Romano-British

I have been painting since 0845 this morning, sadly not another army but the shop front, this I hope will keep it from falling apart until the PO shut me down, but it is not a bet I would rush to take.

Anyway I am finished and sitting giving the door another wee bit of time to dry then I shall lock up for the day. So I have put my Romano-British out for their photo shoot while I wait, I shall do the Patrician Romans next week and that will give me a complete record of my four War and Conquest armies.

The British started, like the Saxons, as a small skirmish group for Dux Britanniarum but I got so entangled with the whole end of Empire thing along with the Dark Ages that I decided to expand them into a proper army. I started off with a kind of regimented look and then quickly dropped this the more I thought and read about what Britain was like once the Romans had left, not that you can simply pick up a book and all the information is laid out for you. Like anything during this period you dig into it a little and then choose your path.

As I wanted the troops to have a semblance of their Roman past about them I used almost exclusively late Roman figures, I also liked to think they were the kind of forces still clinging to an Imperial past in the bottom corner of Britain known as Dumnonia. Also in that area, perhaps the last proper 'Roman' part of Britain, were the cities of Cirencester, Gloucester and Bath (Corinium, Glevum and Aquae Sulis) who may have had their own militias along Roman lines. So my army has a place to call home, at least until 577AD when the cities fell to the Saxons and the Britons were cut off by land from their neighbours in Wales.

If Arthur was ever real this is the army he might have led, so that is always a nice talking point, in the Scarab Age of Warlords lists you get a choice between the Army of Vortigern or the Army of Ambrosius (Arthur), I have fought with both and like both but normally march with Ambrosius.

Next week it will be my last and newest army, the Patrician Romans, I do like these guys.

Training Day

The club was very quiet last night, only Simon and I playing X-Wing, Clive and Dave with their boardgame and four others trying out Sword and Spear Fantasy. Fantasy on the wargame table is just not my thing, I read some as a rite of passage of course years ago, Conan and Thongor of Lemuria, but I never felt the urge to play it. I also don't get the urge to mirror something like Bolt Action or Dead Man's Hand with werewolves and zombies but each to his own in our multi faceted world of wargaming. Now Sci-Fi I have no problem with as long as it is spaceship battles.

Simon had put together the evenings scenario, a training exercise for rookie Tie pilots, which is very apt as Imperial forces cannot seem to hit a barn door standing in front of it, and don't get me started on why they wear 'armour.' Right, Alpha Squadron had to protect a shuttle which would be leaving a stranded, dead in the water, large ship with an important dignitary on it. Bravo Squadron had to either destroy the hulk before the shuttle launched or, if it did, shoot it down before it jumped to hyperspace.

Bravo Squadron.

Alpha Squadron.

 

For the first game I was Bravo Squadron, I charged in and managed to cause around 50% damage to the hulk but as I manoeuvred it was obvious I was not going to be able to do the same to the front end, so I positioned my fighters to take the shuttle out on launch. Out it came and just like in the movies my men, who had been hotshots up until then if not particularly good fliers, only managed to scratch the paint on the shuttle as it sped away into the recesses of space. Some awkward explaining to do in the classroom later.

We had time for a second game and changed sides. I thought I would keep my escort out of harms way at first then come in behind the raiders and pick off tail end Charlies, not a good idea. Simon, who had obviously been practicing his tactics on the dining room table, raked the hulk from stem to stern and up it went. My escorts were no more than a minor distraction, I always seemed to be unable to get a decent shot in, I could see my pilots driving transports out on the Rim, whatever that is.

So, a good idea which needs a bit of tweaking, either that or I need to concentrate more. We have not played X-Wing for a while and it showed, at least it did with me, perhaps Simon could tweak it that I won.

It is a gorgeous day after yesterdays rain, I really don't feel like doing much, however I have received another couple of map projects, both WWI so that will keep me busy and I have to paint the front of the PO tomorrow, not looking forward to that, maybe it will rain again.

