why it’s wonderful not being medieval

Castle gate

All of you who know me know I'm a bit of a medieval head. 

I studied medieval history at university, got all serious and post-grad about the logistics of crusading, I listen to a lot of medieval music (search for Hildegard of Bingen on iTunes if you are at all interested and have a listen to some of the heart-stoppingly beautiful recordings made). 

I read a lot of historical fiction and I sometimes just have to cook civet of rabbit or sugar wafers or tourtel (herbed egg tart) or orange omlette for harlots and ruffians (seriously, an authentic fifteenth century Italian recipe, reproduced in The Medieval Kitchen.)

I'm not, however, in the least bit interested in pretending to live in the Middle Ages. 

I'm too bloody relieved to find myself in the twenty-first century in Australia.

I must have been asked a hundred times if I'm a re-enactor, somebody who dresses in authentically historical clothing and sets up camps in authentic ways etc. Ah, no. 

And here's why (in no particular order and not exhaustive):

– Epidurals
– Baby Panadol
– Safe C-section births
– Feminism
– Washing machines
– Refrigeration
– Espresso
– Chocolate
– Potato, for that matter
– Hygiene
– Internet
– Penicillin
– Glass windows
– Sewerage
– Contraception (particularly prophylactics other than bloodletting)

and the main reason: THYROXINE.

It's been just under a week and oh yes, I am a completely re-made woman. I'd gotten so used to running on empty that I'd forgotten what it felt like to be charged up. 

Thank you to a lovely reader from the US, Rebecca, for her detailed and incredibly thoughtful advice and research on Thyroiditis. Notwithstanding all her excellent naturopathic advice, I'm on the drugs for now and will do a controlled trial off them in a few months. 

Happy happy happy. 

Hope you're all marvellous.


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