Napoleonic, WSS & ECW wargaming, with a load of old Hooptedoodle on this & that


Thursday, 17 July 2025

Hooptedoodle #483 - A Little Help Goes a Long Way [Artificial WHAT?]

 Two days ago, I am awake at 05:00. It looks a bit gloomy outside, so I am pondering whether I will need to do my early morning pyjama run, watering the shrubs, and whether I will get a chance to do a little more weedkiller spraying of the gravel driveway today.


I decide to get advice from the electronic friend and helper on my phone, who is always faithfully awaiting a chance to serve.

05:06 - "Siri, what is the forecast today?"

Siri - "Today it will be mostly clear; daytime temperatures will rise to 18degC, with overnight lows of 13degC"

Fair enough - maybe I should keep an extra sweater handy, but that sounds OK. My alarm is set for 06:30, so I can enjoy a preparatory snooze until then. Better just check...

05:10 - "Siri, will it rain today?"

Siri - "There is very little chance of rain"

Righto - that will do nicely.

My snooze is suddenly disturbed by heavy rain hammering on the Velux window above my head. What the...? What is the story now?

06:15 - "Siri, will it rain today?" 

Siri - "There is very little chance of rain"

Maybe an alternative approach is required...

06:16 - "Siri, at what time will it rain?"

Siri - "It's raining now"

 
It's OK - this is a library photo of someone else's garden, for dramatic effect

We have to be grateful, I know, but I may go back to keeping a piece of seaweed in a jam jar on the window-sill. 

Saturday, 12 July 2025

A Little Testing in the Shade

 Since I have a few quiet days, and it really is getting pretty warm out in the garden, I am having a few sessions on the Dining Room table, rolling dice and seeing how some rules scribblings shape up. This week's mission is to add a set of tweaks to my WSS rules to make them work for the ECW. Things are going all right at the moment.



I was out this morning at 06:30, to water our new plants. There is no immediate likelihood of a hosepipe ban here - this county has more than enough water, but I like to get it done early just to be on the safe side, in case the environmental vigilantes are on the prowl. The timing also allows me to go outside in pyjamas and dressing gown (and straw hat, and gardening boots) - one does not have to look one's best. At that time of the morning, I can also enjoy the singing of the blackbird and the song thrush in residence, since they sit on top of the tallest tree on the other side of the lane and attempt to shout each other down. Excellent.

 
The inside of our front hedge has a line of extra bushes embedded in it, which give a lot of additional colour at different times of the year; I should have taken a decent close-up, but you can just about make out that the Fuschia is in full flower at the moment


 
This one is an immigrant - this is my neighbour's sweet pea, which is growing through the fence, so we can enjoy it too

 
One of our recent arrivals is a Prunus named Bonaparte. No new growth at the moment (it shows up bright red), but young Boney is doing a brave job standing to attention in the hot, humid conditions. All the new shrubs have now had their leader shoots pruned, to encourage them to bush out. Bushing out is good

***** Late Edit *****

Completely separate topic - I've been looking at some specifications for a possible new car, and am keen to make sure that the luggage carrying capacity is better than my current vehicle. I'll certainly find some more details online, so am not unduly concerned, but I am astounded that the manufacturer specifies the capacity of the boot (trunk) in litres. Interesting.

Two obvious questions present themselves:

(1) What possible use is this? Unless I convert my luggage into a liquid, and pump it aboard, I can't see that such a figure helps very much.

(2) What on earth do they think their customers intend to carry?

********************* 

Friday, 27 June 2025

Hooptedoodle #482 - Get the Word to Neil - I nearly made it into the 21st Century

 I was having a read of my football team's website, and there was an offer of a free download of the season's fixtures into my calendar. Sounds OK, so I made sure I was signed in, clicked a few things and set about setting this up. 


Very quickly, it became apparent that this isn't going to happen unless I sign up to something called ECAL, which appears primarily to be a marketing tool. I am sure it works very nicely, but I had to agree to ECAL having full access to the information in my diary, for whatever reason they wish, and the ability to add or delete data.

Screech of brakes - no thank you. My diary contains medical stuff and all sorts of personal contact info, and a pretty thorough record of where I've been and what I've done for the last 12 years or so. I'm not daft - I understand that ECAL can obtain all this from my Google account anyway, but I have not given explicit permission for that, so they would be breaking the law. This is different.

I shall enjoy my pathetic little fightback - every single time I have to look up the fixture dates elsewhere; ECAL, whatever they represent, can go and do one, as quickly as they like.


