Monday, August 25, 2008

Quickies! 8th Weekend, Bristol Renaissance Faire 2008

Time to muster the moxie to persuade the "Barbarian Battles" King to declare his allegiance to Jane the Phoole! I’ve started collecting barbarian hordes, just as a hobby. I’ve got three now. If I can acquire Clan Iron Wolf, I’ll have a monopoly. Do they qualify as a barbarian horde? I shall have to do some research.

And I can now say “Bad Monkey” in 25 different languages – 28 if you count Serbian, Croatian, Latvian and Montenegran as separate languages, even though they say “Bad Monkey” the same way. A patron hypothesized that perhaps the four nations only have one bad monkey between them, so there’s no point in differentiating terms.

If I haven't yet regaled you with the tale of the Prince of Sweden and "Bad Monkey," I need to do so. It's vital.

Met a family of Actual British People. And they were Delightfully Nice. Usually when I meet Brits at the show, I can tell they’re British before they even speak -- I can see how they cringe in embarrassment at my attempts at their dialect.

But this large family approached me and asked to have their picture made with me (the process of which, as most of you know, is called "being made famous with me"), and during the ensuing chatter, I listened to the sounds their voices made, and to the apparent Mum in the family I said, “I just adore people from outside the Home Counties. Madam, is your entire family from the North?”

“Well spotted!” said she, smilingly. “I’m from Cumbria. But not me hoosband.”

He grinned. “I’m from London, actually, like you, Jane. I’m from the South, my wife’s from the North, and now we live right in the middle!”

“Oh, God,” I gasped, “I’m talking to actual British people. You shall see through my shallow ruse.” Laughs. And then:

The father in the family said, kindly, “Actually, you sound lovely. We’ve been here all day, and we’re just amazed how good people sound.”

A daughter piped in, “You need to say ‘Brilliant!’ more often. You already say it a lot, but you need to say it more.”

“Brilliant brilliant brilliant,” I replied, grinning my face off.

Mum said, “We’ve noticed the quality of dialect increases with the quality of clothes – yours are fantastic, by the by. Is there a correlation?”

I said I figured people who spent more time and money making themselves look perfect probably felt obliged to get all of the details right.

And we chatted away for a while, and another audience assembled around all of us, and it was a delightful way to pass a balmy summer afternoon.

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