More precisely, the Medievals. If we're speaking specifically, the Plantagenets. Okay, now you're pressing me, 1464.
Sometimes, I think I might live in the fifteenth century. While I remain here, at some unspecified date in the tweny-first century, I do the day job I have, before I return to real life.
Of course I like to imagine real life is composed mostly of floating about in a fire-warmed castle room hung with fine tapestries and delicate embroideries ordering the next goblet of wine just in from France.
It's probably not. I bet when I get there I'm covered in plague boils, have a weekday cleaning job in the local cess pit and spend my Saturday market mornings feebly trying to barter a squirrel carcass for a bag of rats.
Anyway, it inspires me, the history thing, or the present day, depending on where your perspective lies, with those beautiful books of hours, tapestries, Petrarchian song and dancery, troubadours, garters, a spot of romantic chivalry, a few blood and guts, and fancy tights.