Meaty, Beaty

And so to the theatre. I have been to see Bouncers, the John Godber play that is revived so often that I am at a loss to explain why I had never seen it before.

“We four will try to illustrate
the sort of things that happen late
at night in every town
when the pubs are shut
and the beer’s been downed”
  

In fact, at least according to the publicity blurb for the Reform Theatre production now on tour, and which I caught at Harrogate, it's one of the most performed plays of all time. However, be that as it may, I found it bawdy, sometimes poignant and very funny. Let's face it, none of us has ever really outgrown a good fart joke.

The setting - discos of the 1980s - is actually after my time, although as Godber is an exact contemporary of mine perhaps it wasn't surprising that there were many elements that I recognised. The creepy disk jockey is of course both reminiscent of the sixties/seventies/eighties and spookily current. Anyway, highly recommended.

Not highly recommended

Dosher

And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them.  

Isaiah 42:16

Pot32pouri

My Luxembourg correspondent has been complaining that my other, serious, work-related blog has not been updated for - and I'm paraphrasing - a yonk. This non-work-related and not at all serious blog is in danger of going the same way. I'm not sure why; perhaps having a wargames room negates the point of a blog which after all was originally specifically about not actually wargaming. Anyway, while I reflect on that existential point let's give a small nod to what's happening in the world.

The death of the Reverend Ian Paisley might seem a logical point at which to relate in detail the episode involving him, me and the giraffe, but perhaps the world is not yet ready. Others have commented on his character and the part he played in the history of the Troubles. For me the main memory I am left with from our infrequent and brief interactions is just how big he was physically - he was absolutely bloody enormous.

There has been more wargaming in the annexe, which followed a similar pattern to the previous week. James has the knack of just whittling away at enemy units just one stand at a time; before you know it they've disappeared and the game is over. Of course he did bring his own dice this week - just saying.

Which just leaves me time to post a photo of Ritchie Blackmore in a stupid hat.

Washburn

I have been on a walk through the Washburn Valley in the rain. It was all very nice, but I only mention it because it gives me a chance to add another to the blog's irregular series "Great Bridges of the Yorkshire Dales". This time it's Dob Park Packhorse Bridge.

And I wouldn't like to disappoint you stock fanciers. This set are from Leathley.

The coolerator was crammed

Last night was the official opening of the wargaming annexe, celebrated with some C&C Napoleonics and lashings of ginger beer.

James admires his hand

James and Peter fought the Pultusk scenario and the former's Russians won quite straightforwardly due to some very handy dice rolling and card drawing. By James that is; Peter couldn't roll or draw anything he wanted all night.

Peter sees no point in even looking at his

A couple of Cavalry Charge cards in a row at the beginning took out Peter's artillery and that was more or less that. He did manage to progress on his right flank, but ran out of cards and had to sit tantalisingly close to the town sectors that would have given him a crucial couple of Victory Points. "C'est la vie" as the old folks say. Anyway, a good time was had by all - except for Peter obviously.

Oh, when the sun beats down

There has been a summer hiatus in all sorts of things, but two of them - walking and boardgaming - have kicked off again.

And your shoes get so hot, you wish your tired feet were fireproof

Following my ascent of Haw Pike (which is actually no height at all, although it was very windy up there) I have been on the fells above Burnsall. For those among you who are colonials and therefore susceptible to a bit of twee, I include a picture of the stocks at Appletreewick.

On the gaming front a new venue has been discovered and thus I have played six games - including four new to me - and impressively come last in every single one. It was the first time that I had played Citadels with only three people and while the special rules are, I think, better because one can plan more efficiently I, er didn't. Ticket to Ride was as good as ever, but I was far too unambitious in my choice of which routes to aim for. Seasons was full of interesting mechanisms, but I'm not keen on games where players acquire special powers throughout the game because I can never keep track of what is going on. I also didn't like the theme, which was far too "Mystic Warlords of Ka'a" for my taste. The Enchanted Bunny didn't actually put in an appearance, but it was lurking in the background somewhere. Greed is a card drafting game where gangsters and property developers are conflated - which seems reasonable. Keyflower is a much-hyped game with a huge number of things to do, but not many ways to score that somehow doesn't tie up very convincingly. And Among the Stars is an intergalactic version of patience as far as I could see.

