View From The WIndow

Spring has certainly sprung and global warming has turned up at last in my immediate vicinity after several decades of gloom and doom prophecies, or perhaps it is just an early summer. I have missed a lot of madness but it never disappoints and just keeps coming, like much of the population of the EU, they have even reached Skye and John O'Groats which did surprise me, although the majority of the workforce does seem to be locals, there can't be a lot of spare jobs in Skye. What did shock me was the number of leather clad young men of middle eastern origin roving the streets of Inverness and generally being a nuisance, they must really be running from something to end up in Inverness.


Manchester will be happy that Andy Burnham won the mayoral election rather than Mr. Mohammed Aslam who made his keynote speech and distributed leaflets for the position in Urdu. I watched an interview with Mr. Aslam who obviously had difficulty with the English language, who saw nothing wrong with his campaign and in a strange way he may be right as English is not the language of choice in the part of Manchester he is from.

Why do criminals increasingly get to avoid facing their victims or the families of their victims in courts now by 'appearing' on a video link. Not for them the inconvenience of turning up to face their accusers and receive their punishment face to face, make up, lights, camera, action, then back for another bowl of gruel.

Victoria Beckham OBE for services to ...... fashion. Much like services to sport, entertainment, working abroad, paper folding etc. How many real women can afford to wear anything made by Victoria Beckham, what exactly does the Empire get from a woman who seems to go out of her way to present herself as miserable as sin to the world.

And what about Prince Phillip retiring, how the media crowed about the fact he can now take it easy, go on big man, no more exhausting days cutting ribbons, hand shaking and waving for you. Getting up at five, going down the pit, cycling off to the steel works, no wait, wrong Phillip. No wonder the Royals last so long, they do nothing to wear out, they do not even squeeze their own toothpaste!

Schadenfreude, what a great word, pleasure from the misfortune of others, trust the Germans to come up with that one, but we all enjoy a bit of 'up yours matey' when justice comes calling. Noel Edmonds the man who began the dumbing down of British television and brought us Mr. Blobby (Morecambe was going to have a Blobby World, long story, didn't end well for Morecambe) and the 'game' show where people opened boxes his hit the end of the track again. Mr. Edmonds wants £73 million from HBOS as he was asset stripped by a bunch of fraudsters working for the bank, now those particular fraudsters job was to help failing, yes, failing businesses, so how his failing business was looted of £73 million may be a bit hard to explain in court. Noel is a believer in the lunatic idea that if you want something you simply ask the Cosmos for help and voila, the Cosmos has given up on you Noel, he doesn't like you, No Deal mate. And I am sick of asking for that Lamborghini.

That's all I have time for this week, but the list is full.

HMS Tartar 4th Commission 1970 4

(13 May)

St Helena can be seen from miles off on a clear day, it is simply a large, mountainous rock in the middle of nowhere. I was interested in the place because it was where Napoleon spent his last days the equivalent of which today would be like putting Putin on the Moon and leaving him there, it is a measure of how fearful Europe was of that one man.

'Bungy' our St. Helena native was given VIP treatment and was flown in the Wasp helicopter to land and meet his parents on the Governor's lawn, his first visit in ten years, he enjoyed every moment of it. The rest of us when we anchored off had to use local boats to get ashore, and that was an entertainment in the heavy swell and slippery steps. The few local bars were soon awash with sailors ready to part with their cash, most of the crew had to go ashore in two lots but we off duty Radio Ops had most of the time to ourselves so I took the advantage of heading off to Napoleon's house 'Longwood'.

Jamestown.

The route was very picturesque and a fair drive from the harbour, no doubt they did not want him hopping on a boat, the house is modest and looked surprisingly modern to me, I duly signed the visitors book, which as you can imagine does not have a lot of people in there. We were shown the modest first grave of the great man and met several giant tortoise's which roamed the grounds. These creatures we were told were there along with Napoleon, especially one called Jonathan who at the time was reputed to be 200 years old. I took this with a pinch of salt but after reading in the news a few years ago about one dying at around 250 years old, my tale of knowing a tortoise who knew Napoleon now has a touch of authenticity. Despite these being slow I made sure I was ready to leap to safety at a moments notice while touching Jonathan for posterity.

