All set up, ready. This will be the first face-to-face game I've hosted for over 2 years, so I'm really looking forward to it.
If you drop by here later in the week, you should read more about it. 1970s-style 20mm toy soldiers; linear warfare - you'd better believe it.
My compliments to Count Goya, who has outed me. He sent this evidence of my current gig in the real world. Well, in Fife, actually.
Travelling again - my life seems to have taken on an unfamiliar level of sophistication, not to mention luxury. I have just returned from the home of the Archduke, in the mountains of Northern England - a wild region which was once known as Scottish Cumberland, I understand. There we were joined by more travellers - Stryker and Goya - for a very fine day of Old School Napoleonic gaming, and of gazing in awe at the resident soldier collection.
Our game scenario was from 1809, the setting being what is now known as the Battle of Aspern-Essling, taken as a single action, and fought on the open ground between the two villages. I shall not attempt a detailed account of the action, but will include a series of my own photos, to give a taste of what the day looked like. I was Hiller, commanding the Austrian right flank, fighting alongside Stryker. [You will find rather better pictures and a more coherent narrative on Stryker's blog here.]
At the point at which we broke off, there was still some fighting to be done, and the Archduke continued later, solo, for about 4 hours; once again history required the Battle of Aspern-Essling to extend into a second day. He subsequently sent a photo of the Austrians in command of the crossing of the Danube, so Stryker and I had won, if only in absentia. It could be argued that we are usually at our best in absentia, anyway, but that's a discussion for another time.
Excellent day out yesterday; I drove up north to Stryker's estates, for one of his fabulous Napoleonic extravaganzas. Waterloo re-revisited, and very good too. I know Ian will make a wonderful job of putting together an appropriate report, so this is the most humble of glimpses of what went on - no thunder will be stolen. Here are a few of my own photos of the battle, just to give a taster.
My thanks to Baron and Baroness Stryker for all their hard work and kindness, and to everyone involved.
A bit earlier than usual, the Whitebeam trees at the bottom of our garden are coming into berry, which is always a cheering sight. This year, understandably, they look a bit parched to me. Usually these things are at their peak in mid September, when sometimes we get raided by flocks of Redwings, who just hoover the berries and move on; this is mysterious when it happens - we never see Redwings at any other time, in fact we hardly see them when they come, since they huddle into the trees and get busy, very early in the morning. If we are up early enough we will certainly hear them, but they are hard to spot; you just have a vague feeling that you have been robbed.
Tomorrow will be a very heavy day putting fresh gravel down on the driveway. It was delivered last Wednesday, and once again I am astounded by the skill of the driver, manoeuvring an 8-wheeler in through our gate, which is tricky enough in a car. I am pleased to note that the spray that I put down on the gravel area about 5 weeks ago has removed all the weeds in preparation for the big day. It takes a while (much longer than the old stuff, now illegal), but quietly we get there in the end.
This last week I took the opportunity to read the starter volume for the Very British Civil War. It has taken me a very long time to get round to this, and my interest is not because I have any particular wish to play the game; I just have a great fondness for what-ifs, how history might have been if the wind had blown the other way. What prompted my renewed interest was some other reading about the 1930s in Europe and (all right, I'll admit it) my watching, also after a very long delay, the movie The King's Speech.
Right on cue, in the last few days, one Mr Huckabee, a man described without apparent irony as a diplomat, former Fox News host and current US ambassador to Israel, voiced his opinion that if Sir Keir Starmer had been the British leader during WW2, the United Kingdom would be German-speaking now.
Maybe that's true, I have no idea; interesting. More alternative history. If we're playing this game, it also seems to me that if the present US Administration had been in charge in Washington in 1939, they would have been solidly aligned with the Axis, so WW2, if it had happened, would have been a walkover. Which means that Huckabee's current gig in Israel wouldn't have existed either; interesting.
Möge sein Arsch eitern, as Anton Drexler used to say.
One of our neighbours, on the far side of the farm hamlet (maybe 200 metres away) keeps chickens. We don't see much of them, unless we go for a walk down there, but we can hear the rooster crowing in the morning, which is very pleasant and just as it should be. Nature's alarm clock.
For the last couple of weeks we have a rooster in our garden too. He spends most of the day here. There's not much to eat, though there have been a lot of windfall plums this summer, and he has no friends here. He does no damage, as far as I can see; he likes to sit inside our front hedge - I imagine the shade has been welcome in the hot weather; he stalks about the place looking vaguely belligerent, and he seems to drift away home in the evenings. It is noticeable that he gets here early enough to welcome the dawn each day, which certainly wakes you up if you are not used to it.
I thought that roosters couldn't share a yard. A little inherited country lore and a lot of cartoon films have reinforced this belief over the years. Maybe that's what's happening? - perhaps he has been bested, humbled, chucked out (see what I did there?). Maybe he is sulking up here, or feels he has taken possession of a new yard (without wives). Perhaps, like me, he is here because he is a hermit. Maybe he is just happy here.
Any suggestions on the psychology of poultry would be welcome. He isn't a problem at the moment (though sometimes he does get sworn at in the mornings), and I am sort of assuming he will go away later in the year, but I have no valid reason to think this. He is quite a big, impressive looking chap, to my unpractised eye anyway. I would rather have him as a friend than otherwise.
There is drinking water for him; I'm reluctant to start putting food out for him, in case all his relations arrive. Should we be doing anything for him?
