of cut throats once and for all. We stormed out on the balcony and smashed into the defenders. It was a relentless fight, real close quarters, with precious little space to manouever. Me and Alex pushed our opponents up the stairs, side by side. The stair case was so narrow that we more or less stuck there. Simon pushed us upwards by pressing his shield in our backs. Me and Alex were assaulted by Guffe and his heavy pole axe. Alex helped me to keep my shield raised, as we little by little took the stairs. The crowd roared and my muscles were aching like crazy. Sweat was in my eyes, but we were pushed up by a screaming Simon. There was no turning back.

At the first half landing some one cut down John. He was hanging over the banisters, playing dead. He later told me that he had done such a splendid job, that his saliva slowly had started to run out of his mouth, dripping in long strings scattering a group of kids underneath.

At the last half landing, we stood face to face with Guffe and Ville. I can't remember what happened, but I think Ville cut me down. I stumbled and fell, out of harms way. Or so I thought: Guffe did the same, landing on my shield arm. I was pretty sure it broke.
"Guffe! Pleeease roll off!"
"Dammit! I can't! It's too narrow here. I'm stuck!"
Don't ask me how, but I managed to wriggle out of that hellish position. I was relatively comfortable until the fight ended, and we stood up to enjoy the cheers of the audience.

After that, it was fighting time, just for the fun of it. Most of us had never fought indoors, and Dekanen gave us a perfect excuse. So we fought until I was too tired to lift my arms. We were grinning like children when we threw each other over tables, kicked each other into corners, used daggers, wrestling techniques and what have you. It was so funny! I don't think I have had as much fun since my first fight in Azincourt 2003.

After this, the event was drawing to its end. We packed up and wished John and Hannah a pleasant honeymoon in Sweden, before we jumped in the cars and drove back home.

All in all I had a great weekend, and we already have great plans for the next storming of Dekanen!

Happy days in Lund - fashion show and fighting

2009-07-24T14:10:00.008+02:00

This was the first time we really displayed fashion. We have been working on different types of display to fit the needs of our contractors. This time they wanted fashion so we gave them what they wanted. The display consisted of Anna, Johan and myself. It was pretty haphazard (imagine a bunch of gunners trying to look perdy) but we managed to show the spectators one or two things about fashion, from head to toe. I don't think Johan was very pleased with it (he was holding the reins), but it worked all right.

Next step was the combat display. I started to show the boys taking part in the display a thing or two about the wrestling techniques of Master Ott, some time before it was time to show it to the audience. Some of them had never been taking part in medieval wrestling before, so I put together a simple and brief programme at the spot. They all did well, and when it was show time, I was happy with their skills. The onlookers were clearly amazed. Wrestling is exciting when you get to know the mechanisms behind it - it is all about balance and how to influence it.

Next, Johan showed some dagger techniques, as deadly and brutal as they are ingenious. I think he has gone soft (or old), because he was nearly gentle with me. I remember the early days he used me as a dummy; I could hardly stand. Nevertheless, the spectators always seem to enjoy my pain, but that's OK. It's my job to make people laugh. Bastards.

Usually, when we make combat displays, we show off techniques from unarmed fighting via dagger to sword tricks. Lastly we gear up and show a non-coordinated fight with near full force. Hence it was time for sword and buckler. Simon and Alex showed sword patterns from Lichtenauer/Ringeck. It was a stylish show - a perfect mix of serious sword handling and pure fun. Hopefully Simon would like to develop his skills even further, and that he would like to be responsible for sword and buckler displays in the future.

Last, but not least, we had the uncoordinated fight. Not much to say about it to be honest. Of course it was a good fight and all, but if you do something enough times, it will often only be an ordinary thing. If you never fought a reenactment fight, it is a glorious experience. My first fight, in France by the way, had me gasping for breath. I had a headache from all the tension and I knew that I could never get enough of this. But this is not the time to tell about that.

During the day, me and Johan took John and Hannah on a stroll through Lund, to show them some of the sights. There are more than a handful of medieval buildings still standing, including the cathedral, so you can get your medieval stomach quite full of experience. Even though culture and history was on the agenda, I guess I made John's day when I steered him inside Systembolaget (on of the smaller ones) at Mårtenstorget. For those of you not from Sweden, or familiar with Swedish circumstances when it comes to alcohol, I can tell you that Systembolaget is a state owned business selling all sorts of alcohol. And they are good at it. John spent a near 45 minutes browsing the bottles, and left quite happy.

When the displays were finished for the day, we could concentrate on the good things in life; firing salutes to close the event for the day and then get to the eating and drinking. The camp became a merry scene; some of the musicians came to visit. We bribed them with cheap whiskey to keep them playing, whilst we were playing Glückshaus along with other guests, such as Maja and Elin, two great girls interested in joining the company.

Eli and Hannah tried on the company coat together (it's called company coat as it easily could swallow the whole of Albrechts Bössor) while they were drinking copious amounts of wine. John tried to sleep in the midst of it, and I pulled a blanket over him, as the night grew colder.

During the night some of the boys had been talking to the organizers of the event, and gained access to the 15th century Dean's House. This lead to big plans, and building of a ladder for storming the balcony of the said house during a display on sunday. The builders were a bit drunk, but managed to make a ladder alright. We tried it out by climbing it onto the balcony. It worked like a charm. Eli and Hannah tried to steal it, to strand us on the balcony, but they were stopped by Johan, lucky for us.

It was suddenly it very late, the guests had left and I felt really tired. So I went to bed. And fell fast asleep at once.

Great days, this.

Getting on my feet

2009-07-24T14:03:00.003+02:00

What happened to me struck me completely off my feet, and I lost all will to live (although I didn't lose the will to be alive). It was the deepest sadness and despair I have ever felt, but luckily it didn't last very long. Things are better now. They are not perfect, but they will be - in time. One thing is for certain though - it will never be as it was. However I reckon that is a good thing, and this day I feel living enough to write again. And I will.

Life is life

2009-07-08T13:42:00.002+02:00

Stuff is happening right now, and it makes me sick with worry and grief. It feels like a big lump of horror is gnawing my guts. It makes my eyes tear, my stomach hurt and my muscles tense. Everything depends on what happens this weekend, and if it goes wrong, I might never ever write again. I hope (and I actually pray - which I have never done before) that everything turns out well. I have faith, though I despair.

Those of you that have been reading my notes I give my thanks. I really hope I shall find the strength and joy to write again.

Happy days in Lund - arriving and setting up camp

2009-06-18T22:06:00.013+02:00

It was time for our "own" regular event - Medeltidsdagarna i Lund (http://www.kulturen.com/medeltidsfestivalen/). It is a small, cozy event in the middle of the open air museum Kulturen in the south Swedish city of Lund. The site is special, as houses from different parts of Sweden have all been disassembled and reassembled in Lund. Some of the buildings are medieval, and some are from later days, but most of them look exactly as medieval farmsteads. They are built in the same way as during the 14th century and with the same techniques. It's beautiful and we like it there.

The boys and girls of Albrechts Bössor are invited each year, to have displays and to add to the general mood of the festival. This year, we had a fashion show, a display regarding medieval fire arms and to fighting displays.

We arrived on friday evening and started to put up camp. John and Hannah from The Company of Chivalry (http://www.yecompaynyeofcheualrye.com/cc/) were waiting for us, along with Lunda and some of the others. We had a problem with putting up the tents, as we left the centre poles in Italy, to keep the weight down, but after some looking we managed to scrounge up enough poles of the right dimension to put up the tents. Next step was filling them with straw, to make beds. It turned out that the organizers hadn't brought enough straw for all to go around. We shared it amongst us, and we had kind of thin, but OK beds in the end.

It was growing dark, and it started to drizzle. Morale was kind of low, but Lunda and the Brits had been cooking potatoes and chopping chives to go with the massive amount of herring that I pickled. It's traditional summer food in Sweden, and as I use my grandmothers old recipe, it always turn out good. Thing was that 75% of the company just left the site to go for a falafel, because they didn't like the herring - before even tasting it!

I was bloody pissed. I had been working hard for this, and I was really disappointed that noone would eat it - except for John. He really loved it and ate a good part. Even Hannah, who doesn't like fish, tried it, and kind of liked it. But not too much though. To go with this we had bought a classic Swedish lager for the Brits, and a nice aquavit - a spiced vodka - both traditional additions to pickled herring. We sat up drinking in the Dean's House ("Dekanhuset" or "Dekanen"), a 15th century building furnished with some nice reproductions of chests, benches and tables. John stitched on his shoes, we told jokes and had a really good time. I went to check on Isolde, who (finally) slept sound under a sheep's fleece, while the rain and wind whipped the tents. When I finally went to bed, it was more early morning than late night. I was happy that our tents, both new and old, could stand the rain.

I slept well until morning, and stood up to face a grey, rainy morning. Most of our stuff was put under roof, but some lay scattered about the camp (it's always like that - in spite of my, and others, honest attempts to keep the camp tidy). I managed to get a fire going, and put our new cauldron on the fire; it was time to initiate it to the company. Breakfast was to be porridge, and as the food was slowly heating up, I tried to tidy up. The others came out from the tents. Johan seemed really tired (and later told me that he had fallen into some kind of diet-coma or coma-light, which ever expression fits).

As it was finally time for breakfast, it was also time for me to get groceries. Me, and a handful of the others, went for the store, where we bought a whole salmon, a couple of kilos of smoked pork, bread, flour, rolled oats for porridge, apples and other stuff we needed. As we got back to camp, the festival had started - and the rain had stopped. We immediately started too cook lunch - frumenty with fried, smoked pork - an old favourite! Then - lunch. I can't remember what we had, but it might have been frumenty, an old time favourite (boiled barley served with salted pork - it's a lot better than it sounds). It was good to use the new monster cauldron, but it really looked a lot like - iron. It was almost shiny. Simon fixed it up, with a load of grease and 10 minutes on the fire. It was black as sin when he was finished. As soon as the food was on the boil, the sun had begun to shine, and to dry our minds and clothes. Our humours rose, and it was time for the first display - the fashion show.

Tired of nagging

2009-06-18T22:06:00.007+02:00

I am tired of nagging. And I am tired of people in the company just being so stubborn and so single minded. Either I cannot make them understand or they just don't want to. Another alternative is that they understand, but the just don't give a shit about my arguments. Even though I feel it's for the best of the company. It might be a bit of all, but nevertheless I am making enemies, because I won't shut up. I am too concerned about the company to not argue for what I believe is right. A lot of the guys just consider one or two of the aspects, but they don't seem to give a shit about other, really important stuff.

Sometimes I wonder if I should go on. Often I feel I am giving too much of myself, but nobody cares. I am kind of convinced that a lot would change for the worse if I left. I have played with the idea of making a new company, or join an existing one. Or just give up reenacting. Or at least do nothing in the company, and leave everything I do for others to handle. That way they might notice how much I really contribute to our group.

It might be that I am totally mistaken. I might not be such a big player after all. The company might just do fine without me, but sometimes - today for example - it feels like everything would crash without my efforts. We'll see what happens, and what I'll do in the end.

Italian Sunday

2009-06-18T21:33:00.003+02:00

The last day of the event, everything was focused on the Big One. The fight during the day feels a lot bigger than the night fight. Furthermore, we had a plan. The cocky Brit byrd Ellie was going to get it. A lot (most) of the guys in Albrechts Bössor has been in the military, and one has been working as a prison guard, so we decided to use what we've learned in the service of the state, and snatch her from the line (the English have quite a few women in their line, but Ellie gives more lip than the rest). Next step was to force her to use one of our handgonnes against her own. A devious plan indeed!

I decided not to join the line this day. Me and a couple of others (some of the Italians from yesterday also joined us at the gunnery position) stayed with the handgonnes. It all started out fine, but I recently heard that one of the Swedes had both (!) his legplates smashed from his shins. Both straps attaching them broke. One of the English used a mace that was far too heavy and, if you ask me, shouldn't have been allowed at all at the field.

Now, back to the plan. Two of the biggest guys put their swords in their sheaths and strapped their shields to their arms. A couple of knights were going in first, to attack the people on the sides of Ellie, and to rob her of the safety of her comrades. Directly after that, the big guys just grappled her - one on each arm - and turned her around. She was dragged backwards by two 100 kilo guys, spitting and cursing, but then it all went wrong.

The English just couldn't stand to see one of their own being taken, and they shall have credit for that. The thing is, they shouldn't take things to seriously. We weren't going to kill her for real - it was all in good fun. But they were too prestigious. One of their knights left their line, and grabbed her to pull her back. Our knights pounded him silly, but he just wouldn't take hits. He started a tug-o-war with the poor Ellie, and our guys decided this wasn't at all what we were after, and simply let her go. Too bad. It would have been so funny.

When the fight was over, we were all steaming in the afternoon heat. A crowd of several thousand had come to see us fight, and it was kind of massive to see them all. We lined up in the usual fashion, and I looked down the line. We seemed to be hundreds (I guess we were). An impressive sight. After the speech by Padre Mauro and the charging of the audience, we packed up the camp. It took us some hours, and we were just about finished, when we were invited by our hosts to eat. We had lovely tortellini and after that cold meats and salamis. An excellent meal that came with wine.

The evening came to an end. I had a couple of drinks, but were too tired to stay up late (this wasn't at all true for my wife though...). I slept for some hours, and in the early morning we began our journey home.