Johnathan and I.

Longwood House, well, the side of it.

By the time I got back to the ship the streets of Jamestown were littered with drunken sailors taking advantage of our few hours on terra firma, I didn't manage a drink as I had the Midnight watch and it is not a good idea to have a sore head for that, but it didn't stop Lofty, who was fortunate not to end up in trouble and slept most of the watch in the corner of the Radio Room, I had to wake him up so he could go to bed at 0400.

The ship had been open to visitors for a few hours and a dance had been held ashore for the lucky few, but the idea of sailing at 0115 was not conducive to lasting relationships although it did not stop the over imbibing.

Our next stop was to be Simonstown the naval base in South Africa which was a short train journey from Capetown. Wherever a Royal Navy ship went there were always old salts who would pass on decades of information gathered from thousands of run's ashore, Sugars in Gib and The Black Angus in Puerto Rico are examples, in South Africa it was the local Cape brandy, in Mombasa it was, well we have to get there yet.

Nothing eventful happened on our way to Simonstown apart from the RSAAF dropping us some mail from a Shackleton, whose antecedent of course was the Lancaster bomber.

Mail drop.

Slaughter in Somerset

It's dry again and cool, could warm up later which is just as well as I am off on another road trip in a few hours to darkest Somerset the land which gave us such talent as the Wurzels, a group before their time who would be loved on Britain's Got (no) Talent. I digress, I am off for a weekend of War and Conquest to make up for missing last weekend, also why not, I still feel like I am on holiday.

I have my lists ready, the Patrician and Anglo-Saxon I am happy with but not so sure with the Twelfth who are fighting two battles tomorrow. I am trying something which may simply bring disaster down on my head but I shall trust the boys to come through despite their general, the dice of course are another matter, I am taking two sets just in case.

My right shoulder is sore and it is because I have been playing the long awaited Dawn of War III set in the W40K world. It is early days and although no doubt I shall get my money's worth I am still on the fence about how long my interest will be sustained as I think it is needlessly complex and requires more imaginative maps. The former may just be me as I am not as quick on the ball as I used to be and the latter usually does turn up as a game ages along with other factions etc. Despite all the little complexities, choice of doctrines and elite hero units, so far I have found that Stalin's maxim of 'quantity has its own quality' seems to work fairly well. I know it is early days yet but I have only been abused once so far with "Help, C(word)" directed at everyone on the team but the idiot typing it, such are the joys of online anonymity.

Anyway, a weekend of real wargaming coming up with good company, real people, beautiful armies and perhaps the odd slurp of wine along with the fake beer. We march!

Yankee Hurrah, Rebel Yell

My feet have still not grounded yet after the holiday, the beautiful weather is also not conducive to getting on with things, albeit there is a cold wind here which was not present up north. I am also catching up with several things which have been set aside, car repair (the wife's, my fault), doctor, dentist, hospital, army lists, painting, figures etc.

I also indulged this week at the club and asked Simon to take part in an ACW game although he has never played the game before, I just felt it was time to get the boys back on the table. I kept it simple as with any new game there is a lot of explaining to do and also not having played myself in over a year now, yes, my own memory may be hazy as well, heaven forbid.

Anyway, two brigades each and as Simon had the First Division of the First Corps I also gave him an extra officer, this division only contained two brigades at Gettysburg so he was entitled. I took two brigades from Hood's Division, Army of Northern Virginia so did not take John Bell Hood along, this gave me command problems as my regiments fragmented and my brigadiers ran around trying to get things done.

Texans.

Georgians.

The game was a simple meeting engagement and I didn't really have a plan apart from maybe holding on the right and attacking with the Texans on my left, a lot of time obviously was devoted to showing Simon how the game worked. Simon had the same idea. I had to advance skirmishers in the centre to stop his artillery shooting at the Texans as they advanced, these boys held the line for quite some time before succumbing to musketry and shell and did their job. I slowly got the 5th and 1st Texans into a firefight with the Iron Brigade and they seemed to be winning as the ground allowed me to have two regiments firing on one, the Yankees tried a sneaky outflanking manoeuvre with some skirmishers but I met it with mine.

The Iron Brigade.