 

Saturday, 14 June 2025

Hooptedoodle #481 - The King's Card

 


It will be my mother's 100th birthday on Monday. She doesn't know it will be her birthday, and she will not notice when it happens. The poor old soul is resident in a nursing home in Berwick upon Tweed, where she is wonderfully well looked after and is as comfortable as we can possibly make her, but she cannot walk, or see, or make sense of any sounds. She sleeps most of the time - they get her into some sort of semi-conscious state to feed her, but she doesn't communicate and as far as I am aware she has no idea where she is or what is going on.

I visit once a week, though she is not aware of my visits, and in fact she hasn't known me for about 5 years now. That's OK - it's a routine - I visit this very old lady, who doesn't remember me and appears to have nothing to do with any mother I ever had. Mostly, I think, I do it for my own peace of mind. I sit with her for an hour or so each week - I haven't seen her awake in about 6 months. I make sure her radio is quietly tuned to her favourite classical station (just in case she can hear it) and before I leave I chat with the staff about how she has been.  

A 100th birthday is a serious business in the UK. You get a greeting card from the Monarch. One advance in recent years has been that, if you are in receipt of the State Pension, this all goes ahead automatically. So I have been waiting to see how it all works.

About a month ago I received an undated letter from the DWP, the main message of which was:

We have attempted to contact you to organise congratulatory messages for their 100th birthday.

As their representative, you can arrange for cards to be issued from the King via the Centenarian Team.

All we need is for you to confirm that the personal information we hold on the Department for Work and Pensions' records is correct.

What to do next

If you would like the team to organise the messages on your behalf, or you would like more information, please get in touch with us. Our contact details are at the top of this letter.

Yours sincerely

 

W R Swanson
Office manager

Righto - here we go - the system has everything under control. Only slight concerns were:

(1) There was no mention of what personal information they wish to have confirmed, though they gave my mother's name and National Insurance number, and they obviously have some idea that she is going to be 100.

(2) The National Insurance number was incorrect. [Goodness me - don't tell me that all this digital magnificence is manned by idiots, after all? Surely no-one expected that?]

 I leaped into action - I spent a singularly unproductive 45 minutes waiting for someone to answer the supplied phone number (which is in Newcastle), and then typed up an old-fashioned letter and sent it to the supplied postal address (which is in Wolverhampton), confirming that, yes, I did want the Centenarian Team to send out a card, thank you very much, and pointing out the error in the NI number.

Two weeks later I received another letter from the DWP, which turned out to be an exact repeat of the original undated letter, complete with incorrect NI number. With some vague idea that I was already in the system, I refused to worry about this, and waited for a meaningful reply, aware that the time left for arranging a greetings card was disappearing fast.

I received what was clearly a reply to my letter - this dated 3rd June, though I received it on the 9th. All it contained was some generalised acknowledgement of my notifying them of a "change of circumstances" - there was no mention of greetings cards, and the Newcastle phone number no longer appeared. I am left to assume that the DWP's computer is very busy. 

In two days I shall travel down to Berwick for the "big" day. I expect that no card will be sent to me before then; it is possible that there may be one sent direct to the nursing home (the DWP have that address), but I doubt it. Since my mum will not know that it is her birthday, and since no-one would in any case be able to explain to her that she had received a card, or what a card was, I have to accept that it really doesn't matter. I may be pilloried by the nursing home staff for failing to arrange the King's card, but that is the least of my worries. 

 
I understand that this is what the card looks like, if you get one. I have to say that I am very impressed with the idea of sending a picture of oneself as a birthday greeting, and am thinking seriously of getting a supply of suitable cards printed up. No expense spared for my friends, I assure you - I know how much they'll appreciate it
 
***** Late Edit *****
 
Well, the card did turn up on time, so all due credit and respect to those involved. The system works, even if it does not feel very robust during the process. I knew the King wouldn't let my mum down...
 


 
********************* 


Sunday, 1 June 2025

WSS: Action at the Damebrunnen (Sept 1704) by Zoom

 On Thursday I had the pleasure of hosting what for me is an ambitious WSS battle - 5 players, quite fussy terrain, lots of troops.

The scenario was based on one I had played before; Franco-Bavarian force (commanded by Marshal Marsin) occupies a key position on the only road capable of getting the Allied siege train (confiscated from Ulm) into position to lay siege to the important fortress at Landau. The Allies send forward a force which includes Imperial, British and Hessen-Kassel troops, commanded by Karl Thüngen, to chase Marsin away.

