The Spur in the Dish Warns the Border Chief that the Larder Needs Replenishing

 Well, another month nearly finished and not many posts, but let's see if we can squeeze one more in before September starts. In any event I continue to attract thousands of views a day without bothering to write anything. The blog's stats page tells me that the most popular article yesterday was that from a few weeks ago complaining about the constant trawling by AI. Coincidence? I think not; these LLMs seem to be as vain as one of the blog's previous, and much missed, followers, who had a strict policy of only reading posts in which she featured.

And speaking of coincidences... I have been in Northumberland for a few days and finding myself in Alnwick I obviously popped in to Barter Books. I didn't stay long as it was hot and crowded, but I did buy a book almost at random just to show willing: "The Adventures of Speedfall" by John Fuller, which I didn't enjoy and don't recommend. I would describe it as a mediocre mashup between P.G. Wodehouse's Mr Mulliner and Tom Sharpe's Porterhouse Blue and, having put it to one side, I found the latter of those on my Kobo (*) and started to re-read it. I quickly came on a passage in which one character, as part of a diatribe against the feckless working class, mentions a painting that he once saw in which a wife served her husband a spur on a plate rather than the dinner which he was expecting. That struck a chord with me because I had myself seen that very painting - it's by William Bell Scott - the day before at Wallington. Also seen there, and of somewhat more relevance to the blog, were these:

As well as the Napoleonic figures there were what looked to be some units from the Risorgimento. Unfortunately the hand written labels seen in the first photo were all the information displayed, so I don't know how old they are. In terms of scale I would judge that they were in height a small 20mm, think Irregular or Tumbling Dice, but they were very slender. Let's end with a photo of Dunstanburgh Castle as approached from Craster:

No kippers were harmed in the taking of this picture.

* I have, not before time, kicked Amazon into touch.

Very Flat, Dordrecht

 No sooner had I posted yesterday's boardgames review, in which I stated categorically that Let's Go! To Japan was essentially an abstract game, than it appeared on someone's internet list of top ten most heavily themed games of the year. You pays your money and you takes your choice. 

Less contentious I think was my assertion that the Netherlands is quite flat. I offer the above painting by Cuyp as proof. In any case a moment's reflection would tell us that even if there were valleys that's not where one would put the windmills.

In the sadly misnamed game Windmill Valley, the tulip with the highest value is the dark purple, so dark it's almost black. I am therefore reading 'The Black Tulip' by Alexandre Dumas to see if I can pick up any tips. The only lesson learned from the first few chapters is don't cross the future King William III or it won't end well.

The de Brécy Tondo

 Last summer the National Gallery in London held a major exhibition covering the whole of Raphael's career, featuring works loaned by museums such as the Louvre, Prado and Uffizi. Being the cultured man-about-town that I am, I naturally went. Being the slapdash, half-arsed blogger that I am, I naturally never bothered to mention it here. I was reminded of it today, when I went to see the de Brécy Tondo, which has just been authenticated after decades of research as being 'by Raphael', and not merely 'after Raphael'. 

It has first been exhibited, perhaps somewhat unexpectedly, at Cartwright Hall in Bradford, the connection being the part played by the University of Bradford in the scientific evaluations which resulted in the authentication. The de Brécy Trust website linked to above gives a reasonable amount of detail regarding spectroscopic analysis carried out on the paint used, which I found comprehensible and believable. It is less forthcoming about the AI led facial recognition analysis, which the signage at Cartwright Hall went into rather more. I must say that, like most things AI related, I couldn't understand a word of what they were on about. Perhaps recognising the likelihood of this there was a little ballot box in which one could post a green slip of paper if one was prepared to believe that a computer could properly authenticate a work of art, and a red slip if one didn't. I never voted; let's be honest with ourselves, the computers have already taken over and it's too late to pretend otherwise. It's a nice painting though.

