Wow...that was fun. Actually at first I wasn't keen to celebrate my 50th, I mean...what's to celebrate? Another year older, another year closer to death. But my partner, D, suggested, to make it more fun for me that we should go fancy dress. So, being a keen Game Of Thrones fan, I decided I wanted to be KING FOR THE DAY so I could get dressed up and posh and wear a Ned Stark wig. So then, just family and close friends invited, a small scale, a cozy venue, some hired medieval musicians a banquet of authentic medieval food and the title of 'King For The Day' for me. And here's the result of all that, me...as a tyrant abusing my temporary authority.
(The cutting the cake speech, I am reliably informed, lasted over half an hour)
Here we see some of my loyal subjects gathering to adore their King. (Although I suspect by this point in the proceedings there were thoughts of regicide from the halfling beside me. All very Macbeth.)
The King's royal suite. Apparently Liz the 1st stayed in these very rooms when she visited Norfolk centuries ago. (I think she's the one who left the hotel room's TV on the shopping channel)
And here's the King hugging his older brother (and far more successful writer) Simon Scarrow, who arrived in authentic armour that weighed a ton and was dispensed with once the servants started bringing out the food. (Which by the way was awesome; whole chickens spit roasted, freshly baked loaves, pork ribs in honey sauce. And yes...we ate with our fingers medieval-style).
Bloody marvelous evening. I awoke the next day as an old git of 50, with a big-ass smile on my hairy face and a Ned Start wig that was covered with chicken grease.