A return to the Chalke Valley History Festival is even better than the delight of last year's discovery

Early in 1986 I made a fateful call home from my last year at university. “I want to stay in school and get my masters’ degree in English history,” I confidently proclaimed.

My mother’s groan carried an almost physical pain. “No. Never. You can’t.” exclaimed the art historian and art teacher. “As if journalism weren’t bad enough. Now you’re going to end up a history teacher. Make England your hobby, and get a job that will actually pay you a decent wage.”

She had a point. Her income at the time, after two decades of teaching, was roughly half of my university tuition fees per year. (Thank God for Northwestern’s need-blind admissions policies and the generous alumni who donated the money that covered my costs.) It was hard to imagine living a comfortable life on a history degree, much less earning enough to do all the travel in Europe I so hungered after. So I followed mum’s plea and put my nose on the corporate grindstone.

I rarely look back and question whether that was the right choice. But this weekend, after two glorious days at the Chalke Valley History Festival surrounded by happy, entertaining, fascinating people who make their living from history, I do have to wonder. Could I have beaten the odds? Instead of ending up a cash-strapped teacher in St. Louis, might I have been taking centre stage at places like this? Could I have been prosperous in an ecosystem of history-as-entertainment that neither my mother nor I could have imagined in the ‘80s?

I’ll never know, but the Chalke Valley History Festival is pretty close to that 18-year-old caller’s idea of heaven. My husband and I discovered it last summer (you can read my initial report here) and loved it so much we vowed to come back for a whole weekend. This time with friends.

Historical re-enactments have long been a staple of English summer entertainment. There have been famous literary festivals for decades. The calendar is awash with music festivals. The genius of Chalke Valley is combining them all into one event to celebrate all eras of history, for people who love the topic. Talks take place simultaneously on four main stages, augmented by performances, demonstrations and tableaux of living history. Though there were four of us, the variety makes it almost inevitable that groups split up. Upon entry, the boys were immediately diverted by the tents and tanks of the 20th century, while we girls did a recce of the whole show ground and settled in for the first jousting match of the weekend. Throughout the two days, I veered towards women’s and cultural history while my husband concentrated on World War 2. We came together only for Michael Wood’s fabulous talk on The True Story of the Trojan War, in which he explained how modern research has brought understanding along since the BBC series that first made his name as a popular historian almost 40 years ago. 

With last year's experience to give us a sense of how things worked, we were far better organised to take advantage of the fun. We'd kept an eye on the web site and jumped into the agenda as soon as it was released, booking tickets early for the sessions we wanted. (The Festival requires separate tickets with an additional fee for lectures in the two main venues. Though the prices ... usually about £5 ... are not a big deal, you can rack up quite a bill over a two day visit if you're keen on a lot of topics, and the booking system is a bit onerous.) Upon arrival, with pens in hand, we'd grabbed the agenda for each day and stepped aside to circle the stuff each individual wanted to do. Then we planned meeting points throughout the day where we could connect after having separated. This is critical, as the long, deep valley has almost no connectivity. Forget messaging each other; you have to go old school here. Given you're surrounded by people who look like they just tumbled out of a time machine, the lack of electronic communications is fitting.

My highlights were a talk by novelist Kate Mosse about forgotten women in history; Leandra de Lisle with a re-evalution of the oft-maligned queen Henrietta Maria; a panel discussion on best and worst monarchs with de Lisle, actor and writer Charlie Higson, Private Eye editor Ian Hislop and personal favourite Tom Holland (the historian, not spider man); and a talk on how living history has moved on our understanding of jousting from a modern-day knight in a full, gleaming suit of armour. "Sir" Tobias Capwell was probably the one most responsible for getting me thinking about my safe career choices. Another American who's lived in the UK for most of his career but hasn't lost his style or his cheerful informality, Capwell fell in love with his era of history in museums as a child but kept true to his passions, pursuing both an academic career and jousting on a small but dedicated professional circuit. His tales of how his experiences in the joust helped him to solve mysteries that neither the written record or historic arms and armour could were fascinating, and his career sounds like a long exercise in the pursuit of joy. Following him from the conference stage to the tiltyard, where he swung up onto his horse and rode into action, cascaded more than a bit of the happiness to us.