Edouard/Édouard

“The rain set early in tonight,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

And did its best to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up and all the cottage warm;”

- Robert Browning

For reasons that are no doubt perfectly logical it is only winter storms which are named in the UK. So when two weeks ago we were hit with hailstones the size of eggs and my garden was flooded twice, once because the hail was so intense that it washed the moss off the roof and blocked the gutters, it didn't have a name. A few days ago the wind was so strong that it broke off a sizeable chunk of the tree outside my house. On that occasion the branch - big enough to be used as a social distancing measuring stick (old school) - blew down the road at great speed causing cars to have to swerve out of its way, but still no name. Yesterday, the media got very excited about the approach of what is apparently known to everyone except the Met Office as Storm Edouard - and there's a definite touch of Johnny Foreigner about that name - to the extent that I planned a day inside. And what happened? It rained a bit, which, let's be frank, is not that unknown in the UK in July.

What I would have been doing if not for Edouard

Anyway, in the end I have managed to achieve a few wargames related things. I have had another try at washing figures in my new ultrasonic bath, and I think I have revised upwards my impression. It's all subjective, and the proof of the pudding will be when the paint doesn't flake off, but I think it's actually a pretty effective method. I have only tried it on metal figures so far and will have to report back when I have had a go with some plastic figures. I have almost, but not quite, finished off the couple of dozen ancient Britons which were left half-painted when lockdown commenced and were then never touched despite all the time I had to do so. The auxiliary cavalry command set that's next up has highlighted the limited extent of my reference library for the Romans. I have far more books on, for example, the Mexican Revolution despite not gaming that at all. The problem is that it contains a Vexillarius, and I could work out what he had on his head. Most online sources suggest an animal skin - although there is no unanimity about which - but the only animal it could plausibly be is a donkey, and I find that most unlikely. I have continued my reading of 'Infamy, Infamy' - another typo on page 22; come on Don, get a grip - but really need to set something up and work through it. That of course means either finishing off or abandoning the game currently set up.

And last, but not least I have had a go on the laser cutter for the first time since February. It was hard enough remembering how to get into the workshop, let alone how the machine itself worked, but it is another small step forwards.

Urgent Arrival of New Rules

"Painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war." - Pablo Picasso

Both I and the stepladder have returned to the annexe. If the time spent decorating has taught me anything, it is that my previous practice of paying someone to do it for me was the entirely correct approach and one to which I should return forthwith. 

When we last visited the table, the British had a big hole in their line and needed to fill it. The normal route to bring on reserves in 'Square Bashing' is the reinforcement phase, which occurs right at the end of one's turn. There is also the option, in the opening phase, to select Urgent Arrivals as one's asset. Only one asset is allowed each turn, and that is presumably to speed up game play. I'm happy with that, but it has always seemed to me that some assets give more value than others, and so the same ones - artillery barrages mainly - always end up getting selected. If one rolls well then a barrage can do damage to a number of squares and an even larger number of units. If one rolls well when choosing, say, Hasty Defences one can put some sandbags up in one square. They just don't seem comparable to me. I therefore allow a modest upside to a couple of the asset classes to reward good (i.e. lucky) dice rolls. In this case the British rolled two sixes and three fives with five dice and thus two infantry units arrived and moved into the gaps. Not much else happened on the British turn until the very end. The game starts with a clock set to 21, and the defender rolls a D6 as the last action of their go to reduce it; when it reaches zero the game is over. Six turns is therefore a reasonable forecast for the length of the game. On this occasion the British rolled a one, implying that there are most likely still six turns to go. That rather suits the Germans.

So, the Hun commander decided to take advantage of this probable extra game length by not immediately assaulting in the centre, but giving himself an extra turn of barrage. Unfortunately the German artillery, having missed everything on the first turn, failed to even fire this time. The only assault that occurred was against the town objective where, having successfully rolled to use their Higher Command ability to add to the attack, the Germans were rolling thirteen dice against nine. Perhaps inevitably they nevertheless lost the melee. My tactics of constantly assaulting built up areas doesn't seem to be the right one after all. Still, a flamethrower unit has arrived and next time perhaps they will do better. British shooting improved and one German unit, which had failed morale based on last turn's shooting casualties and therefore couldn't move, took a bit of a pasting.

