Well, I got contacted by someone who, like Russell, would like to be linked on the page, but we had a hard time deciding where she belonged.

And also, like Russell, she coded her own html for me. :) You'll recognize her if you've ever taken a break to watch the kids play quintaine, and, if you haven't, look for her around the festival grounds next season. I have it on good advice that she probably won't be working games, but she will be there, so keep an eye out:

In my days as a wee lass in Jersey I heard tell of a great festival north of York. I persuaded my dear family to accompany me. I had never before attempted to compile a peasant costume for the Renaissance, but the full prairie skirts I wore at the time translated immediately. A romp through my mother's basement revealed a night-chemise and soft leather boots. Without a single stitch, I became a shepherdess. I had such great fun at the faire that I immediately invested in a waistcincher and a garland. I knew that I would be back. And back I went, year after year, until I moved south to the town of Washing, near the Land of Mary. it came to my attention that another great festival would take place nearby each year. Alas, not so nearby that I could get there with neither horse nor carriage. I visited just once, knowing that I would be away all too long. Ida had been conceived.

Years hence, I found myself upwardly noble, possessing my own carriage and residing well nigh the faireground. I resolved thither to seek employ, and employment I found at the Royal Pointe, where noble subjects honor His Majesty by casting darts at His Majesty image. "Give His Majesty a little prick," I shouted, "or bust Her Majesty's ... " It was great fun, but simply not filthy enough. So I started working with a few horses' rear ends. They are shown in this picture. I knew I had a problem when I found myself conversing for times exceeding a quarter of an hour on my family history. Then, I found the Americanisms disappearing from my vocabulary. I became Ida at the drop of a hat (and I drop many, many hats). Two years of jousting was simply not enough for me. I have had to visit many other faires to combat my shameless lust for steak-on-a-stake.