The New Murrey and Blue blog

I think that by now many of you know that the Murrey & Blue blog is to end by 24 January. To those of you for whom this is the first intimation, I apologise. There may be efforts to continue it or start a new blog in its place, but the final post in its present form will be an official goodbye tomorrow. As Viscountessw I have been running it at the request of the late Stephen Lark; tomorrow’s will be my last such post.

So today I am inviting you all to a splendid cyber-banquet to celebrate the blog’s passing. I cannot treat you all in person to a real farewell feast, but as it’s the thought that counts, here is a taste of what I would wish present to you all in my wonderful castle in the air.

Consider my heralds to have been despatched to everyone, and be sure to wear your finest garb. I want to see velvet and silk of every hue, with so many jewels that you’ll all (pay attention gentlemen!) dazzle me as I wait to receive you. You’ll wish to appear at your very best for the guest of honour, none other than our beloved monarch, King Richard III. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, in salute to Stephen and the loyal readers of the Murrey & Blue blog, our illustrious king has accepted my invitation. ☺️

Please be aware that I have gone to the enormous expense of hiring chairs instead of benches. This is because I know from bitter experience how difficult it can be for a lady in a formal gown to ease herself along a bench before sitting down. Intolerable. We will all wish to appear elegant and graceful in front of our king, so individual chairs it is.

You will be able to boast ever after that not only did you dine in the company of King Richard, but also that you sampled the tastiest, most recherché dishes imaginable. (If you’re wise, you will arrive on an empty stomach.) Not even the court in Paris will have been served such choice recipes. And the French are always so sniffy about English food, are they not? Not this time, mes amis!

After the banquet there will be music and dancing until dawn, as well as a number of other entertainments.

For such an exclusive occasion I confess to having had trouble finding Fools worthy of the task. A fellow called Tydder applied, but at the audition he didn’t even raise a giggle, and his very visage was a damper on the judges. On the other hand, his mother is a truly gifted comedienne, and as you know, female Fools are a great rarity. I’m sure she’ll have you splitting your sides with laughter, especially her skit on the night her brother-in-law, Sir William Stanley, had too much Malmsey and propositioned her. Whether or not she accepted his advances is a matter she keeps to herself.

Under normal circumstances dogs and hounds would have been welcome, but certain restrictions will have to be imposed. Please pay attention, Your Grace of Norfolk and Lord Lincoln. Having at Christmas witnessed the rowdy misconduct of certain of the larger, far too boisterous hounds, especially those with collar badges of Howard and de la Pole, I do not intend to subject King Richard to a repetition of such a disgraceful mêlée. His hounds are, as you know, very well behaved.

At Christmas numerous pet cats were chased up the chimneys and had to be retrieved. There was much yowling and baying, ladies fainted, the fires had to be doused, a choking stench of singed fur filled the great hall….and a blanket of soot covered everything. Fortunately all the cats were saved, but the incident ruined what had until then been a truly enjoyable evening.

The ladies’ lapdogs took no part, of course, and the Duchess of Suffolk’s unfortunate pug shivered uncontrollably for a week afterward. Her Grace quite rightly blamed the enormous brindled mongrel owned by her son, Lord Lincoln, resulting in an unfortunate family rift, which I’m glad to say has now been healed.

So it has been decided that canines in general—with the exception of the ladies’ lapdogs—will be happier attending their own special Pooch Party in the stables. The horses will be placed elsewhere for the occasion, so the canines can enjoy themselves with all their favourite food and toys. They can run wherever they wish, and play all the rough games they love so much, but they will be expertly supervised, so that any squabbles do not get out of control.

Feline pride was much dented at Christmas, and it’s feared that if the dogs and hounds are present again, advantage will be taken of every opportunity to be avenged. Claws are being sharpened. So the owners of said dogs and hounds should be reminded that not all cats took to the chimneys. Many did not appreciate having the tastiest morsels snatched from their very jaws, as a number of canine noses learned to their bloody cost.

Some of the resultant whining and whimpering was piteous, but it has to be said that they brought it upon themselves. So if you wish your dog or hound to survive without acquiring a badly scratched snout, I think you’ll agree the Pooch Party is a wiser option. The cats—and the ladies’ lapdogs, of course—will then be more than welcome to remain in the great hall.

Thus the enjoyment of the banquet guests will not be disturbed. Oh, one thing more. Parrots will not be admitted. Their vocabulary is singularly unsuitable in the company of ladies. Please take note, Sir Francis.

I am sorry to have to introduce these new rules, but the Christmas débâcle really was too much.

Meanwhile, here are some links to the sort of edible marvels you may expect to sample. But the real pièces de résistance are secrets that will not be revealed until they are borne shoulder-high into the hall.

• https://www.britishmuseum.org/blog/how-cook-medieval-feast-11-recipes-middle-ages
• http://medievalcookery.com/recipes/recipes.html
• http://www.godecookery.com/mtrans/mtrans.htm
• https://listverse.com/2019/04/08/10-medieval-recipes-eaten-by-kings-that-you-can-try-at-home/
• https://www.medievalchronicles.com/medieval-food/discover-the-flavors-of-the-past-top-10-medieval-meals-you-can-recreate/

There is no need to respond to this invitation, because I know you will all attend. But grand and sumptuous as the evening will be, it is to celebrate the demise of our beloved blog. So at dawn we will raise our cups, sing Auld Lang Syne and then go our separate ways. (Always hoping to meet again, of course.)

Oh, and before you start bombarding me with complaints about this occasion being scheduled after the twelve days of Christmas, I fear King Richard is several steps ahead of you. He is most insistent that all seasonal greenery will have been removed before he joins us, and warns that he does not intend to kiss anyone and everyone who brandishes a sprig of mistletoe!