Pot92pouri

The wind has dropped for the first time in weeks and so I've had a stab at spraying the laser cut town walls. They were always going to require two coats, but even allowing for that my technique clearly needs some refining. To start with I should probably place the walls a bit closer together, rather than ending up with a whole load of stone textured newspaper.

Harking back to this previous post about Sandy Denny and the comment subsequently left by Aaron, can I point you to this episode of 'Digging Deep', in which Robert Plant talks about 'Battle of Evermore':

Finally, and for no real reason, here is Tamara de Lempika's painting 'La Belle Rafaela':

2019

I don't often get predictions right (you will recall that a couple of months before the election I forecast that Jezza was about to resign), but I was bang on the money this time last year when I said that 2019 would be even worse than 2018; by and large indeed it was. Perhaps that's why this year I have been unusually reticent in inflicting on you my opinions of all the plays etc wot I have seen, but let's have a quick retrospective summary now; be warned, for some reason this is all a lot more quantitative than it is qualitative.

Opera: I saw twenty six operas this year, plus two ballets and a sprinkling of classical concerts. The operas ranged in obscurity from Pfitzner's 'The Christmas Elf', of which I saw the first ever UK performance, to La boheme, which is - I think - the most frequently performed opera that there is globally. My favourite was Vaughan William's 'Pilgrim's Progress' with a nod to Janáček's 'Cunning Little Vixen' and Martinů's 'The Greek Passion'.

Theatre: I saw fifty two plays and musicals of which my favourite was 'Wise Children' from the wonderful company of the same name. A very honourable mention must go to 'Tuesdays with Morrie'. My favourite Shakespeare (out of the thirteen that I saw) was a toss up between 'The Merry Wives of Windsor' at the Globe and Northern Broadsides' 'Much Ado About Nothing'. This section seems an appropriate place for the following photo, which I have been looking for a chance to use for some months and which if nothing else illustrates that Chekhov can actually be made interesting:

Music: I only went to twenty three gigs, which is pretty pathetic really. My favourite were The Stumble whom I saw twice. Their live performances do not translate into their recordings, which is often the case and another reason why I should go to more live shows.

By the way, the lady on your bloggist's left in that photo is a regular, and somewhat wild, audience member at blues gigs around here, indeed she is the instrument fingerer mentioned in this previous post; I could tell you some stories about her, but frankly she terrifies me so I won't.

Film: I've seen sixteen films and am going to choose 'Stan and Ollie' as my favourite; what can I say, I'm a big softie. I made a special trip to the Imax in Bradford to see 'Apollo 11' on a big, big screen and am glad that I did. Still today, after fifty years, it's just an astonishing achievement and spectacularly documented in the film.

Talks: The quantity of gigs may have declined, but for some reason the number of talks attended has increased markedly. The best two were both on painting, one on Klimt, the other on Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven. A prize for making a little go a long way goes to Ian Bottomley, Curator Emeritus of Oriental Collections at the Royal Armouries who managed to speak very entertainingly for an hour on the subject of the current whereabouts of those small number of suits of armour which were given as diplomatic gifts to various European royal courts by Japanese trade missions in the sixteenth century. The most irrelevant and off subject question from an audience member - a category that is very keenly contested every year - was the chap who, at a talk about Nietzsche, asked why god had created gay animals in species other than humans. My own unassuming interventions - the incident with the light cavalry sabre notwithstanding - were, of course, always entirely intended to add to the collective enlightenment rather than allow me to show off my own erudition and knowledge.

Books: For those concerned about my apparent compulsion to count things, I don't really; I work it out retrospectively from my diary. The exception is books, where I kept a specific record this year because I thought it would be interesting. Obviously it wasn't in the slightest bit interesting, neither to me nor anyone else, but despite that I now know that I read one hundred and thirteen books, the pick of which was 'Winged Victory' by V.M. Yeates, which of course has a wargamer friendly theme. Another book I very much enjoyed which falls into that category is 'The March' by E.L. Doctorow; the march in question being that of Sherman.

