And so to the opera; some Rimsky-Korsakov this time. It's fairy tales for the spring season at Opera North, and what better way to start than with one that no one will be familiar with: the Snow Maiden, apparently an old Russian folk tale. If one ignores the symbolism - which one can't - then the plot bears some resemblances to 'La Vida Breve', and like their recent revival of Falla's one act piece the director has chosen to set it in a garment factory. Apart from reusing the sewing machines I'm not sure what that adds to things. The rest of the design is really impressive though, with a transparent front screen being used to display snowflakes, sunflowers and other devices to move the narrative along including at one point a Keystone Cops style charabanc. Our heroine's death (a) is also nicely handled; one minute she's there, the next minute she's not, her literal corporeal deliquescence following her culminating emotional thaw.
Returning to the symbolism, it is about as opaque as the front-of-stage screen. If one lives in a place that for half the year is bitterly cold and buried under snow then one is going to create myths about the crucial annual cycle by which the winter recedes and life returns. Grandfather Frost long predates the Soviet Union's use of him to replace that arch capitalist lackey Santa Christmas, as presumably does his drink problem. And it is with good reason that Lel, the womaniser representing the sun, prefers the warm, voluptuous and, one must assume, fecund Kupava to the Princess who, though beautiful, will not be able to either stand up to or return his ardour. The snow must be destroyed in order that the soil, suitably aided by the sun, gives forth its harvest.
It's not an opera that I was familiar with - it hasn't until now been performed professionally in the UK during my lifetime - but I must say that I found it all rather lovely.
(a) Apologies for the lack of spoiler alert, but, hey, it's an opera; it can't have been too much of a surprise
And so to the opera. I have been to see Benjamin Britten's 'A Turn of the Screw' performed as a genuine chamber piece, in a studio theatre in front of a few dozen people. The last time I saw it was in full scale opera house with a full set featuring a two story house; here there was a dolls house on a plinth and that was about it. The cramped space, with performers repeatedly moving through the audience, plus the very low level of lighting ideally matched the ghost story theme, as did a couple of well-judged theatrical elements. The children were, of course, sung by adults, but they were also acted by children, the performers moving around in matched pairs. I can't explain why that made it more chilling, but it did. As did the appearance of Peter Quint: who was very thin with bleached blonde hair, his face made up very pale and wearing contact lenses that hid his pupils. Things weren't helped by the fact that he kept jumping out from behind the curtains right next to where I was sitting. The first time was frankly terrifying, but even the subsequent, less surprising, occasions gave me the willies.
As it's an opera I should mention the music and singing, both of which were most impressive. I very much liked the small and intimate scale of it all; somewhat of a contrast to Aida in Verona and proving what a versatile art form it is.
"En politique, une absurdité n'est pas un obstacle." - Napoleon Bonaparte
"All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence and then success is sure." - Mark Twain
"Rudeness is the weak man's imitation of strength." - Eric Hoffer
"There are people in every time and every land who want to stop history in its tracks. They fear the future, mistrust the present and invoke the security of the comfortable past which, in fact, never existed." - Robert F. Kennedy
"When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle."
- Edmund Burke, Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents
"It is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen." - Aristotle
"It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end." - Leonardo da Vinci
We finished refighting Actium last night, or to be more accurate we decided that we didn't want to carry on any further. As I said when I posted about the first night's play I have a nostalgic fondness for a bit of galley action, so it's disappointing to have to report that I didn't really enjoy this game.
On the plus side, I am more convinced than ever that hexes work very effectively for a game that is basically about manoeuvre and contact. A less clear cut question is the use of two hexes per ship rather than one as in the original paper and cardboard version. On balance I think it makes sense - beyond the obvious physical constraints of the size of the models - because not only are ships longer than they are wide, but they also move forwards so during whatever time period is meant to be represented by a turn their path should be harder to cross in a perpendicular manner than it is to avoid them head on.
The command and control also worked reasonably well. I like the random nature of squadron activation including the use of jokers. It may be that further friction could be introduced by adding more tokens to the bag. We didn't really use the double activation option much, so I'll reserve judgement on that.
So what doesn't work? I'm afraid I have a bit of a list:
Visual differentiation between ships: This might just be me, but beyond the obvious fact that some are bigger than others I really can't tell the difference between them let alone which ones have towers and engines and which ones don't. The knock on effect of this is just to make every other aspect of the game - moving, shooting, ramming, raking, boarding - painful to calculate. Funnily enough it's very easy to identify crew quality even though crews aren't modelled at all.
Shooting: There is far too much of it, and it's far too complicated.
Burning: Seems much too easy to set ships on fire and then ships sink very quickly while on fire.
Grappling: This seems very difficult to do, although there was a view that I was just rolling badly. In common with everything else in this game, it's somewhat complicated.
Boarding: Calculation of casualties is more complex than it needs to be. I also don't understand why it isn't possible to split marines between the original ship and the captured ship, especially as one can split the fire of marines on the same ship between different targets, thereby increasing the complexity if that exercise even further.
James has already made some suggested changes with which he intends to finish off the game solo. These are intended above all to simplify shooting and reduce the number of ships sinking because of burning. Personally I'd go for a bucket of dice approach and get rid of all the tables; the game it most resembles on the table is actually X-Wing, and it works there. Interestingly he has also taken the view that a floating ship is more likely to be able to keep a sinking ship afloat than a sunk wreck is to be able to drag down a floating ship. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. Perhaps what is actually needed is a quantum approach, a sort of Schrodinger's galley, whereby one doesn't know whether a fouled ramming ship has sunk until it disengages.
Eyebrows have been raised about my suggestion yesterday that the UK faces a future as a colony. I assume that this is in part because, as it's a wargaming blog, my readers associate colonialism with chaps in red coats and sunhats or blue coats and képis arriving and taking over the country. What I was referring to was instead the economic effects of colonisation whereby the local population is obliged to work for low wages with no rights or political power and all profits are expatriated elsewhere; think Britain as banana republic and you're on the right track.
I would point you to Wallerstein's world-systems theory, which posits that the world tends in the long run to a relatively stable set of relations between core and peripheral states, with both the division of labour and the flow of wealth benefiting those in the core. The UK has, or so it would seem, decided to leave the core and join the periphery; a stupid decision taken by stupid people.
I have been to see the live broadcast of the RSC's latest production of The Tempest. The focus is very much on the magic and on forgiveness, of oneself as much as of others. I
wasn't convinced that any real remorse was being shown by Antonio, but
perhaps that's the point (1). The magic however was paradoxically
realistic. When watching these live broadcasts I am often left with the
impression that the cinema goer gets a better deal than those in the
live audience. On this occasion that probably isn't the case. The
extensive special effects, especially Ariel's motion capture suit, were
par for the course on the big screen, but I suspect would have been
astonishing when seen on the stage.
