In a shock development, for a short while Nicole and I (who are as you will know married) instantiated for a few brief hours a vestigial social life for the second time this rolling calendar quarter.

We went out to the QPAC place (what cultural afficionados we are) and visited a certain Bill Bailey in order that he might entertain us.

And entertain us he did, perhaps not to the extent that our ribbles were tickled back in sunny (today) Ipswich those many years ago, but enough that we felt that we had laughed. High praise indeed. And not one swear word, which is something for a stand-up these days. Well there might have been one I suppose.

While we were out Eloise went for a sleepover with young Hannah and of course she enjoyed herself there, I gather. It was certainly difficult to extricate her from the situation, as when I got there after having walked the dogs they weren't even dressed yet; and I'd had a sleep in myself.

So the days activities from there were for us to go to the Medieval Festival which was being played out up at Caboolture at the Abbey Museum.

Quite a sizeable event it was too, with a field of several acres caparisoned with buntingry and pennanted field tents with quite literally hundreds of in-costume historical types roaming around granting indulgences, teaching swordplay, indulging in trade, looking bored, and beating the living crap out of one another.

We were unable to attend the actual joust as were unable to procure tickets for the arena but the knights obligingly held a tournament on a supplementaty field of honour in order that we might be able to appreciate that real life ancient figures tended to enjoy fighting, quite a lot, and underneath the shining armour generally look like bikies.

There was a slightly more refined and less brutish interlude where we watched a demonstration of burgundian swordplay with rapiers and daggers which was terribly civilised even if, ultimately, sword-and-fighting related.

You'll no doubt be aware the the Almohads conquered Spain in medieval times. What an excuse for a camel ride.

And medieval donuts were small round things which have only evolved slowly as one Donut King has inherited the crown of another.

The day was topped off by a Morality Play where we found out to our not quite surprise that the morality of the day was based around good-natured brawling and interpersonal violence, carried out in a long-winded, aristocratically-accented but ultimately under-cerebral doggerel version of Sheriff of Nottingham English.

And a good time was had by all.