"Room service? Send up a larger room."

So said Groucho Marx. But then he hadn't seen the Wargaming Annexe, which has been formally handed over today in a suitably celebratory ceremony whose main feature was the passing across of large amounts of cash the other way. A full review will follow, but in the meantime here is a taster.

A Brave and Startling Truth

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

 - Maya Angelou

Many a true word

Two guys were discussing popular trends in sex, marriage, and family values.

Bill said, 'I didn't sleep with my wife before we got married, did you?'

Mike replied, 'I'm not sure, what was her maiden name?' 

Pot27pouri

So, you all want to know, what has happened to the wargaming annexe? [N.B. most definitely not a rhetorical question] Well, progress has been negatively affected by preparations for the Tour de France. More news as and when.

A chap with a beard

Which just leaves time for some much needed words of wisdom from Marcus Aurelius: "When thou art beyond measure angry, bethink thee how momentary is man's life"

"Put that light out"

It seems almost an anticlimax to write anything about Triples after James' cogently argued critique. When the two individuals about whom he complains first approached us I thought they were joking. Certainly they looked as if they were sending themselves up; one of them even had a clipboard. Still, speaking as a wargamer, who am I to criticise anyone else for how they get their kicks.

SWS member at Triples

On to the show proper. I enjoyed it. It was the first time I'd been to both days of a two day show and I think it probably lasted a day longer than strictly necessary. My opinion may possibly have been coloured somewhat by the fact that it caused me to miss the entirety of what was probably the only sunny weekend of the year. Having said that, the hotel was fine and the meal on the Saturday evening very pleasant.

Another SWS member at Triples

I didn't spend any money at the show - neither with legitimate traders nor with spivvy, under-the-counter, black marketeers - but did enjoy the games. The Franco-Prussian relief map game, which I'm sure someone told me won, was lovely to look at. The game that I would most like to have played was the Indian Mutiny one. Naturally I have no photos, but I'm confident there will be plenty on the web.

James ponders whether to return to Triples in 2015

Zorndorf played out differently to either of the two practice runs through, showing once again what a good ruleset Piquet is, for replayability at least. It was a very narrow Prussian victory driven essentially by Fermor going mad and the Russian morale running out at pretty much the same time. Seydlitz's cavalry did get to charge in, but the majority of the Prussian cavalry once again performed abysmally. There must be a special mention of Combined Grenadier unit number 9 who withstood repeated overwhelming assaults despite having lost three stands early on.

Obviously I'm not one to brag, but despite the fact that I usually lose Wednesday night games, I am now 2 for 2 at conventions. Peter had a bad weekend because he also lost at Dead Man's Hand to a very young chap whose only tactic was to rush Wyatt Earp and colleagues straight towards the baddies firing all the while. It worked though.

Leaving the crease

OLD MAN AT A CRICKET MATCH

‘It’s mending worse,’ he said,

Turning west his head,

Strands of anxiety ravelled like old rope,

Skitter of rain on the scorer’s shed

His only hope.

Seven down for forty-five,

Catches like stings from a hive,

And every man on the boundary appealing -

An evening when it’s bad to be alive,

And the swifts squealing.

Yet without boo or curse

He waits leg-break or hearse,

Obedient in each to lease and letter -

Life and the weather mending worse,

Or worsening better.

-  Norman Nicholson

Get your kicks

 'Ridicule is the tribute paid to the genius by the mediocrities' - Oscar Wilde

To Harrogate Theatre to see the Counterfeit Stones who were extremely entertaining. I'd heard they would be funny - which they were - but I was most impressed by their musical abilities. I'd never seen a tribute band before; perhaps both me and Oscar Wilde got it wrong. Anyway recommended both if you like decent covers of decent songs (Gimme Shelter was particularly good) and if your sense of humour is tickled by jokes about bass player Bill Hymen's favourite key being A minor.

"Bye-bye you bum, bye-bye you bum, bye-bye"

I promised exciting news about the wargaming annexe this week. Well the update is that the joiner has done half the work and then buggered off leaving vague promises of returning next week to finish it. Perhaps I should have seen that coming.