Marsin has 4 brigades; Thüngen has 6, but 2 of his are delayed. At the outset, Marsin has a slight advantage in numbers and a strong position on a ridge overlooking the road, while the Allies' advanced troops are stomping onto the table up the road and through an adjoining wood; when the Allies' delayed brigades arrive, they will have overall superiority, but will have to get themselves sorted out quickly to bring this advantage to bear.

JBM and Jon were the Franco-Bavs, and Chris, Dave B and Dave C had the Allies.

The French side adopted a very aggressive "defence", going for the enemy vigorously to disrupt them before the reinforcements became involved. 

 
Starting positions. On the Damebrunnen ridge opposite, the Bavarians are on their right flank, based in and around the village of Weißkirch, and the French on their left. On the near side of the table, Austrian troops are advancing along the road and in the farmland on both sides of it, while the (extremely red) British are moving forward through the Binningwald forest. The stream which is visible - the Pfefferbach - is a minor water-splash which is not expected to slow the advance down very much

 
The action commences, and the Franco-Bavarians are straight out of the stalls!


 
Withers' British infantry in the woods - the French are coming across the table at them, and there is a major cavalry fight breaking out on the right of the picture...

 
... as you see here - Henry Lumley's British horse (red cube) getting involved with De Broglie's French lads. The Brits did well initially, but lost momentum rather

 
Bavarians on their right and in the centre making rapid progress with their attack

 
The British foot are still in the Binningwald, but by Turn 4 the Allied reinforcements arrive - more Austrian cavalry on the flank (Cusani), and the Hessian infantry (Wilken) on the far side of the wood


 
General Tourouvre gets as far as the British-held wood - splish-splash

 
The battle took a while to build up to full fury, but then it finished quickly. Here Jon sends the Wolframsdorf Cuirassiers forward in the decisive attack, with General Weichel; they eliminated a further Allied Cavalry unit and a battery, and the game is won...


 
A couple of extra pictures: here you see a detachment holding part of Weißkirch - my "detachment" rule is a straight copy of the "garrison" rule from C&CN - the troops here are one of the companies from my siege spares. They were pleased to get a bit of fresh air, but they had a very quiet time

 

 
And here you see a fine publicity shot of Marshal Marsin and his staff going in with the Bavarian attack - this must be one for the engravers


It was a smashing, jovial evening - I had to leave markers and a few extra counters around the place to help me remember where we were up to (bad form if the umpire loses the plot), but it was really very enjoyable. As ever, my sincere thanks to my colleagues for their company and good-humoured preparedness to "muck in", as my Preston grannie would have said, and their ability to cope cheerfully with the residual shortcomings of what is still an evolving rule set.

Thank you, gentlemen! 

Friday, 16 May 2025

WSS: Scenario Dept - Schellenberg - interesting but not just now...

The Schellenberg, and why not

I'm planning to host a few games in the near future, so I've been polishing up scenarios. I have some concerns about always using historical battles - they obviously have a strong appeal, but in my experience the potential disadvantages tend to offset this. I'll explain why a bit later; I'm confident that I'll be misunderstood, and will accidentally offend someone, so let me state, right up front (before we get to that bit), that nothing could be further from my intention, and if anyone is offended I have simply expressed myself badly! - anyway, we'll get to that.

First off, probably because I am a madman, but also because I wanted to prove that my WSS rules could stand up to a big, complex action, I played a game with the Jolly Broom Man nearly two years ago which was obviously Blenheim, though of course I insisted that it was just a battle that had some similarities to Blenheim. The reason for the [childish] deception was that I didn't want people with superior knowledge pouring scorn on my grasp of the period (they'll manage to do that without my dropping the evidence into their laps...), and I didn't want anyone to judge how well my rules work by comparing the game result with the historic one (which, for reasons I don't follow, is often done).

In the event, JBM and I spent two fairly heavy evenings bringing the game to completion, and the result was historically correct, though from a detailed point of view some bits worked out "correctly" and some didn't. The main deliverable was a successful stress-test of the game systems, albeit with a page or two of scribbled notes for possible tweaks, so I was only slightly interested in a "correct" result. The good news was that it all worked out quite nicely - we both needed therapy afterwards, but it was fine - the potentially bad news was that it got me thinking positively about pushing my luck and setting up some more historical scenarios in the future!

I have a strong fancy for Schellenberg, which, as I'm sure you know, took place just a short distance along the Danube from Blenheim, a few months earlier. It's unusually well documented in English for a WSS battle - because, of course, that famously handsome British general and hero, the Duke of Marlborough, won the day. [Hurrah!] This week, the Imp of Perversity raised his irritating head, and I spent two (very interesting) days reading everything I could get my hands on about the battle, with a view to seeing if I could set up an enjoyable scenario.