They didn't make much of the political aspects, such as the play as metaphor for colonialism. Perhaps that's a shame. At the time the play was written England (and it was then England and not Britain) was just setting out on establishing a global Empire. And as of today we seem destined to be colonised in our turn. Perhaps a production of Shakespeare's last solo composition in which Caliban represents the English white working class in all their lumpen, unintelligent monstrosity would be very interesting. Subhuman children of the witch indeed (2). For surely what angers Caliban isn't - as it should be - his oppression, but the fact that he is aware - at least subconsciously - of his inadequacies when compared to others, but feels impotent to address them. Oscar Wilde's observation in the preface to 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' has a validity just as relevant to the this century as to his: “The ... dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing
his own face in a glass.”
(1) "Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven." - Matthew Chapter 18 Verses 21-22
(2) I'm allowed to say this - I am, by origin and upbringing, as white working class as it is possible to be.
I have been to Hebden Bridge Trades Club to see the mighty Tom Russell. The last time I visited the town was way back before the floods, when the big bouncy woman and I took a stroll up to Hardcastle Crags one very pleasant October morning in 2015, coincidentally just a couple of weeks after I previously saw Russell in concert. I had never been to the venue before, and found it to be - and I choose my words carefully - atmospheric. It suffered very badly from water damage, being close to both canal and river, but may or may not have been extensively renovated; it was hard to tell. It also made me wonder whether the governments austerity programme has led to a reduction in inspections by the fire brigade. As for the clientele, they were somewhat of a mixed bunch. For the record I am not referring to Peter who, as a big fan of this type of music and Russell in particular, was there; making a rare interface of wargaming and my other hobbies such as music and...well my other hobbies. My companion for the evening was a bit disconcerted by the person - neither of us could work out whether it was a man or a woman - sitting next to her. When said person got up to have a wander during the interval he/she left behind on the chair, and in plain view, some money, a phone battery and a condom. I'm not sure what enjoyment one could hope to have without taking those three essentials with you, but perhaps that's just me. In any event the audience was obviously very knowledgeable about the man's music,
indeed they appeared to sometimes be shouting out for songs that were so
obscure that even he had never heard of them.
But, despite all that, the gig was great. Russell's between song talking is almost as important as his singing. He told various anecdotes about, for example, Johnny Cash and managed to be entertainingly rude about both Torquay and Tromso, showing the sort of cosmopolitan outlook so often lacking in these dark times. There has been a silver lining for him at least, as he was able to report an sizeable uptick in royalties from his song "Who's Gonna Build Your Wall", written a decade ago, but enjoying a new relevance. It was an almost universally excellent concert. One must perhaps overlook the song about Dylan Thomas that was quite clearly "Streets of London" with different words, and most of those either direct quotes from "Do Go Gentle Into That Good Night" or just the names of pubs in Swansea; even one's heroes occasionally fail to meet our expectations. Once again featuring the marvellous Max di Bernardi on guitar, the set list overlapped that of the last time I saw him - he could surely never get away without singing Tonight We Ride and one or two others - but with an extensive back catalogue and a willingness to cover people's songs - a rather fine Johnny Cash medley this time, Warren Zevon's Carmelita last time - there is plenty of variety. He is apparently returning in November and I hope to see him again then.
As regular readers know it is my custom to go to all the exhibitions at the Henry Moore Institute and then come out and say how bad they are; basically I just don't like modern art. However, credit where credit is due; I should have reported earlier that I have been very much enjoying the magnificent five metre tall gorilla that has been standing outside the building for the last few weeks.
I have now been to see the exhibition of which the beast forms part and and can confirm that virtually all of it is terrible. I must be going soft however because I also quite liked this piece by Nigel Hall, although the photo (taken with the camera which I keep in my manbag for just such occasions) doesn't do it justice (you'll have to take my word for the fact that it appears to float in mid air) and nor can I remember its name.
Going back to King Kong (for it is he, sculpted back in the 1970s by Nicholas Monro), the eighth wonder of the world will be on the Headrow for another month or so; well worth a trip.
By the way, neither of those photos is in black and white, which you can verify by enlarging the first and looking at Kong's eyes; it was just a very grey day in Leeds.
"The public character of every public servant is legitimate subject of discussion, and his fitness or unfitness for office may be fairly canvassed by any person" - Charles Babbage
The distinguished mathematician's views are as valid now as they were well over a century ago. However that's not why we're here. I have been reading the newish set of rules published by Osprey: "The Men Who Would Be Kings". They are by Daniel Mersey, who wrote "Lion Rampant", which I rather liked despite being unable to set up a scenario that works properly. These new rules cover 19th century colonial wars, which are very low down on my list of possible periods to spend time and money on. James claims that he's going to do the Sudan at some point, but I'll be long dead by the time he gets round to it. These rules aren't really the sort of thing that I'd be looking for in any case, and can anyone imagine James putting up with only three troop types?
My real reason for taking a look was because the book contains an artificial intelligence engine allowing them to be played solo; this being given the name Mr Babbage, presumably in honour of the man who first proposed the programmable computer (1). My particular interest in this is in it's applicability to my Roman vs Celts Pony Wars rip off and, sure enough, Mersey acknowledges that what he has done was inspired by Ian Beck's original, but that he has purposefully set out to simplify the process. It certainly looks straightforward enough, although, as before, the big difference from what I want is the centrality of ranged fire. I like the dice driven concept for the introduction of new tribal units anywhere on the table rather than just at the edges or at ambush points. It shouldn't be beyond my imagination to work out a way of integrating that with the other elements activated by cards in the current approach. Indeed, it may be time to get out the Romans in Britain rules and take a look, as I now have three possible areas of revision:
The AI approach from these rules
The melee mechanism from Lion Rampant
Hex based movement
I shall try to free up some time in what is, as you will appreciate, a hectic social life.
(1) I have seen it reported that Babbage wrote a letter to Tennyson complaining that the lines
Every moment dies a man
Every moment one is born
did not reflect the world's growing population and suggesting that they be replaced with the more accurate
Every moment dies a man
And one and a sixteenth is born
This is another of those stories the accuracy of which I have no desire to check.
The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water; the poop was beaten gold,
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that
The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggared all description; she did lie
In her pavilion,--cloth-of-gold of tissue,--
O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature; on each side her
Stood pretty-dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-coloured fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.
- Antony and Cleopatra Act 2 Scene 2
Thus it is that Shakespeare describes Cleopatra's favoured means of water borne transportation. Sadly despite James' renowned modelling skills all he did was take one of his galleys and stick a bit of cardboard on the back saying 'Cleopatra'; rather prosaic I felt. The bard may have been OK at the poetry ["May have?"], but he was as careless of the historical accuracy of his description of the final naval showdown between Octavian and Antony as he was about many battles. However, he was right in his judgement that Antony in becoming a "strumpet's fool" had lost the plot somewhat. It is only fitting therefore that he should be represented in the refight of Actium by moi, a man whose complete lack of spatial awareness accurately reflects - through the medium of the rules - the man's shortcomings as an admiral. Woe, woe and thrice woe.