Zorndorf: the debacle

I managed to lose the refight of Zorndorf as the Russians without Seydlitz and his cavalry having to appear; a feat which takes some doing I think. Oddly, I'm not at all sure what I could have done differently. Probably I should have attacked with my left wing cavalry in order to divert attention away from my right wing, but I'm not sure it would have made a very decisive difference. There were the usual little vignettes where things could have easily gone the other way: one spectacular Prussian cavalry charge that routed a unit of grenadiers despite being virtually blown away by flanking fire as it charged in; a flanking manoeuvre followed by a point blank volley that caused no damage whatsoever followed by the flanking unit being flanked and destroyed in turn and the undamaged unit winning a melee against one of the large Observation Corps units with contemptuous ease; and a couple of others. However, to make a difference they would all have had to have gone the other way.

I'm not sure of the reasons why it happened that way. I suspect pre-assigned unit qualities had something to do with it, but only another refight on the same basis will prove that one way or the other. Roll on Triples. I think the one thing guaranteed is that Fermor must inevitably Go Mad at the earliest opportunity on Saturday. Speaking of which we played four turns and the Go Mad card was drawn first in the first three of them. Now what are the chances of that happening? (1) In the fourth by the way the card dealt out because of the inclusion of a Command Indecision card was the Command Indecision card itself.

The above is the cover of one of a new series of novels based on Piquet cards. James didn't require much persuasion to put on his little black dress and heels for the photo. Coming soon Peter in leopardskin as the model for 'Movement in Type III/IV', the exciting Lexi Graves mystery number four.


(1) about 30,000 to one as it happens, but just to remind everyone that the odds of whichever card sequence are turned over at the start of three turns is always 30,000 to one.

Young Man's Song

I whispered, ‘I am too young,’ And then, ‘I am old enough’;      Wherefore I threw a penny        To find out if I might love.            ‘Go and love, go and love, young man,           If the lady be young and fair,’     Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,              I am looped in the loops of her hair.          Oh, love is the crooked thing,     There is nobody wise enough      To find out all that is in it,              For he would be thinking of love               Till the stars had run away,          And the shadows eaten the moon.         Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,                One cannot begin it too soon. -  W.B.Yeats

Pot26pouri

So, I have disappeared again. A quick catch-up is required.

James once again offers Peter the benefits of his advice

Zorndorf, having stuttered to a halt, has Groundhog Day-like started up again. This time the final terrain changes encouraged Peter as the Prussians to press his attack across a wider front. He has had more success than I did last time around, but fortunately his pre-battle artillery bombardment wasn't as effective. The decisive element will be how Seydlitz's cavalry do against my right flank which I believe is the only place he can logically bring them on. Rule changes - quelle surprise - have meant no action so far for the Cossacks. But they're still there just in case. James rather forcibly pressed his copy of the Osprey into my hand as preparation for speaking to the punters at Triples - as if - and Peter, scheduled by James' OCD to read it next, will be pleased to learn that I did not follow instructions by reading it while having a dump.

"Why didn't they follow Fredrick's orders?"

Culture has been a bit light, but I did catch Robert Cray who was pretty damn good. If I'm honest I prefer my blues a bit grittier, but that's almost like criticising him for being too good a guitar player.

A shortened visit to the Victoria Hotel saw the obligatory opening game of Apples to Apples followed by Quantum and Alien Frontiers. The last two are of course completely different, but both feature dice as spaceships. I won what was my first game of Alien Frontiers by adopting a strategy of never buying any cards, a tactic I often follow in for example King of Tokyo. I think that Quantum manages that aspect better by giving you the cards for placing cubes (the object of the game) instead of you needing to buy them instead of placing colonies (the object of the game in Alien Frontiers). But what do I know? [Yes I know that the one thing I know is that that is a rhetorical question]

And expect big news on the wargaming annexe later this week.