Gunning the Saturday away - part 2

2009-06-02T14:26:00.001+02:00

Simon got the honour of resupplying the gunners' bags. I had to get more powder, as we more or less had run out. We were fit for the evenings fight, and waited, while we fortified our position behind the pavise by forcing stakes into the ground. The deal was, that we were going to start fighting along the spearmen in Carnis' unit - a group armed with spears and other pole arms, supported by some cap-à-pie-knights. The captains' meeting had confirmed our grim expectations - we were going to fight the Poles. Again. Everyone was put down in a way, but they also wanted satisfaction from last year. The mood was strangely mixed.

We marched into the field as darkness had settled, and witnessed a quite cool display, when soldiers burned an oupost belonging to the enemy. We left our guns and gunnery equipment with a guard in the gunnery position, and went to join the spears of Carnis.

Drums rolled. The Poles were advancing right towards us in a disturbing pace. Above us the sound of flying arrows could be heard, as our strong archers unit let loose of their flowers of war. Then, suddenly, a unit started to advance diagonally across the field. It were the English. Good old Company of Chivalry! They steered in front of the Polish, and marched at us. The Polish stopped, and turned to engage some unlucky Italians. They left us with the boys of merry England.

We advanced to meet them. Me and Johan held the unit's right flank, armed with sword and shield. And then the bills fell into the line with a crash. The English are hard fighters, but most of them still think it's good fun. That's why you can almost endure a heavy bill hitting you in the head. The fight was on. It was an inferno of thrusting spears and glinting swords, of screaming and clattering, of fear and dark joy. As usual, I don't remember much of the fights. You are so focused on details that you forget the whole picture.

The battle was drawing near its end, and the gunners left the line, as decided before hand - we were going to cover the withdrawal of our forces with gun fire. And we did. Orders were shouted, priming powder was ignited. The muzzle flashes and the bangs filled the night, as the crowd cried in terror with each shot fired. We felt grim and mighty, and actually we were more gunners than usual; a handful of Italian colleagues had joined up, and fired happily shot after shot. In the wet grass, they stinging grey smoke lingered. The smell was strong. It looked awesome.

It was about then it happened. We heard muffled screams in the direction of Carnis' unit, and Dr Bob ran towards the spot. I don't know what happened in detail, but I do know that one of our German friends had an Italian spear in his eye. Dr Bob joined him in the ambulance for Abbiategrasso hospital. He returned much later in the night, and told us the unlucky German would probably be alright, even if nothing was certain (today he is more or less fully restored, and he will keep his eye sight as far as I know).

You always take a risk when fighting in the field. You always get bruised, and you always burn your hands when meddling with gun powder. It's not a children's game, even if it's not for real. People do get hurt - they even die, although very seldom. I guess nobody wants to think of it, and to tell the truth the injuries are kind of few, if you regard how many are involved in this hobby, and the violent nature of it. I have myself been close to serious injury when one of the guns exploded and I had a piece of shrapnel in my chin. It came out after some weeks and an operation. I will always have a noteable scar in my face, but in a strange way, I feel kind of proud of it. I just sincerely hope next explosion won't get my eye or any of my arterys.

And then - as usual - it was time for food and drink. We ended up in our camp, really late, where I swearing and cursing lost game after game of the dice game Glückenhaus. I swear Hannah must have cheated! Four twelves in a row? Impossible!

Gunning the Saturday away - part 1

2009-06-01T16:31:00.019+02:00

Saturday the event started for real. We had breakfast, and then went for the ice cream place. Italian ice cream is sooo good. I was a bit tired from the day before, but Dr Bob gave me something to drink that was supposed to restore the balance in my body - water, salt and sugar. It tasted so foul I almost threw up, mainly because lots of the salt and sugar was left in the bottom, and I got it all in my mouth, but also because of the unlikely mix of the taste of salt and sugar...

Kåre from Carnis had challenged a Polish guy to a fight, and that guy came to the camp, all geared up in a beautiful kit. He looked impressive and was polite and friendly, and I was glad I had that impression; it fuels my opinion that the Polish are actually very nice guys, only with different views on how to fight. Kåre was woken up, as he was still sleeping in the tent. Although probably really tired, he geared up, and they went to the field to settle the score, in all friendlyness. I didn't see it happen, but they hadn't been fighting for long until Kåre somehow was hit by the shield of the Polish guy. According to Dr Bob (who really is a doctor), Kåre's nose broke by the blow. And he wasn't happy about it. I can't remember all of it, but the Pole meant that Kåre did something he shouldn't do, and Kåre said, in his turn, that shield bashing is out of the question. At least they parted as friends. I think.

We went to Davide, one of the organizers, to fetch powder for the guns, and then we prepared priming powder by grinding some of it up in a mortar. We filled up the powder flasks, cut appropriate pieces of slow match, packed our gunners' bags and dressed up in full battle gear. Then we went out in the field. It was really hot. It was so hot Dr Bob couldn't stay outside - he sat boiling in the heat, trying not to collapse. The rest of us tried to be heroes (but remained only stupid) while we prepared to practice the art of gunnery. Yosef from Fraternis Militia Carnis didn't have much armour on, so he chose to fight alongside us. He became a welcome addition to the gunnery position, behind a sturdy pavise on our left flank.

Earlier we haven't had much of standardized commands for firing the guns and controlling the gun crews, so we started by making them up. They have a good feel to them, and some are borrowed or adapted from "genuine" Swedish army commands. And here they are (scroll down if you feel it is getting immensely boring):

Duka! ("Set up", when arriving at a firing position)
Gör klart att skägga! (When preparing to leave a firing position "Make ready to run like hell"), then
Packa! ("Pack up")
Ladda! ("Load!")
Fänga! ("Prime!")
Eld! ("Fire!")
Samtidigt eldöppnande - eld! ("Simultaneous fire - Fire!")
I tur och ordning - eld! ("One after another - Fire!")
Fri eldgivning - eld! ("Fire at will - Fire!")

Furthermore, we kitted our gunners' bags with the same set of equipment:

- Slow match
- A tool for holding the slow match
- A ramrod
- A bag full of wad
- A powder flask
- A small container with priming powder
- A mallet for packing the charge
- Means to light up the slow match
- A needle to clear out the priming hole if necessary

Then we plunged into it. We loaded, fired, loaded again, fired - I lost count on how many shots we fired, but I am pretty sure we kept going for at least 30 minutes. Yosef turned out to be an incredible loader - he was too quick for the rest of us. Just a shame he's a member of Carnis - not of Albrechts Bössor ;-)

Alex got to test fire his new monster gun. We used double the amount of powder and double the wad (we use tea bags as wad). At first it just kind of said "poof!" anyway, so we were more thorough when packing the charge, with small carpenters mallets I had bought especially for the occasion (these turned out to be kinda crappy, as they slid off the ramrod when we were packing the charge - we need to get new ones).

During firing, the guns became so hot we had to switch them for unused ones. The bangs made my new helmet resound with a faint clang, and when we eventually finished, the faces of our boys were covered in black powder grime and sweat.

Then our friends from Carnis took the field. They were practicing spear fighting, and we joined in. Kristoffer (aka "Dansken" - The Dane") was responsible for drilling the group, and he was hung over. Like really. Plus, his orders were in Danish, and built up in such a way that people got confused and a bit annoyed. When things didn't work out as he wanted, he screamed louder, and pushed us in the back, which made everyone much more motivated - not. The heat, and the fact that he made us trot around with presented spears (which is physically straining after a while) and the screaming (plus our half hour firing spree just before) made me wish I'd been somewhere else. Finally it all ended, and we could go back to eat.

Departing for foreign lands, our first day in camp

2009-05-30T09:49:00.006+02:00

We met up with others in the company in Milan, and had an excellent meal, whereafter we slept safe and sound at a crappy hostel. Aaaaaaand let's skip to the cool part!

The camp was slowly forming as we arrived. It is a special view - a medieval camp coming to life. We could enjoy it from a little hill top, just as we arrived. We all helped out making camp, and with relative ease and speed everything was finished. For some reason, the boys and girls in the company always seem to be digging the waste pit and making the wash up-place when we go with other companies. It has almost become kind of a tradition. I guess it depends on that most men in Albrechts Bössor has been in the army, and know the value of good hygiene when camping, especially when there are lots of people around. It was really hard work, using only medieval tools, but soon enough I finished the pit connected to the washing up-place. We had a breather, and sat down inside the new tent.

And then the rain started. And what a rain it was. The raindrops hammered the tent walls and sent tiny drops, nearly mist, inside. We sat a while and realised that the tent passed the test. Water was coming through, but it wasn't dripping. Rather it ran down the tent walls down on the ground, exactly how it's supposed to do. You can't really keep completely dry in a tent. Rather, you don't get soaked.

But at this point, we started to worry a bit. At this pace, water would be floating in the tent very soon, so it was time for more army work. We picked up the shovels and picks, and went out bare chested (skin is water proof :-)) to dig canals around the tents. We worked at a furious pace, whipped by the rain. The canals actually filled up as we were digging them, so we had to make them deeper and wider still. When we were finished the rain stopped. And it didn't rain a drop after that. Rather it was scorching hot. Figures.

That night, we had a lot of beer and Grappa. Padre Mauro, the priest connected to the Morimondo church, ran the pub situated in the monastery. We looked at a film from last year's battle and sang indecent songs together with all our old friends. Göran, one of the new comers in Carnis, brought his hurdy gurdy and played the song "Höstvisa" - Autumn Song. It just so happens that that particular song is somewhat of a national anthem to Albrechts Bössor, and we all bellowed the words in between glasses of wine and beer. I had bought Amarone, a herbal liquor, which resembles of Jägermeister - only better. It was nicked by Ellie from the Company of Chivalry, and never seen again. That girl has a lip, and she's not taller than three apples stacked on each other.

Padre Mauro gave each company two sets of aquarelles portraying different aspects of the newly renovated monastery. Up until now, we have always looked at scaffolding when turning our eyes to the monastery, but now, the renovations are over. The monastery sure is a sight. It is very beautiful and very big. Of course I missed the guided tour. I will have to make it next year, as it is said to be very good.

The English joined us at our camp to drink some more. The night went on, with a lot of laughter and singing. A perfect start of the first event of the year. I can't remember when I went to bed, but I slept as good as I always do in the hay, under the blankets. Waking up was a different story though...

Departing for foreign lands

2009-05-22T10:24:00.002+02:00

Alea Iacta Est…
…said Caesar, trying to blend in, because he wasn’t in Rome. He was in fact in Milan, as were I. Mercenaries from across Europe were drawn to the village of Casorate, some distance from the great city. They enrolled either for Visconti or his rivals, as they were preparing to fight each other, in the year of our lord 1356. Caesar wasn’t really there, by the way. He was born and killed much earlier. And to tell you the truth, I wasn’t there either. At least not that particular year, or any year yet. I went to Morimondo, some distance from Casorate, to reenact the battle of Casorate. Don’t ask me why it is taking place in Morimondo. I have no idea why. I’m just happy to be invited.

This, the first event of the season, was preceded by lots and lots of work and preparations. Me and Elisabeth had three main things to fix: One of the new company tents (which you probably already read about), lining for my new helmet and the sleeves for my (much hated) panzar. And how we worked. We were actually finished in time, against all experience and against all odds, and could even relax a couple of hours before packing the stuff and leaving for Kalmar. We were planning to leave Thursday, three days after packing up. Now all we could do was to wait.
The truck picking up people’s equipment left Stockholm Tuesday morning, and apparently got into trouble from the start. They were planning to pack equipment from a storage room in Stockholm about 6 in the morning, but the guy with the keys didn’t show up until hours later. The three heroes in the truck reacted as anyone would, and became a bit cross. When they had packed it all, they realized that it was a lot of gear. In fact, they suspected it was more than they were allowed to load the truck with. A bit of a set back, really, as they still had two pick up points left - Kalmar and Malmö.

They arrived in Kalmar much later than they planned, really stressed, and discovered even more stuff. At this point they phoned Ragnar, who phoned me. He told me that the drivers weren’t exactly happy with the amount of gear that we had left for them. Ragnar explained that the drivers seemed to be most upset about all the stuff the guys of Albrechts Bössor were bringing along. I was a bit puzzled. And annoyed. We usually put an honour into bringing only what we can carry, and this didn’t go well along with the drivers’ accusation. I phoned Sebastian, and I expected him to be really really mad. But he wasn’t.

- Sebbe! Ragnar called me. What’s going on?
- I guess we have about 1000 kilos of over weight, and we hardly left Kalmar. We still have Malmö left. Do you know if there’s anything you guys can leave behind?
I had a think.
- Yeah, I guess, but I’ll call the guys and ask them. I’ll get back to you.
So I called all of the guys going to Italy, and finally came up with a short list of things to leave behind. Then I called Simon, the guy in the company living closest to Malmö. Even if he lives closer than the rest of us, he still faced an hours drive. We really needed him to go and sort things out, and it wasn’t even sure that he was able to. I called.
- Hey Simon. What are you up to?
- Not much. Having a meal. I just came from work.
- Oh well. Eat up. The king needs you.
- Really?
- Really, really.

And that excellent piece of friend just did it. He jumped in his car and went to help the drivers. I really don’t believe we were big sinners in the packing business, but nevertheless he might have saved some face for the company.

Thursday. We left Växjö in the morning. Isolde’s grandmother came to pick her up, and we waved to the at the train platform as they went. And then we stepped aboard, bound for Copenhagen airport. We met up with Simon and had a sushi in Malmö at the place I used to work. It was good to see my old colleagues again, and the sushi tasted better than ever.
We arrived in Copenhagen and checked in to the flight. Then we had a tedious wait before boarding and taking off. Two hours later we stepped on Italian soil.