I had a couple of regiments in the centre which I would have liked elsewhere but could not find enough spare orders to move them with everyone else in action. My artillery on the right was charged by a brave bunch of New Yorkers and I really did expect to knock them back, however the dreadful morale throw by the gunners ensured their destruction. This charge would have forced me to disengage my right and form a new line had we continued, but we ran out of time. You can never take anything for granted in Johnny Reb and the battle ebbs and flows and a lot of effort is normally required to win outright, very much like the real thing during this period, which of course is why I like the rules.

The fight.

The club was busy with a Renaissance game, what looked like a Sudan game with Rob's lovely figures but using new rules while Julian and Ryan had their first game of Runewars. I have several things stacked up for today and it is also Pub Wednesday at three, something which has not been regular for the past month or so but should now be back on track, my old mate does enjoy an hour or so at the bar. I am also heading south this time at the weekend for some War and Conquest games at Jenny's invitation so have army lists to sort out for that as I am using both my Roman armies and borrowing an Anglo-Saxon or should it be the more politically correct these days, Anglo-Danish, army to fight her Vikings, nope, Anglo-Saxon, come on Harold.

Missed Out

While away on holiday I missed another War and Conquest gaming weekend in Newark, I actually thought I would motor down yesterday for the day but after 1,000 miles in the Highlands I decided another six hour round trip was a trip too far.

I have seen scores of pictures of the event and, despite the small numbers it was another successful two days of gaming. Also at the moment it would seem there will indeed be another weekend in November for which I have already cleared my calender. Looking at the pictures I see that over the last wee while some players have started using massed archery, if on target this can be quite devastating, if on the other hand you fall out with the dice gods or the unit has to move it is less so. It would seem though that I now need more archers to always have that choice with three of my armies, it never ends.

I am travelling again this weekend down to Jenny's in Somerset for my own WAC weekend, Phil is organising the games. The Twelfth hopefully will be enforcing civilisation on the Celts and Germans while the next day the Patricians will be trying to maintain the Empire in the West.

So, without more ado here are some pictures from the two days battling.

Carolingians vs Vikings (Stewart and Jenny)

Republican Romans (Gary)

Romano-British civil war (Michael and Dave)

Saxons vs Vikings (Trevor and Jenny)

Some of 1st Corps Romano-British/Late Roman cavalry (Michael)

12th C English vs Carolingians (Michael and Stewart)

Carolingians vs Late Roman (Stewart and Gary)

Not looking good for the Black Horse.

View From The WIndow

No lochs or mountains this morning as I gaze out the window, it is a beautiful morning, but cool. I came back last night from a road trip to the north of Scotland which covered just over 1,000 miles so I am fairly upbeat from my experiences although the madness did not stop while I was away.

The trip was for my wife's birthday and it started properly when we got to Inverness, the Highland capital is not very attractive, a lot of concrete and modern designs sit uncomfortably within the old town and it looked fairly run down to me, the modern shopping centre must take a lot of the blame for the empty and dull streets surrounding it. We stopped for a drink in Lauder's, an establishment which housed an eclectic mix of tourists and locals, one of which gave me 'the look' as I was between him and the pint he left at the bar, I looked back, the tension slackened and he slumped off. I then got the impression we were trespassing as a local posse obviously wanted our table to be beside their mates, more looks. We finished off with an Indian meal which was rather bland, Glasgow Indian cuisine does not travel unfortunately.

On our way north the next day we stoped at the Whalligoe Steps where local women used to bring up the catch in baskets on their heads on a rather steep path up a cliff, the wind was very strong and I wouldn't have liked to have done it carrying fish. As we parked an irate local stormed towards us with "that's a bloody stupid place to park" he then informed us in a very loud and agitated voice all about the 'b^£$*(d' who owned the cafe and how she had ruined the place and his life before eventually giving us his blessing to leave the Batmobile where it was.

A few hours took us to just outside Wick and the magnificent Ackergill Tower, fought over by local landlords until 1623, we were encouraged to explore the tower and indeed open cupboards, drawers and family albums etc. during our stay. I came across some very interesting military memorabilia but as a lot of it named a certain Thomas Atkins I doubt the authenticity but applaud the detail of the forger. On our second morning my wife got her breakfast and I was seemingly forgotten, when the lad again hove into view my wife pointed this out, his bemused look and reply left us in stitches, "are you in a hurry, like?" Normally of course we would have marched off in high dudgeon, but the lad was likeable and laid back so no harm done.