No ifs, no buts, no disability cuts

No doubt foremost amongst your worries is whether all this work has interfered with my dedication to cultural vultureness. Fear not, I am as pretentious as ever and have been packing them in.

First up was 'The Threepenny Opera' in a lyrically updated version by the Graeae Theatre Company that was in-your-face in a way that would doubtless have been admired by Brecht and Weill themselves. This is yet another of those classics that I had somehow managed to miss previously, although we are all familiar with the opening song. Altogether now:

"Oh the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear

And it shows them pearly white"

Graeae champion 'accessibility' and they integrate deaf, blind and physically disabled performers into the action in a performance enhancing manner that doesn't make one not notice them, but actually makes one glad that's the way it is. Personally I was very taken with the way that the BSL interpreters' roles became as important as the singing main characters. Top marks to Jude Mahon in particular.

Next was 'La Boheme' in a revived Opera North production, but one which still did it for me. Classic Puccini and an opera that I would suggest for those who have never been to one. Lush tunes, nonsensical plot and it doesn't end well for the heroine; what more could one want?

And finally Bedroom Farce, another play that I had seen before, and one that reinforces the point that British farceurs regard the word sardine as inherently amusing, although in this case the fishy comestibles are - in a very minor plot point - replaced in due course by pilchards. Despite that slightly incoherent exposition of the plot you should see it when it comes your way; as it will because it is regularly revived. As with any Alan Ayckbourn play one is guaranteed several laugh out loud moments. Oh, and can I just preempt any rumours that MS Foy may be about to spread on his blog; Mr Ayckbourn is as alive as his namesake Mr Bennett.

P.S. In one of life's unaccountable coincidences, immediately after writing the above I opened the door to a furniture delivery man who was whistling 'Mack the Knife'. Spooky.

El sueño de las manzanas

Gacela of the Dark Death

I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth
that labors before dawn.

I want to sleep awhile,
awhile, a minute, a century;
but all must know that I have not died;
that there is a stable of gold in my lips;
that I am the small friend of the West wing;
that I am the intense shadows of my tears.

Cover me at dawn with a veil,
because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me,
and wet with hard water my shoes
so that the pincers of the scorpion slide.

For I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to learn a lament that will cleanse me to earth;
for I want to live with that dark child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

- Federico García Lorca

No worries

Enough of strange folk customs that out forefathers may (or more likely may not) have been following since time immemorial. What about the wargaming?

Well, the run through of Zorndorf - the game that James is putting on at Triples - ended in a vaguely historical stalemate.Peter and the Russians had lots of troops, but no morale and I had the opposite. It was however a good game until that point. My grand cavalry charge didn't break through, but the impact in terms of initiative and morale chips prevented the Russians from counter attacking elsewhere. That and some continuing poor dice rolling on their part, except in melee where the cossacks stood up better than they had any right to.

Now then, rule changes. The latest involves a sort of quasi disordered/blown status as a result of interpenetrating. I think I'm comfortable with it, but I would make its removal free on turning of the appropriate card, at least for cavalry. My logic is that recovering from blown is the cavalry equivalent of reloading, which is free when the appropriate card is turned.

Forty effeminate blacksmiths

A man goes in to a pub and says "Do you serve Morris dancers?" 
"Oh yes" says the landlord. 
"Good" says the man. "I'll have a packet of crisps, and a Morris dancer for my dog".

I have been absent for a while because my professional career suddenly burst into life and I have been mingling with the self-consciously trendy denizens of the world of hi-tech. I will just remark cryptically that in the unlikely event that I ever feel the need to behave like that I shall regard a decent coffee machine as a higher priority than a ping-pong table. Anyway, I can't think of a better way to return than with some Morris dancing. 

Otley, the market town of about 15,000 souls a few miles downstream from Ilkley - epicentre of wargaming in lower Wharfedale - in which I have recently pitched my tent, is home to no less than three Morris sides. One of them, I think the lot pictured, is of the Border tradition; there is a female North Western tradition side; and the third lot seem to be of the Jazz/Funk persuasion. You may consider that to be three sides too many for such a small place; I couldn't possibly comment.