Having said that, I am - as things stand after one evening's play - winning, entirely due to my success at setting Caesar's ships on fire (1). I have consequently warmed to the rules somewhat. It was noticeable that we had a lot less successful raking than in the previous game and I think this was simply a reversion to the mean. I suspect a similar statistical anomaly in the 'going on fire' situation and am not sure whether a rule change is particularly required. A large ship with a full complement of marines will cause a fire test approximately half the times it shoots, more if it is targeting smaller ships. Of those half will catch fire, and of those that do half will sink. So a large ship will cause a sinking by shooting - with an uncertain time delay - say one in six times. It can fire twice a turn and a game will last five or six turns, during which time smaller ships can easily out manoeuvre it to keep their distance.
I like playing galley actions for nostalgic reasons as much as anything else. In my teens Len the Ink, one of my early wargaming buddies, and I made 2D fleets from black paper and fought actions on the living room floor. Despite knowing little about the historical reality (I still don't) what we did then seems pretty similar to what we're doing now; the big improvement is the use of the hex grid. I'm not sure what prompted our interest then, although watching Ben Hur at Christmas would probably be a good guess. What we knew about Roman history often came from the television:
(1) I have discovered why I don't remember setting so many ships aflame before. Apparently our previous game was a scenario from the Punic Wars, a time in history when the idea that fire was detrimental to wooden galleys had not occurred to anyone.
That's how Gibbon described the entire millennium that the empire of the East lasted between Arcadius and Mehmet. It also describes the state of my Siege of Constantinople game which has rather fallen into desuetude.
As a recap, the game was based on the Ottoman final assault on May 29th 1453, via the approach suggested in the WHAB Siege & Conquest supplement. The scenario features the three successive attacks which the Ottomans launched on the same section of wall, the intention being that the defenders would be so worn down that they would eventually be overwhelmed (1). The problem that I have been encountering is that my chosen rules - To the Strongest! - aren't very good at slow degradation over a period of time. Their two hits and you're dead structure combined with the ability to rally back to full strength don't really fit the bill, which is a shame because everything else can be handled quite nicely within the framework of activations at differing levels of difficulty.
I tried a proxy whereby the first wave - the bashi-bazouks - made the job of subsequent attacker easier, rather than causing casualties to the defenders as such. I got the mechanics to work, but it just didn't gel thematically for me. Much pondering has failed to deliver a solution, so I think I shall pack it all away, set something else up and let the problem simmer in the background of my mind for a while.
(1) This may or may not be what happened on the day. You can take your pick from sally ports left open, artillery breaches in the walls and/or the fanaticism of Hasan the Giant.
More bread related paraphernalia has arrived at the Casa Epictetus, including a set of drug dealer's scales and a bag of ascorbic acid. It feels good to have yet another hobby that demands constant spending at a level which it would be hard to justify to someone else. Speaking of which, I have also just bought the new Strelets set of English longbowmen, for no better reason than...well actually for no real reason at all, except that it's new and I wanted it. In fact I must admit to an intense mental struggle before I ended up only buying one box. Yes it's spend and damn the consequences here, an attitude which was only heightened when I went the other day to see my financial advisor. We agreed a certain course of action and then he said that he couldn't execute it immediately because he was going to the Cayman Islands and would let me know when he got back. I cannot decide whether this comforts or alarms me.
I have been to my first concert of the year, seeing the Ale Marys, who played the same set that they did when I'd seen them three weeks earlier, and which was just as enjoyable second time around. As we left I asked my companion for the evening - a different lady to the previous occasion - for her thoughts and she replied "I thought they were very good. I might bring the dog next time.", a statement that raised so many questions that I was lost for words until it was too late to reply at all.
I have also been to the cinema to see Vertigo, Hitchcock's masterpiece, which stars James Stewart, always watchable, and Kim Novak, after whom a company that I worked for once named a computer in their data centre. (Do people give their computers names any more?) It seems redundant of me to say that it is rather good - it was voted the best film of all time by Sight and Sound magazine - but I'm very glad to have seen it on the big screen. As everybody from Hitchcock onwards has observed, either Stewart is too old or Novak (and also Barbara Bel Geddes, appearing here as supposedly the contemporary of a man fourteen years her senior two decades before as Miss Ellie she was cast as the mother of a man only nine years her junior) is too young, but that's Hollywood for you. The film is set in San Francisco and all the famous sites appear: the Golden Gate bridge, Lombard Street, Fisherman's Wharf, the bit of road near the cathedral where I fell off the Segway - they're all here.
A little over a year ago we tried out Richard H. Berg's 'War Galley' rules; details of our lack of success can be found here and here. Osprey have recently published a set of ancient naval rules and James has managed to blag a copy. The obvious thing therefore was to get the galleys out and, well, have another crack at 'War Galley'. Last night was a bit of a much needed refresher in the rules and a chance to learn the inevitable changes that James had introduced. These fell into two main categories: command and control, where he had opted for a sort of Two Fat Lardies lite squadron activation process; and fatigue, which has been simplified enormously.
A chap with a beard is simply fatigued
It went smoothly enough - if you allow for the fact that we kept getting the rules wrong - and we shall hopefully have a more polished proper game next week. It's a bloody affair with ships sinking very easily. There was also far more going on fire than I remember from before.
Should have rolled a 1,2 or 3
I can't say that I've changed my opinion much. I think that hexes - or at least grids - are ideal for galleys; I think that these particular rules are rather complicated with their many different categories of movement restriction - fatigued, half-speed, raked, crippled and so on; and I think too much rides on the luck of getting first strike when within ramming distance. So, it's a completely open-minded approach from me then.
Omar Khayyam (a) of course. Not the chap who liked the product so much that he bought the company, although I do hope they are related. I can't help thinking that Victor has appeared in this blog previously, so apologies for any repetition. The product that I currently like very much is the breadmaker. Obviously it is immensely inconvenient to use, costs far more than going to the excellent artisan baker five minutes from my house, and has required the acquisition of lots of additional equipment - flour storage, milk thermometer etc - but the bread is really good. I am slightly disappointed that the best results so far have come from ready prepared mixes rather than from my own efforts, but perhaps that's why Waitrose is the spiritual home of the breadmaker owner.
Last night, following the purchase of yet more expensive ingredients, I set it up so as to have freshly baked bread available first thing this morning; the smell was as every bit as good as you would expect. There has been one other bonus out of all this. Coral Laroc - a name not mentioned here for a couple of years, but still very much around - has gone on a juice fast as a new year detox regime (b) and is permanently hungry. What better entertainment then but to make sure that by email and text she is kept fully informed of just how good my bread (and cakes and biscuits and indeed the sweet potato, chilli and spring onion rosti that I made on Monday) are and how wonderful they taste.