Ackergill Tower

While there we went to Scrabster and a highly recommended seafood restaurant for dinner, The Captains Galley, we turned up to be told they did not normally open on a Monday night, despite taking the booking, but wanted us to come in nonetheless, what could have been a disaster turned into a memorable night as we were entertained by owners Jim and Mary. Once Jim had finished in the kitchen we swapped sea stories and got on really well. The food by the way was exceptional and Jim chooses his fish each morning as the boats come into the quay about a hundred yards away.

Dunrobbin Castle, peasant status confirmed.

Another day in the area then off around the top of Scotland, mostly on a single track, windy road which thankfully had plenty of passing places and not many cars. As we approached Ullapool where we were staying for the night the brake warning light came on and I checked the front wheels, by which I meant I looked at them, one did not look right and I stopped at a local garage for advice. I was told not to drive home on it but it might get me to Skye, our next stop. Panic set in and although our bed and breakfast was four star we were too anxious to really enjoy it, I decided to go back to Inverness the next morning and hopefully have the car repaired there as we were more likely to get the parts and if the worst happened hire a car and continue to Skye that way.

A real view from a window.

We arrived at Kwik Fit Inveress to be told the car should not be driven around Skye or anywhere else, but they had three jobs in front of me if they could get the parts. Chris the manager listened to my tale of woe about the wife's birthday and seemed sympathetic, we headed off into Inverness wondering whether we would make it to Skye in time to eat. Within about an hour and a half I got a call from Chris saying the car was ready, I was overjoyed, the holiday had been saved. Well done Kwik Fit.

Smiley face back.

We arrived at The Three Chimneys with more than enough time to spare, and from our arrival until we left it was superb, from the decor and comfort of the room, the stunning views, all the way through to the excellent food and wine and wonderful staff. We decided not to have coffee during our last meal, there was an espresso machine in the room, and stopped to talk to the reception staff before retiring, a minute later a waiter caught up with us holding a box and a pair of tongs informing us we had not had our chocolates, thanked and told we did not want them he then offered to put them in a bag for us.

The Three Chimneys

It took ten hours to get home at the end of our tour, one pit stop and half an hour hold up for an accident along with the usual roadworks, sunshine all the way until we entered Lancashire. It had been so hot in the north that I had had to buy sun cream. Coming back slowly to earth now and real life, we had a great time and best of all a mountain of brownie points in the bank, albeit the bank is empty of cash.

 We met and talked to a large range of people from all different backgrounds during the week but Jim and Mary at Scrabster, Chris in Inverness and Karen at the Three Chimneys stand out.

My moaning self will be back next week.

HMS Tartar 4th Commission 1970 3

On 5 May as we left the shadow of the Rock behind the crew were somewhat jaded after several days of over indulgence and sporting activities, sport was very popular but even way back then it was not my idea of fun, nor any of the other radio ops either. The cobwebs were shaken off with some exercises that afternoon with two RAF Hunter jets and the firing of the anti-submarine mortar, although these were not live bombs.

The temperature rose the further south we went and some nights found crew members seeking air on the upper deck as we were having trouble with our air conditioning which up until then had not been tested. It took a few days to get sorted, the Tribal Class were built for tropical waters but when the A/C broke down it was like living and working in a sauna. To alleviate the boredom we had a Beer-B-Q and floodlit horse racing on the 'arse end' with wooden mock-ups and a huge pair of dice which took two arms to throw.

At  0600 on Monday 11 May we met RFA Dewdale, a very smart looking tanker to refuel, the Dewdale would sail with us for a few days, it was not all pleasantries however, as we practised several exercises with her, including firing dummy rounds at her. We also transferred crew so that some of our people could use her swimming pool, the Royal Fleet Auxiliary was not the RN.