Anyway, the Wharfedale Wayzgoose, for it is they, were on what seemed to be a pub crawl round Otley today. Now Otley's pub estate has declined from the days when there were forty six (that's right forty six pubs for fifteen thousand people), but the event boasted of visiting twenty premises. I have long held the theory that warriors, at least in the days of close combat, would only have fought because they were drunk. Obviously the same is true of painting ones face and wearing feathers in one's hat and bells on one's trousers.

Most impressively one of them was performing the pub crawl bit on an invalid scooter from which he would rise to dance at each pub. Now that's the way to do it.

Wearing heavy boots

‘T is so much joy! ‘T is so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I
Have ventured all upon a throw;
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
This side the victory!

Life is but life, and death but death!
Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!
And if, indeed, I fail,
At least to know the worst is sweet.
Defeat means nothing but defeat,
No drearier can prevail!

And if I gain, – oh, gun at sea,
Oh, bells that in the steeples be,
At first repeat it slow!
For heaven is a different thing
Conjectured, and waked sudden in,
And might o’erwhelm me so!

- Emily Dickinson

Zorndorf: Aparajito

Like all middle parts of trilogies, this week's Zorndorf episode doesn't make any sense without the either of those that flank it. Senseless or not it was very enjoyable. Horse and Musket is definitely my preferred period (periods) which always helps. The luck was fairly evenly spread (although I spectacularly lost a melee charging a one stand unit in the flank with fresh cavalry) and the outcomes were also pretty equally distributed. I have taken a gamble by switching virtually all my cavalry to the right flank whilst leaving my left flank very weak. On the other hand the Russian right flank mainly consists of units softened up by the pre-battle artillery barrage and my guns are still there so it seems a reasonable risk to take. Plus, we all know that the Russian commander-in-chief is about to flee the field. Well admittedly, you might not, but believe me, he is.

James offers Peter some tactical advice

Zorndorf, which is taking place because the Punic Wars are in abeyance, is itself about to fall into desuetude. No doubt when we pick it up again we will have forgotten what we were doing. It's an age thing.

In a crowded hazy bar

So, two days late, but it's time to offer congratulations to the Bees.

I also neglected to mention before now that I'd been to see Feast of Fiddles and excellent they were too. For a bunch of old folkies (they include violinists who have played with amongst others Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span and the Battlefield Band) they are very eclectic in their repertoire. Last year when I saw them they opened with the theme from Thunderbirds, this time it was Kashmir, the Led Zeppelin classic.

I was there

And of course while we're on the subject of music, one must mention the death of Rubin Carter.

All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance
The trial was a pig-circus he never had a chance
The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums
To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger
No one doubted that he pulled the trigger
And though they could not produce the gun
The DA said he was the one who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed.

 

"This is her picture as she was"

This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise
Thy voice and hand shake still,--long known to thee
By flying hair and fluttering hem,--the beat
Following her daily of thy heart and feet,
How passionately and irretrievably,
In what fond flight, how many ways and days! 

- Dante Gabriel Rossetti

As you know, this blog doesn't just write itself. So a few days after a brief burst of 'Lady of Shalott' and some Dante I went to Cartwright Hall in Bradford to see their exhibition of studies that Dante Gabriel Rossetti did of Jane Morris, wife of William and the fulcrum of one of those odd set-ups that the Victorians seem to have all carried on behind closed doors. It's well worth seeing, as are the other two temporary exhibitions there at the moment.

The first, a travelling show from the British Museum, is basically just one turban, but what a turban. It's a Sikh fortress turban from the nineteenth century with a small amount of background material and other artifacts. I was sorry to see that I had missed lectures earlier in the month on Sikh troops in the First World War and one in conjunction with the Royal Armouries on Sikh arms and armour.