HMS Tartar 4th Commission 1970 10

We left Mombasa this morning bound for our new station in the Persian Gulf, we would be based at Bahrain and patrol the Gulf from there as we still had quite a large presence in the area in 1970. Mombasa had been an eye opener and a great run ashore, but it was time now to buckle down and see what the future would bring. We heard no stories of bars which must be visited in the Gulf for obvious reasons so we were unsure of what awaited us.

We were ordered to look for a 'shallow' on the way north which had become a danger to shipping, considering what had happened to the Ennerdale I for one was glad we did not find it. Tomorrow we will again cross the Equator but as we were all now certified 'crossers' there would be no celebrations, which is just as well as it happened at 0600 hrs.

Silversands R&R

Jaws look out.

Plum up a gum tree.

It was a tradition to swap or present the ships crest to bars, clubs or military units which had been particularly generous in their hospitality to the ships crew and if you turn up in the right bars on the old edge of Empire you will see many of these, also when possible the ships crest would be painted on to the side of a jetty which was for military use, one striking example is in Bermuda close to Hamilton, the capital, where you will find some going back many years with proud names shown on them. My son a year or so ago, having heard some of my sea stories took the opportunity to visit the Casablanca which still has our crest and had a cocktail in the now 'tired' Nyali Beach Hotel.

I googled Silversands before writing this and to my surprise found another photo of that same palm tree that Plum climbed but with someone else in the photograph, small world.

View From The WIndow

I hope the rest of you are enjoying summer, we are getting the odd few hours here and there, as I look out this morning it is grey, misty and promising rain, by noon the heat could be driving people into the shade and then by tea time you will be looking for the cardi and thinking of putting the heating on. The village Sports Day was looking decidedly dodgy this year as it was in danger of having no committee willing to organise it, then the school complained that the sports field had been damaged last year, so put itself first before the community and withdrew permission to use the only really large, safe space in the village on which to hold it. However a new committee has been formed and the event is being squeezed into a small spot at the bottom of the village just big enough for the swing park. So out go all the floats, the classic cars, more than likely the differing village groups stalls while everything will be taking place barely a hundred yards from a busy main road. That's the spirit.

Every time I go out in the car here it is a learning curve, we have the usual non signalling bunch, the 'I can park anywhere if my lights are flashing' bunch and the very annoying, especially at crossroads and roundabouts 'no I'll hold these people back and you go first' bunch. I have recently noticed a new species the 'just let me off here' bunch, now these people want dropped off right at the shop, dentist, bookies, wherever, usually right where the road is the busiest, they then struggle to get out of the car then have to lean back in to get their bag then again to confirm 'sausage roll or pastie?' This normally happens on a red light and then continues through the green light until the red comes up again, just letting the driver get away while you are again stuck. And no, the new fines trumpeted in the press have not stopped the mobile phone driver, I watched in horror as a truck outside the shop backed into a small space, right next to my wall, hence my interest, while the driver had one hand on the wheel and blabbing away into his phone on the other, even my glare did not faze him.

 When I worked offshore I was never far from a training course urgently needed to improve myself or teach me the error of my ways or give me the 'tools' to be a better worker drone. The only thing I got out of 90% of them was a large dollop of expenses, a fellow worker once brought a meeting to a halt when asked what he wanted from the course replied, "a new living room carpet." Last week I found out that a scaffolder I worked with, a lovely bloke called Eddie McCullough now has several million pounds in the bank having sold his training company, I looked him up. Sure enough Eddie was the high heed yin at Optimus, 7th Engineering, he even had a video on YouTube, I watched the video and here are some of the gems from Optimus, 'values are important as a methodology' ' if you can get trust from the workforce magic can happen' and this beauty 'pull into the side of the road, are we on the right road, or do we need a different road.' Now anyone who can earn millions from this stuff deserves it but all of it to me is a modern version of the Emperor's new clothes, I worked with people who had been through and swallowed all that nonsense and I wouldn't let them run a village stall but they were running billion pound oil platforms. I watched the whole video and I am still no further forward to what his company actually did. But then again I am not sitting with millions in the bank.

Fast Eddie, well done.

