Community

It’s an interesting thing, community. People are drawn together from all walks of life to a particular pursuit. In this instance, reenacting tudor life.

Just because they have that one shared interest doesn’t mean they share a common approach to life, or even to reenactment. There are many differences within the group, some who concentrate on language, some on dress. Some are fascinated by food, others a particular trade, some investigate individual lives and recreate a person, while others make up a backstory attempting to be appropriate to the time and situation.

And out of hours, there is discussion and debate. Old hands gently guide the newer participants, or where warranted, not so gently. So it was that I had my bumps over sleeves (the dreaded sleeves), but I think have now found my feet and my place in the barn school.

Yet I’ve relied on another’s research, and I’m coming to understand that that’s not really good enough. I need to be able to turn to sources and know what we rely on to do things the way we’re doing them. But remembering that we are living history, we are entertainers and educators, and yes, we may investigate and research, but we are there to enlighten, to awaken an interest, to make a good day out as well as have a good day out.

I learn much each time I go to Kentwell. I learn some history, practical skills (my sewing has come on no end 😉 ) and I also learn about people and community. There’s always someone new to learn from, and they might not teach what they think they teach. I can feel my brain unfolding and stretching as I take in information, both educational and emotional, and make new friends and connections each time I go.

So this summer I will cherish the friendship started last year over the cott fire, and strengthened as we sewed sleeves together on the sward. I will look to spend time with new friends so that my children may do similar. (Waves at Taming the Goblin) I *will* have that cup of coffee some time near Somersham. And I will sew linens even when it’s not urgent, take up the offers to learn to cut cloth, and ponder on whether to make myself a linen bodied petticoat. Because Big did look so beautiful in hers. If I have one regret from this Kentwell summer it is that I didn’t take a picture of her wearing it after hours – I thought I would get one when she was hair up and coif on. But she never wore it that way, being too busy being Bridget.

That’s not so bad a regret. I’ll close my eyes and see the picture there instead.