Frida

 And so to the opera. Earlier in the summer I went to see 'In Dreams', a musical using songs by or associated with Roy Orbison. It was very, very good and I'm not entirely sure why I never wrote about it at the time. It was set in New Mexico and many of the characters were of Mexican origin; inevitably the 'Day of the Dead' loomed large. The reason I mention it now is that I have been to see the first production in the UK of 'Frida', the opera by Robert Rodriguez portraying the life of the painter Frida Kahlo and, sure enough...

photo credit Rhian Hughes

I don't know how accurate the retelling of her story was. I have always taken issue with the widespread assumption that she was overlooked as a painter because she was a woman; given that her husband, Diego Rivera, was a far superior artist (*) it is at least possible that the only reason for her being so well known is actually because she's a woman. Based on the version told in the opera the thing we should most admire her for is the overcoming of innumerable physical disabilities and illnesses. In any event, what happens here - and I've no idea whether it happened in real life - is that her success comes about because Rivera sells several of her paintings to Edward G. Robinson rather than selling his own. Robinson is one of a number of eclectic characters who pop up, including Henry Ford, Nelson D. Rockefeller and of course the Trotskys. The latter give rise to a slightly odd design choice; when Natalia Trotsky first appears she is wearing a fur hat, presumably to underline just how Russian she is rather than it being strictly necessary under the Mexican sun. 

I enjoyed it all immensely. Any show that contains marching soldaderas carrying banners saying 'Tierra y Libertad' and singing 'Long live Zapata' is going to be OK with me. Add on to that a bus crashing into a tram and the assassination of Trotsky and you have all the makings of a good night out.

* In your bloggist's opinion obviously.

As not requested yet

"The Pyrenees have stood for ages a frowning barrier, descending toward France on the northern side from gradually decreasing heights - but on the Spanish side in wild disorder, plunging down through steep chasms, ravines, and precipices - with sharp cliffs towering thousands of feet skyward, which better than standing armies protect the sunny plains below.”

- Mary Platt Parmele

The Mojo Dojo Casa House Epictetus once again has a functioning kitchen and so, with the aid of tea and biscuits, I can return to blogging. In my absence it would seem that someone has left a message on Mark's Blog asking him to give his version of the recently commenced Peninsular Campaign. I think it's unlikely that he will. No one has (yet) left any such request on this site and therefore, naturally enough, I will. 

First the campaign. The rules - all James' own work - are being played for the first time and are therefore inevitably being playtested as we go along and are even more subject to change than anything else that happens in the legendary wargames room. The attrition rules have, for example, already been somewhat streamlined, on the very sensible basis that simple is usually best. But, overall, they seem to flow both quickly and smoothly, so a thumbs up so far from me.

The first session of map moves saw a French force move towards Barcelona, a Spanish force moved to cut them off and the two met at Vich. This where perhaps our unfamiliarity with the campaign rules became apparent, specifically the means by which map would be translated to tabletop. We ended up, not surprisingly perhaps given that we were in the Pyrenees, with such difficult terrain that it didn't promise much of a game. Common sense once more prevailed and we decided to classify the various terrain features as less onerous than they should have been and carry on regardless. James' report is pretty thorough in terms of the first night, where the Spanish failed to press home their attack because they couldn't get the cards they needed. He hasn't yet written a report of the second night, but the luck was entirely the other way round, with the Spanish getting all the initiative and managing to withdraw and form a new line before night fell. So a draw, with no victory points being awarded to either commander. The Spanish suffered the greater casualties, which was only to be expected because they are mostly rubbish. In theory this is offset by the greater ease in which they will gain reinforcements. We shall see.

Most enjoyable so far.

Lard Workshop the Second

 The Mojo Dojo Casa House Epictetus still has no kitchen, and so I have been getting out and about as much as possible. As luck would have it the second Lard Workshop took place in Nottingham on Saturday and gave me the excuse to take a couple of days away. As with last year, I spent an afternoon exploring part of the city, on this occasion the National Justice Museum. I wouldn't suggest making a special trip, but if you're in the vicinity it's worth a look. Like many museums these days it featured costumed interpreters, here seen explaining how 18th century executions worked, including more detail than I felt I really needed to know.

You'll be as relieved as I was when I tell you that the lady above, convicted of stealing some scraps of lace, had her death sentence commuted to six weeks in prison in the nick of time. There was a bit of a theme for the weekend though, because one of the first sights that greeted me when arriving for my first game was this victim of evil Prince John.

We were in the 12th century where I was playing the, previously unknown to me, Sheriff of Lardingham, who was attempting to find some mead to serve to the aforementioned Prince John and to Archbishop Roundwood, the latter appearing to be named after the chap who put on the excellent 'Flashing Blades' game which I played in 2022. Sadly, I managed to get his Grace killed rather than refreshed. However, the forces of law and order captured Maid Marion, eliminated Little John and Friar Tuck, and badly wounded not just Will Scarlet but also Robin of the Hood himself, so came out the winners. The rules used were an amended version of Dux Britanniarum. I'd never played these before, but they were similar enough to other Too Fat Lardies rules to make them easy to pick up, while being different enough that one could still get confused. Excellent fun though.

My afternoon game was once again 'Infamy, Infamy'. When I played it last year my intention was return home and put on a game immediately, which obviously never happened. It's unlikely to happen this year either as we have just started the long awaited Peninsular campaign (see James' blog for full details). But it was a great game anyway. I was one of the Roman commanders, attempting to burn the wagons of some marauding Goths. We had a plan - which we didn't get close to being able to even try out - but, as always seems to happen to me in this game, I got ambushed. I like the rules overall, even if I find the close combat a bit convoluted, and wouldn't mind playing them more than once a year.

I thoroughly enjoyed the weekend, apart perhaps from finding my train home full to bursting with disgruntled Grimsby Town supporters, and I am particularly happy to be able to report that Don had arranged for the weather to be much cooler this year.

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.

The Builders Will Always Get Through

 Apologies for my absence, but I have the builders in, with all that entails. 

In my case it mainly entails going out a lot to avoid the disruption, which gives me plenty to write about, but no time to write it. When I was married and the Misses Epictetus were very young we had a large amount of work done on the former marital home, during which I sloped off to Belgium for several weeks leaving the first Mrs Epictetus to cope with the dirt and dust and the small children, all with no kitchen. Did I mention that I was divorced?

On a happier note, there has been gaming, including a welcome return to 'Jump of Burn' and WWI aerial combat.

It had been so long since we played this excellent game that I had forgotten that my British pilot had sufficient track record to qualify for an 'Ace Pilot' card (this is a good thing) and so I flew without it. However, I still successfully completed two bombing missions in the DH4 on the right of the picture above and have now advanced my status sufficiently to qualify for two 'Ace Pilot' cards next time (this is an even better thing) and you can be assured that I shall remember those. Or possibly I won't, because it's unlikely to be any time soon as next week sees the long anticipated kick-off of our Peninsular campaign.