(a) When racking my brains for a quote with which to introduce a post about bread I did briefly consider W. B. Yeast, but nothing relevant sprang to mind.
(b) One reason for not mentioning her very often is that if I posted every time she went on a faddy diet there would be no room for anything else.
Last year I played 133 boardgames a total of 250 times, a number obviously restricted by my illness. Before looking it up on Boardgamegeek I would have guessed that my most played game was Codenames, but it was actually Red7; both excellent fillers of course. The question of whether it would be better to play fewer games more times each is valid in philosophical terms, but in practical terms is moot. The people I play with are - how can I put this? - obsessive, but the thing they seem most obsessive about is buying games, and therefore the cult of the new rules OK. I have largely given up buying games myself; it just seems redundant. In fact the only game that I bought all year was Colt Express, chosen because I thought it would appeal to the younger Miss Epictetus' boyfriend; a hypothesis so far untested.
Abluxxen: It's always fun to watch the sheer bafflement on the faces of those playing for the first time as they struggle to work out a strategy.
Avenue: A bit like Karuba with pen and paper and a neat scoring twist. It's OK.
Glory to Rome: This is very similar to Mottainai, but with a theme vaguely- very vaguely - related to the rebuilding of Rome after Nero's fire rather than that of making souvenirs in a Buddhist monastery. I'm not sure which one makes less sense.
Honshu: Nice trick-taking/auction/map building card game. It doesn't play to my strengths, but I like it.
Isle of Skye: Another map building game with auction elements and a touch of set collection. Once again I'm always happy to play this.
Kingdomino: Funnily enough this is a game about building maps with a competitive resource selection element. I've only played it once so reserve judgement. The endgame creeps up on you and if you are not careful leaves with few, or even no, options.
The Manhattan Project: I enjoy this game, not least because it always gives me a chance to trot out my weapons of mass destruction anecdotes for those who have never heard them, or even for those who have heard them several times. It is, however, broken as a game. A uranium only strategy coupled with ignoring the bomber/fighter stuff will always win.
The Manhattan Project: Chain Reaction: This is the card version of the above game. I thought it worked very well, stripping out the bits that don't - to me - add a great deal of interest, such as the attack and defence elements. I thought that as a card re-implementation it worked far better than Power Grid.
Rococco: The hybrid dressmaking/fireworks/interior deign theme may be odd - OK, it is odd - but the mechanics make for a rather good game.
Terraforming Mars: This is a game about which there has been a huge amount of buzz; so much so that even I had heard it. I played it because one of the Yanks from the not-so-secret spy base just up the road - we regularly get visitors from there and as they are all cryptographers and the like they win a lot of games - was very keen to try it out. In the event I couldn't see what all the fuss was about. It wasn't bad, but went on far too long.
your life is your life
don't let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can't beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
At the beginning of the year I thought I'd be clever and keep track of things that happened in a draft blog posting, thus making the inevitable - assuming that the Lord spared me - year end review much easier. Obviously it was too clever for me, because at least twice I accidentally published the draft post before hurriedly taking it back down again. Anyway, for those of you who haven't seen it as we've gone along, here are the highlights of the year:
Opera: I've seen fifteen operas this year, which is possibly some kind of record for me. I'm going to nominate the one that wasn't really an opera as my favourite, namely 'Into the Woods'; it's my list and I shall do what I want. If one wants to be difficult and exclude it then I would go for 'Aida' in the amphitheatre at Verona; quite spectacular. The least effective moment for me was the title character's backside being flaunted in 'Suor Angelica; quite ridiculous.
Theatre:
I've seen twenty seven plays, the best being the revival of 'An Inspector Calls', followed by the charming 'Simply Ballroom' and the RSC's 'A Midsummer Nights Dream'. Worst by some way was the execrable science fiction dramatisation of 'Villette'
Film of the year: I've seen ten of these, which is certainly a step up in number on previous years and, apart from the very average 'A Streetcat Named Bob' they were all excellent. I'm going to plump for Tarantino's 'The Hateful Eight' as the best with honourable mentions for Alan Bennett's 'The Lady in the Van' and Jane Austen's 'Love & Friendship'.
Gig
of the Year : I've lost count of the gigs that I've been to, and can only say with any certainty that it's more than thirty five. Van Morrison was the best with a shout out for the Jon Palmer Acoustic Band supported by Yan Tan Tether (the night they recorded their live album not the night they sang all the Christmas songs) and also the Jar
Family. On a less happy note, for the second year in succession I had a ticket
to see Graham Parker and didn't make it.
Book of the Year: The least surprising category of the lot. If you hadn't worked out that it was going to be Heretic Dawn, the third volume of Robert Merle's Fortunes of France series, then you haven't been paying attention.
Walk of the Year: As the big bouncy woman and I didn't get to walk anywhere this year - and how sad is that? - I'm going for a visit to Buckden, Cray and Hubberholme that the elder Miss Epictetus and I made shortly before the onset of adult life proper took her away from me. A Ramblers walk to Crummockdale also sticks in the memory.
Event
of the Year: There were many candidates, quite a few revolving around ambulance trips to A&E; the first CT scan that I had was a very odd experience as well. The great base fire deserves a mention as does the time that the kettle exploded; nothing much resulted on either occasion, but they were very disconcerting. The training day before May half term was a real highlight, not least because the rest of the year was crammed with things getting in the way. However, I'm going to choose my 60th birthday when my daughters took me to Whitby for the day, and didn't we have a lovely time.
And so that was Christmas. The Misses Epictetus bought me a breadmaker. Had I been asked which kitchen device I wanted I would have gone for a deep fat fryer. Fortunately perhaps, my daughters have more concern for the health of their aged parent than he does himself.
I had no bread flour or yeast to hand so I had to have a go with stuff from the cupboard. I made a sort of sweet, oaty brioche which was very pleasant with hummus for lunch. Tomorrow we start in earnest.
A couple of years ago I made reference to Kevin Ayers 'Shouting in a Bucket Blues', spelling his name wrong in the process. It's about time I posted a link.
“I am fundamentally an optimist. Whether that comes from nature or
nurture, I cannot say. Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head
pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward. There were many dark
moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and
could not give myself up to despair. That way lays defeat and death.”
"Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me without hurrying."
- Jean Cocteau
And so to the cinema. I have been to see "Le Tout Nouveau Testament", a surreal and inventive riff on the question of why, if there is a God, there are so many bad things in the world. In this film it's because the almighty is a misanthropic bully who lives in Brussels and spends his days inventing universal rules that make the life of mankind less than optimal. The one that struck the biggest chord with me was number 1522, but they were all recognisable to the audience. His daughter, with a bit of assistance from her brother (you know the chap - it's his birthday soon), rebels and tells everyone the date of their death. Hilarity ensues. No actually it does; the film is very funny.
