Lasalle de wargames légendaire

“When he worked, he really worked. But when he played, he really PLAYED.”  - Dr Seuss

If there's one thing you know about your bloggist by now it is that he likes to party; and by party I mean play with toy soldiers. It was therefore with great delight that I found myself once again in the legendary wargames room after a gap of some months. The delight was immediately tempered by the realisation that the room was the temperature of an oven; but we played on.

We were playing Lasalle, a game that I had never tried before. The turn sequence is slightly odd, but I have to say was extremely easy to pick up. And the game also moved along quickly enough, taking only two and half hours to arrive at a situation where neither of us could win. Still neither scenario design nor choosing which tactics to adopt are that easy with a new set of rules. My conclusion is that getting stuck in is much better than hanging about, but that gaining an advantage in terms of numbers of units when attacking is important as well. I haven't any advice to give on how one might achieve both at the same time, but there is not much in the way of command friction, so once you've worked it out it should be reasonably easy to replicate. So, I enjoyed them and would like another go in due course.

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.

85 all out...

...and before lunch versus Ireland at that. Eyebrows may have been raised when I suggested that England's World Cup win wasn't all that impressive, but I rest my case. Congratulations to Tim Murtagh in particular:

Bring on the Aussies.

Commemorative Stamp

Pot85pouri

So, I've been working a bit, going to the theatre a lot, and condoling with an old school friend about the Champions League final as well as more serious matters in his life. Amongst other things we had a wander round the Shaftesbury Avenue branch of Forbidden Planet which prompted my friend to express dismay at the lack of Fireball XL5 merchandise; strange that.

Mention of finals makes me realise that I haven't mentioned the cricket. Well, exciting or not I'm really not sure how anyone could get triumphalist about winning in that manner: a fluke followed by incorrect interpretation of the rules resulting in a tie, the nature of the tie-break being completely biased in your favour, still only managing another tie and then turning out to be the winner using a formula that makes the countback method in high-jump look positively scientific. I am unimpressed. I actually missed the climax of it all because I went to see Lisa Mills, last mentioned here, with a band this time and damned fine she was too. In case anyone is concerned, the lack of alcohol free beer has been rectified.

While I am here and complaining about triumphalism, let me write something about the anniversary of the first moon landing, which I am of course old enough to have watched live on television. Notwithstanding its underlying purpose of being cold war propaganda, I still regard it as perhaps mankind's greatest achievement in my lifetime and so full respect go to not just Armstrong and Aldrin but to the whole team behind them. It's just a shame about pretty much everything else that the human race, and especially our rulers, have done over the intervening period.

And finally here is Duane Jarvis covering Lucinda Williams' 'Still I Long For Your Kiss':

...and feed with the rich

I am in that there London, as it officially known in the North of England. I was treated by one of the big accountancy firms to a very nice lunch not far from Dr Johnson's house, and here, in lieu of anything more interesting to say about it all, is the view from the room we ate in:

"A man seldom thinks with more earnestness than he does of his dinner." - Dr Johnson

Hatt' ich auch recht hübsch Plaisir!

"That's one trouble with dual identities, Robin. Dual responsibilities." - Batman (*)

And so to the opera. I have returned to Leeds from Derbyshire, but an opera buff never tires of his opera bouff. So, another day, another operetta; this time 'Die Fledermaus'. Set in the roaring twenties with one slightly odd costume nod to the Ladyboys of Bangkok (in an interesting casting choice Prince Orlofsky was played by a man rather than a mezzo en travesti), it was good stuff and the singing in particular rather put the previous day's Offenbach in the shade.

I could personally live without the drunken antics of Frosch (although I would really like to have seen Frankie Howerd's take on it for the ENO) and I do hope that the actor involved really is Scottish otherwise there were some quite unpleasant racial stereotypes being displayed. But the staging was imaginative, the acting and singing was very good, and the dancing made me think that perhaps I'm not too bad on my feet after all. 

(*) The Adam West one obviously.

Aristaeus, ce n'est plus moi

And so to the opera. I have been to see Opera Della Luna's take on 'Orpheus in the Underworld'. Unlike the last time I saw it they actually set it on Mount Olympus, and the cast looked every inch like Greek gods:

Their version contains several heavy sideswipes at the Arts Council, and one does not need to check their website to work out that they don't get any funding from that body. If one does however visit the website you will see a quote by opera critic Rupert Christiansen displayed in which he says that operetta isn't funded because it appeals to middle class audiences. Ignoring for a moment the heavily subsidised Opera North's recent 'Merry Widow' I would also point to the fact that the group I was with on this occasion were pretty much all white, middle class and elderly, and far from loving the piece a large proportion of them hated it with a vengeance. I didn't think it was too bad myself - although the singing was nothing to, er, sing about - and the idea of David Cameron doomed to forever act as Pluto's butler for calling the EU referendum rather amused me. I also very much enjoyed the Galop Infernal being performed by skeletons; oh, and the dancing sheep were good.