On the 13th we crossed the line and held the traditional ceremony with King Neptune holding court and anyone who had not been across the line before being rough handled, lathered and dunked in a makeshift pool, hoses were now and again turned on the joyous, beer swilling, onlookers. I received a certificate at the end of the fun and games. We part company with the Dewdale tomorrow after once again refuelling and should be at St. Helena tomorrow for 'Bungy's' family meet up, he will have about fourteen hours before we have to be on our way again.

HMS Tartar 4th Commission 1970 2

We sailed from Plymouth early on Tuesday 28th April and met up with HMS Alliance, an 'A' class submarine which had just completed a large refit and was 'working up' ready to join the fleet, we acted as hunter and no doubt target for her for several hours in some blustery weather. We managed some speed trials off Cornwall and then headed south for the Orient.

Me on the left with 'Jacko' Jackson.

 

A day later we traversed the Bay of Biscay, and despite all I had heard about this particular stretch of ocean every time I crossed it was calm and forgiving, however the first cases of sea sickness had already presented themselves to the sickbay, it was something I never suffered from. The Doc also took this opportunity to serve up mass inoculations to everyone, a JABEX as it was known. On the Thursday we were asked to pile on the speed and go look at some Russians who were in the area but to the south of us.

Only just three days out and sunburn was becoming noticeable amongst the sun seekers, during off duty periods those who could would find a spot on the upper deck and lay there with 'burn me' attitudes. Some even had their own secret concoctions to brown quicker, like vinegar and cooking fat etc. I stuck with Ambre Solaire, very posh.

Thursday night and we anchored off Cape Trafalgar exactly where the battle had taken place, I was excited as the next day we would be in Gibraltar, my first real foreign run ashore. Sure enough I spied the famous rock from several miles out at sea, on arrival we became Guard Ship, ready at a moments notice to repel any Spanish attempts at taking the Rock, I just wanted to get ashore. Having completed the Middle Watch (2359 - 0400) the night before my watch had the afternoon off, so all foofed up we headed ashore, past some seamen painting the hull, these hurled insults at as of course but as we Radio Ops on most occasions still stood watches in ports without communications centres while they went ashore we didn't take much notice.

As I said Gibraltar was my first foreign ‘run ashore’. The place was covered in pubs and bars, most with a history and pedigree going back decades, the main showplace in 1970 was Sugar’s, run by a gay man and which was the usual starting place for a night on the town, a whale’s penis was rumoured to hang above the bar, but the indeterminate piece of leather could have been anything. Sure enough Sugar was larger than life and twirled and sashayed around the bar the star of his own show. Then it was off up the main drag, favourites were the Tartan Bar, the Angry Friar, Pickwicks and the London Bar, the latter was one of my favourites, a real sense of Naval tradition here with many pictures and charts on the walls. I recall we had a fashion moment when ‘Lil’ New, ‘Lofty’ Gedling, ‘Plum’ Humphries and I all bought bandannas and wore them around our necks. Lil and Plum were Buntings, tactical radio operators who dealt with signals and fleet manoeuvres, Lofty and I were Sparkers, real radio operators, Lofty was one of the oldest in the mess, 6’ tall and a character, Lofty enjoyed his runs ashore. Our only sight seeing was a trip on the cable car to the top of the Rock and a walk through some of the tunnels built for defence facing Spain, we of course saw the famous Rock Apes. Many years later I would walk through the Rock from one side to the other.

While in Gib we received tropical measures for spirits, which basically meant a double for the same price as a single, but it was also cheaper than back in Blighty, everyone drank JC's in Gib, it was supposed to be a John Collins cocktail but I cannot vouch for how accurate they were but they were drank on an industrial scale, each bar had gallons of the sugary mix ready to pour into your gin or vodka, as I said I cannot swear as to which spirit was actually in there.

We were to sail at 1030 on the 5th May, our next stop was St. Helena, Napoleon's prison island, normally only one ship a year goes near the place but 'Bungy' Williams, one of our storemen in the next mess to us was a native of St. Helena and had not been home since he left, so we were going to call in and let him visit his family.

Shoot out in Carefree

 Dead Man's Hand at the club last night, I wasn't sure how many players we would have, I half expected four but in the end it was only Simon and I. I thought I would just take the stuff along and wing it once there, I had a vague idea for a shoot out and it's always good to bounce ideas off Simon.