It's a constantly creative delight featuring Catherine Deneuve, a gorilla, Munchausen syndrome by proxy, a murmuration of starlings and a whole lot of washing machines amongst many other oddities. One character, upon discovering exactly how long he has left alive, decides to spend it making a model of the Titanic out of matchsticks; an idea that is possibly a bit close to home for some of us. The film provokes thought rather than directing in which direction those thoughts should go and I don't think it's disrespectful to religious beliefs. The question of why God lets bad things happen has been asked before; believers must surely have their answer ready by now. It's a sweet and very moral film - for those of us who don't find sex immoral - and, if you don't find it entertaining then I wouldn't bother going to the cinema ever again if I was you.
It also feeds my love of synchronicity by in large part being about whether one would live one's life the same way if one knew how it would develop, the same theme as Arrival, which in other ways could not be a more different film. There is a minor plot point revolving around Proust's 'À la recherche du temps perdu' - a reference to which appeared here less than a fortnight ago - but this time mixed in with a splash of Officer Crabtree. Oh, and don't leave before the end of the credits.
Law 1522: If one day you fall in love with a woman there's a great chance you will not spend your life with her.
When I first started this blog I was intending to write from the perspective of a wargamer who never actually played any games. A lot has happened since then and yesterday I found myself playing two games in different locations on the same day. There's only one sensible response to that, and I shall say it before anyone else does: get a life, sunshine, get a life.
Anyway, before I run off to join the circus, let me record details of what happened. James and I repeated the raid scenario, but in the end decided against using Maurice as on closer inspection it didn't really seem to suit. Instead we used the very simple rules that had been used when James played the scenario with the League of Gentlemen Wargamers (a). These proved to be quite acceptable and served the purpose very well. I actually rather liked the combined combat/morale mechanism which meant that units could be steadily pushed back; it's just a shame that it was mine that were continually suffering this fate. Sadly however, having got a set of rules that worked for the level of game, the scenario stopped working. Given automatic unit activation, an impassable river, the distances from entry points to villages and the timing of the Prussian reinforcements arrival, the Russians could never have achieved their objective. More tweaking required.
Speaking of which, I have reset the Siege of Constantinople game and will be starting again. Having had belated recourse to the higher mathematics I realise that as originally set up it had no chance of following the historical narrative arc. What is meant to happen is that the role of the first wave is to make things easier for the second wave by filling in some sections of the moat, the second wave makes an assault on the walls and by causing casualties among the defenders enables the final success of the Janissaries. Obviously the game should allow for 'military possibilities', as I understand we should refer to them, on either side of that timeline, but there has to be a strong possibility that what happened happens. However when devising the initial forces I had overlooked how hard it was to inflict casualties by shooting; the Azabs looked as if they were not just going to fill in the entire moat, but go on to scale the walls and capture the city themselves. I must confess to having also been a bit disappointed that the Great Gun of Orban had exploded without firing a shot.
So rather than change the rules I have given the Byzantines an extra unit of Genoese crossbowmen and reduced the first wave to one hit units. To win the Byzantines will have to destroy four one hit units in the first attack and three two stand units in each of the following two attacks. It sounds straightforward, but the attackers will (mostly) get first blow in melee and the Janissaries are very highly rated. And who knows what the Great Gun will achieve? Not Orban, judging by the first run through. James made a number of other suggestions and I shall try them out. The key to the scenario - as in the raid one above - lies I think in getting the balance right; the overall concept is sound enough.
A further word about the Lazer Bond adhesive. I'm still happy with it (apart from the price), but have discovered a bit more about using it in practice. It seems very sensitive to mould release agent on figures, so they need to be thoroughly washed. It is also possible to release it by applying heat; this has both good and bad implications of course. And last, but not least, to use it properly one needs three hands: one each to hold the parts being stuck together and one to hold the UV light. I haven't quite overcome this particular issue yet.
There has been some muttering in the background, asking for evidence that Janissaries used crossbows. Well I certainly don't have any. What I do have is practical experience that converting muskets to crossbows is easier than replacing them with conventional bows. A conclusive argument if ever I heard one.
(a) As the first step in my commitment to getting a life I feel obliged to make an obscure point about something which is none of my business and in which no one else is interested. On his blog and elsewhere James uses 'Gentlemen' and 'Gentleman' seemingly indiscriminately. Barry Hilton always uses the former. Surely only the latter is grammatically correct. 'Gentleman' is here being used as a noun adjunct qualifying the word 'Wargamers' rather than as a noun in itself and, as such, should be singular, the English language having no concept of agreement between adjective and noun.
An hour or so of spare time saw the Bashi Bazouks begin their attack.
After the first turn they had reached the moat, but not managed to fill any of it in yet. I have made some changes since the game was originally set up. Both the moat and the wall are now in small squares which can only hold one unit. The use of movable markers to demarcate the grid allows this sort of flexibility.
Good news for the defenders as the Great Gun of Orban blows up on its first attempt to fire, in a straightforward example of the things one takes a long time over modelling and painting being completely useless on the table. Orban also fails his saving throw and dies, which may be an appropriate comeuppance for being a mercenary, but is not going to be a very thorough test of the rules for breaching the walls.
At the end of the third turn the attacking infantry have begun to have success in filling the moat. The defenders suddenly find themselves possessed of an extra unit of Genoese crossbowmen, no doubt rushing from elsewhere in the city in response to the assault; otherwise it looks like they'll never drive off the pesky Azabs. Missile fire is not particularly effective in TtS!. I'll decide later whether they need to lose a unit of Byzantine melee troops to compensate.
Not to mention N-Dimethylacrylamide, tetrahydrofurfuryl acrylate and a bunch of other similarly named substances (a). I mentioned a couple of years ago here that I couldn't use superglue properly and received a number of sympathetic comments. ["I note," interjects the Rhetorical Pedant "that those comments were from pretty much the same few people who still read and comment on your blog now. Isn't that just a little bit sad for absolutely everybody concerned?"] Anyway, things haven't improved. I am using regular polystyrene cement a lot because the plastic being used by most figure manufacturers these days seems to take it OK. But when trying, for example, to bond plastic to metal the superglue comes out and things still go wrong.
Yesterday, setting up the game in the annexe, it struck me that I could perhaps do with another unit of Janissaries. I have plenty in stock (believe me I have plenty of most things in stock) and so sorted out sixteen to paint. Now the problem is that the figures available in plastic (on this occasion I am going to use these) are for a somewhat later period than I am doing. The uniform is the same, but many of them have firearms and so need converting in some way. I originally went for a 'simple' change, turning muskets into crossbows, but the results were, frankly, terrible. I'll still use them obvs, but there certainly won't be any photos of them on here. Subsequently I have decided to just cut the guns off and add pikes made from florists wire, but that, of course, requires superglue.