 
Part of a diorama in the Guards Division Museum; pick the hexes out of that

I'll rush through this a bit, since I do not wish to shine bright lights on my pathetic understanding of the history, and also because it is probably boring. 

Compressed narrative: For political reasons, the Allied army was jointly commanded by the D of M [Hurrah!] and the Margrave of Baden [who?]. Prince Eugene was temporarily out of the picture since he had been left behind to distract the French in the Rhine / Moselle area. 

The Allies needed a safe bridge over the Danube, and Donauwörth was thought to be ideal. The small town was walled, and it was overlooked by an adjacent fortified hill, the Schellenberg, which had delapidated defences dating variously from the 13th Century to the 30 Years War. The Elector of Bavaria sent a strong corps of veteran troops to defend the area, commanded by an old friend of mine, the Piedmontese Count D'Arco (who appears - and dies - on my battlefields with great regularity, like a character out of a soap opera), and D'Arco set to work repairing the defences, with large gangs of civilian labourers.

D'Arco was heavily outnumbered by Marlborough/Baden's force, but if he could hold out for long enough there was a French army rushing through the Black Forest to support him. When the Allies arrived to the north of Donauwörth and its bridges, Baden was pessimistic about a direct assault, and recommended that the Allies put the place under formal siege. Marlborough overruled him, since

  • they did not have the equipment or the time for such a siege
  • any delay would increase the likelihood of the French force's arrival
  • delay would also give D'Arco's labourers more time to stiffen up the Schellenberg
  • he reckoned (correctly) that the defenders would not expect an immediate assault

And therefore the Allies attacked the Schellenberg as soon as they arrived. [Hurrah! etc]


Righto, that's what happened. This all sounds quite exciting, but I was put off using it as a scenario for a few reasons:

  • if the Allies are forced to attack immediately, it has to be on the old works on the Schellenberg, and the lie of the land (including the surrounding forests) means that there is a very limited stretch of the North wall where these attacks can be made
  • D'Arco's garrison may, if they are very lucky, keep them out for a while
  • so the game becomes one extended scrap over a single area, hardly any choices to be made, just a slugfest; a game of conkers...

Don't get me wrong; I think this is still potentially interesting, but I'd rather try it as a solo game before I subject any invited guests to such an action. Therefore, after two days of checking OOBs and various narratives, I shelved the idea. I'll continue to think about it, but won't use it as a scenario in the immediate future.

Which brings me onto what might be the contentious bit, though I do not mean it to be so.

I've written a few times over the years of my views on historical scenarios. Like everyone, I use them a lot. A lot of the advantages are self-evident; there is always a little pseudo-academic buzz in the background that, in addition to playing with toys, somehow we are analysing history, and I'm sure we are. I'm very positive about all that. However, especially if it is a well-known, well documented factual event, there is also a very good chance that all the players will read about it, and it becomes very difficult to avoid everyone thinking in terms of what actually happened (who did what, and when), how well it worked and what else they could have done. These factors are absent, I would contend, if the battle is mere Pretend-Be. This is also information which the real commanders, back in the day, did not have - so much for realism! [I jest...]

Even if the scenario is accurate and unbiased, and the rules present the variables and the unpredictability of war in a reasonable manner, in theory the whole thing still goes to blazes as soon as someone rolls a die. Most people will accept that this is all fair enough; it is, after all, just a bloody game. 

A Sad Story from Long Ago

The reason I mention this at all is that I am [confession time] still slightly scarred from an event a good few years ago, when I was invited to a very fine weekend session involving 6 players, in a big house in the country, at which we were to fight a very famous battle on a fabulous big battlefield. I shall not say which battle it was, nor even which period (though it was one with which I was not, and still am not, overly familiar). By some logic I cannot remember, two of us (that's me and one other attendee) were given command of a major chunk of the attacking side.

During the coffee break before the game started, my colleague and I agreed that, since the plan actually followed by our historical predecessors was a complete failure, we would do something wildly different. We agreed it with our army's Commander (at least I think we did...), and we rushed into action as soon as the cups were tidied away.

Immediately, our host, game organiser and umpire was obviously uncomfortable with this unauthorised version of his battle developing on the big table in his library, but the game inevitably took on its own momentum, so we thought we were OK. In fact not. Our host had very thoroughly and ingeniously built into the game a complicated series of timed events - arrival of reinforcements, rivers being unfordable, all that - which made less and less sense as we got further and further from the historic flow of the action. In the end, we were forced to abandon the event lists, which all went down rather badly, and certainly affected the outcome. Oh - in case anyone cares, I have to report that our alternative strategy failed at least as dismally as the original, so we couldn't even claim any respectability on that score!


