Let us begin this blog post with the disclaimer: I cannot guarantee a mite of the history I will recount is true. Indeed, I would highly caution against it. Forsooth, I would scratch the “hi” and rather call it a nice “story.” Let me glibly dismiss all challenges with a gentle cough that sounds almost like “not my era,” though of course I would never admit to being so lazy. Let’s engage in some bad writing, too, just to emphasize further the inaccuracies.
Since the dawn of time, William “the Conqueror” of Normandy had been destined to conquer. After all, it was his middle name. Son of Robert “the Duke” of Normandy and his irresistibly named mistress, Herleva, when he perceived that Edward the Confessor of Angloland was looking sickly, he rubbed his hands together with glee and envisioned taking over the isle to the north, wreaking havoc on its vowels and establishing Anglo-Normandy. In order to actualize his Cunning Little Plan of Wor(l)d Domination, he began to build forts — and not your typical cardboard and blankets forts — particularly on the brink of Northern France. One such force of battlement was erected at Caen. Little did he know that in actual fact if you want to get to England from those shores you actually have to catch a six-hour ferry from Ouistreham, calling for a taxi by Skype with mauvais français because the gulag of a hostel you got yourself into with doors that lock themselves after you exit closes its reception desk before 10 pm and doesn’t re-open until after you’re supposed to be at the docks, but that’s another story. The fact of the matter remains: he saw Caen as advantageous. Or perhaps Mathilda liked the view.
Nine hundred and fifty years later, to the day no doubt, a wandering scholar found herself facing a great surprise on the horizon of her travels:
*N.B. Will’s tacit endorsement of the E.U. But in actual factual, only the moat remains unchanged in any drastic fashion (apart from deepening). This may or may not be true.
A sweet view of the keep:
A fork in the road, allowing archers more options:
And some more photos thrown together since I can’t figure out how to be discerning with the gallery feature:
(Not quite sure how to use that gallery feature yet.)
In the fort was a church! On that church was a sign from my country and honouring people from the province I am currently residing in:
I pretended to be a soldier when facing these sights.
Clearly the canon does not date to William.
It was a little amazing to see how worn the steps are.
These pictures take a while to upload, and I am weary of weaving my tales. However, I did manage to bake pita bread and carrot muffins in the time it took to load them. Productivity score!
Fare thee well, fortress!
Reluctant Scholar 