Bumpkins from Bampton

London-town or bust!

Last week (or, the other day in the 1600s, for the sake of argument) Emily and I went to London. Easter was just around the corner, and being the pious individuals we are (I'm super pious. Just ask Andrew.) we decided to make the trip to Westminster (we'd had just about enough of St.Mary's, our local church in Bampton):

(Side note: we decided to be from Bampton because that's where my grandmother lives and I know where that is [Oxfordshire]. Plus, it's close-ish to London. Or what Emily and I thought was close enough to travel by horse. Bonus: real-life toria [as opposed to 17th C toria] has in fact fallen asleep in this church. [It was midnight mass, to be fair, and I was little. Well, littler.] Also, the bishop once locked my grandmother in here overnight. She claims it wasn't on purpose.)

We hopped on our horses and rode into the sunset, riding for two days straight. What would you know? My stinkin' horse died! Maybe a 70-ish mile trip was a bit ambitious for two days - but hey, Em wanted to do it in one. That was a bit of a bump in the road, but we did eventually make it in one piece. Later on in our trip, we went to the market at Smithfield to secure a new horse, and Emily got particularly saucy with the gentleman seller. But on our arrival, I was still grieving the loss of my dear Morris, and so we moseyed down the streets looking for some small consolation. The doorways were punctuated by brilliantly colored coats of arms, and finally we found the one we wanted:

Lovely, charming individuals.

After a lunch of bread and fowl, we took in a play. "Representations of Miracles" or "Representations of Torments"? Easy choice!

At Easter time, (faux) battles are fought on the Thames. Competitors stand at the bow of their boats with shield and lance in hand, and the whole thing looks like an awkward, slow joust. The pace may be slow, but the drama is there: the loser falls into the river. Much more exciting than being thrown from a horse. Less painful too, I'd imagine. Although, who knows what's floating around in there besides the losers and the "fat and sweete salmon".

Our visit to Westminster Abbey certainly didn't disappoint. It's easy to see why every King (and Queen) has been crowned here since William the Conqueror and his wife, Matilda.

This is where the magic happens! (The Coronation Chair)

While we were there we visited some other notables who are buried there: Mary, Queen of Scots, Chaucer, and Henry V (what a dreamboat!).

Just before we left, we took part in some May day festivities. "In the moneth of May, namely on May Day in the morning, every man, except impediment, would walk into the sweet meddowes and green woods, there to rejoyce their spirits with the beauty and savour of sweete flowers, and with the harmonie of Birdes, praising God in their kinde" (page 79 of John Stow's London survey). One of the greatest examples of this tradition involves Henry VIII and ROBIN HOOD! In the third year of his reign, Henry was bopping about in the wood with Katherine (of Aragon, not Howard) and a bunch of his peeps when all of a sudden, Robin Hood popped up with 200 of his men, all in green capes and hoods. Robin demanded (seems a little risky, demanding anything of Henry, but it worked out for him so that's ok) that the King and co. watch a demonstration of the archers' prowess. Henry agreed, and his party was delighted with the show. Afterwards, Robin took everyone into his forest den for a venison feast! A dinner party with Henry VIII and Robin Hood? That would have been totally sweete (did you see how I added the extra e there, since I'm supposed to be from the 17th C? I know, I'm doing a pretty good job).

Feeling at one with both the city and the surrounding wilderness, we saddled up again (me with my new horse, Cyrus) and started back for Bampton (taking it at more of an amble, this time).