So from that lot, while Keyflower is the obvious hit, I would choose to play Ticket to Ride any time.

Sin titulo

Ignoring all previous experience I have been to the Henry Moore Institute to see their latest exhibition: Line as Object by the Venezuelan artist Gego. It is not really my cup of tea, but the galleries of 'negative space' did actually provide an interesting half an hour, so not a complete wasted journey. The Claude Cahun photographic exhibition in Leeds Art Gallery is worth a look as well.

Drawing without paper

The Punic Wars campaign ended with a whimper. It was like a high jump competition where everyone has cleared the same height and the medals have to be decided by some arcane countback mechanism. The decision went in favour of the Carthaginians so congratulations to Peter. This has to be the longest campaign that I've ever played in and I had mixed feelings. I enjoyed both the strategic side and the tabletop games - especially when we switched to straight out of the box C&C - but the two aspects didn't mesh for me.

And finally a quick picture of your bloggist on top of Haw Pike. For the avoidance of doubt that isn't my magic hat.

Cyanoacrylate

There are many reasons why I am a wargamer, although being especially interested in war or the military isn't actually one of them. What the hobby does do is reflect a number of other interests of mine. I've always been keen on history; I like playing games; the accountant/mathematician in me relates in the saddest of ways to sets of rules; the hobby is easy to pick up and put down which is handy for my erratic working life; and I really enjoy modelling.

Your bloggist

Note that I say modelling rather than painting. I don't mind the latter, but I have no flair for it or any particular interest in getting any better. My painting style looks perfectly OK from a distance when stuff is on the table and that is more than good enough for me. Nor unfortunately do I possess any sculpting aptitude beyond the odd hat or cloak. What I really like, and think I'm good at, is creating something new from existing figures and bits and pieces. One of the virtues of plastic (the vast majority of my collection is 20mm plastic) is that it's straightforward to chop things up and put them back to together again in a different combination. Or at least it would be if it weren't for my inability to master superglue.

I have never been able to get the stuff under control. Admittedly the belated - to me - discovery that nail varnish remover can unstick fingers eased the level of pain and blood involved somewhat, at least when my daughters had not made of with the stuff for the outrageous purpose of removing their nail varnish. But that still leaves my complete inability to reseal a tube in a controlled manner so it can be used again or not to stick craft knives to kitchen roll or plastic bags.

I am driven to write this by a completely disastrous attempt to fix swords to four Russian Dragoons that represent the second unit of heavy cavalry without cuirasse required by the C&C Napoleonics Russian expansion. The first such unit that I finished contains one figure whose sabre droops in a manner that might be useful if he was trying to gut a fish, but doesn't immediately call to mind a Napoleonic cavalry charge; and which was caused by my turning my back for a nanoscond during which time the bloody thing had shifted and the glue stuck hard.

"We can do anything we want to if we stick to it long enough" - Helen Keller

I look pretty tall, but my heels are high

It is time to write once again about the Punic Wars campaign. Yet another battle is taking place at the gates of Carthage which if I win will effectively end the campaign.

Even the readers of a blog as loosely related to wargaming as this will have spotted the photos don't quite look right. Well none were taken last night so I shall illustrate with a few from my solo re-fights of the crossing of the Berezina.

So where was I? Ah yes, if I win the battle then I win the campaign. Well, not for the first time, I shan't win the battle - probably about ten minutes from completion when we knocked off last night - and therefore the campaign staggers on. However, it's half way through the last strategic turn and so one way or the other it will end soon.

What actually happened last night was that the elephants suddenly came good and rampaged through my right wing. My cavalry had great success on my left wing so it's fairly close, but not, sadly, close enough.

As for the Berezina, one resounding Russian victory and one close French victory. And not a line of sight problem in, er, sight.

As ye sow, so shall ye reap

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode? 

