Cast before the storm

"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"

- Robert Browning

Work has stopped on the new items for the siege works. I cast up all the extra bits that I thought I needed, and then cast up some more, rather than leaving half empty bottles of resin mixture and having to throw them away.

However, they require spraying with primer outside, and a period of cold weather has now been followed by high wind and rain from storms Malik and Corrie, which have caused quite a lot of damage around here. They disrupted the roads, which is not uncommon; the railways, which happens from time to time; and, on the first occasion that I can remember, closed the Leeds Liverpool canal.

The Casa Epictetus has been unaffected so far, although I have to admit that the garden is still a complete mess following storm Arwen late last year. The normal protection offered by the high stone walls surrounding it was outflanked by all the energy coming in from the north-east rather than the more usual westerly direction. That's another thing which will preclude spraying the new castings until I clear a space.

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.

Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished

 "Vanity is the healthiest thing in life." - Karl Lagerfeld

It has become apparent that one of my readers scans the blog for mentions of herself and if she doesn't find any she seeks revenge by hunting down spelling mistakes. Well she may have found another error, but my own revenge will be to never mention her ever again; possibly.

Today's topic is actually some photographs that I was happily taking earlier before the battery in my new camera suddenly ran out at an inauspicious moment. I'm a bit concerned that my attempt to save money by buying a second hand camera may have proved a mistake; who'd have thought it? Anyway, one photo survives and, although it doesn't show everything I was hoping for, it's still well worth looking at.

I have been basing up a couple of the Early War Miniatures thermoformed shell holes and strongpoints and the picture shows three of them in various stages of production. My use of the coping saw proved to be surprisingly adept, but there was still a problem. It works fine for cutting out single hexes, but doesn't function at all for multi-hex groups, because the depth of the saw frame isn't sufficient; an entirely predictable difficulty. I have resorted to a Stanley knife, which works well and, let's be honest, is what James recommended in the first place. I have also used my hot glue gun to fix plastic to hardboard; this the first time it's seen any action despite having owned it for years. I can report that it works a treat and I have absolutely no idea why I've never tried it before.

Meeting at Night

So, still no za'atar (it's grim up North), but I have managed to score some preserved lemons. Other than that all is well.

The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

                   - Robert Browning