Boardgames: I played fifty eight different games seventy eight times (figures courtesy of boardgamegeek). Top marks for a game I hadn't played previously go to Quartermaster General: Cold War, which I have no qualms in recommending to wargamers, and the same is true of my top solo game recommendation, Maquis. I hope to step up my boardgaming a bit next year, although the Monday night Yew Tree group has become very dull and cliquey so I may have to look elsewhere.

Wargames: I played or umpired in, I think, twenty three games, many of which were played over two or three weeks. They focussed mainly on James new Peninsular war collection plus, it shouldn't be forgotten, his new bridges. In the annexe it was mainly Great War, but there was a smattering of other stuff as well. My favourite game, apart from my one-sided triumph at Fiasco, was the relatively recent Battle of San Winnoc.

Event of the Year: Newspapers and magazines inevitably have to choose their picks of the year early in order to meet deadlines. Your bloggist has the luxury of posting this on the afternoon of December 31st and can therefore make sure that nothing will overtake what he writes. Or so you would think. Last year I was awakened at 23:45 or so - being teetotal I avoid going out on New Year's Eve and therefore retire early - by the younger Miss Epictetus who wished to inform me that she had got engaged, an event which clearly would have merited inclusion right at the top of my round up of 2018 had she told me a tad earlier. So, this year's choice is caveated by pointing out that it is subject to nothing better happening in the next few hours. However, I think it unlikely that anything will beat this:

Finally, let's hope next year is better than we're all expecting, especially for you and yours.

Peace and love to all.

Peterloo 3

Not many people have yet read yesterday's post, but the complaints have already started coming in. It has been pointed out that I didn't find space among my sub-Marxist class war diatribe to tell anyone what the speaker (Dr John Rumsby - didn't find room for that either) actually said about the actions of the 15th Hussars on August 16th 1819.

The 15th were an experienced regiment, many of whom had served in the Peninsula - most notably at Sahagún - and obviously at Waterloo as well. It was a time of significant unrest in Britain and troopers and officers had served in support of the civil power on many previous occasions, especially against protesting agricultural workers in East Anglia. They didn't relish the role, but had regularly dispersed crowds (although obviously none as large) without causing any injuries. Their tactics were controlled use of their horses (rather like a modern mounted police officer) together with striking the 'mobbists' with the flat side of their sabres. The reason for the Hussars to move into the crowd were, in his opinion, both to rescue the Manchester Yeomanry and to stop them inflicting further casualties.

Dr Rumsby - whose main issue with the recent film seemed to be the wearing of busbies - had with him a British light cavalry sabre of the period, and the width of the blade showed how effective using it as a surrogate truncheon might be. He very kindly allowed me to handle it and it was only the fact that we were in a library - and his rapid intervention - which prevented me from giving it the full swing that I was tempted to. However, it was very interesting to experience how it felt in one's hand. It only weighs about a kilogramme, but the length is such that it's easy to understand the momentum that could be developed cutting down from above one's left shoulder against someone on foot to the right side of the horse. Dr Rumsby quoted a French cavalryman as saying that the British might miss with nineteen out of twenty sabre slashes, but the twentieth would cut your arm off.

Mi deh yah, yuh know

And so to the theatre. I have been to see 'The Merry Wives of Windsor' at the Globe, which got terrible reviews in the newspapers, but which I though was perfectly fine. I have also been to see 'Measure for Measure' at the RSC, which got absolutely outstanding reviews in the newspapers, but which I thought was perfectly fine.

The RSC had set 'Measure for Measure' in end-of-Empire Vienna and had rather effectively drawn on the work of artists such as Klimt and Schiele for their representation of the demi-monde activities which Angelo attempts to suppress during his period in power.

One thing the two productions had in common was for one of the actors in each to play their part in a broad West Indian accent. In both cases this had the paradoxical effect of enhancing the rhythm of the lines while simultaneously making them quite a lot harder to understand.