                  - Langston Hughes

Pot31pouri

The Punic Wars rumble on with the populations of Rome and Carthage, their commanders and, I suspect, the umpire all suffering from war weariness. Last night saw Rome finish off Carthage in the battle left incomplete the previous week, fail to achieve anything while besieging the city itself and then get defeated by reinforcements from Spain. Once again while the battles are fun to play out - and we are definitely getting better tactically at C&C - they don't seem to move the campaign forward terribly much.

I have abandoned the last theory on line of sight using squexes as quickly as I did the previous one; any fool could have seen that it opened up the possibility of two artillery batteries being positioned such that A could fire at B while B couldn't fire at A. What idiot keeps coming up with this dross? Anyway the latest attempt is to go back to drawing a line from centre to centre with addition of one particular circumstance. If the left hand side of a square is part of the same line across the table as the left hand side of the the target square (or the right hand sides of the two squares are similarly aligned) then terrain in any square similarly abutting the same line across the table will not interfere with line of sight. Terrain in squares sitting across the line across the table will still block line of sight as normal. I hope that's clear.

I have seen the future

I am using one of those laser plumb line contraptions (bought cheap during the dying days of Woolworths) to test all this. Unfortunately the process is suffering from the use of doormats as playing surface. One of the benefits of carpet built of man made fibre is that it doesn't reflect the light so that dirt marks - which naturally don't reflect light - aren't obvious. My tabletop isn't therefore showing the path of the light emitting from the gizmo and the whole thing is useless.  

Mexican Cowboy

So, who spotted the deliberate error in my assertion yesterday that a rectangle with specific dimensions could mimic the line of sight rule on a C&C board? Yes, I can exclusively reveal that it was in fact bollocks. Having revisited my 'proof' it has become apparent that it is only true in the special circumstances where 2=1; which it currently doesn't - not even for large values of 1. Obviously I like to keep an open mind so it's just possible that at some point in the future things may change in the one equals two situation, but until then I advise against rushing off and drawing the grid that I recommended.

It may be that some of you who, only knowing me through the blog, associate me primarily with the Geisteswissenschaften and are wondering what I am doing dabbling in the higher mathematics. Actually my first degree was in Mathematical Sciences, although presumably they'll now be wanting it back. In any event I should have accompanied yesterday's posting with the warning that "In theory, there is no difference between theory and practice. But, in practice, there is.". Incidentally I have seen that quote attributed to everyone from Karl Marx to Einstein to Yogi Berra, but it was almost certainly the somewhat less famous Jan L. A. van de Snepscheut.

A chap with a beard

So what of the original problem? Well my current theory (stop sniggering at the back) is that one should start at the mid point of the side of the square from which one is firing and take the line between that and the centre of the target space as that on which line of sight is determined.

"The Spanish fleet thou canst not see because -"

Well, because - in the words of Sheridan - "It is not yet in sight!".

I see no ships

I now quite like the aesthetics (that word rings a bell) of my cheap as chips C&C Napoleonic prototype, but I have been worried about it's utility. Specifically about the impact on line of sight of using offset squares instead of hexagons. In the legendary wargames room of James 'Olicanalad' Roach it is never really a problem because we are playing ancients and virtually all ranged fire is at two squex distance where the concept is intuitive. In Napoleonics however, artillery has a somewhat longer range and the thing gets complicated.

I can see for miles and miles

A quick look at the maths tells us that only a grid of offset rectangles with the width equal to √3 times their height will give the same line of sight result as tessellated hexagons using C&C's centre to centre rule. If I had worked that out before I drew lines on my doormats I might have reflected it in the squex sizes, although (a) it probably wouldn't have looked as good and (b) I didn't have enough mats anyway. I need to come with a quick and dirty alternative to the centre to centre rule to match my quick and dirty playing space.

Critique of Pure Wargaming

I always enjoy the weekly wargaming blog posting by Polemarch, not least because he inhabits the same outer reaches of pretentiousness in which I myself like to paddle. The latest posting leaves his usual stamping ground of the written word for the possibly less fruitful field of aesthetics and the philosophy of the tainted Martin Heidegger, but is thought provoking nonetheless.

Purposive, but without any definite purpose

As an alternative I would draw readers' attention to Kant's concept of teleological judgement, that is a judgment concerning an object the possibility of which can only be grasped from the point of view of its purpose. Kant refers to parts which can only be viewed as part of the whole. Is the object whose aesthetics we are considering the individual figure or terrain piece or is it the fully laid out table? My own answer to that question has significantly informed my painting style over the years.