She turns me on, don't get me wrong

“He who has lived and thought can't help

despising people in his soul;

him who has felt disturbs 

the ghost of irrecoverable days;

for him there are no more enchantments;

him does the snake of memories, 

him does repentance bite.” 

- Alexander Pushkin

And so to the opera. I have been to see a production of 'Eugene Onegin' that was in complete contrast to the previous time I had seen it. Where that had been set on a domestic and familiar scale this had all the opulence of late Imperial Russia, just before they all got their just desserts. It is of course a wonderful piece of late-Romantic music and it got the full treatment from the Northern Chamber Orchestra, the principals and the chorus. I'm going to single out Joshua Bloom's Prince Gremin for special praise although they were all good. What really impressed me was the lighting design which made extensive use of reflection and, particularly, silhouette. All in all it was easy to see why no budget had been left over for the staging of the Caldara piece I mentioned yesterday.

I have to mention however that the behaviour of Onegin and Lensky is no more admirable or sensible when played out among the upper classes of St Petersburg than it is when set amongst the youth of North London. And I've always wondered why when Tatyana is rejecting Onegin in the final act she never mentions the impact his actions must have had on the life of her sister Olga. She is, sadly, no less selfish than the men.

Quinto McFabio

And so to the opera. Your bloggist is in the Peak District for a spot of walking and opera going and has been to see 'Lucio Papirio Dittatore' by Antonio Caldara. Don't waste any time searching your memories for when you last saw it because this was the very first performance for three hundred years. I rather enjoyed it, and who's to say that I wouldn't have enjoyed it at least as much had it been two thirds the length; in other words, it went on a bit. Baroque composers seem to have collectively taken the view that if a thing was worth saying then it was worth saying seven or eight times.

The director had a difficult task, after all what is there left to say about the Second Samnite War that hasn't been said already? Especially on a very low budget for scenery and props. For reasons that probably made sense to him everything was wrapped in the style of Christo and costumes ranged from basically none, through anachronistic Imperial armour to Quintus Fabius in what appeared to be a kilt. Quintus and his father were both countertenors (the former being the pick of the cast) and Cominio was a soprano in a trouser role, except that this being Ancient Rome she didn't actually wear any trousers. The music and singing were excellent and Buxton Opera House is lovely, but it did all rather reinforce the truism that sometimes less is more.

I know you all like a wargaming connection, and in this case (assuming the Samnites were insufficient) it is provided by Caldara's patron the Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI. He of course was basically responsible for both the War of the Spanish Succession and the War of the Austrian Succession, fought various other unsuccessful wars against enemies such as the Ottomans and bankrupted his country but that aside wasn't a particularly bad man. In his capacity as patron of the arts he gets a ten minute encomium at the end of the opera, which was performed in full on the night. This was not only rather unnecessary (he's been dead since 1740), but must have been very confusing to anyone who hadn't attended the pre-show talk by the musical director and wasn't expecting it.

I'll be bum-swizzled

Jon Pertwee would have been 100 today. He was of course the Third Doctor, Wurzel Gummidge and Chief Petty Officer Pertwee, but was also well known to some us as the owner of a takeaway burger bar near Acton Town tube station around 1980.

This is the station, not the burger bar

My own doctor was the original, i.e. William Hartnell, and to be honest I had slightly lost interest by Pertwee's time. I can however recall being bemused as to why a Brigadier appeared to be in charge of a single rifle section, but given the size of the British army now it appears just to have been a case of the scriptwriters of a science-fiction series accurately predicting the future.

I was never a big Wurzel Gummidge fan, but it also starred Leeds born actor Geoffrey Bayldon, better known as Catweazle, which programme was much more to my taste. To complete the circle a little, Alan Rowe, Bayldon's life partner, appeared in Dr Who opposite Pertwee, and indeed opposite Patrick Troughton and Tom Baker too.

Hello Stranger

“There is no time for cut-and-dried monotony. There is time for work. And time for love. That leaves no other time.”  - Coco Chanel


And exactly as she describes, I have been hard at it; too much so to do any posting here. However, for one night only, I'm back.

Anyway, as previously predicted, wargaming has returned to Lower Wharfedale, both in its epicentre - the Legendary Wargames Room of James 'Olicanalad' Roach - and also in the annexe. Dealing with the latter first I had another game of C&C Napoleonics with the local chap I met a couple of months ago, this time with the more advanced rules. Once again it went very well and he enjoyed it. 

The above is the only photo  required because we both became obsessed with holding the town and every other one just shows different units in it. We had to break off with it all fairly even because I needed to leave to see a stage version of Ben Hur. We may return to finish it off at a later date and indeed I may also return to posting on the subject of the play. For now I will simply say that both the galley battle and the chariot racing were surprisingly well done considering that they only had a cast of four.

James has written on his first game of Lasalle here and you will immediately note my absence as I was, somewhat bizarrely, at a Nuclear Innovation conference. I shall also sadly miss next week because I am going, somewhat less bizarrely, to the Buxton Opera Festival. If you've read James' blog then you know as much as I do about it, but I must say that I was shocked, shocked!, to discover that he has been tinkering with the rules already.