Alfred Munnings - War Artist 1918

I have been to the National Army Museum to see their current exhibition of Great War paintings by Sir Alfred Munnings, many of which have been brought together for the first time in a century. Munnings specialised in painting horses, although the notes to the exhibition claim that he actually preferred cattle as models because of their docility. I know very little about painting and even less about horses, but what I do feel qualified to say is that the animals in the pictures look to me like they do in real life, which one cannot always say about some well-known equine artists.

Munnings was commissioned in 1918 by the future Lord Beaverbrook to document the Canadian Cavalry Brigade in France, whose commander General Seely is shown above on his horse Warrior. Munnings - a notorious womaniser whose first wife tried to commit suicide on their honeymoon - only had one eye, which seems to me to make his work even more impressive. Being cavalry they were well behind the front and most of the paintings show formations en route or the horses being cared for.

However, while he was there the front moved due to the German Kaiserschlacht offensive and whilst that did give Munnings the opportunity to paint perhaps his most famous work, 'The Charge of Flowerdew's Squadron', he wasn't an eyewitness and it probably didn't take place as it does in the picture.

In fact he had been moved to the safer task of painting the Canadian Forestry Corps, a formation that I had previously been unaware of. It would seem that it was exactly what it sounds like: a large number of lumberjacks brought across the Atlantic to cut down trees, eat their lunch and go to the lavatory. It's one of those unsung areas that probably nevertheless had a large impact. Between 1914 and 1918 British imports of lumber fell by 10 million tons per year freeing up capacity in merchant shipping already under fierce attack by submarines.

The permanent collection at the museum contains many interesting items, among them for example the hat that Picton wore during the Battle of Waterloo. Or should I say during part of the battle, because also on display is the musket ball that killed him. Highly recommended should you find yourself at a loose end on the Kings Road. Any museum trip worth its salt will always generate a useless fact. That from this one is that the modern Hungarian army has no Hussar regiments.

Who dun it?

"A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees" - William Blake

I have always taken the view that as a wargamer one is in no position to mock other people's hobbies. However, as a long time member of the Richard III Society (which I joined at time of the quincentenary of Bosworth) I have always felt able to chuckle at the foibles of the membership. This has become harder as the research into events of 1485 led first to the discovery of the Bosworth battlefield and then to the almost unbelievable finding of the man himself. I was beginning to think that things were moving in the direction of solving the biggest mystery of them all, but perhaps instead the cranks are making a comeback.

This blog has shown the above painting ('Edward's Children' by Paul Delaroche) before, when mentioning the interesting, though possibly speculative, theory that it was the dog which was responsible for murdering the princes in the Tower. This quarter's Ricardian magazine has an equally conjectural piece drawing attention to both the colours of the drapery and the carvings on the bedposts. These, asserts the author, mean that Delaroche wanted to indicate that the princes had survived into the reign of Henry VII and been done away with on his orders; why he didn't just say that or show their evil brother-in-law in some more overt way isn't explained. Nor is the possibility considered that he simply painted from life and oldish looking bed and it never occurred to him that it was from the time of the next dynasty.

The Ricardian magazine is full of this sort of stuff (in fairness they also produce a more learned annual journal) and well worth reading even if the only result is to make you shake your head at the thought of otherwise sensible people spending their time and money in this way. Also in the current issue is the revelation that Richard de la Pole, la Rose blanche, was a bit of a tightwad and an article on Elizabeth 'Jane' Shore, mistress of Edward IV and god only knows who else, which ably demonstrates that she was your bloggist's sort of woman and no mistake.

After the death of Edward she was made to do penance for her carryings-on by Good King Richard, a scene later somewhat freely interpreted by William Blake in the painting above. Blake himself was of course a firm believer in free love (sources differ as to whether this was from political or religious conviction, but there seems to be a consensus that Mrs Blake took a dim view of the idea in any case) and was widely regarded as mad during his lifetime.