Otley Rock Oracle

Once I saw a severed head of gold
While walking through West Yorkshire
It spoke a thousand tongues to dust
About what I'd be doing 'ere after

As I walked through Mytholmroyd
Along the cairn covered pasture
Saluting cauliflowered clouds
A message fresh sent from my master

I etched my name on Otley Rock
Along with my desires
They rose like fires in the sun
A bold starry system of fire

My mouth rang out from Otley Rock
With every available answer
Give my words to the atmosphere
But bury my body in Yorkshire

                       - The Trembling Bells

Pot30pouri

Amid all the theatre and gallery going some boardgames have been played: Say Anything, Rokoko and Sail to India. The first is even less intellectually challenging than the Meeples' normal starter Apples to Apples. The second however is rather good, as befits a nominee for the Kennerspiel des Jahres. Naturally it has very little to do with the ostensible themes of dressmaking and, oddly, watching fireworks, but it has plenty of decision making and multiple ways to score victory points. Oh, and I won. Sail to India continues to impress, but for some reason we still didn't get the rules right on what is a relatively simple game.

And the Punic Wars campaign has flickered back into life. I'm fairly sure that I never wrote up the previous battle in which Scipio Africanus attempted to march on Carthage and failed, having to retreat to the only area under Roman control in North Africa. Following the summer break the Carthaginians have gone for broke and attacked Scipio. The risk is that while Scipio's army is real, as it were, theirs is just a couple of CUs backed up by allies that only appear for battles. Even a win could see the evaporation of the whole lot. As we left it last night the Romans were ahead, but these things have a habit of changing. If I had to make a forecast I'd say that Scipio's larger hand of cards should see him through. We shall get a result one way or another next week.

He doth bestride the narrow world

And so to the theatre. I had not yet had my fill or murder and suicide and so it was back to the Globe for Julius Caesar. Where Antony and Cleopatra is about losing power for the sake of love, Julius Caesar is about abandoning friendship to achieve political objectives. As luck would have it both scenarios seem to involve killing anyone who stands in your way and then killing oneself when it all goes wrong.

The noblest Roman of them all

It is reputed that after watching a performance of Antony and Cleopatra one elderly Victorian lady turned to her companion and remarked 'How very unlike the home life of our own dear queen'. It's a shame that these Shakespearean versions of Roman politics are not more unlike the attitudes of politicians in the world today. Sadly the willingness that others should die for their convenience remains the default position of those in power.

'A reminder of the evils of a day that is dead'

I have been to the Imperial War Museum. The big attraction (and cause of the biggest queues) is the new First World War display. I hear that it's very good and do intend to visit sometime, but my destination on this visit was the large exhibition of art brought together for the centenary of the Great War.

'Youth Mourning'

Much of the discussion in the lead up to today's anniversary, both in real life and in the shadow world of wargaming blogs, has been expended on the causes of the war, what started it and who was to blame. Sickert's 'Integrity of Belgium' is perhaps the only exhibit here that speaks to that debate, but even then I doubt anyone would pick up the message if it weren't for the title. There is a welcome nod to the home front and to the munitions industry, but almost inevitably the majority of the art is about the suffering, the loss, the futility.

One of the few works which directly addresses the act rather than the aftermath of conflict is Sydney Carline's  'The destruction of an Austrian machine in the gorge of the Brenta valley, Italy'. Only the white plane is obvious at first, then the danger from the camouflaged hunters becomes apparent. Even here the viewer's sympathies are manipulated to be with the victim. For those who don't know the work of Carline (Stanley Spencer's brother-in-law) he was an RFC pilot himself and after becoming an official war artist painted aerial combat scenes on the Italian Front and in Mesopotamia. Biggles fans should seek him out.

W.G. Bennett

The three artists most represented are Paul Nash, CRW Nevinson and William Orpen. The last continues the flying theme with three portraits of fighter pilots commissioned by Lord Trenchard himself. Anyone wishing to understand their lives at that time needs just to look into their eyes, powerfully drawn by Orpen.