Fighting in the land of parmesan cheese

2009-05-12T09:45:00.008+02:00

The day after tomorrow a bunch of the guys from Albrechts Bössor are leaving a warm, sunny and beautiful spring for rain, clouds and a temperature about the same as in Sweden - even though we are leaving for Italy. In many ways the event in Morimondo (close to Milan in northern Italy) is one of the finest I have been to. The food and the hospitality is top notch, as is the wine and the comradeship. It is also really nice to get out of Sweden, where we have burrowed for long, dark winter months. It is exceptionally well organized in a beautiful small village with an old monastery.

But there are some things I would change if I could. Different groups have very different opinions on how to interpret safety rules at the field. Most groups from eastern Europe seems to have a completely different view on safe fighting than do most groups from western Europe. We get along well with Germans, Brits and Danes, but we sometimes experience a bit of unpleasantries from Poles, Czechs and Russians. They gear up in full plate with closed visors (then they consider themselves secure), and then they wade into the melee, aiming for the head. We on the other hand, often portray more "simple" soldiers, which means we don't gear up as much, for the sake of authenticity.

We come from a fighting culture where most people respect this, and go easy on fighters in light armour. We also acknowledge hits, even if we are well armoured; it is not always easy to recognize a light hit when you are clad in plate, but if you pay attention to what is happening, and don't go into some kind of frenzy, you can usually register the hits you take. And we don't go for head shots, if it is not explicitly agreed between two separate fighters. The guys from eastern Europe don't seem to share that culture.

Time and time again I have been taking loads of hard hits, even when I was not in fact a combattant (gunners don't count as combattants, as we carry gunpowder, and as we don't have much armour. If we want to fight hand-to-hand, it becomes clear, as we leave our gunnery equipment behind and arm ourselves with weapons for close combat). Our gunnery position has been stormed, and gunners knocked to the ground, with gunpowder twirling all over the place. Friends of mine have been struck in the face - hits which could easily have made him both blind and without teeth.

And it doesn't seem to matter how many times you hit them - they don't fall. And this leads to that you have to hit them harder - as they don't seem to register being hit. And this leads to injuries and maddened tempers - when they do feel the hits, the hits are so hard it REALLY hurts, and they wonder why we hit them so hard... Last year, many fighters in our ranks - Italians, Germans, Swedes and more - put down their weapons and raised their hands to the sky, declaring that we didn't want to fight the Poles.

Don't get me wrong - I like a good fight, but you must adapt your force and fighting style to your opponent. It is not (believe it or not) a fight to the death. It is not a competition - in fact, the outcome of the battle is often decided before hand. It is just supposed to be a good show for the audience and good fun for the fighters. It is a pity we are having a kind of cultural clash (in more than one sense ;-)). We should just sit down with a couple of drinks and have a talk about it. I am sure we can get along just fine if we just discussed the issue.

Otherwise I will eat a lot of Italian food. I will drink loads of wine and Grappa, have ice cream, heavenly Italian desserts and share romantic moments with my bonnie lass - my parents-in-law are good enough to eat, as they have agreed to baby sit Isolde for us! My wife and I, alone in the land of milk and honey! I shall eat myself into a stupor, have more than one drink with my friends and have lots of quality time with Elisabeth. And I have saved hundreds of Euros that I have dedicated to food and drink in Italy. I am going to love this sooo much!

Anyway. Me and Elisabeth have been working like mad finishing stuff. I haven't been in the position for a while (the position where you work your fingers until they bleed, finishing 6 in the morning the day you are going to leave for the event), but this time I had to finish my panzar. I just had to. I have been working on that piece of junk for 4 years, and every moment has been solid pain. I hate that panzar. But now it's finished, even though I am not exactly happy with it. It is about 60% of what I would like it to be. Never the less - it's finished, and I will declare a "panzarium pandemonium" - a tradition amongst members of the group, that says that as soon as you have finished your hand stitched panzar, you shall have a sort of party, where you buy drinks for everyone that show up with a hand stitched panzar, that they have made themselves. I will post pictures as soon as my crappy panzar has seen its first action.

We finished packing up our stuff yesterday, and took a 1,5 hour drive to Kalmar, where we left our pack for the lorry drivers. They will be arriving to pack it all up some hours from now, and then they will begin their long trip through Europe, over the Alps and into Italy. The rest of us will fly, and meet them there. They really are heroes, and I salute them for taking a harsh responsibility.

I will give a full report as soon as I come back, but until then you will most probably have to wait, as I need to get back on track with stuff like laundry, cleaning and other everyday stuff that I have neglected during my stitching frenzy the last week.

Woodworker, Episode 2b

2009-05-01T11:09:00.005+02:00

I revised my schematics with approximate measurements, some construction details and a sketch of how the lid and the floor are supposed to be constructed. The floorboards are not joined together - they will be put into a groove cut along the nether part of the chest walls, and will be supported by underlying beams slotted into the leg boards.

Woodworker, episode 2

2009-04-26T09:04:00.010+02:00

Now I have made enough progress to present some more of my attempt to make 14th century chests (I am making 2 - one for me, and one for my wife).

The chests are based on a typical "hutch chest design", where the legs of the chest are actually part of the sides of the chest itself. It's a bit difficult to explain, but I'll make a try with a pic. I mentioned before that I am not a craftsman, and before you judge me, I would also like to state that I am not an artist either. Nevertheless - I am damned proud of the above pic. It is the schematics I should have had before I started to work on that chest. I never thought I could make something as accurate as that picture, and it gives me good hope that I am not that useless when it comes to arts and crafts after all! Sometimes I despair, of course, like when I look at my good friend Alex's stuff. He's like:
"Oh, I just made it last evening. It took me a couple of hours. I'm not particularly happy with it, but it does it's job." When I try to make something the like, I usually end up in a sweaty, swearing heap with a headache - after about two weeks of planning, preparations, work and mistake after mistake.

When I was at my first reenactment event, the summer of 2003 in Azincourt, France, I met a group reenacting Burgundians of the mid 15th century. When I saw their stuff I was astonished, and when I had some time alone, I cried a bit, and wanted to go home. I was so proud of the clothes I had managed to tack together, and it all went to dismay when I saw their heavenly outfits. "HOW!?" I asked myself. "How can they produce such fine stuff? I will never ever be able to sew clothes that are half as good."

But then I started thinking a bit, and came to the conclusion that these Burgundians had started out just like me - without anything to wear at all. And they had also made mistakes. Several hundreds. Maybe I can't be just as good as they, but I am steadily growing better at everything I dare to try. Even though I despair, and doubt my very craftsman-foundation from time to time, that thought is comforting, and keeps me on my feet when I feel worthless. Everyone has made countless mistakes, and very few are actually happy with what they make; my friend Johan has made more things than I can even imagine, but he still says he's been happy with only two of them. And one broke in Italy last year (the irony!)... On my own part, I am at my fourth panzar/gambeson, and as soon as I'm finished, I'll make a new one. Hopefully, the fifth will be the last, as I have now made most of the possible mistakes when stitching gambesons.

Oh well. Back to that chest. To this day, I have joined the boards of the gables and the long sides together, with strips of wood fitted in grooves in the edges of the boards.

The picture on the left, shows what I am talking about. Next step will be to make grooves in the edges of the chest legs, to fit the joint tongues of the walls, thus putting the chest together.

I worked the joint tongues with a plane to bevel them, mostly to make them fit but also to make it look good, and made with care; the bevelled bit won't be visible from the chest outside - it can only be seen when opening the chest, and most probably I will be the only one doing that. It is a lot of work for no one to see. I didn't even have to work them with a plane at all (and that was solid pain and sweat) - I could just have made them simple and straight, as I leave the other side of the joint tongue. It would have been period anyway. Silly me. The picture to the above left shows how the worked joint tongue looks (and the picture below shows the un-worked side - the one that will be visible from the outside. It will hopefully fit in nicely in the chest leg.

The gables won't be worked at all. A wide groove (at least in comparison) will be made in the flat of the legs, where the gables will be fitted. They will be fastened with wooden dowels. This means that I will be almost finished in a couple of weeks (not in time for Morimondo, Italy, though...). Apart from the lid. And the bottom. And the hinges. And the lock (OK - hinges and lock are made by blacksmiths I know - I wouldn't want to try making anything as important by myself - at least not this time). Anyway. I can see the light in the end of the tunnel. More coming up as I go along!

Getting in shape

2009-04-19T19:02:00.006+02:00

It is time to shape up the kit. The season is almost upon us, and I want to look smart, or at least not more scruffy than I usually look. That's why I pulled out my bascinet (or pekkilhuva if you like to use the medieval Swedish word for it) for a little shining up. It was a bit rusty, and kind of dull, so I worked it with steel wool and tooth paste (it's really good when you need something polished). I don't like my stuff too shiny - I am supposed to portray a soldier with a lot more to do than just polish my helmet. It came out alright, though. Over the years, it has became dented and rough to the finish - a most splendid resemblance that it probably saved me from nasty injuries several times.

The lining is held in place with stitching through loads and loads of tiny holes drilled on the lower edge of the helmet. I remake some of that stitching once every year, as it tends to wear out kind of easily. All in all, it was about an hours work, and my bascinet is ready for yet another season of relentless bashing. Thanks for being there to protect my head, pekkilhuva!

A case of pointyness

2009-04-19T18:25:00.005+02:00

Remember I told you about a needle case? Well, I have had it for some time, but I haven't got around to posting pics of it yet. Here is one, anyway. The case is made in triangular shape, from pure silver, and it is hybrid based on two 14th century sources (I can't tell you which two, as I haven't made it myself, but I am sure they are accurate, as Martin takes his stuff seriously). It is pretty exactly 8 centimetres long, from the top of the cross to the bottom, and each side is circa 1 centimetre across. It has inscriptions on the sides saying: "Non mihi", "Non tibi", "Sed Nobis", which means "Not for me", "Not for you", "But for us".

Uniform

2009-04-16T20:40:00.004+02:00

The other day, a parcel lay on the door mat. My dear friend Johan, a co-founder and mover and shaker in Albrechts Bössor had made me a present. It is a real nice shirt, hand painted and a really personalized (is that the way to express it?) gift.

In the photo above you can see me looking grim and grumpy, military style, and below you can see details of the great art work. Thanks a million times Johan! I will wear it always...

I am a tent maker, episode 3

2009-04-16T20:17:00.006+02:00

During easter celebrations we set out to finish what we hadn't - we wanted to finish that tent. Simon, me and Elisabeth gathered at Lunda's place. He and his wife Ann-Sofie were friendly enough to welcome us into their home - even though it was Ann-Sofie's birthday. As a birthday gift, me and Eli brought her hand dyed yarn.

We figured we were about half-finished with the tent, and started stitching about 10 in the morning, aiming to work during the night if we had to. We wanted so hard to finish before our event in Morimondo, Italy, in May.

Simon missed the bus and joined us some hours later, but apart from that, we all worked continuously during the day. Even Ann-Sofie joined the work force for a while - incredibly nice of her, as she is not into medieval stuff - yet :-). The picture to the left shows a grinning Lunda and Ann-Sofie (plus a freakishly big pile of tent), both working hard.

As the day progressed into evening, Simon pulled out a bottle of Bowmore to strengthen our weary spirits and aching fingers. We countered him by pulling out another bottle that we bought for his birthday some days before. This pic shows Lunda having a well earned dram.

As we were close to finishing the tent, we discussed the matter of an earlier mistake - when we first cut the pieces for the tent, we made them way too long. They were supposed to be 280 centimetres long, but due to a misinterpretation of a sketch, we cut them 350 centimetres long instead. We brought the nearly finished tent out in the dark yard to test it. Me and Lunda had gone scouting for a centre pole earlier, and with the help of Ann-Sofie's family (they were there for the birthday dinner - I cooked fish soup for the occasion), we managed to raise the tent to see how if our mistake would make it look silly or "wrong". We decided that it was a bit too pointy, and we went back to cutting fabric again. Next pic shows Simon measuring to cut another piece.

That extra piece was too much for us. We worked until 11 in the evening, and decided to call it a day, even if we were not finished. Me and Eli took it home to finish it. Perhaps Lunda will join us some weekend to help. Otherwise, it's not much left - we will fix the top part of the "roof" and hem the bottom. We figure it will take us 10 or 15 hours more work, but then it will be finished - and it will be roomy enough to shelter more or less all of the guys in Albrechts Bössor - and you, if you decide to tag along!

An even five

2009-04-03T14:15:00.002+02:00

Speaking of followers - By all the saints! I have five! Five I tell you!

Public figure

2009-04-03T11:22:00.002+02:00

I just realised that I have 4 followers... Standing in the lime light certainly makes me dizzy... Thank you all for this token of appreciation!

My cold weather coat

2009-03-19T20:03:00.010+01:00

I have made a coat for cold watches during summer nights, or frosty autumn marches. The coat is based on two of the Herjolfsnes finds - the no. 45 and the no. 63, plus numerous representations of clothing with paired buttons. It is made from coarse, thick woolen cloth and lined with softer woolen cloth.

The garment is really based on the Herjolfsnes 45, above left of this text. I borrowed the pic (and the pic representing the Herjolfsnes 63) from this page:

http://www.personal.utulsa.edu/~Marc-Carlson/cloth/tunics.html

It really is a tremendous page. If you haven't visited it, now is your chance. And if the owner of the page gets mad at me for using these pics, I would be happy if he told me, so that I can remove them.

Now. Back to the no. 45. The construction, including the pocket slits, is more or less exactly like the no. 45. I chose to make long arms, though. I made the fake gores (seams sewn in the middle of other gores to make the impression that there is actually more gores than there really is), but I can't say that it made much difference, as it is barely visible. Never the less.