Mosse's work was possibly the most important, however. Triggered by discovering that her great grandmother, known to the family to have written a bit, had actually been a famous novelist in her time but was forgotten to history in just a few generations, Mosse started digging for similar stories. And ended up with a hefty book of them. This is not elevating bit players to roles beyond their achievements to achieve parity. Nor is it, she was quick to point out, about taking anything away from men. It's simply about restoring the forgotten to well-earned fame so we can all appreciate that men and women built our world together, hand in hand. Mosse is an engaging, dynamic speaker. I'd even call her a performer. Her tales had me laughing, groaning, and frequently crying. One of the joys of the festival is that you can roll out of sessions like this right into one of the on-site bookstores, where you can chat with authors and have them sign your books. My armload of Warrior Queens & Quiet Revolutionaries will make excellent Christmas presents. Given all the clever, powerful, wonderful women in my life, I may need to buy more before the holidays roll around.

An advantage of staying for two days was having the time to linger in the central food and drink area to enjoy the entertainment. On Saturday night we were treated to a trio who channeled the Andrews Sisters and delighted us with their big band sound. In their second set, after satisfying us with the traditional stuff, they rolled into a set of modern covers transposed into Glen Miller style. All about that bass, Careless whisper, and Material Girl with a new sound had us on our feet dancing. A diverse food court with everything from the usual curry, pizzas and burgers to Greek specialties, local lamb burgers and a game truck stayed open into the evening to offer dinner as well as lunch.

Activities for kids looked even bigger this year than last. The rope-and-pulley operated horse at Knight School had many an adult wishing they could grab a lance and try to hit some targets. The Royal Corps of Signals' tent was packed with kids learning to send secret messages with morse code, decipher puzzles and move through a maze blindfolded on the instructions of others. Up a hill in a bit of woodland, other packs of youngsters were going through a trench warfare experience, complete with artillery. I understand that taking youngsters out for a whole day into an environment with no mobile connectivity is a dangerous risk, and we saw a few surly teenagers. But on the whole this seemed a fabulous day out for children and teenagers, and we were a bit sad they were such a minority.

While cut out of the kids' experiences, I was having just as much fun at the Time Traveller's Kitchen, watching the preparation of 17th century dishes, or getting tips from the Roman Cutler about sharpening knives at home. If you needed a break from all the intellectual stimulation, the weather was gorgeous and the turf on the slopes above the festival ground spongy. Many an attendee climbed up for a view and then enjoyed a little nap in the sun.

I was surprised to see quite a noticeable turnover from the re-enactors' camps present last year. No Romans at all this year. No Vikings, but some new AngloSaxons. The medievalists were out in force, with several different groups from slightly different periods. The Regency camp was familiar, not just because my husband's interest in the Napoleonic wars and mine in Jane Austen means we chatted a fair deal with them last year, but we recognised them as the same people who turn up at the Highclere Battle Proms annually. I missed the late Stuart gang who did such a flashy day at the races with Charles II last year, but was delighted to find a troop of both French and English soldiers from the Seven Years' War in the Americas. Known as the French and Indian War there, this was a bit of history that took place on my home turf, and I had a jolly time talking to re-enactors about Fort de Chartres. That military facility looms large in the story of their chosen period, but I think I was the only one amongst them who'd ever been there and scrambled around the place. I do love the way these guys stay in character. "So, how's your occupation of my homeland going?" I asked one handsome redcoat. He grinned, swept off his tricorn, gave me a little bow and explained "Madam, we're there to protect you, and we're doing an excellent job."

I did not get organised enough to snag one of the few B&B rooms in walking distance, or even in nearby villages. (The Talbot Inn at Berwick St. John or The Pembroke Arms at Wilton are my targets for next year.)  Like a true festival, you can stay on site. But we are not camping people. And the glamping tents at more than £300 per night were more than I could stomach when you have to cross a field to use the loo. We instead drove 20 minutes back to the centre of Salisbury and stayed at the Mercure there. Not only did we have a comfortable night's sleep and convenient plumbing, but the fact that our first scheduled talk wasn't until mid-day on Sunday gave us a chance for a morning ramble around the town centre. The cathedral close is spectacularly beautiful. Discovering a small monthly art market on the main town square, however, serenaded by a duo turning out smooth jazz on saxophone and electric guitar, was the highlight of our little tour. Coffee at a local cafe overlooking the sophisticated scene set us up for another day dancing between time periods back in the Chalke Valley.

The four of us finished the weekend ready to sign up for next year, and friends hearing our tales of delight have already asked to join us. I realise most people can't fit yet another thing into their packed summer schedules, but this is one worth considering. Chalke Valley really delivers on that idea of "fun for all ages" by taking people through the ages. And the best part? It's all for a good cause. All profits go to fund scholarships for people to take higher degrees in history, or programmes to help teachers teach it better. Had things like this existed in the mid-'80s, maybe I would have followed my heart rather than my head.

We'll be heading to Wiltshire the 29th and 30th of June next year. Care to join us?