The Doctor

I have written here before about my admiration for Nevinson's futurist works and they are well represented. However, he became more realistic in his depictions later in the war. His most famous painting 'Paths of Glory' (the title a quote from Gray's 'Elegy in a Country Churchyard') is naturally included in the exhibition; in 1918 it was censored although Nevinson bravely showed it anyway with a strip of brown paper bearing the word 'Censored' across the middle. The Times' art critic is quoted as saying "the censor's aim being apparently to persuade us that only Germans die in this war".

These days paintings can of course be viewed online, but there is still something to be gained by seeing them first hand; sheer scale aside from anything else. In John Singer Sargent's well known painting 'Gassed' the very large original displays a detail that I hadn't noticed before. In the background, behind the crocodile of blind men being led away, a game of football is being played. The viewer, as always, can draw their own conclusion as to the meaning of this.

How great an ill is love to man

And so to the theatre; the National Theatre no less. I think the last time that I went to a performance there was to see Sir Ian McKellen give his Richard III and that was a long, long time ago. But now it was to see Helen McCrory as Euripides' Medea. Obviously Jacobean tragedy hadn't been bloodthirsty enough for me so I needed a fix of the Greek. You will recall that back in November I saw Il Giasone by Cavalli which also features Medea and Jason, but any resemblance between that story and this one is entirely...well there isn't one.

Nor with this one

 Firstly, I cannot praise McCrory enough for a powerful performance that gripped the audience, she is ably supported by Danny Sapani as Jason and you should see it if you can. And as it's being live streamed to cinemas, you can. Be warned though; it's heavy stuff, dealing with what is possibly the most unthinkable of crimes.

However, I did have some reservations. Firstly, I didn't like the translation. I don't want to imply that I am familiar with the original Greek text - for the avoidance of doubt Epictetus is merely a nom de pseud - but Ben Power's version lacked the poetry necessary to carry it off as Tragedy and relegated it to merely tragic. And secondly there was the music (by Alison Goldfrapp) and, even more, the use made of it by the director. If they were making a music video it would have worked, albeit that Michael Jackson would probably have sued for plagiarism, but in this context it didn't. Disco infanticide, I don't think so.

No tenth transmitter of a foolish face

Today is Yorkshire Day and as has long been my practice I am spending it elsewhere. Despite having lived there for many years I have never reconciled myself to the locals constantly banging on about how good they are, and the thought of a special day when they are officially encouraged to do it even more drives me to despair.

Nonetheless, and despite being a Londoner - indeed a cockney, born within the sound of...well you know what I mean - London is frankly no better. The Evening Standard is a paper every bit as bad as the Yorkshire Post (possibly with fewer reader's letters calling for the return of apartheid or declaring that Pinochet was right) and seems to spend all its time claiming that London gets a raw deal and calling for more investment in transport in the capital. Who are these clowns?

If Scotland votes for independence - and I hope that they don't - then the imbalance between London and the rest will tip even further. The only logic then would be for independence for Yorkshire or preferably the whole of the north. Or perhaps we could ask the Scots nicely if we could join them.

The president and the first lady

And, this being a wargaming blog, someone is bound to refer to the fact that Yorkshire Day commemorates the Battle of Minden. I prefer to cherish the link to the emancipation of slaves within the British Empire on this day, for which we thank William Wilberforce, a Yorkshireman.

Better than figs

And so to the theatre. Shakespeare's Globe on a warm evening is a very pleasant place to be. I have previously stood as a groundling and now, though glad to have had the experience, I don't. Last night it was Antony and Cleopatra, and rather fine it was too. Eve Best took the role of the strumpet and Clive Wood that of the triple pillar of the world become a fool. I hadn't read anything about the production before and was surprised to find Phil Daniels turn up as Enobarbus. I was very taken with his death scene (this being Jacobean tragedy there is of course a lot of competition). In addition to being well acted it was less ambiguous than some he has been involved in over the years.

"Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more."