Or at least it did. I have, again as you already know, been ill. When I was at my poorliest I could do not much more than sit on the settee and watch television all day, thus being bombarded with adverts for lots and lots of stuff that I only vaguely knew existed before. Now I am never going to buy any sort of exercise machinery, I don't yet require a stairlift or shoes that fasten with velcro (they do look comfortable though) and, as an accountant, I'm not going to touch a funeral insurance plan with a bargepole, regardless of how many pens Michael Parkinson gives me. But I was rather taken with Lazer Bond (don't worry about the spelling - no lasers are involved), the plastic adhesive that only sets when you shine a UV light on it. And so, faced with sticking pikes onto Janissaries I have splashed out and bought some.
At this point you are no doubt waiting for me to say that I have managed to make a mess of that as well. But no. It works a treat. It's clean, simple, and quick. It's a bit like me in fact, except perhaps for the quick bit. Really, it's fine. What it isn't, is cheap. I paid £9.99 for 4 ml. Of course I have no idea how long it will last, or how many little plastic chaps it will stick together, so it may be even worse value for money than that suggests. If I had to guess the order of magnitude, based on remarkably little evidence, I would go for 100 rather than 1,000. But it works. Just maybe one of those exercise machines really would give me a six-pack without any effort on my part.
(a) How do I know this? I read a book: 'All About Glue'. I couldn't put it down.
My plans for the couple of weeks or so - the school holidays in effect - are up in the air for a variety of reasons, so I thought I would set up a solo game in the annexe which I could dip in and out of as time allowed. Something compact and small scale would seem to be in order and therefore I have chosen to have a go at the Siege of Constantinople, which I have promised myself for many years that I wouldn't do. As a digression, does anyone else remember that one of Donald Featherstone's books contained photos of a chap who was refighting Stalingrad at 1:1. Even as a naive and credulous youth I regarded that as a bit of a stretch.
My scenario is loosely based on that in the Siege & Conquest supplement for Warhammer Historical. I've only used one row of walls for no better reason than I've only got enough walls to make one row. My Hexon terrain does however allow for a fairly decent looking 3D moat to be laid out.
The scenario deals with the final assault in the area around the Gate of Saint Romanus. Sadly there is no place for many of my siege related toys such as the Ram, the Tower, the Pick and of course, the Crow. However, I couldn't resist finding room for the Boiling Oil.
The Great Gun of Orban naturally features for the attackers.
I'm going to play it using To the Strongest! and you can see the grid laid out using the markers which I use for the purpose. Piquet would normally be my ruleset of choice for solo games, but it's such a faff to prepare the cards decks for the first time, and I just wanted to get on with it and take my mind off things. I do own a copy of Warhammer Ancient Battles, but have never been tempted by them.
The attack will take place in three waves: Bashi Bazouks, Christian allies and finally the Janissaries. Each will continue until they reach the command becomes demoralised (is that the term?) at which point they will be removed to be replaced by the next. I have some ideas regarding crossing/filling the moat, escalade, the role of the Emperor, and not forgetting Hasan the Giant of Ulabad; but the advantage of playing solo is that one can change the rules as one goes along. Oh, hang a trout, that's what we do anyway.
And so to the theatre. It is obvious from the comments on my previous post that my readers are a bunch of philistines. Having said that, General Fwa's desire for one of the Trammps' stage suits is understandable, indeed commendable. The subject of dressing up for wargaming has been discussed here before, but going the full disco would be a significant and brave departure. It would, I suggest, work best in multiplayer games where moves, dice rolls etc would be made simultaneously in a choreographed routine by all those on one side of the table, involving a mix of twirls, shuffling feet and syncopated handclaps. This is gold; I haven't been so excited by an idea since the time it was suggested that all competition wargamers wore mankinis.
The relevance of the newly revealed philistinism of you, dear readers, is that I shan't be able to ask you to explain the meaning of Pinter's 'No Man's Land', which I went to see last night. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but must admit that I have bugger all idea what it was about. Memory perhaps? Aging? Marital infidelity? My accompanist for the evening suggested it was about the inscrutability of women, but I suspect that she was merely trying to appear deep and meaningful herself, and in any case there aren't any women in it. Instead, there are four male actors and the words Hampstead Heath and cottage appear a lot, so I'm going to stick my neck out and say there's a gay subtext that I didn't understand any more than I did the rest of it.
I saw the live broadcast of the production that has been touring the UK before ending up at Wyndham's Theatre on Charing Cross Road, and which features both Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Patrick Stewart. The brief recorded interview with the two shows Picard to be somewhat more of a luvvy than Gandalf, which accords with the views of my ex-wife ( who seems to have suddenly started making a lot of appearances in this blog for no particular reason) who got boomed at by him at a reception when he was Chancellor of the University of Huddersfield. As actors however, I'd give McKellen the edge. One lengthy monologue by Stewart in the second act was completely upstaged by the silent MacKellen simply sitting and reacting; an episode that I think proved again the benefit of watching the cinema version, with its cutting between closeups of actors. Kudos must also go to Owen Teale who made the line "We're out of bread" so full of menace that I was unnerved despite being 200 miles or so away.
(Burn baby burn) Disco Inferno
(Burn baby burn) Burn that mother down
(Burn baby burn) Disco Inferno
(Burn baby burn) Burn that mother down
My ex-wife honestly thought that 'Disco Inferno' by The Trammps was a better track than 'Shame' by Evelyn 'Champagne' King, in what must surely have been her worst error of judgement apart from marrying me. That, on reflection, has nothing much to do with today's subject which is the conclusion of the latest game in the legendary wargames room.
There was a consensus that the morale aspect wasn't working so we switched to the rules obtaining in classic Piquet. One clear purpose of those is the completion of games in a reasonable time frame and that was achieved; we finished things off in a couple of hours. I, as the Prussians, went on to the offensive, looked at one point as if I was going to reduce the Russian forces by sufficient to make the target out of their reach, but then lost a couple of crucial combats, ran out of morale and that was that. Although only three villages had been pillaged and burned by that point, there was nothing much left to defend the others.
I enjoyed the scenario. Inasmuch as I have any changes to propose they would mainly be around the artillery. Perhaps the Russians should have two small units rather than one large making them more expensive to move and use and less effective when they fire. As for the Prussian artillery, something needs to be done to give them a purpose. I like the variability of where the defending forces start and where the reinforcements arrive, and it will certainly make the thing replayable. On the other hand the set up that we ended up with from the turn of the cards and the roll of the dice was possibly among the least interesting of the possible combinations. And, as I put in my previous post, I was too much influenced by James' tale of woe about when he had played it before and should have been more proactive early on.