The third exhibition was actually the best, a number of lithographs and prints from the city's own collection. There was inevitably, and quite rightly, some Hockney, in this case 'The Rake's Progress' a series of sixteen prints from the early sixties. There are also some colourful and amusing Glenn Baxter's and a selection of prints specially commissioned to celebrate the 2012 Olympics including works by Tracey Emin and Chris Ofili. Perhaps of most interest to wargamers would be a dozen small prints by Sir William Rothenstein entitled 'Landscapes of the War', the war in this question being that of 1914-18 because Rothenstein served as an official war artist in both world wars. However, those that I'd personally like on my walls are thirteen Lowry's from the mid 1960s.

Pot25pouri

Now obviously I'm not a fairweather walker, but spring has returned to Yorkshire, yesterday was an absolutely glorious day and I was walking near Skipton.

Embsay Crag

I have for some reason picked up 'A Blood-Red Banner: The Alamo' from the games pile and have been playing it. I still can't win as the Texians with the basic rules. Very frustrating. However, a couple of new games have joined the pile; details as and when I play them.

And speaking of what the well-dressed man wears on his head, now that some sun protection is required I have dug out my magic talking hat; and it's still rather fine.

Finally, there is progress on the wargaming annexe. Further details on that soon as well.

The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth

"Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the the river winding clearly"

- Tennyson

"Tu proverai si come sa di sale

Lo pane altrui, e com' è duro calle

Lo ascendere e il salir per l'altrui scale"

- Dante

The past is never where you think you left it

"Sins cannot be undone, only forgiven" So said Igor Stravinsky, thereby begging the question as to what happens if they never are. I am drawn to this philosophical question by, well, by a sad event, by my solipsistic reaction to it and by the resultant memories of stuff that happened forty years ago that you don't need to know about.

The simple things you see are all complicated

So, watch this video - very evocative for me although I suspect not for anyone else who was there - and note the irony that the lyrics contain the phrase "Can't keep the ghosts away".

We eat and drink, we come and go 
(The sunlight dies upon the open sea). 
I speak in riddles. Is it so? 
My riddles need not mar your glee; 
 For I will neither bid you share 
My thoughts, nor will I bid you shun, 
Though I should see in yonder chair 
Th' Egyptian's muffled skeleton. 
One toast with me your glasses fill, 
Aye, fill them level with the brim, 
De mortuis, nisi bonum, nil! 
The lights are growing dim.

                       - Adam Lindsay Gordon

Like Romans, like Prussians

The Punic Wars have gone temporarily into abeyance to be replaced with an early run through of Zorndorf, James' demo game for Triples. Fate had decreed that I had not received a sufficient kicking as the Romans and should therefore receive another one as the Prussians. The scenario requires Frederick to behave much as he did on the day (including the bits he didn't plan) and therefore it is more than usually about the cards drawn and the dice thrown.

Bollocks

Events were, I think, quite instructive. The luck was quite evenly split, but heavily skewed within specific areas. Peter won the vast majority of the initiative, thereby proving that the gods of the dominoes can also have their favourites. We are just about to end the second turn and I won't have cycled through even half my deck in total.

Temple to the gods of the dominoes

On the other hand his dice rolling was pathetic even by his own standards, especially when it came to unit quality. I, in contrast, rolled highly for the effects of my pre-battle artillery bombardment, for unit quality and on my defence dice, but in melee and in particular on morale dice I was truly dreadful. So, I hear you ask, what was the outcome? The result, dear reader, was that my attacking infantry force ran away. That's right, they weren't destroyed - I haven't lost any units in that way - the whole lot of them just took off. Now I'm no expert on the Seven Years War, but I'd always thought that Frederick was best known for his ruthless discipline which if it achieved anything it was to stop his men deserting their posts. Not this time.

"Why should men make haste to die?"

And so to the theatre. Northern Broadsides' tour of their latest production 'An August Bank Holiday Lark' reaches the West Yorkshire Playhouse and it is first class. Barry 'Bazza' Rutter shines in the lead role as if it was written for him; which of course it was. It's a new play by Deborah McAndrew set, as so many will be this year, at the outbreak of the First World War. The reviews have been very positive so far and I'm certainly not going to disagree. I spoke briefly to the theatre critic of the Morning Star during the interval and she was very impressed by the upbeat first half. Having the benefit of hindsight, the audience realises that the war will not in fact be over by Christmas and anticipates the somewhat darker second act.