From the no. 63 (to the left) I borrowed the collar. I have never made a garment with a collar, so I thought it might make a nice change. However it became a bit too small - it nearly chokes me when I have it buttoned. Hopefully it will give way in time.

That is really the main problem - the coat is a bit too small. Because I was going to have a lot of gores and seams, I used 25 centimetres of seam allowance, because I wanted the coat to be roomy. When it was finished, I could barely button it though. But I hope that it will stretch as I use it, plus I could lose some weight :-)

Below are some pics of me in my spanking new coat and shoes. The hood isn't that new, although I made it last year.

Here is a closeup at one of the pocket slits. They are quite handy when you want your purse, or if you would like to grab your dagger quickly for some reason :-)

Closeup of the choke-collar. Note the colour of my face - it is starting to turn a bit blueish.

Close up of paired buttons upon a belly that grows fatter by each day in the office... Luckily, I've started excercising.

And lastly - here is me, with my shiny shoes, my hood, my spanking new coat and a spear, to ward of the wolves in the Kivik forests.

Finally - shoes!

2009-03-19T19:49:00.001+01:00

And now - what you have all been waiting for: My shoes! It is not much to say, really. They are finished, and I am kinda happy with them, although I would like them to be just a bit more pointy. And next pair will.

I am a tentmaker, episode 02

2009-03-18T16:19:00.003+01:00

Of course we didn't start stitching until about saturday noon. It's so typical - when you set out to do something, it is always those little things that get in your way. We shopped a couple of beers and a lot of food, so that we could have a pleasant time while working; if it's anything you need when putting your back to it, it is proper food and drink.

The work force was a bit crippled, due to my daughter Isolde - one of us always had to keep an eye out for her. She loves the following:

- Knives (and other weapons)
- Every other little thing she can use to harm herself

It sounds really awful, but neither me nor my wife have actively encouraged her. She has found her way all by herself. It was not until evening, when she went to bed, that we could really start working. By then Lunda had joined us, and we were building up severe pressure in the kitchen of Simon's parents.

First of all, we measured up the cloth. The tent is made up by triangles with a base of 160 centimetres, and a height of 344 centimetres, so we started working on the floor, cutting the cloth into what we wanted. It was clear that these tents will be a lot bigger than our previous ones, which is a good thing. Now we will finally have enough space for everyone. And then the stitching commenced. And it went on until 2 in the morning...

We continued for some hours the next day, but the tent was only about half finished. That gives us the opportunity to meet again in april to finish it, and to have another fantastic time. Thanks guys, and Simon's parents, for a great weekend with excellent food, lots of laughs and good company.

Woodworker

2009-03-13T13:33:00.003+01:00

On another note, I've finally started to work on a couple of chests. I bought the wood years and years ago - fine oak from the northern parts of Skåne - and thanks to Daniel of Fraternis Militia Carnis, who is a woodwork teacher at a school nearby, I have access to a fully equipped workshop. Furthermore, he can advise me when I am about to make terrible mistakes - as you all know, I am not a craftsman, so these mistakes do happen, more often than not.

I have been shaving about 50% of the planks (no, not with a razor but with a plane - not a flying one, but one that you use to make wood smooth), and they look severely nice. I am content the chests will be really sweet as soon as they are finished.

Magnus, also from Fraternis Militia Carnis, has been nice enough to show me his thoughts on construction. He and I looked through about a 100 pics of chests from my PC, and then we shared ideas. As he seems to be better at "constructive thinking", he eventually sketched up a blue print for our chests. Both his and my chests will be constructed in a similar way, so it was good to have the opinion of someone more "crafty".

There is a lot of work to be done when building a chest, I'll tell you. I'll be posting some pics now and then, as my work progresses. Stay tuned!

I am a tent maker, episode 01

2009-03-13T13:08:00.006+01:00

Today I am leaving town to go with some of the other guys of Albrechts Bössor to the small town Kivik, which is located in the absolute south of Sweden. We are going to hand-stitch a new tent at Simon's place. The guys in the "northern section", around Stockholm, are going to do the same, which means that we will finally have lots of space when going on events.

I searched high and low for good fabric, and I finally found a sturdy, white linen. It is cloth for making sails, more or less, and will live through most weathers.

We will be making the same old tents that we alreday have three of. They are called bell-tents by some. They resemble a teepee, and they are the only tents, except for regular pavilions and some other tent types with a frame, that I have seen during our period. There are LOADS of pics of pavilion, but more or less NO pics of tents of smaller type - soldier's tents. We feel it would be inapropriate if common soldiers lived in a pavilion; lots of things point to that tents weren't very common at all during the 14th century, even for officers. It is more likely that soldiers took shelter where ever they could, and if they didn't find a roof, they would simply sleep under the sky, wrapped up in blankets. That is my opinion.

But. As most reenactors are utter weaklings (including me and most of my friends), we choose to have tents. And to make it credible, we only have tents that we could transport ourselves. This makes the teepee-tent ideal for our needs, as it is very easy to put up and to put down, and it is light to carry. There is no need to bring the center pole; as long as you know how tall it needs to be, you can simply grab the nearest fence pole of appropriate length and - voila!

I have been looking forward to this meeting a long time now, and it will be glorious to meet the guys again. I have a feeling it will be a great weekend, filled with good friends, laughter, stitches, hard work, sweating, snapping needles, swearing, cursing and at least five different "I hate this crap! I give up! I'm going home!". Then again - there will be pizza and beer... And I will be getting away from Växjö for a while :-)

Med brinnande lunta..?

2009-01-30T08:25:00.005+01:00

Maybe it's time to tell those of you that does not speak Swedish what the blog name means. It is actually a part of conditions for surrender, meaning that if you can surrender in this manner, you are not beaten, but can march off with pride and fighting spirit, ready to strike back. The full sentence reads: "Med brinnande lunta, flygande fanor och kula i munnen" and is translated into: "With burning slow match, flying banners and a bullet in the mouth." The bullet in the mouth part is for quick reload; when you fire your first round, all you have to do is top up with powder and spit the bullet into the muzzle. Then you are more or less ready for another go.

Needle case and a freaking oud

2009-01-21T16:21:00.006+01:00

One of my friends contacted me the other day. We usually chat on the msn or on the phone, and give each other advice on stuff medieval. He is a goldsmith by trade (he made my wedding ring, among other things), and he knows a lot about crafting, so I sometimes ask him when I need to know. As I stated - I am not a craftsman. I am a reading man. And that is why my friend contacted me. I can't help out much, but what I can do is get 14th century manuscript pictures of most stuff imaginable. So he told me:
"I've got a challenge for you! I bet you can't come up with a picture of an oud."
"What the...?"
"Yeah. It's like a lute used in islamic cultures. They used it in southern Europe as well during the 14th century."

I smiled. I smiled because I recently saw a picture of the instrument he was after in a French manuscript. So I promptly sent it to him by mail. Just to show him.
"Check your inbox." I told him. His msn was still. No messages in sight. He paused. I waited. Finally:
"OK. Thanks. Splendid work! Talk to you later!"
And that was that. I felt good. Challenge-Schmallenge!

Some day later he phoned me, and said:
"Hey. You know you always get me sources on everything?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, me and Stefan really appreciate it, and we would like to do something for you in return."
"No need, but thanks." He ignored me.
"I heard someone lost his needle case last summer." I frowned.
"It was actually my wife..."
"Blame whoever you wish. Still it's gone, right?"
"True."
"We'll make you one. Get me a source on a nice one, and you'll have it in your hand before spring."

I was deeply touched. I really was. And then I started to look for sources. And you know what? Despite of all my bragging, I still haven't found a good source...

If you have a good source on an extant needle case in metal, preferrably from Scandinavia or northern Germany - please tell me!

A new year

2009-01-12T08:21:00.002+01:00

I hope you all had good holidays. I was out travelling through Sweden to meet the family and the friends. It seemed easy enough, but it eventually turned out to be a two week long odyssey, with little time for rest.

First of all, I would like to write a short notice on the upcoming Burns' Night. It seems sheep entrails are considered non-edible by the Swedish ministry of health - and that means that you can only get them through more or less unofficial channels, like your friends, and not through butcher's shops. This means that I probably can't get the ingredients for my haggis :-(, and THAT means you won't get to read yucky details on my second attempt :-)

Fear not. Soon I will present a heap of new stuff - upcoming kettle hat, made by Ralph Snel, a bagpipe, made by Thorsten Stoye, pics of my "new" shoes and my new coat, plus pics of an upcoming gorget made by Simon Lundqvist.

I will also report on the making of new greaves, and of me not going on the Albrechts Bössor winter march.

Stay tuned!

The poet

2008-12-09T10:46:00.002+01:00

Speaking of Haggis - next year it is 250 years since Robert Burns was born. I think I shall celebrate that with a genuine Burns' Night supper, which means more haggis, more whiskey and more bagpipes!

I am a wrongdoer

2008-12-07T17:31:00.003+01:00

- Strawberrys doesn't come to Europe until the 18th century, which mean you can't use them in medieval recipes
- Currants should in this case probably be interpreted as raisins

Let this be a lesson to you! Check up on your sources!

Sweets

2008-12-02T08:20:00.004+01:00

This weekend I tested out a handful of 14th century recipes for sweets. It came down to a pie, two kinds of deep fried pastries, an early form of gingerbread biscuits, Lebkuchen, a warm drink called Caudel (I'm not sure this one is 14th century though...) and two kinds of hypocras. It took the better part of the day to fix it all.

Thanks to Astrid and Daniel Serra, I had access to grains of paradise (oh, sweet, rare grains!), and some tips on how to make the best of the hypocras. A lesson learnt is that the original recipes certainly must be divided into three or four - to use all that spice makes a porridge out of it all, and it is mortally expensive. Although I noticed this from the beginning and divided the amounts, it was still too much, and as the cinnamon powder started to react with the alochol, it became slimy like I don't know what. Hence, it was nigh impossible to sieve. Therefore: Second lesson learned is to not use powdered spice, but rather to grind the spice yourself, and make it kind of coarse. Earlier experiences tell me the same, but I guess I looked into the recipes a little bit to anxiously. As a cook, I should have trusted my instincts... Well. Better luck next time, I suppose.

If you don't know what Hypocras is, it is sweetened wine, spiced with a lot of different spices. I used a recipe from Le Menagier de Paris and a recipe from Curye on Inglish, a French and an English cook book from the latter 14th century. The recipe contains, among other things, cinnamon, nutmeg, mace, cloves, ginger, long pepper and so on. These recipes can easily be found online. Just google Le menagier de Paris hypocras (or click this link. When looking through the book, note that hypocras is spelled hippocras), or click this link to download the Forme of Curye, which is a part of the Curye on Inglish, if I'm not mistaken. Watch out for strange interpretations though. Try to use the original recipe if possible, though weights and volumes might differ quite a lot from our modern ones.

When it came to Lebkuchen (which is from first quarter of the 15th century), I learned that I probably should boil the honey a bit longer, to make the cookies a bit stiffer. Furthermore, I should have ground the dried bread a little bit better. Last but not least, I shall be a little bit more careful with the white pepper. It is quite easy to make - boil honey for five or ten minutes (don't let it burn), skim it, and let it cool just a bit. Then mix in breadcrumbs enough to make the mixture stiff, saffron and ground white pepper. Grease up a baking plate with butter, pour the thick, hardly running mixture on to it, and let it cool in a dry place. Before it is completely settled, though, cut lines in it, so that you can easily divide it in cookie-sized portions.

When making Caudel (a hot drink), remember this: You must NOT let it boil. If you do, you are left with sweet, scrambled eggs... Caudel is made with sweet wine or sweet beer, depending on who you ask. I used a recipe that looks like this:

5 egg yolks
1,5 decilitres of sweet beer (I used Boddington this time - it was good enough)
Enough sugar
Enough saffron
An optional pinch of salt

I whipped the beer and the yolks together, put in the saffron and sugar, and started to heat it up. I was not paying attention when making the Caudel, and it started to boil. The result was a very runny batch of scrambled eggs. The mixture is supposed to thicken and get warm. It is not supposed to boil.

It was easy enough to make Crispels. Take pastry dough and go at it with a rolling pin. Deep fry it. Dip it in boiling honey (watch your fingers). Done.

Next one - tourteletes in fryture - wasn't hard, but craved some work. Chop up figs, 5-6 of them would make about ten tourteletes. Mix with saffron and powder forte (a medieval blend of spice, consisting of "hot" spice like ginger, black pepper and cloves - google it, and make up your own mind about what you like). Cut two circles of pastry dough (use a drinking glass as measure) per tourtelete, put the fig-mixture in the centre of one of the dough circles, and use the other circle to cover it up. Make a small package out of it, and make sure it is well closed - otherwise the filling will not stay put. Deep fry the packages, and when they are finished, swab them with molten honey.

The last one - Leche Frys in Lentoun - is a fruit pie made from almond milk (almond milk is roughly 1 part finely ground almonds and two parts of water boiled together for maybe five minutes).

Chop up apples and pears, along with dates, prunes and currants (I couldn't find currants, so I used strawberrys with good result). Mix it with enough sugar, with powder forte, with cinnamon, mace and cloves. Add the almond milk and perhaps some olive oil and a pinch of salt. Mix it all well together, and put it in a prebaked pie-shell. Bake until ready (it should be golden brown at the top, and not runny). Keep the oven kind of hot.

All together I was happy with the results, not least because I learned a lot from them. As I write this, it is not even two weeks left until the Feast of Saint Stefanus, an annual celebration held by Albrechts Bössor. You have probably already made out that I am supposed to make the sweets for that party...

