Olga T'Impaler

Olga looked about her little wooden shack and wondered. She had been doing a lot of thinking lately, Olga was confused. Vlad, her Viking husband, was away killing something at the moment and had left her alone with the little ones to make some tea for a special occasion.

Mrs. Olga T’Impaler had travelled over to England the summer before after her Husband’s men had successfully taken Jorvik. She joined her husband now that he was settled. All had gone well and Olga had been quite happy cooking slabs of meat and washing the blood and mess from Vlad’s furs. Olga didn’t even mind the occasional scent of British perfume on his shirts – after all a bit of rape and pillage was a standard perk of his job.

Months later and still all was well, she had taken the boys ( Vlad Jnr and Olaf) to see all the good stuff in Jorvik, this had not taken long so then they had spent days exploring the countryside. The boys were getting good with their axes, however Olaf had started to worry her.

Kids acclimatise much quicker than adults do. Once they had come over to England Olaf had vey quickly begun adapting. Already he was refusing to eat her special Apple bake unless she made something called custard with it. When Olga had tried to encourage the boys to practice sword fighting Olaf had said that she hadn’t done a proper risk assessment and he had swapped the swords for foam ones and then made Vlad Jnr wear a helmet that covered his face. Olga was quite concerned about Olaf.

Then one day it happened; the event that would set Olga on a whole new journey. Something so shattering that her life would never be the same again. Whilst Olga and the boys were out and about on one of their treks, she found a book. Not just any book; the book. This was like nothing she had seen before. The book was bright and amazing, the pictures shone out at her. This book would revolutionise everything.

Olga was never meant to see it. The book was out of its time. A freak future accident in a laboratory in the basement of mad scientist Julie Oliver had resulted in the book being transported hundreds of years into the past. Now it was hidden under Olga T’Impala’s bed.

Olga opened the page and looked once more into the eyes of Nigella Lawson. Ever since she had first set eyes on this dark haired beauty that so clearly had control of a mighty empire to stand in such a kitchen, Olga had known that things must change.

Vlad had not said anything that first time he came home and looked at his plate; his slab of meat had something odd on it. A sprig of parsley sat on top of his meat for no good reason. There wasn’t enough parsley to actually make it a side dish so what was the point? Vlad tossed it aside and thought about it no further. The next night he noticed his soup had an odd flavour that reminded ho of France – he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Recently Olga had been getting brave. Herring with a coca-cola baste and skin on wedges had gone down a storm with everyone at the table asking for more. Her puddings were the talk of Jorvik and Vlad was forever bringing friends home on Sticky Toffee Pudding night.

It had come as no surprise when Vlad had suggested that the whole of the Jorvik Viking council team come to their shack for canapés and finger food at the next meeting. Even so Olga was worried. Prawn voulevonts are not easy to cook on an open fire and as for Mini Chicken Kievs? The chocolate fountain was looking good but the fire had simply not been hot enough for the soufflé and the gooey mess that had emerged would simply have to be written off. Olga wondered if she had covered everything. She knew that the council would have been happy with meat, Herring and ale but somehow this had not seemed right. Tonight was the night, this was going to change her life forever.

Olga changed into her hastily made silk dressing gown (it was actually hessian but she had drawn a Chinese Dragon on it to make it look silk) and stood looking as sultry as possible as the guests arrived.

The meeting was a triumph. Her voulevonts were acclaimed by all and Vlad went so far as to say that her Kievs were sent by the Gods. Olga became the talk of Jorvik and never looked back Vlad died of a heart attack at 36 after having just one too many spoons of Death by Chocolate. Olga’s dressing gown is still on display at the Jorvik Viking Centre tourist attraction in York.