Torbeau

The recent recalling to mind of someone I knew long ago and the subsequent discovery of the whole story behind his ditching in the North Sea at the end of the war made me realise that I knew very little of the work of RAF Coastal Command during that time. I therefore been reading with interest 'The Strike Wings' by Roy Conyers Nesbit about the special anti-shipping squadrons, among whom was 144 Squadron, in which the then Warrant Officer Boorer served as a navigator.

It is, as one would expect, absolutely fascinating stuff, at all levels: the individual stories of brave young men; the technical details about the Beaufighter and its weaponry; the development of tactics in the light of experience; and the higher level strategic questions of why the denial of high-grade Swedish iron ore (*) and Malayan Rubber to the Nazis was so critical. The write ups of raids are made with reference to German war diaries as well as first hand accounts from members of the RAF, RCAF, RAAF and RNZAF and are very even handed. There are clear maps of some attacks, an appendix listing all the actions and an extensive bibliography; it's good stuff.

The one area I felt I would like sightly more clarity on is the internal layout of the aircraft, so I thought I would hunt down a second-hand copy of the relevant Osprey. Astonishingly I find that Osprey don't publish a volume on the Beaufighter; my faith in the world is shaken even more than it already was. I shall continue my search, and would appreciate book suggestions. In particular I am keen to understand where exactly they put the carrier pigeon.

I'm not sure about the game potential of all this; there don't seem to be too many decision points for either side and I suspect it would all just come down to the luck of the dice/cards/whatever. Tumbling Dice do make fairly cheap packs of 1/600 Beaufighters though.

I think that I mentioned in an earlier post that I had on a whim bought a limited edition print of a painting signed by Flying Officer Brett, the pilot who was shot down with Mr Boorer. The idea was that I had always intended to decorate the annexe with military themed paintings, photos etc (despite not yet actually having done anything about it) and because of the tenuous connection, and the reasonable price on eBay, this seemed a good place to start. Well, it's turned up (**) and looks very good. It also looks very large. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to the dimensions, which were clearly listed. So, it isn't going in the annexe, because it's too big, and it's going to cost an arm and a leg to frame, thereby rather undermining the concept of getting a good deal. Result.



(*) It's fair to say that the Swedes don't come out of this episode with any credit.
(**) For the record, Mr Brett signs himself Philip

The nine of clubs

"The challenge for Nine of Clubs♣ people is to let go with grace and gratitude... and not fall to the lower vibration of apathy or self-pity."

Last weekend saw Fiasco, the local wargames show here in Leeds, and the passout token for those putting on games was a playing card; the one they gave me was the nine of clubs: so challenge accepted. The show itself was good in the morning and dead in the afternoon. Our demo of Zorndorf went very much with the flow; I don't think we played a turn after lunch. Astonishingly I have seen some reviewers complain that the organisers gave space to a charity cake stall. Fortunately Epictetus is in such peak physical shape these days that he was able to indulge himself with a bun or two and I can report that they were rather good; I hope that they are back next year. Other purchases included yet more trees from the tree man plus what is possibly the worst set of rules that I have ever read.

I bought a second hand set of Mailed Fist Wargames group's WWI rules and the best thing I can find to say about them is that it was only £3 wasted, or three cakes worth if you will. I won't take up too much of your time with them, but perhaps the oddest bit is the lack of any rules at all for machine guns because "they [were] a little thin on the ground". The author does however include specific stats for the 420cm L/12, Type M-Gerät 14, better known as the 'Big Bertha', of which only twelve were ever made and whose minimum range is somewhat longer than my table. I am more and more minded to stop buying WWI rules and instead to write my own; I'm envisaging a glorious mash-up of every family of rules that I've ever played plus the added complexity which inevitably creeps in every time that I try to devise something for wargaming use. The one thing that is certain is that the scale of these wonderful - though as yet unwritten - rules will be 12-15 figures per company, which should allow me to play a game of a brigade a side. I have it in mind to name them after one of C.R.W. Nevinson's Great War paintings, perhaps 'A Dawn', which is just about to be sold for a shed load of money.

