Prettye Good Yeare
By Seynte Simon Stylite, the labour and bisynesse of werke hath me exiled from the plaisance and jolitee of my litel blog. Sithen My Lord the Kyng hath been commitinge hymself to non-factionale, reasonablie stable rule, he hath been pusshinge me prettye harde wyth the royal werkes. Laast yeere did yerne ful yerne and, Ich devoutly praye, shal never yeelde the lyke. Swich a "to-doon lyste" hath never Noah ne seene, nor hath the muchel-overworked crewe of the Battelstar Ecclesiastica evir had so much stresse.
In the somer, My Trespuissant Lord the Kyng did bestowe upon me the responsibilitee of the werste “fixer upper” of alle the royale chapeles: that of Saynt George in Windesore, the whiche was basicallye aboute to collapse fastere than Charles de Sheene yn the privy of a hostel.
Yet Saynt Georges droopinge sanctum was but the prelude to my woe. For anon, yn the autumpne, ther was a gret tourney in Smithfield, at which noble knightes were to batter themselves demi-wayes to deeth for the amusement of the crowde and the honour of Engelonde, and thus "listes" were added unto my list.
Ich did propose the construccioun of a curious and craftie edifice maad all rounde yn the shaap of an egg, the which wolde have many circular rowes ascendinge, ycrammed with seates oon rowe above the othir, so that whan a man was set in oon degree he wolde let nat hys felawe for to see the accioun (thogh trewely the beere and hotte-dogge vendours wolde yet get in the waye).
Thys flewe nat. “In what overunkinde, auke, and weiward versioun of thys worlde, deere Geoffrey,” the Kyng did seye to me, “art thou a desiger of buildinges?” And so yt was decyded to forget all aboute my "stadium" idea, and rathir lavisshe the casshe upon the construccioun of a “Jumbo-Throne” for Kyng Richard. Ich did arrange, howevir, for the creacioun of many a bleacher for the fannes, and many a large foam hande the whiche was emblazoned wyth "BEATE ENGELONDE? ARE YOU CRECY?," and thogh the resultes were moore modest and simple than my firste planne, the labour was equallye hevy. Yif ye wondere, good rederes, where have been the poostes of blog, Ich shal but poynt towardes a not-fallinge-downe-nowe chapel and a wel-remembered sportinge event.
And thanne, after the labour of the grete tourney, the holidayes came, and Philippa did wisshe to celebrate a proper Festivus thys yeere (for she ys of Hainault, where Festivus ys heeld yn grete reverence by cause of Seynt Fraunk). Ywis, Ich knowe nat the difference bitwene a clerk of the kinges workes and a husband preparinge for the holidayes, for both envye the pack-horse.
For yif yt be nat oon thyng, yt ys anothir. Oi vey! The forginge of the Festivus pole by Gervais, the local blakke-smithe, was delayed, for the red-hote pole had y-borrowed been by a towne clerke for sum straunge and uncustumable activitee involvinge a shot-windowe. Thanne, ther was muchel debaat and stryfe yn the familie regardinge the proper arraungement of the "feates of strengthe" (apparantlie a pusshe-uppe conteste was ydeemed "nat good ynough.") Litel Lowys did scantlie retourne from Oxenforde yn tyme for the celebraciouns, bringinge wyth hym a date that did throwe the reste of us ynto a tizzie (she was a Wycliffite!). As a maner garnisshe upon thys cocktayle of chaos, ower catte decyded to posicioun ytself yn the Festivus turkeye immediatlye bifor the diner. BSL! And yit in the ende, for al my labour and grucchynge, for al the affrai and inquiete, we had a verray parfit Festivus feeste, catte haire notwithstondinge. Ich did even see my deere son Thomas, who did retourne from hys wonted journeyinge wyth The Duk of Lancaster, John of Gaunt. Trewelye, Festivus ys a tyme for familye.
But for the feeste of newe yeeres, Ich did make a resolucioun, the which Ich shal descryven unto yow within but a fewe dayes. In anothir poost. Anon.