Ragnarøkkr revisited

And so to the theatre. This time it was a maiden visit to the Holbeck Underground Ballroom, which isn't underground or a ballroom, but is, somewhat disappointingly, in Holbeck. The home of Slung Low it is essentially a studio theatre that's not attached to a main theatre if you follow me. It's a back street industrial unit which would otherwise house a car repair business or a metal plating workshop, situated just round the corner from the red light area. But don't let me put you off, it's a welcoming space full of old sofas, vegetarian Gujerati food, drinks at a quid each and the theatre operates on a 'see the show, pay what you think it deserves' basis. As an accountant that obviously goes against the grain a bit, but they're all young and idealistic so who am I to rain on their parade? Young, idealistic and in receipt of an Arts Council Grant.

The show in question was Temple Theatre's reworking of Norse Mythology 'Norsesome' wherein three men in beards and frocks portray all the gods in Asgard plus the occasional dweller in one of the middle realms, with the help of a few puppets along the way. It was very funny in places (one highlight was Thor being portrayed in a manner owing more than a little to Rik Mayall's Flashheart) with the casts physicality and energy compensating for the almost complete absence of scenery or props. They tour extensively and it's well worth seeing if you get the chance.

Flying visit

Real life and scorchio have precluded much in the way of wargaming or blogging. However the C&C Napoleonic project just about rumbles on. To recap, the objective was to see if they might be a suitable set of rules for my oddly sized but extensive collection of French, Russian and Prussian Napoleonics. This followed my introduction to their sister rules in the ongoing Punic Wars campaign; the one that has lasted longer than the historical event did in the first place and which is also, for the moment, in hiatus. Even after some cursory solo play testing I'm quite happy with them and so attention turns to the physical environment. My aim was to do a quick and dirty (and cheap) prototype which would be upgraded later, but I found that I quite liked what I had made except for the fact that it was brown. In an unexpected fit of creativity I have addressed that by painting it green.

As Pedro Calderon de la Barca said "Green is the prime colour of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises". Of course he didn't know that was simply because those wavelengths were no use in photosynthesis and that therefore green was actually anything but the most important colour. Still, he was a seventeenth century Spanish playwright, most famous these days for appearing in the Captain Alatriste novels, so what did he know?

Russian militia

I've made some markers to identify what sort of unit each is, It gets a bit difficult to tell the difference between line, light, grenadiers etc, especially given that I painted them years ago. Come to think about it, especially given that I painted them.

'K' is for Old Guard, straight from the painting table and into action

The table is laid out to play the Berezina scenario, but I don't know when I'll play it out as I'm off to the big smoke for a few days. Posts may be intermittent for the next week as I'm not sure exactly how up to speed they are down there with these new technologies.

"Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh"

The immortal words of Mungo Jerry reflect the fact that it is bleedin' hot. So bleedin' hot in fact that I have retreated inside for a refreshing beverage and some shady blogging (no Spoonerism intended sadly). Time to update everyone on the battle of Polotsk.

Well, the French won. Again. I know I'm new to this C&C Napoleonics lark, but I haven't got many ideas as to what the Russians could do to win. Draw better cards perhaps. Anyway, I believe my grasp of the rules has improved to a good enough level and I'm developing a sense of what tactics are most rewarding. The latter seems to come down to fire your artillery as often as possible and be aggressive with cavalry. No doubt the purpose of infantry will become clear in due course.

In other news, following the lead set on the Prometheus in Aspic blog I have invested in some Lilliput Lane cottages from a junk shop; or more likely some knock-off imitations. Regardless of their collectability I think they work well enough with the 20mm figures and the squex size. Plus they were cheap. Result all round I think.

Nothing Is Really Hard But To Be Real -

- Now let me tell you why I said that.
Try to put yourself into an experimental mood.
Stop right here and try to review everything
you felt about that line. Did you accept it
as wisdom? as perception? as a gem, maybe,
for your private anthology of Telling Truths?

My point is that the line is fraudulent.
A blurb. It is also relevant that I know
at least a dozen devoutly intellectual
journals that will gladly buy any fourteen
such lines plus a tinny rhyme scheme and
compound the felony by calling that a sonnet.