A game at that level requires a higher proportion of officers and support weapons than I had previously assumed. I have therefore scoured continental Europe for the out of production HaT German Heavy Weapons set and progress on painting has been brisk. October figures were:

Granatenwerfer	4
MG08/15	4
MG08	1
Flamethrower team	1
Minenwerfer	1
German bombers	4
German riflemen	10
British riflemen	7
British officers	12
Lewis guns	3

The Model Makers

I have not been doing any modelling or painting recently and it's been a while since the blog touched on the visual arts. Let's bring both those missing themes together with this by Norman Blamey:

Is he using cornflake packets?

Progress Industry Humanity

The town in which I live is part of Leeds and for the most part that's where I go for entertainment and intellectual stimulation. However, I live on the border with Bradford and this weekend has seen me attend events celebrating two of its most distinguished sons.

On Saturday I made one of my infrequent returns to the University of Bradford, the place where I took my first degree, on this occasion for a talk on the time theories of J.B. Priestley. I won't attempt to reproduce what was discussed, which you would be correct in interpreting to mean that I didn't fully understand it. There were names bandied about that I'd never heard of (J.W. Dunne, Ouspensky), haven't read (Proust - shameful but true) or regard as complete charlatans (Myers and Briggs). Still, the main point at issue was that Priestley was a first rate writer, is unjustly overlooked and was ahead of his time. His influence can clearly be seen on novelists such as Borges and Burgess and on playwrights like Stoppard and Ayckbourn, and he was an early explorer of concepts later seen in works as diverse as E.T., Catch-22, Groundhog Day, Sliding Doors and The Purple Rose of Cairo to name just a few. The speakers recommended a range of works which apparently illustrate his interest in the possible circularity of time, but I have chosen to buy 'The 31st of June' on the basis that the panel said it was very funny. I shall report back. I also have to mention that I rather regret not having also been to the session before ours, which featured lots of brightly clothed Nigerians playing drums.

Today saw celebrations to mark the 80th birthday of David Hockney. The weather was nice, a big crowd turned up, there was a wide choice of food (I went for Tilapia and Jollof rice, perhaps still regretting missing out on the Nigerian drumming) and loud music; judging by the playlist DH is a fervent disco fan. There was even a large birthday cake representing his large work Le Plongeur, which is the cornerstone of the excellent new Hockney Gallery at Bradford's Cartwright Hall.

The other notable feature was a Hockneyfication Station where those with a more frivolous nature than your bloggist could be transformed into lookalikes of the great man.

Mi Revenis

I have returned. My absence has been due to a surfeit of stuff occurring in real life. I won't go into details, but at one point the big bouncy woman was rendered speechless for the first time since I've known her. There were also a couple of birthdays: the younger Miss Epictetus has turned twenty one and I have celebrated becoming twenty one and some months, 480 months to be precise.

Anyway, I have managed to do some other stuff including the first evening of a Crusades game at James' which I'm rather enjoying. My plan once again involved my forces moving swiftly across the table and once again they didn't. Still, the newly painted catapults are fun to play with. In other wargaming news I have done a fair bit of painting (fair bit for me that is) during the month:

German WWI 7.7cm + 5 crew	1
German WWI infantry	18
British WWI 18pdr + 5 crew	3
British WWI trench raiders	10
15th century longbowmen	12

What I haven't done is very much boardgaming so I think I'll wrap the review of games played in March into April's report; I know you'll be bitterly disappointed.

Nu couché

I haven't blogged about art for a while, and I'm not really going to do so today. It's just that sometimes one is in the mood for a bit of this:

License My Roving Hands

 Let us start 2016 as we very much mean to continue:

To His Mistress Going To Bed

  Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,

Until I labour, I in labour lie.

The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,

Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.

Off with that girdle, like heaven’s Zone glistering,

But a far fairer world encompassing.

Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,

That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.

Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,

Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.

Off with that happy busk, which I envy,

That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.

Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,

As when from flowery meads th’hill’s shadow steals.

Off with that wiry Coronet and shew   

The hairy Diadem which on you doth grow:

Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread

In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.

