I’m several weeks behind in writing about all the things that took place near the end of February, due to midterms followed by some browser issues that kept me from posting. With excuses out of the way, I recently got to take a plunge into the past that I’d rank among the most fun things we’ve done in Wroxton so far.
Those of you who are familiar with Wroxton might know that every semester, they host a medieval banquet where the students dress up and enjoy an evening in the Dark Ages. We’re all given the opportunity to rent a costume (although the English say “hire a costume”) for the evening for five pounds. The morning of the banquet, after trying on a handful of dresses, I stumbled across this black one and knew it was going to be good. Several of my friends decided I looked like the sorceress from a show they like, so I decided to take it the extra mile with vampy red lipstick so I could really channel Morticia Addams. This was a dubious decision, for reasons that will become clear later, but I was still pretty excited about the look.
According to the schedule, at seven we were to “Assemble Yee in Yon Buttery,” the Buttery being what we call the pub, and so there we went. Me and my roommate, true to our own fashion, finished getting ready at seven, and so ended up having to run downstairs to dinner. This wasn’t by design, but considering we made it in time anyway and that I finally got to run around a castle and down a big sweeping staircase in a beautiful flowing gown, I’m not sorry in the least that we were late. That was worth every second.
The array of costumes available to us had not been put to waste. Against the princess gowns and peasant dresses, the boys’ costumes looked wonderful but with some more variety. Along with all the doublets and one guy who’d managed to rummage up a crown to go with his gold-patterned caftan, we had a monk and the pope. I know there was a jester costume that could’ve been chosen, but sadly no one went for it. Even good old Baldwin dressed up, and finally we went in for dinner.
The wonderful ladies who work in our dining hall had also gotten dressed up to serve us that night, and there was a troupe of costumed singers who came equipped with mandolins, tambourines, drums, wooden flutes, and basically everything you need to play music for a medieval dinner. We were taught a period-appropriate toast (a call of “drink hail!” with the answer “wassail!) that we used a fair amount over the course of the evening, usually accompanied by the mead they’d given us. I’d never had mead before, which is a honey liquor if you didn’t know, and I’ve decided I like it very much, although you can really tell it’s made of honey and consequently it tastes like the kind of drink you’d have when you have a cold. There were also no utensils for us except spoons to use for the first course, which was vegetable soup and bread (provided as one big loaf for the whole table that we had to pass around and tear chunks off of). We also had chicken (probably Cornish hens, since they were whole but very small), baked potatoes with herbed butter, and pork ribs. All of it was tasty, but this is where my choice of attire and makeup becomes relevant again, as it’s very, very difficult to gracefully eat sauce-drenched ribs, small whole chickens, and entire baked potatoes with your hands while wearing a dress with flowing sleeves and very intense lipstick. All things considered, I think I did admirably, but I would’ve killed for a fork.
After dinner, we all returned to the buttery where the bar was open, but my friends and I didn’t stay there for long. After all, when you’re decked out in medieval dress and you have a whole manor house full of great photo spots, why would you sit around drinking in the pub? We must’ve spent hours just taking glamour shots. I ended up hanging back in the poorly lit corners for some of the time once we started taking individual shots, mostly because I’m not the best photographer, and one of the group looked over at me leaned against the window and decided I looked too wonderfully spooky to pass up that photo opp. They turned off nearly every light in the room we were in, and so we ended up with this shot where I look like a creepy witch waiting to see if the person she poisoned in the castle had died yet. Personally, since I love channeling scary vibes like that, this picture is a favorite of mine. My other favorite came from when all the girls had grown tired of running up and down the staircase to get angles of our dresses flowing, and so half the group ended up collapsed all over the stairs. This reminded me of a scene from a certain ball in a certain Harry Potter movie, which led to this shot and the Instagram caption I paired with it, which went over well on my account. I’m personally pretty proud of it.
After spending a few more hours lying around on our beds in the gowns because we didn’t want to take them off, we finally said goodbye to our medieval regalia and went to sleep. In the morning we gave them back, but our trip to the past wasn’t over yet. That Sunday, the class took a trip to Kenilworth Castle.
I’ve always been known to say that a huge fault of America’s is that we don’t have enough castles randomly lying around for people to visit. Of course, this is entirely due to the history and youth of our country, but I stand by it. Historical buildings are really just unparalleled for how fascinating I find them, and you can only visit Independence Hall in Philly so many times before it becomes lackluster, especially when there’s so few places in the building you’re actually allowed to go into. Needless to say, I was pretty excited about Kenilworth, but I didn’t actually do my research too well. I just assumed it was going to be a regular castle, most likely outfitted in the furniture of a certain time period, with cards and guides for the tourists. Something like how Anne Hathaway’s cottage and Shakespeare’s birthplace had been, just bigger. I was totally not prepared to drive up to the castle and see that it was entirely in ruins. Apparently after the English Civil War, the castle was destroyed, mostly to cut the costs of maintaining it.
I was completely in love with this site. There‘s no indoors on this castle, just rooms that actually had most of their walls intact next to rooms that had about one and a half walls. It took most of the students by surprise, as we’d been expecting a full castle, not the remains of one. That said, I’m convinced a full castle wouldn’t have been nearly this much fun. It was windy rain, but I still think this was one of the most fun trips we’ve been on so far. Added to America’s lamentable lack of castles is our lack of ruins. You were pretty much given free rein to clamber your way up the ancient stairs, into whatever little rooms and alcoves you could find, and explore the ruins to your heart’s content. You can see on little placards what the rooms used to be, including ones that were used by Queen Elizabeth I. You can find tiny rooms off to the sides of staircases that no other tourists seem to come into, and listen to the winds whistling through the castle. If you want, you can climb all the way to the top and stand dramatically on the battlements looking at the countryside. I’d go back in a heartbeat and stay there all day. There’s some gorgeous Elizabethan gardens with an aviary, and a cafe in which we all eventually took shelter from the rain and wind to have some coffee and look at the exhibits that tell the history of the castle. I never wanted to leave. The only thing that could’ve possibly made that weekend more fun is if I had been able to wear my medieval gown to Kenilworth, and run around in it there. If I could do that, I think I would classify myself as having truly led a fulfilling life.
That was the end of my time warp weekend! Later in the week to follow it was Pancake Day, otherwise known as Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as Mardi Gras since I don’t know a soul in America that actually calls it Shrove Tuesday. In honor of that, here’s a shot of the pancakes we got at lunch. British pancakes are closer to a crepe than anything, but the chocolate chip ones were pretty good. Not as good as my dad’s, but good enough.
Still to be told is my trip to Stonehenge and the Rollright Stones, Cardiff, my adventures ruining theater shows and seeing London with my family, and the entirety of travel break. Clearly I have a lot of catching up to do, and I’ll do my very best to make sure all the stories get told. That’s all for now!
Meghan McGowan 