If I am a Viking in any sense, I’m an old Viking. There are a few examples in the sagas – King Harald Fairhair doddering in the high seat, hankering after younger women, and turning the government over to his worst son. Egil Skalagrimsson, blind and dependent, still seething with murderous vindictiveness.

I find that sitting on a Viking chest (with no back support) for a 10-hour day pretty much takes the starch out of me. Next year at Viking Fest Minnesota, since they’ve exiled me to the modern merchants’ section, I think I’ll swallow my reenactor’s pride and use a folding chair. Maybe I can find a replica of one of those Roman commander chairs, if I can afford one.

(I have discovered, by the way, that acetaminophen works pretty well on day-after aches and pains.)

The picture at the top is the selfie I used to check in on Facebook yesterday (which was Sunday if you’re keeping track). I suppose a cheerier face might lead to better sales, though I didn’t do bad.

After the August-like heat and low crowds of the previous weekend, this one was considerably better. The highs were around 60 degrees Fahrenheit – suitable for woolen tunics and cloaks. And whatever kind of warm hat you have. (I have a brown sheepskin one which has never properly fit my head.)

Saturday was well-attended, and my sales were excellent. I think I had three high rollers who bought the entire Erling Saga at the festival bargain price. God bless those people. Sunday was not as good, but not bad either. All in all, the event did a pretty good job of watering the parched ground of my personal treasury.

Had some good conversations, with surprisingly few serious cranks. I was particularly happy to meet Johnny Rikard Andersen, a Norwegian who is part of the crew of Saga Oseberg, the modern sailing replica of the famous Oseberg burial ship. I attended the lecture he gave in the museum building, and it was fascinating. A new Norwegian contact is always delightful.

To finish up, a few photos:

One of the Icelandic horses being put through its paces:

My bookselling awning, in its environment (the rip in the canvas happened in a storm during the week).

A view of the inside of the historical encampment.

Now I am home again, with a bad cold. Pray for me if you like.