We set up, I was the Pinkerton's looking after a gold shipment, the stage had somehow lost a wheel before it could get to the bank and was stranded in Main Street, so I had to ensure the gold got across town to the bank. A local bunch of ne'er do wells decided to take the opportunity to relieve my boys of the loot.

The stage sheds a wheel.

  The gold was heavy so in order to carry it as quickly as possible I set two of my strongest to carrying, they could shoot wildly with their pistols if they had to or drop the bullion and join in the coming mayhem. We set out well and traded shots with the bad guys as they progressed along the back of Main Street towards the bank while setting several riflemen on the nearby roofs. It took a bit of time to get the crate off the stage but things still looked fine as I saw an opportunity to catch the outlaws in an alley, at this point we had both lost one man.

Simon's gang leader drops his pistols.

Just before things went south at the alley.

 I had a good hand of cards and managed to force Simon to take cover, I had hoped to cut his numbers down but it didn't happen, then I lost another officer while Simon's leader fumbled his pistol and was scrabbling in the dust for bullets (out of ammo), we both had a laugh imagining this. But a few minutes later I stopped laughing as my commander and his 2 i/c bit the dust courtesy of the rooftop snipers. Meanwhile I had had to drop the gold and put my remaining men into the firefight, but numbers were against me and the low down snakes ran for the hills.

Almost over.

 Things had been pretty even up until the snipers took out two men almost at the same time with two excellent die rolls, but it was a nice little game, we decided though to give more thought to the games rather than make them up on the night, I am sure this is the best way to go. We had a talk about the scenario afterwards and decided that the Pinkertons would have to defend the stage while the driver and his mate repaired the wheel before continuing to the bank, a die roll would determine how long this took, this was better as it did not take two men out of the fight to carry the loot.

I popped down to the local model railway shop this morning hoping to get some inspiration for my next terrain tile only to find he had been moved due to repairs and was basically operating out of a cupboard with almost no stock. I did however see a nice little van for a couple of quid which will be Frenchified in due course.

Le Kelloggs.

 I have a few archers on the tray for now which I suspect will be done for the weekend.

I saw some beautiful work by Paul O'Gorman's Advanced Studio Miniatures this morning and was intrigued enough to look up his prices, which to be honest I thought reasonable for the quality, so much so that I did a quick calculation and thought, yeah, possible. I have never got anyone to paint one of my boys and have always remembered a daft quote that went like this "if you can't be bothered to paint them, why should they be bothered to fight for you" and you know how superstitious we wargamers are. But Paul's figures are just so beautiful, who knows, my only concern would be the mail, Paul lives in Oz you see, if nothing else I am inspired.

Not Again

Thought I was in for another terrible morning serving the great British public, three customers before 0910 hrs, but it has now tailed off and I am back to the trickle. Also as the missus is back I have the afternoon off, I would have had the whole day but she has an appointment this morning. But I shall be meeting my old crony in the pub tomorrow as per our normal Wednesday afternoon.

I have finished my second tile for Normandy 1944, as you know I was inspired by the terrain Phil and Jenny brought and looked online for a garage as they had a nice little vignette, I didn't see what I wanted but I did see something a guy had whipped up out of coffee stirrers. With this in the back of my mind as I trundled around Legoland a week or so ago I saw to my delight tons of coffee stirrers at each fast food stand, I deduced that with the amount of money Legoland was relieving me of the least they could do was supply me with modelling material. I swooped in at each stop and soon had enough to repair Hadrian's Wall in time for the referendum.

 I couldn't find the pumps and bits and pieces I wanted so I decided that Pierre would be more of a local 'go to' man than an actual proper mechanic hence his place would look a bit ramshackle and worse for wear. I decided to re use my dilapidated van objective and again scrounged through my bits and pieces box and came up with enough to populate the tile. I used a Charlie Foxtrot building because Pierre of course lived on the premises and set to building his rickety fence and outbuilding, I also used some of my Warlord stone walling. Next stop was online to get French signs suitable for the 40's or earlier, no problem there. I also still had plenty of the excellent 4Ground corrugated tin to use for roofing.

