Gabriele tagged me for the 'Me, too' meme that's been doing the rounds of blogdom!
I am: the reluctant King of England.
I want: to spend all my time pottering around at Langley, digging ditches and listening to music, while Hugh Despenser rules my country.
I wish: I knew what my wife Isabella was thinking. You know, I'm starting to suspect that she doesn't like Hugh Despenser very much. How can she not?? The man's perfect! And good grief, he doesn't insult her that much. And confiscating all her estates was the obvious thing to do. I don't know what she's whining about.
I hate: Roger Mortimer. The earl of Lancaster. The Marcher lords. Roger Mortimer. My brother-in-law Charles IV of France. <Whispers> My wife Isabella, sometimes. And did I mention Roger Mortimer?
I miss: Piers Gaveston, of course. So beautiful, so witty, so strong, so perfect in every way....Hugh, don't look at me like that! I love you just as much! Hugh, come back!
I fear: my son turning against me.
I hear: rumours that my wife is cuckolding me with Mortimer.
I wonder: what my life would be like if one of my three elder brothers had lived.
I regret: sending my son to France to pay homage on my behalf, without insisting my wife came back to England first. Not executing that git-face Mortimer when I had the chance. Marrying Isabella (not that I had any choice, but still......). Leaving Piers alone at Scarborough. Not...hey, how long have you got?
I am not: meant to be king. The blood-soaked monster my father was. Particularly interested in conquering Scotland.
I dance: not really. I prefer to pay Bernard the Fool and 54 naked ladies to dance for me.
I sing: when joining in one of those hilarious plays that Walter Reynolds organises. (Between you and me, Walter is a much better actor than he is Archbishop of Canterbury. I wonder why he can't act being a good Archbishop?)
I cry: when I visit Piers' tomb.
I am not always: as pathetic as people seem to think I am. That campaign against the Marchers and Lancaster was extremely successful, and don't you forget it.
I made: a fantastic new ditch at Clarendon and a wall and some thatched roofs at Langley. Also, a vat of soup from some cabbages I bought off a peasant while barging along the Thames. Would you like a bowl?
I write: a poem about my misfortunes.
I confuse: all those bloody Hugh Despensers. There are three generations of them, for pity's sake! (Hehe, just kidding. How could I confuse my dearest friends?)
I need: another few gallons of wine, immediately. I'm starting to sober up.
I should: send Hugh away from court and take immediate steps to reconcile my wife and all my enemies congregating in Paris. Ha! No chance. I'm not sending Hugh anywhere.
I start: in a great burst of enthusiasm.
I finish: rarely.
I tag: Ilya. Susan Higginbotham. Carla Nayland (when she gets back)