- Very well, then, I am a cynic. Though, for
the record, let me add that I am a cynic with
one wife, three children, and other invest-
ments. Whoever heard of a cynic carrying a
pack for the fun of it? It won't really do
I'm something else.
Were I to dramatize myself,
I'd say I am a theologian who keeps meeting
the devil as a master of make-up, and that
among his favorite impersonations he appears,
often as not, as the avuncular old ham who winks,
tugs his ear, and utters such gnomic garbage
as: "Nothing is really hard but to be real."

I guess what the devil gets out of this - if he is
the fool he seems to be - is the illusion of
imitating heaven. If, on the other hand, he is no
fool, then his deceptions are carefully practiced
and we are all damned. For all of us, unless
we are carefully warned, will accept such noises
as examples of the sound an actual mind makes.

Why arc we damned then? - I am glad you asked that.
It is, as we say to flatter oafs, a good question.
(Meaning, usually, the one we were fishing for. Good.)
In any case. I may now pretend to think out the answer
I have memorized:
We are damned for accepting as
the sound a man makes, the sound of something else,
thereby losing the truth of our own sound.
How do we
learn our own sound? (Another good question. Thank you.)
- by listening to what men there have been and are
- by reading more poets than jurists (without scorning
Law) - and by reading what we read not for its
oration, but for its resemblance to that sound in which
we best hear most of what a man is. Get that sound into
your heads and you will know what tones to exclude.

- if there is enough exclusion in you to keep the
pie plates out of the cymbals, the tin horns out of
the brass section, the baling wire out of the strings,
and thereby to let the notes roll full to the ear
that has listened enough to be a listener.

As for the devil - when he has finished every impersonation,
the best he will have been able to accomplish
is only that sound which is exactly not the music.


                             - John Ciardi

Et in arcadia ego

 "Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble.
 He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not."
 
It was Euripides who observed that no one can confidently say that they will be living tomorrow. Shakespeare, through the words he paced in the mouth of Hamlet, explained the implications:
"If it be now, ’tis not to come. If it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come—the readiness is all"

"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live." - Marcus Aurelius

"The Best Artists Are Gone Now"

So said Johnny Winter, and now he has gone too. I only saw him once, many years ago at a show a flatmate of mine was filming for the BBC. My friend got me tickets and my brother-in-law and I appeared an awful lot in the crowd cut-aways; viewers must have thought it was a really small audience. Anyway, RIP Johnny.

Here's his take on Dylan's 'Highway 61 Revisited'. Play it loud.

Polotsk revisited

I am still looking at Command and Colours Napoleonics, specifically whether to invest in some hex terrain. Well, being fairly careful with money I have cobbled together a cheapo version - featuring the grid pattern of the moment: the squex - just to check it out a bit more before committing.

I went with Polotsk again for no better reason that it saved me printing off another set of instructions. I opened a different box this time round so the French are fielding some Polish allies. The Russians now have a second proper militia unit straight from the painting table, but are still using mounted jaeger as heavy cavalry. I have switched to using markers to indicate the strength of units rather than losses, but line and light infantry are still differentiated by formation.

Once again I shall run through it solo, mainly as an attempt to get my head round the rules. My previous attempt partly succeeded, but a lot of energy was wasted trying to work around the lack of hexes. The photos are even worse than usual because I misplaced my camera during the Tour de France. And the hills that look like they are paper plates turned upside down and painted green are in fact exactly that; they work rather well for single hex hills.

The Murder at Haversham Manor

And so to the theatre. I have been to see 'The Play That Goes Wrong', something that didn't feature in my plans this time last week, but which was getting such good word of mouth reviews that I took a chance. 'Ridiculously funny' was one description and I must say, having seen it, that it's an understatement; it is both genuinely hilarious and extremely clever. Reviews have described it as 'Fawlty Towers' meets 'Noises Off' and you can see where they're coming from, although it is more Cleese than Frayn. My friend the theatre critic of the Morning Star also observantly points out the spirit of Spinal Tap's drummer in one of the characters of the play within the play.

The author and director (of the play this time rather than the play within the play) are never afraid to make the obvious joke, but are also capable of introducing the unexpected. For a production based on slapstick there are also plenty of witty lines. To be honest I can't imagine anyone not finding this funny, and for a farce there are surprisingly few sardines involved; you should go and see it.