Hello again, dear readers! Oh goodness, I use that phrase too much. It’s starting to grate on my brain cells now.
Anyway, the topic of my first true blog entry will be – drumroll please – history! You see, I love history. This may sound cheesy, but it’s a really important subject. By learning about humankind’s mistakes in the past, humans can get some valuable ideas on how to fix problems in the present.
Oh dear God, I’m starting to write actually serious stuff. This is a bad, bad sign.
Back to insanity!
Where was I? Oh yes. My love of history. It’s not purely philosophical, of course. History reads a bit like a horror story – a mishmash of blood, guts, and rolling heads. And what teenager doesn’t love a good horror story?
Let’s start with my all-time favorite time period, one that took place in England and stretched from 1485-1603. Ah, I see you fellow history buffs nodding your heads and smiling to yourselves, and thinking “Good choice, very good choice.” For anyone who’s never picked up a history book out of their own volition – from 1485-1603, England was ruled by a set of very special (read: insane) monarchs known as the Tudors.
The ancestor of this illustrious line of sovereigns was a man by the name of Owen Tudor. The reason this isn’t a familiar moniker is because Owen didn’t actually rule. I forgot exactly what he did, but somehow he fathered a baby with royal blood, who later became Henry VII after he defeated Richard III in the Battle of the Roses. Henry VII isn’t going to be the main focus of this piece, mostly because he was… well… to put it as kindly as possible, his personality wasn’t quite as forceful or flamboyant as Henry VIII’s. To put it less kindly – he was a wimp compared to his son.
Which brings us to the point of this piece. Yes, unlike the introductory post, this one actually has a point. And that point is none other than our favorite monarch, Henry VIII. Born in 1491 in Greenwich, England, Hal was destined for a quiet life of solitude and monkhood. Because what not many people know is – Hal had a brother named Luke Skywalker.
No, seriously, he had a brother named Arthur. Who married Hal’s sweetheart, Katherine of Aragon (no, not Aragorn, LOTR fans). But long (very long) story short, Artie died and left Kathy a widow – for the time being. In 1509, when Hal ascended the English throne, he made Kathy his wife. All was pleasant in England…
…for the time being.
Stay tuned for Part Two of A Tudor Story, dear readers!
Blood, gore, and courtly intrigue shall ensue.