Yesterday we went to the first day of the annual Viking Weekend in Mosegaard, which is a few minutes south of the city on a beautiful stretch of coastline, edged with a huge forest.

We joined our friend Tina and her daughter Kamma and took the number 31 bus right down to the beach.

To be honest, this wouldn’t have been our kind of thing usually. Watching grown men pretend to fight each other, dressed in hessian, wouldn’t normally have had a great appeal. However, in this case, we’d heard great things and decided to give it a try.

As we went to buy our tickets, which were just a few pounds with kids free, we passed gangs of men, women and children chanting and getting psyched up for something. If you blanked out your fellow visitors and concentrated on these people - in this marvellous setting - you could easily be convinced you’d stepped back in time. These people were totally authentic. They went about their duties totally seriously. It didn’t look like role playing at all.

Apparently, some of these Vikings actually make the trip by longboat from Sweden. And some of the characters had travelled from as far away as Texas to be part of the event.

Day-Glo wrist bands taken care of, we walked past a forest archery school and walked up the hill to what had become a Viking settlement.

There were stalls selling food and drink but this was the only nod to commercialism. No plastic Viking hats. No mugs. No t-shirts with ‘Keep Calm And Rape And Pillage’ on it. No, instead you could watch wooden bowls being made, shoes being hand crafted or meat being smoked over open fire. Although we did buy a very reasonably priced sheepskin.

The highlight of the day actually happened twice. A huge, mock battle involving hundreds of Vikings. This seemed to involve actual injury. Swords and knives had blunt ends but there was some heavy hitting going on. Beneath the roar of hundreds on the battlefield, you could see some guys being genuinely clocked.

The carnage continued for the best part of an hour. Garrisons waiting to join the battle ran on the spot as if preparing for a race. There was no laughing or joking. This was as close to real as it gets.

Horses galloped amongst the ‘dead’ bodies, strewn across the field.

The finishing touch was a mass charge against the audience.

It was all very Monty Python at times, not least because while the battle waged, a couple of volunteers in hi-vis jackets strode in front of the audience, ignoring the battle altogether and probably talking about Facebook.

After a brief archery lesson, we all went down to the beach, which was peaceful and beautiful.

A wonderful, summer’s day getting a little closer to Denmark’s history and the origins of its national character.

It explained the popularity of beards, if nothing else.