Monday, 24 April 2006

my new job

As I am a well raised young lass who was taught to answer questions politely, it is now tradition that my husband answers the billboards of the policeman asking "How fast are you going now" The answer is usually 110 thanks for asking. Well, we now have a new car that has the spedometer in the center and it's big numbers not a dial thingy. What this means is that I can acurately tell how fast we are going (I don't drive so this pleasure has usually been denied to me) and on our Sunday drive to Ironfest in exotic Lithgow (about 3 hours away) I got to answer the nice policeman. It was very exciting.

How was Ironfest I hear you ask!

Well lets just say that it was nice to go for a lovely drive with husband and child in lovely new car through the lovely Blue Mountains and Ironfest gave us a reason to do so.

Although there was Jousting which was kinda cool to see. Particularly as whenever I've told someone that I belong to a medieval recreation society they've inevitably asked, oooh do you do jousting? to which I always have to reply NO and the light fades from their eyes.

And MrNw did lust somewhat after the blacksmithy things that were going on.


Jane Doe said...

My personal favourite question regarding jousting was, "Do you do lancing?" After what seemed to be a rather long interval of questions and answers, the questioner came back with "You know, that thing they did on horses with big long lances." That had to have been the most painful three minutes of my life, which I will never get back.

worldpeace and a speedboat said...

the light fades from their eyes because it's replaced by my fingers/fist. god I'm sick of that question ;)

Wenchilada said...

My favourite question was "Is that a real chicken you are cooking?" at the Blacktown demo last year, where Mouse & Tops were infact cooking real chickens.

I'm pretty sure I looked at her blankly and said "Yes." And it's quite possible I also said "This is a chicken we had to have imported from England for the specific purpose of recreating the cooking of a medieval chicken".

Or I could have just been very very gobsmacked, looking for a cloak or jumper or something that I could cover my head in so no-one could hear me laughing it off.

Zounds! Western Sydney, it's no wonder people think we're bogans...