So within a day or two the whole thing was ready to go, I have two more tiles still to use and would like to place one of the damaged buildings on it, the last I think will simply be a ploughed field when I find something to use for the field. I have also looked at a lot of photographs of Normandy in 1944 and there are a lot of hedges, not just bocage, so I need a few more of them.

And would I take my car to Pierre, no, look at the state of the place!

On the tray at the moment are some archers for the Twelfth, these will be done by the weekend, not much to paint on these guys. Club night and it is Dead Man's Hand.

What's going on

Just turned 9.30 and I have had at least ten people in so far, so many in fact I have not even had a chance to look at my emails or check out more Salute photos from some of my favourite blogs, I do hope this does not continue, I have maps to draw.

I have now finished my extra unit for the Patrician Roman Army and that should be it, yes I mentioned mounted Roman archers but we will see about that, they are not actually required. While looking in the boxes this morning I suddenly thought I did not have many foot skirmishers and if I add four more I have the choice of three twelve man units rather than two and spares in the box or two large sixteen's, which is the upper limit in War and Conquest any more is bordering on gamesmanship, anyway something to think about.

Gripping Beast Roman armoured cavalry.

 Where do I go from here, a good question. Due to things outwith my control I think our bi-annual WAC meet up is coming to an end which is a great disappointment to me as I thoroughly enjoyed them. I have made some very good friends and will no doubt continue to meet up with them and play WAC at least twice or more a year so it is not all bad news but I did enjoy the whole social thing and meeting new people and fighting new armies, it gave my wargaming a shot in the arm just when it needed it.

The fall out of course is no more large armies for now, I have four big WAC armies and had been planning a fifth for next year, something with pikes, but I would be mad to continue and simply fill up Really Useful Boxes with model soldiers to sit in a cupboard. I could possibly be tempted to build a small, no, I never go small, force for Muskets and Tomahawks, but again we will see as that would mean more terrain along with the troops.

I do want to continue to tart up my terrain, do some work on my WWII stuff, whether I need it or not I will have to get a Tiger at some point and hopefully get some new Wild West figures to add to my small collection for Dead man's Hand once the new Black Scorpion stuff comes out. I also feel the need to get my teeth into a campaign, but campaigns need commitment and that's hard to find.

More bleedin' customers, at least Bob left me with this nugget "I got chocolate cake thrown all over me yesterday George, it's tough in the gateaux!"

(Note for John Perry, John my emails keep bouncing back?)

View From The Window

The last day of home alone, the washing's done, the ironing is done a bit of a food shop today and we are ready for Mrs A's arrival tomorrow, then it is a short week before we head off into the wilds of Scotland just in case the wall is rebuilt and I take an English passport, naturally it will be Poles building it if it does happen. We are heading for John O'Groats and a trip along the coast back to Skye for the last couple of days, I am not one for the great outdoors, I know it is there but am happy to stay here. It is not that I dislike travel but I need stuff to see, battlefields, museums, restaurants, palaces, forts etc. apart from palaces the North probably has some of the rest but surrounded by vast swathes of empty, very pretty empty but there you go. Anyway, Mrs A likes it and she deserves it for her birthday road trip, she is spoiling me with the accommodation mind you. And being honest it will be great to get away for a wee while. The sun is shining again, that's two days in a row which makes me fear for summer, houses are being bought in the village but Washington House is still empty and forlorn, I must have been wrong about potential buyers.

OK, I'll go.

The big news of course is the General Election, where do I stand now that Nigel has delivered Brexit, I don't know to be sure, I was happy enough with Theresa but her decision not to sort out our Foreign Aid madness has disappointed me, 0.7% of our cash goes abroad and here at home we are a basket case on so many issues desperately needing funding. Aid goes hand in hand with benefits, politicians are more than happy to throw other people's cash at many undeserving cases as it supposedly lets them take the moral high ground but in reality it is easier than having the backbone to sort the mess out.

I see the latest box to tick on your way to celebrity is mental health, and now it has the Royal Seal of approval thanks to Diana's kids. Can you remember when it started with having a bad mum, a horrendous woman who pushed their son but mainly daughter to become rich and famous against their will, although usually the parent in question was dead and couldn't speak for themselves. Then 'abuse' was added to the resume, not sexual abuse, that would come later, but physical abuse, again said perpetrators were dead. Then of course the sex thing, suddenly hordes of the 'famous for fifteen minuters' had had a hellish upbringing thanks to dead people. And now it is mental health that is popular, if you have a full set you are at the top of your game. I like to call this the Spartacus effect as in the movie with the famous 'I'm Spartacus' scene. I also think it drowns out people who do seriously suffer because they are not newsworthy.