Compare this hat with the one he wore as Holofernes; just saying

At a previous Broadsides performance of a Shakespeare play I overheard someone in the bar complaining about the clog dancing. Now, going to see Rutter et al and being surprised by the clog dancing is like going to the Derby and being taken aback by the sight of short men on horses. The company have therefore taken the logical step of making clog dancing the theme of the play and it features pretty much all the way through including a spectacular and thrilling set piece to finish act one. Trust me, it's better than it sounds.

As most people know Northern Broadsides perform in regional accents and always try to include various local references. McAndrew develops this theme by including allusions to, for example, the film 'Brassed Off' and the television series 'Brass'. Mind you she also references 'Strictly Ballroom' which isn't particularly northern. A.E Houseman is also mentioned throughout, so let me finish by quoting from 'A Shropshire Lad' for the second time in this posting.

"Far and near and low and louder

On the roads of earth go by

Dear to friends and food for powder,

Soldiers marching, all to die.

East and west on fields forgotten

Bleach the bones of comrades slain

Lovely days and dead and rotten;

None that go return again."

Gaming update

As the nominal purpose of this blog is wargaming I ought to bring things up to date. The Punic Wars campaign continues to go not that well, but also not badly enough that it's a foregone conclusion. My invasion of North Africa was decided on because of the cards I happened to have in my hand and could have gone worse. Admittedly I have lost my entire army ( all my commanders will have to start the next turn in the same place), but I still hold a province and a port and we end the turn all square in political control. In fact it would have been quite easy for things to have worked out quite well, especially if the Carthaginians had not gained a temporary naval superiority.

The battle just concluded was a protracted and bloody affair that then ended rather suddenly. I had the luck with the cards until all at once I didn't. But, as usual, I could so easily have won; this time if I had destroyed a unit that I had seven dice against, hitting on everything possible. C'est la vie. Still, I did kill all the elephants though.

On the boardgames front, celebrations of International Tabletop Gaming Day involved games of Small World, Alhambra, Family Business, Articulate!, Coup and Quantum. The last was the only new game for me and I was very taken with the design. The theme is rather pasted on, but without it the result would perhaps be too abstract. Anyway, it's on the wishlist.

And six for the...

And so to the theatre. It was the Carriageworks for 'We Will Be Free', Townsend Productions play about the Tolpuddle Martyrs which I believe premiered at last year's Edinburgh fringe.

Shamefully, I didn't know the full story beforehand although there was nothing surprising about what was portrayed: villainous local squires and farmers, oppressive Hanoverian laws and noble labouring men and women given to bursting tunefully into folk song at the drop of a hat. I obviously wasn't alone in my ignorance because the chap next to me muttered towards the end that they couldn't be proper martyrs if they didn't die. New to me - assuming it to true - was the harsh nature of the life of transportees in Van Diemen's Land and the inadvertent role played by both the Orange Order and the Duke of Cumberland in the men's release. Diligent research in Wikipedia reveals that the Orange Lodges were later accused of plotting to overthrow Queen Victoria and place her uncle on the throne instead. Surely someone should be planning a 19th century version of the unaccountably fashionable Very British Civil War. You can have the idea for a modest royalty (geddit?).

I enjoyed the company's (all two of them) multi-tasking blend of acting and singing although the pantomime elements fell a bit flat. 'The audience is too cerebral' was my neighbour's verdict on that. Cerebral or not, I think they also appreciated the show although the Morning Star's theatre critic was a bit non-committal when I asked her opinion afterwards.

World Poetry Day - slight delay

I have only just become aware that World Poetry Day is on a different day to UK Poetry Day and has passed within the last fortnight, embarrassingly unmarked by this blog. So here belatedly is a poem for wargamers everywhere.

They bought me a box of tin soldiers,

I threw all the Generals away,

I smashed up the Sergeants and Majors,

Now I play with my Privates all day.