Haggis - a complicated person

2008-11-17T18:30:00.006+01:00

Today I rinsed the stomach thoroughly, and left it in pure water.

Then I started on the filling.

150 grammes of oatmeal
is to be put in the oven until golden coloured. They should not be brown or black.
250 grammes of beef suet
is to be finely chopped. Suet is like, hard, hard fat/tallow that insulate the kidneys. It is easily available in Great Britain, although not in Sweden. I used lard, as an old recipe said it could be used instead.
The liver
should be grated or coarsely chopped.
The lungs and heart
should be minced.
3 onions
should be finely chopped.
The water you cooked the pluck in
is coming to use. Pour it over the other ingredients and make the mixture watery. I used about 6 decilitres, and it turned out really good, but this will vary depending on the size of the sheep's pluck.
Last step is to add
2 tablespoons of salt, along with a teaspoon of pepper and half a teaspoon of cayenne pepper and enough lemon juice to make the mixture tasty (I should have fried some of the mixture and tasted it, to know I got the proportions right, but I didn't. Still, the result was alright).

I will present the following steps with pictures. Commentary on the pics are found below it.

When everything is mixed into a paste, it is time to put it in the stomach. First of all, take a big pot and fill it halfways with water. Put it on a boil.

Fill the stomach about half full. I made the mistake of filling it all the way (Pic 1 - yes, it looks like...). Press out all air from the stomach, but leave a LOT of room (I didn't - see pic 2) - the stomach is shrinking by at least 50%, and the oatmeal swells a lot.

I looked at pictures of haggises on the web, and they seemed to be tied shut with a string (although it is a crappy pic, look at pic 3). I did the same, and lowered my happy haggis into the boiling water, and looked on as the stomach transformed (pic 4-5). I realised that it was going to burst in a matter of seconds, so I pierced it with a needle (pic 6). It was too late however, and the string fell off. The filling started to leak out in the pot, and my spirit sunk.

My clever wife however, took the situation under control, and took the pot of the heat. She put it all in a sieve, and in a matter of minutes we could refill the stomach. It had shrunk immensely. This time, we stitched it closely shut with whip stitches (pic 7-9). Also, we had cut off a bit of the stomach ("This is way too big. Lets cut the redundant material."), and we stitched the bottom together, filled it up, and left as much space as we could. Then we stitched it shut, and sunk both haggises into the water again.

This time, we had better luck. The original haggis had already shrunk, and was OK, but the other one shrunk considerably. We pricked it with a needle a couple of times, but eventually, it burst. This time it was not the stitching, but the stomach itself - I had scraped it too vigourously. I took it out of the water (it was only a small hole in it), and put it into a plastic bag, whereafter I put it back into the water again. I didn't want it all to go to waste, so I hope you forgive me if I cheated just a tad.

The Haggis is supposed to boil slowly for three hours. I boiled mine for about 2,5 hours, as they were kinda small. The finished Haggis was very good to the texture - as you don't eat it with sauce, I like mine a bit "juicy" (yes, I know it sounds disgusting). Every chef would of course have his Haggis different, but I like mine the way it turned out. During cooking, the water in the pot will evaporate. Keep hot water nearby to top up your pot as time passes, as the Haggis must always be covered with water.

Haggis is served with "neeps and nips" - mashed turnips and a dram of whisky. We found out that a glass of stout is an excellent companion to haggis and mashed turnips. It tasted a lot better than it looked, a real treat I must say, and it was certainly not disgusting as some of you probably think. You don't eat the stomach - it just acts like a vessel for cooking the other meats.

It had a buttery taste, not dissimilar to Bolognese. Salt was needed, maybe because of most of the filling leaked out in the boling water in the early process.

I had a couple of sceptic friends over, and they left like true believers.

My lessons learnt is to:

- Fry some of the mixture to make sure it tastes alright
- Leave lots and lots of room for shrinking and swelling, but make sure no air is left within the stomach
- Stitch the stomach together meticiously - just tiing it won't do the trick
- Be careful when you scrape the stomach - it can't be holed, and not even too thin
- Don't be afraid to prick the stomach with a small needle if it looks like bursting

Follow these advice - it is way too much effort put in to let the Haggis go wrong just because you are careless like I.

Address To A Haggis

2008-11-16T21:38:00.003+01:00

Fairfa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, orthairm:
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o'need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin', rich!

Then, horn for horn , they stretch an' strive:
Deiltak the hindmost! on they drive,
Tilla' their weel-swall'dkytesbelyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wadstaw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi' perfect sconne,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

Butmark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walienieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like tapso'thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, whamak mankind your care,
And dish them out their billo' fare,
Auld Scotland wants naeskinkingware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
Gie her a haggis!

By Robert "Rabbie" Burns, 1786

To use every single bit

2008-11-16T20:08:00.020+01:00

A couple of months ago me, my wife and my daughter went to a couple of friends' place in the deep forests of Småland. We had a terrific time, had lots of apples from their plantation, had great meals and hung out with the sheep at the place. A couple of days ago, Katarina visited, kinda late. And she brought at body wrapped in black plastic bags. I put the blinds down, and started to cut the body in pieces with a saw. It was quite bizarre - a regular thursday evening I stood in my kitchen with an apron, hair pointing in all directions, with a saw put to a sheep's body.

Today, Sunday, my dad visited, to help me butcher the sheep into good, choice meat. And then I had an idea. I have never tried to cook Haggis, so I dug up an old recipe I had when I worked in Scotland. Magnus and Katarina (special thanks to Katarina's mother for being a relentless slaughterer - she emptied the sheep's stomach, and put heart, liver and lungs into bags for me).

First step when making haggis, is to soak the stomach of the sheep in really, really salt water over night. The same day, you can also cook the liver, the heart and the lungs. They are to boil slowly in nothing but pure water for 1,5 hours. Make sure that the windpipe of the lungs are always above water - impurities are ventilated through it, and, if possible, put the liver on top of the lungs. As the lungs are filled with air, they have a tendency to float to the surface, which means that only about 60% of the lungs are in the boiling water. If this happens, try to turn the lungs from time to time. In this picture, note the windpipe hanging over the edge of the pot. Top up with water if necessary.

When the boiling is finished, remove the pluck (lungs, liver and heart) from the pot, and pour the water into a container - it is going to be used later in the process.

The next step is the yuckiest one. Put your hand in the sheep's stomach, and use a table knife to scrape of the "fluff" on the outside of it. Make sure not to pierce it. I found that it is best to work in small circles, and to have lots of water nearby. This is a stiff work. I guess the experts have no problem doing this, but I am quite certain that i spent at least 1,5 hours scraping the surface completely clean. The lowermost picture show the difference between unscraped stomach and scraped.

When it is good and clean, turn it inside out and wash it thoroughly, scraping if necessary - this is the surface where the sheep's shit is produced (hey - it is a stomach!), so you would like to be really meticulous when cleaning this. It has been soaked in salt, and that would take care of most (hopefully all) harmful micro organisms, but that is no excuse to be sloppy about it - work-work, as the peon said.

A stomach is peculiar, by the way. Really stretchy. Really smelly. Really yucky. It is fascinating. And you find yourself amazed by what you are doing a regular evening, with your arm half way into a sheep's digestive system, scraping frantically with a table knife.

Great experience, despite of the smell and the "oh-so-gross-factor". I learn a lot these days, and I am pretty positive no one of my friends have ever done this.

Tomorrow's the big day, when the actual making of the Haggis is taking place. I will of course report on every disgusting detail. Stay tuned for next episode of "Chieftain o' the puddin' race"!
And by the way - the smell still hasn't gone of my hands...

Party pics

2008-11-11T08:13:00.011+01:00

Johan Looks grim. He always does, but this time - he is hungry.

All of a sudden - the pig arrives!

Everyone is happy.

Particularly Johan.

What barbarism!

Don't look ladies! It is not a pretty sight! Poor animal...

Party

2008-11-10T15:19:00.008+01:00

Last weekend I attended a party held at the "medieval" pub Sjätte Tunnan in Stockholm. It was a five hour drive from home, but I was real excited to go. The party promised lots of old friends, and a handful of new ones. The setting: Our old friends of Fraternis Militia Carnis were having a 10-year-anniversary. At the same time, a new group dealing with the year 1412, a group of people called Stadsvakten ("The city guards") wanted to present themselves to the scene. This was of course welcome, as new late 14thC and early 15thC groups are always appreciated in Sweden, where reenactors are scarce and 14-15thC ones are even more scarce. This was a rare opportunity to have a look at new people and start interesting cooperations.

The people of Albrechts Bössor met up at Maria's place, where we had a couple of drinks. It was good to see them all, and to look at new stuff they had made since last time. It was particularly nice to meet Alex after a long summer without his burly company.

We went into central Stockholm, to Old Town, where we met other friends, ad had a change of clothes into our medieval gear. I had my new shoes and my new coat on (yes, yes, I will post pictures as soon as I can - I finished the damned shoes!). I re-used an old hat of mine - the so called blue-bell-hat - it is bright blue, and might remind you of a blue bell, if you really want it to.
In my new, fresh outfit I felt ready to tackle the evening - heck - even the world.

We went to the venue, and was welcomed by Sebastian, the head chef and an old friend - also member of Fraternis Militia Carnis (for short - Carnis, henceforth) - without any doubt one of the finest "medieval chefs" of the world.

We put our behinds down in a dark, cosy part of the pub, where the staff had made the table for us. First up was a guy, really interested and schooled in the theory of medieval music. I can't say I enjoyed it as much as I should have - he went deeply into the technical aspects of music and went on for a long time without catching my interest, so I was kinda relieved when he was done.

Then one of the guys from Stadsvakten presented the members of his group. They seemed decent enough, particularly for beginners.

Next step - the food. And the beer! I was hungry and thirsty, and when the plates were put down I was happy! The beer was served forth in big, big jugs, and it was not bad at all. I drank and chatted with people around the table and was quite content with life.

First course was pea soup with saffron, followed by a plate of assorted fish - smoked eel among other things. The other servings contained various meats with a grand finale - a whole piglet, painted in chequers, green and red. I had a back leg and ate until I nearly became sick.

Whilst eating I spoke with one of the guys from Stadsvakten, but sadly I can't say he impressed me much. He rather jeered at me, and tried to tell me off to show that he was better than me, and that he knew everything better than did I, even though I got the impression that he hadn't been reenacting at all before. Too bad. I was hoping for new comrades, but this guy more or less shamed the rest of them. Hopefully, other members will show that they indeed are good guys worth cooperating with in the future - I guess you can't blame the group for the individual.

This put me in kind of a bad mood (I was hoping for so much, and was disappointed), and one of our colleagues in Carnis had to pay for it. I over reacted to one of his jokes and slapped him before I really knew what was happening. It is really nothing I am proud of - on the contrary I feel a bit ashamed even as I write this. I begged his pardon of course, and as far as I know he accepted it; at least we hugged and sorted things out immediately. Sorry again, Ludde. It just happened.

On the good note, two German colleagues from More Majorum showed up, and brought me greetings from Fabse, an acquaintance from Morimondo, as well as from Roland, in charge of arranging the Bachritterburg event 2009.

All in all though, I thought the night was a bit too expensive in comparison to what I got, plus I forgot my "ordinary" jacket and had to go get it the morning after, still really hung over... I'll post some photos when I get around to it.

New suede(?) shoes, part 4

2008-10-10T08:02:00.014+02:00

It was time to make the other shoe. Djävulen was postponed into the future, so I didn't feel stressed anymore. I took my time making the other shoe while watching bad movies and drinking loads of tea. I started up by flesh-edge-stitching the two parts of the overleather together, placed like in the pic below.

When I was finished, it looked like the picture underneath (for clarification, please have a look at the previous post).

Next, I started to saddle-stitch the sole to the overleather, not forgetting the so called rand, a strip of leather placed between the sole and the overleather. The rand is used to make the shoe more stable as well as protecting the overleather from being worn out, as the wearer often treads on it, and to provide extra water proofing. In the pic below, the rand is marked by a red arrow. Don't forget to get the layers all right - the shoe is about to be turned inside out when you are finished! It is mind bending and tricky business, which requires quite a bit of thought.

This time the overleather seemed to be a bit too small. I can't imagine how this is possible, as both sole and overleather on both shoes were cut from the exact same pattern. Still, it happened, and I had to really struggle, and bend the sole to get it together.

When the shoe was all put together, I tunnel-stitched strips of reinforcing leather to the edges, where the lace holes where to be put. Tunnel seam is similar to flesh-edge-seam, with the difference that you don't allow the awl to go out through the leather edge - you rather make sort of a tunnel in the leather, not going through to the outside of it. Bah. The pic will illustrate:

When this all is finished, it is time to soak your shoe. This is done to soften the thick sole, and to make the overleather more pliable - otherwise we wouldn't be able to turn the shoe at all. Just let it soak over night.

The next morning, hell awaited. I removed all children, cats and elderly people - the air was about to thicken by coarse language and burning curses. It is a true feat to turn a shoe, and it requires strength and patience.

I worked it for maybe 45 minutes. My muscles ached, my hair was all over my face, I was sweating and my throat was sore from grunting and swearing. I used a broomstick and a shaft to a mace, but the leather would hardly budge. I thought I was getting somewhere. And then:

The bastard broke! @£#¤$%%& - as they say in magazines...

New suede(?) shoes, part 4 - coming soon!

2008-10-09T08:01:00.000+02:00

After a heap of trouble, I finally managed to finish my other shoe. A story about the making, and pics to illustrate it, along with artsy photos of the finished pair, will soon be posted!