No, really, he's Spartacus.

But there is hope on the horizon, that most intelligent of film stars, Gwyneth Paltrow, after passing on the benefits of hot stones, crystals etc. has found that walking barefoot on the ground cures depression, no it is not just going for a walk without shoes it is 'Earthing'. I'm heading out sans footware this afternoon after three weeks in the PO.

Earthing, grow your own dope.

The real scientific community is not kicking its heels either, a middle aged professor has released a video, as, after 40+ years he has now mastered the art of tying his shoe laces and wanted to pass it on to the rest of us who have been tripping up for decades, buying slip ons and have got it wrong. I don't know about you but I double tie my laces, I have done this since day one because one tie is not enough I find, but that wasn't good enough for the prof so he investigated and bingo, no doubt you will already be benefitting from this breakthrough as I type. Why are we doing it wrong, you have to loop the opposite way, I gave up at this point.

Continuing with the science lesson, I was told when they discovered I was diabetic that I had to stop drinking real fruit juice as it was worse than a fizzy drink, which it wasn't, but anyway I gave up the occassional glass of pink grapegruit I enjoyed. It now transpires that the sugar in fruit juice is good sugar as opposed to bad sugar, no I don't get it either, but I am happy that a team of overpaid white coats has been beavering away for years to inform me of this breakthrough.

I see that the Equality and Diversity Unit at Oxford is also beavering away justifying their existence, it transpires that if you do not make eye contact with the person you are speaking to or enquire as to where they are from you are a racist, I wonder if that should be a capital, Racist, or even RACIST! I have known a handful of people in my life, all white, who avoid eye contact when speaking, it's just a thing, like a twitch or biting your nails thought I, and surely one of the most natural things in the world when you meet someone is to ask where they are from? Why don't we just admit that everyone is Racist and leave it at that, what, only white people, err OK.

Staying with further education, I picked this beauty up, people are being asked at some student meetings not to clap but to use 'jazz hands', now I had no idea what that was until I looked it up, it is when you lift up your arms, spread your fingers and shake your hands. This act is silent and therefore will not cause anxiety and is not threatening in any way, like say, clapping. Can you imagine summoning up the one police officer in your county and informing him you had just been clapped at and you wanted the perpetrator dealt with. On a secondary note, wouldn't using 'jazz hands' be considered a racial slur?

And if you think that is infantile then you are going to love the new therapy being considered by the NHS, some nut, sorry, respected phsyciatrist or whatever is pushing the idea that if you have mental issues regressing to a state of 'babyhood' can aleviate these symptoms and bring harmony and peace, nappies will be provided.

My granddaughter in Chorleywood will grow up without ever having passed through a ritual which, up until now, almost every little girl in the country would have spent time enjoying or not enjoying as the case may be, I am talking about that rite of passage for British children male or female, the Brownies, the Rainbows, Beavers, the Cubs or whatever they are called these days. There are 50,000 children waiting for a place to go and be children and enjoy themselves with their peers. You could lay the blame at the door of immigration but far more insidious is the hidden claim that unless you are checked and approved (and hand over some cash) you might be a danger to those children. So organisations countrywide which at one time were open to all now have an entry age of 18 or volunteers are not willing to pay money or be put in a position where they can be pointed at or targetted at the drop of a hat. My own wargame club has a limit of 18 now, to play with toy soldiers! Red tape insists that if one of us brings his son along he has to clear it with our Child Protection Officer first, the age limit is easier than tying ourselves up in knots with paperwork, can you imagine the madness of a seventeen year old bringing along his Roman Army with his mum in the background as the responsible adult.

What's love got to do about it. Well if your boyfriend has just come out of jail, screws you down to a wooden board and plugs you into the mains through your private parts not a lot I would guess for one of you. She then has the gall to take him to court, what happened to 'just say NO!' or head for the nearest door.

Who loves ya baby?