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Lynn Reynolds
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Viking Wolf Lady takes it up a notch? How I learned to put a lot of '*'s into my blog posts.

Back in early October I was approached by the leader of our reenactment group. Did I want to take over as Living History Coordinator? To the uninitiated (me included) this was a post on the Witan (in normal voluntary groups this would be another name for a 'trustee' or 'committee member' - us reenactors have to have archaic and indecipherable names for everything)..

Well, I've learned in my 2 and three-quarter score years not to say yes to any invitation without a bit of thought, so I said I would think about it.

So I thought about it. The last 2 incumbents of the post had been driven into the ground by the demands of the position. Partly because with great power (being on the Witan) came great responsibility (owning a large shed or garage and a substantial vehicle to store and transport the Living History kit owned by the rapidly expanding group). Much of their valuable time (and that of their long-suffering partners) would be spent in packing up, transporting, erecting, maintaining, cleaning, drying (kit invariably gets saturated in the hour before pack-down at a show when a dry weekend suddenly turns inexplicably wet).

And I thought. My partner has been called a lot of things, but 'long-suffering'? Nah. He had to be onside, if I was going to do this thing. Surprisingly, he was.
The deal was sealed in a pub in Wellington, which is in Somerset. Or almost Devon.

One of the conditions of my acceptance was that the group kit storage and transport, which had been An Issue for the previous incumbents, should be resolved.

And, of course, there was a parallel proposal to completely change the structure of the whole group, to manage better the expansion brought about by the success of the group.

Fast forward to Yesterday. There I am, standing in a huge hall, with lots of canvas, poles, wooden bowls, plastic swords and shields, ropes, cauldrons and stuffed ducks, and a big bunch of people all looking at me expectantly.
F***! What now? Most people there (including ourselves) have a limited amount of space in their houses, sheds and garages, and limited capacity in their vehicles (to which roof bars and trailers have probably already been added to).

Me, fish. Water, completely out of. Partner decided to be short-term suffering and stepped into managerial role, while I stood there lying on my side, flapping and gill gaping.

'Take more stuff! Please?'

And take they did.

Well, we took a lot too.

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