Hanging with the Plantagenets

So if you have been lamenting my absence lately, you can blame it all on Drip Dry - for he's the one who insisted on buying me a NOOK for my birthday despite my declaration that I would never enjoy reading a book on One of those things!  But once I finished Ken Follett's new 985 page Fall of Giants in glorious hardcover, I was out of  "real" books, so I turned my attention to the pseudo-impostor book-nook.

And I haven't come up for air since. . .

That's right. . .  No blogging. No facebook.  No twitter. No emails (well, except for the 36 or so that begin, Your Barnes & Noble order has been successfully downloaded) because, you see, they didn't have all of these social media connections back in medieval England, and that's where I've been living.

In the High Middle Ages.

That was, until I entered the Renaissance.

Oh, I have read about every king, prince, bastard, and pretender to grace the Court of England since William the Conqueror.  I can trace the lineage of every duke, duchess and earl in both the House of Lancaster and the House of York.   I can name Henry the VIII's six wives backwards and forwards.  I now know exactly what the Groom of the Stool was "privy" to.   And I am waiting with bated breath for Philippa Gregory's newest book, One Queen, Two Queen, Red Queen, Blue Queen.

I would love to enlighten you all further, but I think my NOOK is now fully recharged. . .