However, the big issue was the rules. The SYW version of Piquet developed by James and Peter is really for large set piece battles; indeed the driver behind the changes they made is precisely that the original game is for a dozen units a side fought over one evening. But with only five or six units and no real division into commands neither version work well. I've mentioned morale, but there are other considerations. Big swings in initiative (and at one point we went from 20-6 directly to
5-18) have a much magnified effect when one is only seeking to move or
fire a couple of units and make the game more arbitrary than seems
comfortable to me. And then there are the opportunity fire rules. I can't decide whether the recentish change to a straight ahead fire zone had ameliorated or worsened the strong advantage that defenders get from opportunity fire, but at least in a large game the attackers can concentrate their strength at one point. In this low level sort of game - which, as I have said previously, I enjoy - one is using manouevre, deployements and fire zones intended for long lines of troops, but with isolated units swanning about on their own.
As a result of all that we had a bit of a cast about for suitable other rules that we owned and which might work better; in the end we came up with Maurice. I bought these as part of the abandoned War of the Spanish Succession project and rather liked the look of them at the time. In any event we thought we'd give them a go on the same scenario next week and see what we think.
Which just leaves room for these two, so that you can make your own minds up:
Everyone is naturally entitled to their own opinion, but if you don't think the second one is better then you're a cloth eared numptie.
Every December in the UK one is obliged by law to listen to the music of Slade for a minimum period each day. To enable readers to hit their quota, here is Noddy Holder performing an acoustic version of 'Coz I Luv You':
The original of this was released before the big bouncy woman was even born.
"Time is a circus, always packing up and moving away." - Ben Hecht
I have been pottering along here at the Casa Epictetus doing nothing very much. I am not retired and yet I don't work. I am in what Dorothy L. Sayers referred to as 'that time of life when a man can extract an Epicurean enjoyment even
from his own passions - the halcyon period between the self-tormenting
exuberance of youth and the fretful carpe diem of approaching senility'.
There has been a low level of wargame related activity. I have established that with a couple more trench sections - junctions specifically - I can play the second scenario from the Stout Hearts book. I have come to two conclusions: that I can't be arsed to build them myself and that the first game was successful enough to warrant the investment of a few quid more, and therefore I shall place an order for said trench sections to be collected at Vapnartak. On the painting front I have completed more casualty markers for To The Strongest and quite a few light infantry and Commander/Hero figures for the Ancient Britons that I don't actually need. I also did a couple of the druids from the Hat Gallic Command pack which inevitably led me to consider whether it was time to revisit the Pony Wars rip off rules and convert them to hexes. I don't currently have enough Hexon hills to put on a game, but I don't think they are going to find their way into this order.
On the music front I've watched quite a few local bands in pubs ranging from the blues of the ever reliable Dr Bob & the Bluesmakers, the excellent soul covers of the Solicitors, the poppy folk originals of the Ale Marys and the zydeco of Bayou Gumbo. The last of those seemed to rather misjudge their audience. The lead singer introduced one song with a joke that made perfect sense if you were familiar with 'À la recherche du temps perdu'. The Frenchness so eagerly embraced by Otley in the days of la Tour de France has obviously dissipated, and the Tuesday night crowd in la Jonction had clearly not got round to reading their copy of Proust's masterpiece quite yet. Speaking of reading, I have been doing quite a bit. I have just started on Jonathan Sumption's history of the Hundred Year's War. It's a big book (and that's just the first volume) and so it's left at home rather than being taken about with me. That's probably for the best because of course he is one of the members of the Supreme Court hearing the appeal about triggering Article 50, and presumably when the judgement goes against the government even the sight of his name on a book cover will be sufficient to provoke anger in the streets. When I do venture out I rely on my kindle. Recently I have read Priestley's 'Bright Day' (which, given my love of coincidence, I was pleased to see includes a trip to a thinly disguised Malham) and McBain's 'King's Ransom'. The latter has found a place on the - very short - list that I keep of books where part of the plot turns on a cost accountancy issue. I accept that this is perhaps a niche interest, but it appeals to me. Should you wish to read them, the others in this limited category are 'The Rise of Silas Lapham' by William Dean Howells and 'Angel Pavement' by, coincidentally again, J.B. Priestley. I omit Eli Goldratt's 'The Goal' and Roger Jones' 'The Carpetmakers' for reasons which I'm sure will require no further explanation.
And finally I was sorry to hear of the death of former cabinet minister Jim Prior. As I think I have mentioned before he was the only Tory MP or former MP that I have ever met. I had dinner with him twenty years ago in Abu Dhabi while we were both selling weapons of mass destruction to Johnny Foreigner. He was very, very drunk. We discussed a number of relatively trivial things including the recent giant killing exploits of Brentford (my team) over Norwich (his team) in the 3rd round of the FA Cup, but I can remember that we also touched on one of the big political issues of the day - the proposed third runway at Heathrow; plus ça change.
"Real love is the kind that sometimes arises after sensual pleasure; if it does it is immortal; the other kind inevitably goes stale, for it lies in mere fantasy."
"Pillage, rape, and loot and burn, but all in moderation.
If you do the things we say then you'll soon rule the nation.
Kill your friends and enemies, and then kill your relations.
Pillage, rape, and loot and burn, but all in moderation."
- to be sung to the tune of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
According to the interweb to loot means to steal, especially in time of war, whereas to pillage means to loot, especially in times of war. The war James chose for the pillaging and looting in his game this week was the Seven Years War, but sadly it could have been any of them.
I do like a small scale game; we played a very interesting game set around bridge demolition - also in the eighteenth century - a while ago and also a couple of fifteenth century games using Lion Rampant. These latter suffered a bit because lack of familiarity with the rules adversely affected the translation to the table. No such problem here: James makes the rules up as he goes along anyway, and the scenario was designed by one of the Charles Grants; I couldn't offhand tell you which one. I'm not entirely sure that the Prussian artillery are much use, but otherwise it all seems to work to me.
I am playing the Prussian defenders - we are half way through - and may have been overly influenced by James' description of how, when playing the same role, he ended up with no forces at all for several turns. I adopted a rather cautious strategy until my reinforcements turned up. However they are here now and so the Prussians will be need to be on the offensive a bit more next week. I wasn't helped by being short on initiative early on, but I did get the luck of the cards when a Heroic Cavalry Move allowed me to charge and see off the Russian's only line cavalry unit.