It still causes me some anguish to recall that I was a major contributor to screwing up this game [Aaargh! - once again, sorry, D__!], and I have spent some time since wondering what went wrong. Not very much, in fact, which makes it all the more scary; if we had established in advance with our host just how far we were expected or permitted to depart from history, the problem would not have arisen at all. And that's it, really. Different people, on different occasions, in different contexts, may have their own ideas of how close a historical scenario is supposed to be to a re-enactment. It just has to be a shared understanding.

I'll stop now, and go and wash my face in cold water. It is maybe worth noting that I was never asked back...! 


 

Wednesday, 7 May 2025

Hooptedoodle #480 - Something to Do with Having Your Cake


 I've always been fascinated by how memory works. Part of this has been reinforced recently by living through my mother's mental decline, and also by my occasional sifting through the big box of old photos I rescued when we sold her house. 

The photos themselves can become a little misleading, since sometimes I can remember seeing a photo before, and am no longer sure whether I can remember the actual event depicted. This may also have something to do with having a strong impression that my early childhood was all in monochrome!

How far back can we really remember? They say that between ages 2½ and 3½ is when we start to put together coherent memories - it probably depends on how spectacular one's early years were. I have some photos here of a weekend I spent with my parents at the seaside at Borth-y-Gest during the Summer when I was 2. There are pictures of me playing with my toys, and I can remember some of these toys from having known them in my later childhood, but I don't remember being there. I don't even remember that my dad almost drowned us all by taking us out in a rowing boat when there was a gale warning, which must have been fairly memorable. 

I am sure there must be bits of real memories in the early mixture, but the first definite event I can remember and put a date on was shortly after my 3rd birthday. I went to stay for a few days at my Uncle Ernie's house, across the river in the Wirral, because my mother was in hospital giving birth to my sister, and unfortunately (always having been a klutz) I fell off the swing in Ernie's garden and broke my left leg. I can't remember the swing or any of the trauma, but I have very vivid memories of two days spent in Birkenhead General Hospital; I remember the strangely-coloured lights they had on at night in the ward, and I remember very clearly playing in my cot with a Dinky Toys refuse truck which Ernie brought me by way of apology.

Just like this one, in fact:


 Dinky Toys model no. 25

I also have pretty clear memories of travelling with my mother by bus back to the hospital however-many weeks later to get my plaster cast removed. 

One thing that doesn't necessarily attach itself to old remembered images is how I felt about what was going on. However, during the recent annual festival of Gorging on Chocolate which has replaced the religious themes of Easter, I was reminded of The Incident of the Easter Chick Cake, and this may be a very early sample of my feelings about events.

This must have been my 4th Easter, so I would be 3-and-a-bit. My mother came in with some groceries, and she handed me a small paper bag, which contained a simple little novelty cake she had bought at the baker's. It was a very plain likeness of a small Easter Chick, not much bigger than a real live one, I guess, made of two balls of sponge cake, covered with yellow icing, with currants for eyes and a little beak of folded orange marzipan. It must have been pretty crude, really, but I loved it, and no-one had ever bought me a cake before. I spent some of the afternoon staring at it, being its friend; at teatime it was served up on a little plate, and I ate it.

I was heart-broken. Inconsolable. It hadn't been all that wonderful to eat, and I now knew for a fact that I would much rather have kept the cake as a friend. My mother was actually quite worried, and the following day she quietly went out and brought me another little bag. Yes - that's right; she had gone back to Mr Osborne the Baker (in South Street) and they had one Chick Cake left. I can still just about remember how wildly happy I was - all of a sudden life contained the possibility that something you had lost could be replaced. I had maybe never thought of that before. It probably ruined me for life, in fact...

This time, I decided, I was going to keep my cake safe, forever - you may have some concerns that this might not have gone very well. What actually happened was that the replacement cake was served up on the same plate, at teatime on the day of its arrival, and I happily scoffed it without hesitation and without any subsequent qualms. It seems that, once I had explored and enjoyed the personal tragedy of having eaten and lost the first one, I was ready to move on to more orthodox gluttony. I have never looked back. 


I find this interesting. We must put together a whole life-set of values and feelings based on personal experiences; I'm sure mine started a long time before the cake, but this is the first one I can identify.

And you know what? Both the Chick Cake and the Dinky refuse truck are remembered in full colour. Hmmm.