The three entries are : Heraldic Clay tiles from the 15th C., Scottish Urinal made in the 14th C., and A tart called “Colde Bakyn Mete” from a cookbook dated in the 15th c.

The persona I have chosen is a 15th century English woman living near York with her new husband. The couple resides on lands given to her by her father who recently passed away. She was the only heir of the lands which have been in her family for generations. Her Scottish great-great-grandfather settled in York about 1370. Her family has been living in York since then. Her mother died when she was five years old. She was raised by her father, as he never remarried. Her husband thinks she is a lousy cook, because she had no mother, so he buys all the new cookbooks he can get his hands on. She tries a new recipe from the cookbooks every chance she gets to please her new husband. Her husband also lavishes her with expensive gifts, being a wealthy merchant in York. She has no clue that she has found her Scottish great-great grandfathers’ urinal, which he brought with him from Scotland when he settled in York. The following is her diary entry for April, 1481.

It is four days before Easter and am in the kitchen waiting for my colde bakyn mete to be done. It is lent and this tart has no meat. The recipe comes from a new manuscript that my lord has acquired. The recipe contains dried fruits and nuts, which I had left from the last growing season. I also had a chance to use the exotic figs and dates which came from Italy. I added my sweetest wine to the dish. My lord surprised me with a gift of a set of four tiles commemorating the year of our marriage. He commissioned them to be made by the local tiler. I do not know how much he paid for them, but I suspect they were a few sovereigns. They are beautiful and I can not wait to have them installed in the wall. My lord broke his clay urinal the other day. I was about to order a new one from the potter. To my delight, as I was searching for something in the barn I found a dusty urinal in the old barn out back. I am not sure how long it has been there. I suspect it had been sitting there for a number of years, due to amount of dust and other filth on the inside. I fondly remember stories my father told me about his Scottish great-grandfather who built the barn about one hundred years ago. The stories about the building of the barn have been told for generations. I suspect the story has changed some from the truth. No time to tell the story now, back to my tart, I believe it is done.