New suede(?) shoes, part 3

2008-09-22T12:34:00.018+02:00

Lets try it again. I'll just post a lot of pics, and then I'll comment on them in the bottom.

The first picture shows the tools of the trade. There is a ruler for measuring and drawing straight lines (who would have thought that you could do that with a ruler?), harness needles (they are blunt - not sharp - for a closer look, check out the second picture), waxed linen/flax thread - the really sturdy type, a sharp, thin awl, a thimble ring and a sharp (really sharp) knife. I also use some type of material to protect the table from cutting and piercing - a chopping-board usually does the trick.

Next picture shows the harness needles. They are blunt, and they are two! They are blunt, because they are not used to pierce holes in the leather. The awl is used for that. The needles are used to guide the thread through the holes. They are two because you make turn-shoes by stitching them together with a so called saddler's seam, where two needles are used for the same thread - one needle in each end. The saddler's seam is presented further down this post.

Next picture shows the three different pieces of the shoe in question. There is a overleather (1), a gore (2) and a sole (3). The colour markings show where they fit together. The construction is a bit tricky, and it is easy to get lost when trying to figure it out. I stitched the gore in place at the overleather (green to green and red to red - yes - it takes a whole lot of folding and shaping to get it straight), before I did anything else.

Next two pictures show a piece of the sole. The awl goes in at the top, but it doesn't go the whole way through it - it changes direction, and goes out on the side - the sole is thick enough for this. The reason for this is that the thread would be worn out (off?) in less than a day if it were to be placed directly under the foot (between the foot and the ground).

Next two pictures show how the above is made in practice. This example shows awling technique for a so called flesh edge seam, which is the most common seam for stitching together pieces of the overleather. The thread is not seen on the outside when the seam is finished. The only difference between the flesh edge seam and the saddler's seam is that the flesh edge seam really only goes through the edges of the leather, when the saddler's seam can go straight through the leather, from top to bottom.

The next picture is a detail of the flesh edge/saddler's seam. Both needles go in (one at a time) the two holes made by the awl, one from each side. When each needle has been pulled through, you just tighten the thread, and go for the next set of holes. The last picture shows how the flesh edge seam looks.

When stitching the overleather to the sole, the saddler's seam is used.

On the nature of Blogger

2008-09-19T13:40:00.002+02:00

Blogger sucks. At first, when I published an article, one of the pics came out wrong. When I tried to edit it, only the first third of the article was visible, and when I posted the corrections, everything I had written, except for the first third, disappeared. So I took it all away. Maybe I'll re-write it next week.

And now for something completely different

2008-09-18T15:54:00.003+02:00

I am no longer on trial employment! I am no longer on trial employment! I am no longer on trial employment! I am no longer on trial employment! Yaya! A real employment! That isn't depending on season or projects! With a real contract! I shall have me a good drink when I get home - because I am a working man now! I am not a kid anymore! I have a job! I am respectable and I can support myself and my family! Rawk-and-rowl!

New suede(?) shoes, part 2

2008-09-18T08:23:00.005+02:00

As I promised, I'll post more on the making of these godly vessels of foot protection.

In the beginning, there was the foot. Plain, smelly and rough. Thereafter I put one of my hose on it, and after that, a real thick winter woollen sock. I finished with a tube sock over it all. I then had a very warm foot.

Next step in this footy ordeal, was to take 1o centimetre long strips of gaffer tape, and completely cover up my foot - not too tight though. I was trying to follow the structure of it all, not of the foot inside all the socks and tape. When I was finished with it, I looked up a nice shoe in the Shoes and Pattens book from London Museum (I recommend you do this beforehand), and used a marker to sketch the cutting/outline of that shoe on my gaffer taped, socked foot.

What I did next was to gently make some room between the tape/tube sock layer and the warm winter sock, and used a pair of scissors to cut the tape/tube sock away. When I did this, I cut along the lines I made with the marker, quite obviously.

When I was finished doing that, I had the pieces cut out for a gaffer tape shoe. Then it was time to trace my foot for the sole. I put my hose-clad, but otherwise liberated, foot on a piece of paper, and traced it down with a pen. Next time, I'll be sure to trace it further under my instep, so the sole gets that classic narrow cut in the middle of the foot. Anyway. When it was finished, I measured the whole thing, and compared it to the measurement of the overleather. They should of course be the same, otherwise they won't go together. It is easier to adjust the sole than the overleather.

When they fit together it is time to re-sketch the again. Make the toe a bit longer on both the sole and the overleather, and make the shoe as a whole bigger by maybe a centimetre on all sides.

Then re-sketch it on a big sheet made of gaffer tape, cut it out, and whip stitch it all together loosely with thick, durable thread. The gaffer tape works a bit similar to leather, and when you are finished, you have a good mock up shoe. Try it on, and adjust if too big or too small. Remember that the leather you will be using should be much thicker than your tape mock up, and that means it will also be closer to your foot. If the mock up is just a tiny bit too big, then it is probably OK. When you are happy, trace it all down on paper, and you have your personal shoe pattern!

I'll describe more of the making as soon as I start with it.

New suede (?) shoes - pics

2008-09-17T21:23:00.006+02:00

And now: What you've all been waiting for! The lace holes haven't been made yet, and I'm currently adjusting to a new camera - i.e. focus on these pics might not be the best. I hope you can see it anyway.

New suede(?) shoes, part 1

2008-09-16T08:19:00.008+02:00

As my old shoes, made in january 2004, have been stepping closer to death each event, I have often thought of making myself new ones, in thicker leather, in a different model and with more correct techniques. But I think a lot, and do a whole lot less. No new shoes have been made - I have rather turned them inside out and fixed the as good as I could. But on our last event in Seeth-Ekholt it was finally time to let them go to their final rest. I ripped the leather off the soles (its not the soles that are falling apart - I'll re-use them some other place), and buried them peacefully in a hole we dug in the ground (not for the shoes, though, but for our kitchen waste). There they await the archaeologists of the future, who will have a real hard time telling 21st century from 14th :-)

So I really, really need new shoes. I bought the leather some time ago, but I really haven't got around to it. You know how it is. The problem is, that Albrechts Bössor, our company, is arranging what we call En djävul i skogen, translated "A Devil in the forest" - for short we will call it Djävulen (The Devil) henceforth. Djävulen was originally put together to test out ourselves and our equipment. It consists of one or two days march through the forests, carrying every single piece of equipment the company would need on campaign - including armour, pavise shields, weapons, cooking equipment, tents - the lot. We use a couple of sumpter horses to carry the bulkiest stuff, but otherwise, we carry our shit ourselves. And we walk. And walk. And walk. Then you'll need a sturdy pair of boots, and as Djävulen is coming up in less than a month I thought I might have to fix me that pair of shoes.

So that's what I am doing at the moment. The shoes are based on a London find, with details lent from similar Swedish examples. I turned the first of them yesterday night, with the help of a hammer, a broom stick, coarse language and my wife. What remains is making lace holes - no big deal. I am really, really happy with the first one - it might be one of the best things I ever made (apart from the leather just being a tiny bit too small at the instep - it leaves a small hole just above the sole - excellent for letting in water, snow and muck. Yes, I have already cut the other leather - exactly like this one. I guess I'll just have to put a patch there). They fit better than I thought, but in spite of them being a bit small at the instep at the level of the sole, they are a bit too big farther up the shaft. I know what changes I will make when I cut my next pair, if I ever get around to it. I will post pics as soon as I get back from work, and I'll post comments on the making of the next one, so you in your turn can comment on all the mistakes I make.

Seeth-Ekholt, chapter 4

2008-09-10T16:36:00.008+02:00

We set out on the Autobahn. Me and Eli had the maps and took the lead in our overpacked Volvo, with the other guys in the other car following us. We hadn't driven that far when we suddenly became part of a queue. I wasn't certain wether it was a queue for people exiting the Autobahn or just a general queue, so I drove past it. I realised Simon (who was driving the following car) didn't, and I wondered why. Me and Eli guessed they would catch up, but we couldn't figure out why he stopped. It turned out that Simon was right - it was a general queue, and I had to sneak into it with cheeks full of shame. Our two cars were connected via walkie-talkies, but they had very limited range, and we could figure out what had happened to the others. As we drove, we slowly closed in on our exit and hoped that the others would catch up. They didn't, so we drove of, and hoped that we could catch them when they were closing in. We called out on the radio time and time again that they were supposed to exit at our particular exit - they didn't have any maps and therefore they couldn't figure it out for themselves.

Me and Eli parked the car at the roadside and put the emergency lights on. We waited for about 30 minutes, but we couldn't make contact with the others. Suddenly I saw a cop car in the rear view mirror, driving by at the street connecting to ours, and I cursed.
"I hope they didn't see us!" but the siren told another story. The cop car backed up and I had a lump in my throat. And in my stomach. The cops stopped behind us and stepped out, as did I.
"Guten Abend!" I greeted them, and they replied with the same courtesy. As my German isn't very good, I'll take the rest of the conversation in English. Please enjoy, as I didn't...

"What seems to be the problem?" (or for you Swedish guys: "Hur var det här då?")
"I'll tell you." I said, knees shaking just a tad. "You see, my friends are going to Hamburg, even when they were not supposed to." I felt my heart sinking; this wasn't going well at all. It was quite clear that my German wasn't at its peak in a stressed situation. The officers glanced at our clearly over loaded car, filled with axes, handgonnes, blackpowder, spears and German booze. Then they looked at me, and I felt inclined to continue:
"Well, we are waiting for them. They are turning, to get back to the other way..." I stuttered. The officer looked concerned and puzzled at the same time.
"Do you speak any English?" I tried, as it was clear that my message wasn't clear. He shook his head, slowly. The buttons on his uniform shone in the blue lights from the cop car. I swallowed.
"This is a bad spot, you see." he said. "This is the Autobahn. Would you mind waiting somewhere else?" 'Autobahn?' I thought. 'I just exited the Autobahn. This is just at crap piece of road.'
"No sir! I wouldn't mind at all!" I replied. He pointed at a parking lot some 100 metres away.
"Is that a good spot?" I nodded. "Well, turn your car around and park over there."
"Yes sir!"

So I got in the car, started it up, and drove off to find a spot to turn the thing around. And suddenly - we were at the Autobahn again! We had been parked at a slip road connecting to the Autobahn - and I hadn't the slightest idea this was the case. I drove off into the beginning night, sweating like... like... myself in a tight spot, and hoping they wouldn't chase me when I didn't park where I was told to. We called the others by phone (the phone bill arrived some days ago - it cost me about 80 euros altogether) and decided we should meet up at a suitable spot. They were ahead of us by at least 30 minutes. I drove a bit faster to gain on them, and on some dark highway, well of the Autobahn I was flashed by a speed camera and cursed a bit. Again. Finally we caught up with our friends, and drove all the way to the ferry without any troubles. We handed the ticket collector the tickets, and drove slowly towards the awaiting ferry. This is where the troubles started again. The other guys couldn't find their tickets. And we unknowingly went on the ferry without them. And the ferry departed. And they were still on German soil.

Me and Eli waited on the Danish side, and together we drove the last hours through Denmark, until we crossed the bridge over Öresund, and were back in Sweden and Malmö. And that was the end of it.

Seeth-Ekholt, chapter 3

2008-09-04T11:07:00.013+02:00

Sunday. The day of going back to Sweden again, but also another day of one of the finest events in years. Breakfast with sausage and bread (and - coffee - you can take a man out of the modern time, but you can't take the coffee out of the man).
The bagpipe maker arrived about an hour before opening time, and told us that he didn't mind at all that we used his bench and table. We started chatting, and I admired his pipes; I have always wanted one, even when I was little, and these were really, really nice. So I asked him:
"What di you charge for one of those little, simpler pipes?" He dodged the question and told us all about bagpipestuff, which was really interesting, but I wanted to know how much money I would have to save to get me a pipe. So I asked him again. He shifted, and said:
"Do you know Marianne, the woman over there?" I told him I did. "You know," he continued "I'd rather trade than have you buy. Marianne made a set of clothes for my wife. Do you think you can do the same for me?" For those of you not into reenactment I can tell you this is a common way to do business - a craftsman offers you some of his work, and you give him some of yours - and all are happy.

The observant reader, however, have remembered that I am not a craftsman. I am a reading man, a drinking, feasting, eating man. But I am not a craftsman. I can make stuff for myself, but not for others - my stuff isn't good enough to trade for a bagpipe (to trade for anything, really), so this wasn't what I wanted.
"I can't say that I can." I admitted, feeling my spirits sinking to the muddy ground. Dammit. Another bagpipe lost in fantasies. Suddenly I heard a familiar voice. It said:
"But I can." Maria had entered the conversation.
"Pardon?" I said.
"I can make stuff for you." she told the pipe maker. I turned to her.
"This is your game, and you better stand up to it if you make promises."
"I will." she promptly stated, with a shadow of a smile across her face. I gasped when I finally realised what was happening. Maria offered her supreme skills as a textile expert for my bagpipe to be. She continued:
"You'll have to pay me for the raw materials of course, and help me out when I make the cloth."
"You got it!" I told her, and turned to the pipe maker.
"Would you like a Herjolfsnes no. 63?"
"Why yes, that is exactly what I had in mind!" he answered happily.
"And a pair of hose, I guess." Maria said. The bagpipe maker nodded eagerly, and asked:
"Peter, would you like to have wood carvings on you pipe as well? It is common to have King's heads or animal heads carved where the chanter connects to the bag. You can design that pipe anyway you like it." He didn't have to ask me twice - I decided there and then that my pipe should have the face of King Albrecht carved on it. Me and Thorsten the bagpipe maker shook hands, and made a deal. I am looking forward to having my pipe this christmas, and I am looking forward to the making of a grand old Herjolfsnes 63 jacket. The bagpipe maker (or rather his pipes) can be seen here.