Eagles

I ought to have posted a spoof for April 1st, but I've missed the midday cut off and so I won't bother. The one in the Guardian this morning is lame even by their standards and I haven't paid much attention elsewhere. James has just posted on his blog about painting eyelids on 28mm figures. Is that meant as a joke? Very hard to tell; even if he had the eyesight to paint them I certainly haven't got the eyesight to see them.

James' painting style continues to evolve

I have been to a lecture on Roman legionary eagles. It started by giving a few examples from popular culture - the film 'The Eagle', HBO's 'Rome', Spartacus (the smutty TV one rather than the noble Kirk Douglas one) - and then rather counter-intuitively praised them for their accuracy. Apparently the legionaries really did care about the eagle more than about life itself. The explanation favoured by the lecturer was religious, but as usual no one actually appears to know. The choice of the eagle as symbol comes from its role as retriever of Jupiter's thunderbolts. I was tempted to ask whether there were any homo-erotic undertones related to the eagle's part in the abduction of Ganymede, but, remembering the reaction on a previous occasion when I had asked about the way that a young lady was fondling Hercules staff, I didn't.

"Who's a pretty boy then?"

I learned two other facts that I didn't know before. Firstly, the eagles were the first example in history of a unit standard being so revered. It didn't happen in Greece, Egypt, Persia or China. Secondly, no examples survive. They are all believed to have been melted down for the gold and silver.

How do you eat an elephant?

The answer of course is one bite at a time. And that is how I have disposed of the Carthaginian elephants in the battle currently taking place in North Africa during our Punic Wars campaign. My invasion has gone reasonably well so far and due to rebellion one of the provinces has come over to me and in the battle I am on only slightly worse terms and with evenly matched generals. So far I have had by far the better of the cards. The only problem is that they will eventually balance out so I have to make the most of it until they do. Anyway, the elephants have proved completely useless so far. It was W.C. Fields who observed that women were like elephants, interesting to look at, but one wouldn't want to own one. How true, how true.

Run, elephant, run

Q: What do you call an elephant that doesn't matter?
A: An irrelephant.

You will notice that I do not refer to the battle ongoing at the start of last week. I had a brief, but pointless, moment of success when I managed to extend the battle by capturing the village in the middle. However, I still lost heavily, and the retreat was even worse; the entire army disappearing. It's not looking good.

Tooth House

I have been to the Henry Moore Institute to see their latest exhibition 'Ian Kiaer: Tooth House'. I can already hear you asking the obvious question and believe me I have asked it of myself a number of times. Why? I clearly don't like modern art and yet every time they have a new show off I go to stand there aghast thinking 'God this is pants' (honourable exception for Robert Filliou). And indeed this one is. Pants that is. Don't bother.

Much better

The title of the exhibition and of some of its exhibits comes from the work of the surrealist architect Frederick John Kiesler. (For the record, I have no idea whether the title of some of the other exhibits really does come from either the book by Dumas père or the Alain Delon film, but finding a link between 'a frame stretching six metres high, only just capable of holding its own weight' and anything much is a bit of a challenge.) Anyway, I suspect most wargamers have probably never heard of Kiesler, but when you look more closely I would suggest that many of us have certain traits in common with him. One of his colleagues at Columbia University was quoted as saying: "If Kiesler wants to hold two pieces of wood together, he pretends he's never heard of nails or screws. He tests the tensile strengths of various metal alloys, experiments with different methods and shapes, and after six months comes up with a very expensive device that holds two pieces of wood together almost as well as a screw".

 

I couple of weeks ago I had to admit to never having read 'Of Mice and Men'. However, I have read 'Tortilla Flat' (recommended - essentially a reworking of the legends of King Arthur with the knights of the round table becoming a group of indigent Californians). In order to demonstrate that this blog isn't simply just thrown together, the above photo shows Hedy Lamarr starring alongside Spencer Tracy in the film version. The pulchritudinous Ms Lamarr was Kiesler's niece.