In such white robes, heaven’s Angels used to be

Received by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee

A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though

Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,

By this these Angels from an evil sprite,

Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.

    Licence my roving hands, and let them go,   

Before, behind, between, above, below.

O my America! my new-found-land,

My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d,

My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie,

How blest am I in this discovering thee!

To enter in these bonds, is to be free;

Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.

    Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,

As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,

To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use

Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,

That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,

His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.

Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made

For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;

Themselves are mystic books, which only we   

(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)

Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know;

As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew

Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,

There is no penance due to innocence.

    To teach thee, I am naked first; why then

What needst thou have more covering than a man. 

                               
                                                - John Donne

Wargamers, beards and bellies

"There is always a period when a man with a beard shaves it off. This period does not last. He returns headlong to his beard." - Jean Cocteau

Although, as can be seen from Modigliani's portrait above, not in Cocteau's own case. I seem to have been mistaken for a pognophobe, but nothing could be further from the truth. I recognise that, as Craig Brown wrote, "A decent beard has long been the number one must-have fashion item for any fugitive from justice".

I was intending to write a full review of Derby yesterday, but not for the first time was diverted by a pretty face, or in this case - and again not for the first time - two pretty faces. But, to slightly recap, I really enjoyed it. Great venue (once it warmed up) and very helpful and friendly organisers, contarsting favourably with the miserable jobsworths at Sheffield last year. All the gamers and traders that I spoke to were enthusiastic, friendly and polite. James did return to the table to report having witnessed someone directing racist abuse at the bar staff; completely unacceptable of course, but noteworthy in part because that one person and incident seemed so completely at odds with the rest of the event. Undeniably though, the attendees as well as being all white were overwhelmingly male and this may account for the neutral observer - me - thinking that there were a higher proportion of beards than usual. These ranged in design from the stubbly, few days unshaved type (the boyfriend of the young lady mentioned yesterday actually had one of these), through the lumberjack /hipster type to the chap that I saw playing Gates of Antares who appeared to have come in Rasputin fancy dress. My own clean shaven appearance has much to do with an inability to grow any of those, although - even if I say so myself - I do have an air of Ronald Colman about me when I grow a moustache.

A rule clarification leaves your bloggist puzzled

If you had asked me on Friday I would have admitted to carrying some extra weight round the middle. But having been at Donnington for two days I now realise that I am positively svelte and athletic. I am, as you know, a bit of a flâneur and am often to be found in large groups at the theatre or opera, in political salons, watching ladies tug-of-war or generally among the bon ton. In none of these places (NONE!) are there as many grotesquely obese men as there are at wargames shows. So, beards are OK (and cause a certain amount of envy on my part); huge great bellies, no, no , no, for god's sake no.

Proverbs Chapter 28 Verse 13 (again)

I have been to Temple Newsam, and admired various rare breeds of livestock, birds of prey etc. The estate, owned by Leeds City Council, has various historical connotations of possible interest to wargamers: the Temple bit comes from the Knights Templar for example and it was the birthplace of Lord Darnley, second husband of Mary, Queen of Scots. The picture gallery contains some interesting seventeenth century battle scenes, with lots of cavalry firing pistols at each from close range. However it was another painting that caught my eye the most.

'Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery' - Gaetano Gandolfi

Now I'm no theologian, indeed now I come to think about it I'm not even a Christian. But that story (John Chapter 8) has always seemed to me to get to the heart of what the man was on about. I understand the subtexts of Jewish versus Roman law (remember this event took place only days before his own arrest and appearance before Pilate); of the Pharisees' real aim of finding evidence of his guilt rather than that of the woman ostensibly accused; and even of the gender inequality of the adultery rules of the time (married men were allowed to consort with single women - the married woman restriction was more of a property issue than a moral one). But, rising above all that, is surely the simple message: acknowledge one's own wrongdoings rather than judge other people's.

As the philosopher whose name I have assumed, wrote not long after the events above "When you are offended at any man's fault, turn to yourself and study your own failings. Then you will forget your anger."