I was a bit dazed by the prospect of finally having my very own bagpipe. I slowly walked among the booths, looking at the artisans and their work. I was feeling like cotton inside, and my mouth were aching from the idiotic smile I had on it. It was hardly mid day yet, and I was in my best mood. For some reason (I suspect drinking water) I didn't have any hangover, and the weapons display went really well - even better than the day before. The girls all had their go at the gonnes, to everyones amusement; it is funny how people turn to drooling children when they get to fire the handgonnes. It is something very primitive about it, that connects to our inner savage, and makes you want to burn and pillage. Or something the like.

Finally it was time to pack up and leave. Our simple camp was as always very easy to pack up, and we were finished in a couple of hours. We took a fond farewell of our friends, and were a bit troubled by the news that another Seeth-Ekholt event will not be held until 2010. We had ourselves some burgers before setting out for home in the late summer afternoon, where the evening gloom were slowly beginning to fall.

Seeth-Ekholt, chapter 2

2008-08-27T08:19:00.013+02:00

Next day we stood up kind of early. I didn't drink very much the day before, but in spite of that I had a noticeable hangover. I drank lots of water and had myself a couple of painkillers and started to cook porridge (or Brei, as it is called in German) from an old, local recipe from back home. Even though I really tried, it didn't turn out very well. I suspect that I use the wrong proportions, and shall try it again later, under different circumstances.

Today was the first of the market days, and we had already the day before spied out what pottery we should buy from the potter. He was there last year, and we totally renewed our sets of pottery. This year it was time to do it again. The company bought a cistern containing 4 litres of whatever liquid, and was planning to buy an oil lamp as well as another jug (these two will be ordered at a later date, as we would like to make them a bit special). Me and Elisabeth bought ourselves three different kinds of mugs, among other things a so called fyrpassbägare/vierpassbecher that kinda looks like a four leafed shamrock when you look at its mouth from above. Really neat.

We strolled along the different merchants and had a closer look at each and every one of them, discovering lots of stuff that was new to us. There was a woodworker, doing all kinds of small stuff, like spoons, rakes, turners for frying and so on. Also, there was a guy making crossbow bolts. He was really skilled, using only period materials and methods. I learned a lot from just watching him. Another guy was a silver smith, with some really nice silver bowls and some jewellry. Elvelüüt Hamborch was selling cloth, there was a spice merchant, a needle maker, a guy making points and laces, a bagpipemaker and - the coolest of them all - a guy making parchment by hand, with period materials and methods. He was tanning hides, scraping them, and doing all sorts of things. Then, when the parchment was finished, he and his wife were copying pictures and pages from original manuscripts, of course with period pigments and inks. It sure is special to watch real craftsmen at work. Also, we met several old friends during the day, and had lots of interesting conversations and catching up.

Then it was time for our grand moments. We geared up in our best armour, loaded up our handgonnes and looked plain grim. It was time for display. One of the guys from MiM was leading the display, and told the audience about different types of armour and weapons. As far as my German is concerned, I thought that he was a good tutor, that really could explain things in a good way. Then it was time to fire the handgonnes. We did a fine job firing and reloading, and shot four times in about a minute, to the audience's awe. We are getting better by the shot, and we steadily develop new ways to make our reloading more efficient. As soon as all the gunners kan get themselves powder containers and their own ramrods, we will be even better. To be honest, most of the guys don't have their own stuff, and that really is apalling. A good thing though, is that Alex has made a gonne for himself, and Anders has made two. Just a pity that Anders hardly ever comes along to events...

Afterwards it was time for a brief "shower" consisting of a bucket full of water thrown over ones head. It sure is hot and heavy to wear armour in the middle of the summer, but then again - such is life in the King's army. The we went shopping again. We needed stuff for the evnings banquette, where every group makes their own speciality and brings it along to the others. I made Swedish pickled herring from an old family recipe a week before the event, and Johan presented it nicely on one of the big plates we had brought with us. He even decorated it with flowers. Before we carried it to the table, however, we fetched Ronnie from the MiMs - he hade been looking forward to the herring since last year, and I had prepared a special treat for him - a real Scanian/Swedish "Äggåsillamacka" - a piece of coarse rye bread, with sour cream, chives, a slice of egg and topped with a couple of pieces of pickled herring. I offered him three variations, and served him genuine brännvin spiced according to Swedish tradition. At more festive dinners and celebration it is customary that you drink vodka flavoured with herbs and spice along with your food, especially when eating herring. Ronnie was very pleased, to say the least, and I felt (for once :-)) like a good man.

We borrowed a table and a couple of benches from the bagpipemaker, who wasn't there for the feast, and put our behinds down to enjoy the food. There was lots and lots of food, and I presume we were presented quite a few German treats. Be as it may, it was a fine feast! Historia Peregrini was providing beer and wine, we sang indecent songs, translated word by word by Johan, and our German friends laughed until tears came out their eyes.

The night was closing in, as did the mist. This evening also offered us a total (moon) eclipse, especially beautiful in the fog. Bit by bit, the full moon was being covered with a dark, round shape. Suddenly it was just plain dark, and the mood of the party was changing., maybe not for the worse, but in a special way, for sure. The grass was wet with dew, and I got my blanket to warm my frozen shoulders, as I listened to German jokes and sipped my weissbier. The ladies of our company were especially loud, as they were having a photo shoot with funny faces. I guess we were the last to go to bed that night, together with the Deventer Burgerscap-people, and we slept well until morning.

Seeth-Ekholt, chapter 1

2008-08-20T16:24:00.009+02:00

On popular demand, I will try to write this blog in English, even though I'd rather not. Maybe I'll slip back to Swedish when I get tired of misspelling everything, but that is a different story, to tell on another blog.

Well, let me tell you about Seeth-Ekholt, and the trip to get there and back.

We started up Friday morning early (me and Eli sent thoughts of thanks to my mother-in-law for babysitting Isolde the whole weekend), and went over the bridge to Denmark. The trip to Rödby, Denmark, went smooth as a whistle, and we went by ferry to Puttgarden. On German soil we stopped to buy alcohol (that's an old Swedish tradition - all Swedes buy alcohol in Germany, as much as they can possibly carry), and then we were off towards Seeth-Ekholt again. After a couple of mishaps I was personally responsible for, we were finally able to roll up to the camp site, about 1600 hours. A few of the other groups had already arrived, and we started to make camp. Before long, we had a place for doing the dishes, along with a hole for waste. Our three tents went up, and were furnished with straw until we had made cozy beds. A pavise shield put on four stakes forced into the ground became our table, and a handful of chests were our benches. A great camp, in short.

People were becoming hungry, and even though the excellent people of Historia Peregrini were cooking as fast as they could, it was clear that the food shouldn't be ready for some time. We therefore decided to dispatch a foraging patrol. Me and Lunkan left camp and went to the nearby Elmshorn to shop groceries. We started by getting ourselves some bread. We bought a huge loaf weighing in at 2,7 kilos - by far the biggest hunk of bread I have ever seen. In addition we bought some lovely pasties with strawberries and vanilla cream. We loaded it all in the car, and went back to shop. We bought sausages (three different kinds), two kinds of cheese, a load of different weissbier, and some small stuff, like spice, sour cream and the like. In short, we loaded up for a feast.

As we came back, we fed the dogs the pasties - and there was much rejoyce! Somebody even took a photo of them. When spirits where higher, we started to cook a bit of food, and as the evening was rolling in on us, we could serve smoked mackerel, sausages (some of them were fresh - not cooked or spiced, but a raw meat product! I spiced them up with loads of thyme, salt, cardamom, black pepper and salt, boiled them half-ready and then fried them - and they were glorious!), cheese, bread, beer, sauerkraut, wine cooked cabbage, mead and wine.

By this time, some of our friends had started arriving. Kyra, from Bürgerliches Leben um 1400, came over to keep us company, along with Nijso, Bertus and Laurens from Deventer Burgerscap (we were a bit disappointed that none of the girls joined). Soon Lorentz from Elvelüüt Hamborch and some of the guys from MiM (Mensch im Mittelalter) also joined. Lorentz had his laptop with him, and we could watch his excellent film from Morimondo, Italy. It became a quite pleasant evening, with a couple of drinks, good friends, lots of laugh and enough food to go around.

The mist started to whirl and twirl around our legs and our shoulders, and finally it was time to go to bed. The moon shone eerily and beautiful when I went up to have myself a piss in the early morning hours. It was hauntingly hidden behind the almost solid barriers of heavy fog. I stood watching for a bit, until the chilly air drove me back to Elisabeth and the warmth of our bed. I felt very much alive as I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

Knappast

2008-08-13T13:48:00.013+02:00

Igår sydde jag på den sista knappen på livstycket till panzaret. 31 stycken, en mer än jag räknat med. Sakta men säkert börjar det ta form! Det känns tillfredställande att det äntligen börjar se ut som ett plagg och inte bara en massa tygstycken, men samtidigt känns det lite hånfullt - det är först nu - när jag gjort alla misstag - som jag kan påbörja mitt "riktiga" panzar. Och redan står det mig upp i halsen... Jag får nog jobba på lite andra grejer först, innan jag kan ta tag i det.

Jag läste häromdagen om ett panzar från Edward IIIs inventarier som skulle vara gjort i grön canvas. Allt jag vet om linne och hampa (och därmed om canvas) är att det är väldigt svårt att färga med någon reda, så att det inte bara bleknar. Hoppas att Maria har några färgaress i klänningsärmen - jag vill ha ett grönt canvaspanzar!

Annars funderar man ju på varför de panzar som avbildas alltid är så färgglada - jag menar; det är inte bara riddare som springer runt i grälla panzar, utan även soldater, så silke är det väl rimligen inte, i alla fall inte alla gånger. Och växtfärgad linne/hampa är som bekant notoriskt bleknande i väder och vind. Återstår bomull (men jag vet inte hur det beter sig i färgningen), läder eller ylle. Ingenstans talas det om att det yttre lagret är gjort av ylle. Det finns tveksamma belägg för att läder skulle använts i panzar/jacks, men frågan är om det användes ytterst. Och i så fall, om bomull beter sig bättre i växtfärgningssammanhang, borde det vara det som är ytterst, även om det fortfarande måste anses som ganska dyrt.

Så här säger

Armourers company of london, 1322:

"it was ordeyned for ye comon proffyt and assented that from henceforth all Armour made in ye Cytie to sell be good and concenable after ye forme that henceforth That is to saie that an Akton and Gambezon covered with sendall or of cloth of Silke be stuffed with new clothe of cotten and of cadar and of olde sendall and not otherwise. And that ye wyite acketonnes be stuffed of olde lynnen and of cottone and of new clothe wth in and wth out. It is ordeyned that all ye crafte of ye citie of London be truely ruled and governed every person in his nature in due maner so that no falsehood ne false workemanshipp nor Deceipt be founde in no maner wise in any of ye foresaid crafte for ye worship of ye good folke of all ye same crafte and for the common proffytt of ye people".

"Olde lynnen och olde cottone" står i motsats till "new clothe, wht in and wth out", så det skulle kunna vara så att man har gammalt bomullstyg/linnetyg som stoppning och nytt på utsidan och insidan - och kanske skulle det kunna vara så att det är enklare att färga än hampa och linne. Vad beträffar "wyite acketonnes" så känns det inte som om det är särskilt vanligt - av alla de bilder på tygrustningar jag sett från 1300-talet finns max fem bilder som avbildar vita dylika. Så många var nog färgade.

Jag borde använda någon annan stoppning i mitt kommande panzar - det finns mig veterligen inga belägg för att ylletyger i flera lager använts som stoppning. Jag får helt enkelt skaffa mig råbomull eller linblånor som jag får lägga i lager, eftersom jag mer är ute efter en vaddering än ett fullgott skydd a'la jack (med en massa, massa linnelager). Det verkar vid första anblicken bra mycket mer komplicerat att använda än lager av tyg, men kanske inte. Om man kardar det till stora sjok och lägger sjok på sjok, kan man på ett mycket enkelt sätt justera tjockleken på stoppningen på olika ställen, till exempel under armarna och i armvecken. Det är hur som helst värt att undersöka! Jag har förresten hört två olika saker om stoppningen i Svarte Prinsens panzar, och det ena är att den är stoppad med ull och det andra är att den är stoppad med råbomull. Undrar just vad det egentligen är...

Men. Canvas ytterst och ull (urk så varmt) som stoppning. Linne innerst. Då är man nog jävligt svensk... Och jävligt varm. Men kanske inte mycket varmare än om man stoppar panzaret med filtar. Linblånor! Där har vi det! Om fem år kommer ni att få se resultatet här. Stay tuned!

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English summary:

This is solely a discussion with myself on how to dye and construct a gambeson... What to stuff it with, which colors could be used, what the outer layer is made of, as the gambesons often are depicted in bright colors that are hard to get when dyeing linen and hemp (silk, wool, linen, hemp, cotton, leather?). Any suggestions?