That's the only routed unit so far, which brings me to my main point. The rules could probably do with some adjustments to allow for the smaller scale of the action. The standard Major Morale test doesn't make any sense at all. Peter failed when he rolled a one on a D20 - such a common occurrence for him that no one even batted an eyelid - but James' explanation of what that meant in the circumstances didn't seem to convince even him, let alone Peter or me. My other suggestions ["Hang on," interjects the Rhetorical Pedant "you haven't made a suggestion in the first place."] are allowing an automatic rally attempt on an Officer Check regardless of where the officer is and allowing wider options on move cards. I'd be happy to expand on my logic, but most people don't know the rules we play and James never reads my blog anyway.
I have been to see 'Strictly Ballroom', the stage adaptation of Baz Luhrmann's charming 1992 film of the same name, and very entertaining it was too. It is camper than a row of tents, but then I think we'd all be disappointed if it wasn't. Luhrmann (1) participated in the development of the musical and much of the dialogue is repeated word for word. It's about half an hour longer than the film; the difference being made up of more dancing and, it seemed to me, a greater prominence given to Fran's Spanish background. The show is stolen by Fernando Mira as Fran's father demonstrating how to dance the Paso Doble; now that is dancing.
Reviews in the media have been somewhat lukewarm, but the audience - including me - lapped it up and, given that this is self-evidently an out-of-town trial, I would expect this to be in the West End in due course. The new songs are never going to become classics, but those from the soundtrack to the film are sensibly retained. It's hokum, but it's great fun.
(1) Luhrmann is credited by the West Yorkshire Playhouse as the creator (sic) of this and Moulin Rouge, which seems fair enough, and also of Romeo and Juliet and The Great Gatsby, which doesn't.
"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." - Charles Dickens
Or, to be more precise, it isn't Christmas yet. It is a well known phenomenon that the onset of the Christmas season gets earlier each year. In Otley it starts with firstly the turning on of the lights which was last week - I didn't go - and then with the annual Victorian Fayre, as the Victorians almost certainly didn't spell it. I mentioned last year that I normally choose that staple of the nineteenth century working class festive fare, the samosa. However, and shockingly, there weren't any this year. I therefore opted for a potato and coriander pattie from the vegan street food stall followed by a Malaysian chicken wrap. We do things in the old fashioned way here in the West Riding. There was also once again no reindeer, but there were owls and donkeys, which had to suffice.
This year the big day was preceded by a Victorian Folk Extravaganza the night before. The performers, though thankfully not the audience, entered into the spirit of the event by dressing up. They mostly went for Thomas Hardy type costumes, appearing to have wandered in from either the set of 'Far From The Madding Crowd' or from a Ronnie Lane's Slim Chance gig according to one's perspective. The always excellent Yan Tan Tether looked like a themed version of the old 'I know my place' sketch that featured John Cleese and the Two Ronnies. Yan was a mob capped indoor servant, Tan was a lady from the gentry and Tether had come as Alfred P. Doolittle. Helen McCreary, who joined the Jon Palmer Acoustic band on 'Meet On The Ledge', was dressed as if she was on her way to cheerleading practice, but she's an American, and maybe things were different over there at the time. But the main honours must go to Jon Palmer himself who gone part Dickens and part Tenniel. He sported a long tailed jacket and a truly magnificent hat. Upon spotting his headgear I reached purposefully into the man bag to fetch out the camera which, as recently advised, now accompanies me everywhere. Unfortunately the battery was flat so I had to pinch the pictures above and below from Twitter.
Musically it was very good, although I could have done with fewer seasonal songs; in fact none at all would have been fine by me. Jon Palmer was as good as ever (the new drummer must be at least fifty years older than the previous one) and I could listen to the unaccompanied singing of Yan Tan Tether for hours, especially as they once again did the Jake Thackray song after which they are not named. New to me was Bella Gaffney, whom I also very much enjoyed. She has a soulful voice for a folk singer, a versatile guitar technique (I was reminded of Catfish Keith himself; there is no finer praise), her between song banter is most entertaining and, according to others who pay more attention to these things than me, is rather easy on the eye.
I actually made it to Recon in Pudsey this year. I used to go regularly in the days when I did no wargaming, but for some reason the minute I actually got back into the groove I couldn't get my act together to drive less than thirty minutes. It was every bit as pleasant as I remembered and I did my bit to support the hobby by spending a magnificent £1.25 with the traders. I bumped into a couple of people that I know, whom I invited yet again to come round and take a look at the wargaming annexe. Maybe they will, but I'm not holding my breath. I was rather pleased to finally see one of them in his re-enactment finery about which I had heard so much. Sadly, I had no camera to record this. I put it to him that to the causal observer he didn't look terribly physically comfortable. He assured me that he was fine, but did so in a fairly unconvincing manner. He also explained that although he was an officer, he was the sort who wasn't in command of anyone and didn't give any orders; I've had jobs like that myself.
Coming back to the camera issue, I have bought a new one. You may recall that early in my newly single life I bought an excellent camera cheaply in a pawn shop, and then promptly lost it while over-excited by the young farmers ladies tug-of-war at last year's Otley Show. I then bought another from a similar source even more cheaply. This proved to be a disappointment and during the recent festival of online conspicuous consumer consumption I bought a better one at, I think, a reasonable price. Recent photos to appear here have been taken with it and, although I haven't by any means mastered it yet, I am happy enough with the results. The camera being replaced does have one big advantage though, in that it is very light. Given the loss to posterity of my not being able to show the 21eme Régiment d'Infanterie de Ligne's least dashing officer on this blog, the old camera has now been placed permanently in the man bag.
There isn't much about my wargaming where I have the edge over James, but I'm going to claim a minor victory in terms of speed of project from inception to table. It's only taken ten months or thereabouts since I ordered the figures and there was a Great War game this week.
I umpired and rather enjoyed it all. Richard Clarke states in his introduction to the scenario supplement 'Stout Hearts and Iron Troopers' that the first six scenarios are intended to enable players to both learn the rules and the appropriate tactics. The one we played - the very first - is predicated on the British attacking with full vigour when, or so it seemed to us, their best bet is to sit off and used the Lewis gun and rifle grenadiers to blat the Boche from a distance.
For the record the game ended in a British victory when the German HMG team ran away, having jammed a ridiculous number of times. I think we picked up the mechanics reasonably well, although as one would expect there was confusion and debate about some specifics. The Lardies Yahoo group is a good resource for sorting out these things. As I've said before about other rulesets, I think perhaps the Ilkley Lads house style is a tad gung-ho; for some reason we have a group aversion to voluntarily pausing for breath during a game.
The MG08 is off
I think we'll give it another go. There was a consensus that it's best left until we've just about forgotten how to play it and so that is what we'll do. I have enough forces for the second scenario - they're only marginally bigger than the first - but need to work out how to layout the trench system. Looking ahead after that, I am unlikely to put on the third scenario, which requires half a dozen houses that I don't have, or scenario four, which uses tanks that I don't have either. What I shall do, once the Celtic slingers are finished of course, is start to paint up the forces for scenario five, in which the Germans are the attackers for a change.