 I have an HP printer/scanner and I use the scanner quite a bit when mapping, the default for it is .pdf so as I work with .jpg's I have to make a huge effort to change this, OK two finger presses but you get my drift. I emailed HP to find out how to set the default as I could not find the settings. The upshot was that I had to continue to use my finger as there was no way to change the default. Imagine my surprise when I got an email from HP congratulating me on getting a reply to my post and honouring me with a badge! Shortly after I was given the rank of Student, I was going places at last, up yours Eddie McCullough, but my rewards kept coming, in another few seconds I had leapt to Honor Student. I was beginning to think I could go all the way to the top, CEO perhaps if I just sat and posted all night. I would have been far more happier if they just allowed me to set .jpg as the default.

Can someone please tell me why Gay people have to be constantly informing the rest of us that they are Proud and hold parades (at public expense mind) in case we didn't quite get it the first time. I heard an advert on CH4 last night where a policeman proclaimed how proud he was, so what, big deal. What's next, proud to be a sado-masochist day, proud to be turned on by long nails day or could you imagine the furore if we had a proud to be heterosexual day, apart from large cities I would lay money you won't find many Gay marches in the rest of the country. Cut it out and give us a break.

Proud as Punch.

On the same lines I see we now have a Black History course at a British university, another little niche and another vocal group, and another skill the country is crying out for.

Are you as upset as the rest of the nation that Bob Geldof is threatening to leave the country and hand back his knighthood as democracy doesn't work for him, the opportunist and agitator who always looks like he could do with a good bath to me, is not even British, he was born in Eire. So off you go and don't let the door hit you on the way out mate.

HMS Tartar 4th Commission 1970 9

This morning we were all up early and dressed in half whites, white top and trousers, at some point we made our way on to the upper deck in a very humid heat and took up our station near the flagdeck, after all those weeks on Beira Patrol we were at last heading for dry land. We entered Kilindini Harbour for our stop in Mombasa at full Procedure Alpha, with the crew lining the ship sides all looking very smart, I seem to remember we were pretty close to the shore as we made our way in, ramshackle houses lining the route. If we were there to impress the locals we must have done as we glided to our moorings, shades of Empire flitting around our presence.

Needless to say everyone who could was desperate to get ashore, for me it was exciting, South Africa, at least in the Cape had a very European feel to it, but here it was different, this was my first real foreign footfall. We anchored out and were immediately surrounded by 'bum boats' trying to sell us all sorts from food to wooden carvings, it was too soon to start collecting 'rabbits' to take home so as soon as leave was announced and as we were already dressed a bunch of us dropped into a small boat and headed for the shore. We were surrounded as soon as we landed, beggers and traders all after our cash, but of course we only wanted to find the nearest bar, before settling down to a beer we did wander along the main drag and I remember sitting for lunch at a small cafe and getting a sandwich which was delicious, funny what sticks in your mind. I did indeed pick up some 'rabbits' the customary wooden carving and a painting, done in grey, white and black of a tree which caught my eye, god knows where I was going to keep it. My parents got it eventually and it hung in their house for years, I have no idea where it is now as it was replaced by a large, gaudy sombrero and a rawhide whip, courtesy of one of my brothers from a trip to the other side of the Atlantic.

As I said Mombasa had a reputation as a kind of frontier town where anything went as long as you had the money to pay for it, as I sat sipping my first ice cold beer I got a flavour of this as other Jack Tars kept disappearing upstairs for half an hour or so and returning full of smiles and we had only been ashore for a few hours.

Still relatively sober we returned to the ship to deposit our wood carvings and sundry other local rubbish which seemed like a good idea at the time and prepared for a night on the town, such as it was, Mombasa didn't seem that big and was still mainly off the beaten track for tourists. The bars beckoned that evening, in particular the Casablanca (which is still there) and the notorious Sunshine Bar, the age limit for drinking seemed to have disappeared as soon as we got out of the Channel.

The MOD had a prize piece of real estate on the famous Nyali Beach here in Mombasa and it was used by all forces for rest and recreation, we had it booked for our stay and I would be there for the next three days. We still had a Naval presence there back then and they must have been given the task of looking after our signal traffic otherwise we RO's would not have got more than a day off.