Tyskland kryper närmare

2008-08-11T16:46:00.007+02:00

Idag hade vi en sista kontakt med arrangörerna för Seeth-Ekholt. Det visar sig att en av dem ligger på sjukhus, men det verkade inte vara något allvarligt. Vi åker på fredag morgon, tidigt, tidigt. När vi kommer på plats finns mat till oss, det har de ordnat, och sen är det bara korv, öl och schnaps för hela slanten. Jag ser mycket fram mot eventet, och hoppas att vädret blir fint. Och vi har fått barnvakt till Isolde! Det här blir det första barnfria eventet - någonsin. Känns det som. På ett och ett halvt år i alla fall. Tack, svärmor, för att du ställer upp! Det kan tänkas att det blir rätt bra med dricka och osedligheter, eftersom man inte behöver vara i stridbart skick dagen efter. Aaah! Livets väsentligheter i en hel helg - mat, dryck, avkoppling och samvaro. Det blir en kunglig fest! Trodde jag. Arrangörerna låter meddela att vi ska släpa med oss så mycket vapenbrak vi bara orkar. Adjö sötebrödsdagar - Goddag krigstrauma! Varför kunde de inte bara fortsätta med sitt mys och sitt hantverk? Varför ska de tvinga på mig panzar, muza ok plata? Allt jag ville var att leva Ferdinand - att ligga under nån ek, lukta på blommorna och dricka bärs. Men men. Sånt är livet.

Jag arbetar på med mitt panzar för fullt, och tycker att jag kommit långt med livstycket - jag räknar med att sy på alla knappar ikväll. Sen är det fållning och lite liknande krafs. Och så blir det förstås de där ärmarna... Jag tänkte arbeta med dem på eventet, och eftersom man inte har ett barn att hålla ordning på, kan man nog få gjort ett och annat. Kanske kan man räkna med sex timmars arbete om dagen? Eller i alla fall fyra - man vill ju inte slita ihjäl sig. Och på det viset har man bäddat för att kunna ha skiten färdig till nästa säsong. Jag tänkte göra dem tajta, med en "påse" runt armbågen för rörlighetens skull. Vi får väl se hur det blir; Maria får delge mig sina kunskaper och så gör jag som hon säger. Förhoppningsvis lär jag mig lite på kuppen.

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English summary

This is about the final preparations for the trip to Seeth-Ekholt, and about my plans for making the sleeves of the freaking gambeson during the event. Maria could help me, as she is way better than I am.

Panzarknappar och Sigmund Ringeck

2008-08-08T12:08:00.004+02:00

Kvällarna här i den nya, och väldigt temporära, lägenheten fylls av studier av Johannes Lichtenauers manuskript, med Sigmund Ringecks dito som tolkningshjälp. Bägge två är översatta till engelska, annars hade man varit rätt rökt; min medeltidstyska är lite krattig, trots mitt snokande i Preussischer Urkundenbuch. Oavsett vilket är den gode Lichtenauer lite svår att tolka då och då - "Hier ist ain andere styk" blir inte mer begripligt på engelska, eller för den delen på svenska - "Detta är en annan teknik". Och så inget mer. O-K. Det är minsann inte det lättaste att lära sig fäktas ur en bok, än mindre när författaren bara skriver att det rör sig om en annan teknik, utan att ens nämna något om den i övrigt. Då är Sigmund Ringeck bra att ha. Han beskriver saker och ting lite mer utförligt, men ändå inte så detaljerat som man skulle vilja - det är så gott som alltid ganska stort utrymme för tolkningar, och det innebär att det kan bli ganska galet i slutändan.

Nå. Det är hur som helst ganska vilsamt att sitta där och grunna, och det är ärligt talat inte mycket mer att ta sig för i en liten studentcell utan möbler. Utom att sitta och sy tygknappar till sitt hägrande panzar. Nu när knapparna är färdiga, så när som på fyra stycken, börjar det slutligen slå över mot "halvfärdigt" snarare än "näppeligen påbörjat". Igår sydde jag 16 stycken i ett grovt, repande linne/bomullstyg. Fingrarna förlamas av allt slitande, ryggen böjs i krum av min dåliga arbetsställning och jag har tusen andra saker att stå i, hellre än att sitta där med skiten. Men nu har jag 4 knappar kvar av de 70 jag ska sy. Det känns skönt. Nu ska jag bara konstruera ärmarna och klippa ut dem, kvilta dem och sy knapphål. Och sy fast knapparna. Och sy knapphål för livstycket. Och sy fast de knapparna. Och ordna fållarna överallt. Det är nog bara nån veckas arbetstid kvar på den, förutsatt att jag då jobbar 8 timmar om dan med skräpet. Och så vet jag redan nu att jag inte kommer att bli 100% nöjd med den, trots att Maria ska hjälpa mig med ärmkonstruktionen i Seeth-Ekholt.

Till skillnad från mina tidigare fungerar den att ha på sig. Den är inte för tung, och den passar mig. Däremot gjorde jag det klassiska misstaget - jag gjorde alla stycken lika stora, vilket innebär att det yttersta lagret är för litet. Således måste jag sy på remsor längs sidorna och längs ryggen för att inte stoppningen ska synas. Det känns inte riktigt bra, eller rättare sagt: Det irriterar mig som bara den. Och just därför måste jag sy mig en ny, men det är tamejfanken ett senare projekt. Just nu spyr jag nästan på skiten. Hoppas att någon kan ha glädje av den i alla fall - kanske för testhuggning, eller som bränsle :-)

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English summary

This post is about my gambeson, and how much I hate working on it, as I know even now it will not be as I planned. So I will make a new one, based on a German effigy. Furthermore I write about Sigmund Ringeck and Johannes Lichtenauer - manuscript fencing. But mostly it is about the never ending work with the gambeson.

Inför Seeth-Ekholt

2008-08-07T16:10:00.015+02:00

Idag är det en vecka och en dag tills dess att vi i Bössorna drar iväg till Seeth-Ekholt, sommarens sista "externa" event. Det äger rum i norra Tyskland, en handfull mil norr om Hamburg. För fräschhetens skull är det ett arrangemang fokuserat på hantverk och handel, snarare än fajting. Jag gillar att härja med bössor och spjut, men det är rätt gott att bara sitta ner och äta korv och dricka tysk-öl (eller Trave-öl som det kallades under 1300-talets senare hälft och kanske tidigare/senare också, vad vet jag?) och peta lite med smågrejer, utan att behöva freda strupen från blodtörstiga polacker med svår attityd. Jag måste sy mig ett par nya skor, för mina gamla är verkligen oerhört trasiga. De har hängt med sen vårvintern 2004, och inte ens då var de mycket att hänga i granen. De är lagade och lappade åtminstone 3 gånger, men nu är ovanlädret så anfrätt att jag fruktar att de är bortom all räddning... Seeth-Ekholt verkar vara ett bra tillfälle för detta, men kanske borde jag sy färdigt mitt fjärde panzar där?

Jag har i stort sett ärmar och knapphål kvar, samt en del rent kosmetiska justeringar, men i övrigt kommer det att bli rätt fett. Jag har inspirerats av en fresk - italiensk (jag veeeeet - det är inte direkt 100% om man reenactar norra Europa, men fresken är från 1360-tal, och jag siktar på att ha utrustning från omkring 1380 - det är ändå 20 års skillnad, och man kan ju hoppas att modet hunnit hit på de 20 åren :-P). Jag kommer sannolikt att göra ett panzar till, och då i stort sett baserat på kopia av Peter Krieglingers TYSKA panzar från 1370-talet, med detaljer från bokillustrationer från 1380-1390. Och de är franska... Men vad fan gör man? Biblioteket brann ju ner, och redan innan det hände var vi ju helt enkelt back water här uppe i Norden, och det är vi än idag, med tanke på hur lite som egentligen publiceras/publicerats av den forskning som bedrivits. Titta bara på länken till Alsnöbloggen här till vänster - plötsligt finns det en bössa och ett förmodat fragment av ett panzar som dyker upp på scenen - och titta på Uvdalstextilierna från Norge sen! Hur länge har de legat i ett magasin, tro? Vad gör man? Kollar på tyska grejer, självklart, men även där finns regionala skillnader som gör att de i många fall inte är representativa för nordiska förhållanden under samma tidpunkt, och med tanke på hur få tyska sena 1300-talsmanuskript jag sprungit på är det kanske inte helt lätt.

Jag misstänker således att åtminstone 85% av de manuskriptbilder jag har är franska, och det kan bero på att fransmännen är bra på att publicera sina bevarade manuskript eller att det helt enkelt finns så oerhört mycket mer bevarat där. Eller en kombination av ovanstående förstås. Sannolikt. Det är klart att man arbetar mycket med Londonfynden, Herjolfsnesgrejerna och de få svenska skulpturer som går att använda - som inte avbildar helgon iklädda lakan, men för att få någon form av utfyllnad där pusselbitarna saknas måste man ju vända sig någonstans.
Så där kom den - min bekännelse. Mycket av min inspiration kommer av franska bilder. Men jag har bekänt, biktat och botat, så nu ska jag vara förlåten. Det hade för övrigt varit intressant att veta vad ni som eventuellt läser det här använder er av för källor. Posta kommentarer!

Nåja. Nu var det Seeth-Ekholt det egentligen gällde. På fredagen den 15 åker vi alltså till Wurst och Bier. Jag har lovat våra tyska kamrater inlagd sill, eftersom de av någon mycket märklig anledning är mycket förtjusta i det. "Utlänningar" (om uttrycket tillåts i dessa tider) brukar reagera precis tvärtom på konceptet inlagd sill, men i det här fallet älskar de det.

Eventet som sånt är som sagt ett hantverks-/handelsevent, med flertalet mycket duktiga hantverkare, bland annat en keramiker som gör förtjusande kopior av Rhenkeramik. Förra året handlade vi på oss en hel del, som synes här på bilden. Är inte kuk-kannan (eller KK som den kallas, eftersom vi ofta har barn med ute i fält) oerhört obscen?

Jag hoppas, trots mitt besvärliga ekonomiska läge, att kunna handla på mig lite mer keramik när jag är på plats. Det hade varit kul att få tag på lite nya grejer.

Förra året blev vi oerhört väl mottagna. Historia Peregrini (http://www.historia-peregrini.de/) som arrangerar kalaset, tog verkligen väl hand om oss. Jag tror knappt att det visste hur väl de ville. Vi fick mat, öl, vin, erbjudande om sovplats inomhus för barnens skull och ständigt beröm för vår utrustning och för hur coola alla tyckte att vi var. Man blev nästan lite förlägen; så bra upplever jag inte att vi är, även om vi förstås är bra ;-)

Det var en härlig avrundning på en hektisk säsong 2007 och förhoppningsvis blir det så även i år, i synnerhet som vi inte har möjlighet att hälsa på våra vänner i Deventer Burgerscap (http://www.deventerburgerscap.nl/), Nijmegen. Gebroeders van Limburg-weekend är verkligen trivsamt, men på grund av bristande intresse blir det nog ingen av Bössorna som åker i år. Sorgligt men sant. Vi träffar i och för sig Deventer Burgerscap-gänget i Seeth-Ekholt, men jag är ärligt talat rätt sugen på öl, Advocaat och Genever! Jag får återkomma med kraft och bestämdhet nästa år!

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English summary

This post is about my woes regarding my gambeson, its buttons and various sources to gambesons, and by all means everything else. I'm more or less forced to use European sources, with emphasis on French stuff, because the Royal Castle of Sweden burned down in 1697. In the fire more or less all medieval books were lost, so Swedish sources are kind of scarce... So - which sources do you all use? Please tell me!

The post was supposed to be about the Seeth-Ekholt-event, and it is, sort of. I'm looking forward to going there, as we can meet our friends from the Netherlands, drink good beer, eat sausages and shop fine pottery!

Jag är ingen hantverkare

2008-08-07T13:35:00.013+02:00

Det finns ganska många bloggar som beskriver historiska hantverk. Flera av dem är riktigt bra. Jag avser länka till några av dem när jag känner att jag har tid och ork, men tills dess vill jag poängtera att mina rostiga försök att återskapa materiell kultur mellan 1350-1400 inte kan jämföras med bättre hantverkare så som till exempel Isis Sturtewagen på Medieval Silkwork eller Anders Lindkvist på Kurage. Det jag lyckas prestera är som bäst bruksdugligt, och ibland inte ens det; jag håller för närvarande på med mitt fjärde panzar - tre andra har åkt på tippen efter färdigt arbete.

Kort sagt: Jag är ingen hantverkare. Jag är medeltidsarkeolog och museipedagog i grunden, jag gillar att rota i arkiv och magasin där jag kan söka upp information - särskilt stolt är jag för mina tusentals foton av 1300-tals artefakter och mina ännu fler tusentals manuskriptbilder. Nu för tiden arbetar jag som informatör - inte timmerman, smed, skräddare, skomakare, krukmakare eller för den delen någon annan makare.

Nu är det avklarat.

Jag tänker istället skriva mer om de sociala (och asociala) bitarna, så som lägerliv, upplevelser, mat, dryck, fyllegräl, manuskriptfäktning och reenactmentfajting inklusive pangande med tidiga handeldvapen. Det kan förstås hända att jag, sprickfärdig av stolthet, då och då postar bilder på mina verk, som läsaren kan skrocka förnöjt åt. Det bjuder jag på, men det händer nog inte vidare ofta, ensamarbetande småbarnsfar som man är.

Välkommen hit!

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English summary

I am not a craftsman. I am an archaeologist. I do books and artifacts - not woodturning, pottery or weaving. Even though I can make stuff to (barely) fill my own needs, I am really not as good as a lot of people blogging out there. That is why this blog will not be about crafting. It will be about the social (and unsocial) bits and pieces of 14th century reenactment with focus on the dealings of the Swedish living history group Albrechts Bössor. It will be about reenactment fights, fencing from manuscripts, good laughs, firing handgonnes, drinking too much or too little, food, even more drink, people I meet and stuff I come up with.

Welcome.