Hooptedoodle #12 - Gift & Hobby Shops

Foy's Eighth Law is:

It is a bold move to attempt to turn your hobby into your job; the chances of making a successful living are usually much less than you think, and the chances of retaining any fondness for the hobby are about one in ten.


I live near a small seaside town which is full of the sort of shops which you would expect. Coffee places, florists, art & craft emporia, and an unbelievable number of gift shops. There's always a new one being opened, complete with free sherry for visitors, and some of them are lovely, but reality will normally arrive quite soon, and many of them close within a year.

To a large extent (as always, given the chance) I place a lot of the blame with the banks. There is a certain type of what used to be termed Middle Class Person - mostly ladies - who have always wanted to open a gift shop. The banks should put more effort into pointing out a few things before helping them to set up, viz:

(1) There are 3 other, identical shops already, within 50 metres.

(2) These shops will make very nice money, thank you, during the Summer, when all the visitors come, but will really catch a cold during the long, quiet Winters.

(3) There is a limit to the number of agate bracelets the locals will want. Local residents - especially the ones with money - tend to work in the nearest city, and mostly do their shopping there.

(4) When the novelty wears off and the sherry runs out, the gift shop will cut back to 10-4 opening, then 4 day opening, then only opening when they can be bothered, and eventually the "Lease for Sale" will appear.

Now this is all very sad. It would be a fine thing if people's dreams worked out, and on a rare occasion one such business will in fact do very well, but in most cases they fizzle out, leaving the proprietors short on cash and, I imagine, discouraged. The predictability of the entire life cycle can't offer much solace, either. Do these ladies learn anything? Is that the end of their interest in gift shops?


The specific example I was thinking about the other day was a hobby shop in Edinburgh which I used to patronise around 1970. The owner was rather a grumpy soul, but occasionally he would open up a bit and chat. It was another sad tale. As a child, he had been a passionate builder of balsa wood aeroplanes, and his (very expensive) private education had foundered hopelessly on the fact that the only thing in the world he was interested in was making models. Eventually he left school, and became an architectural model maker - he worked for an organisation that did commissions, building models of proposed shopping centres and so on. This went fairly well, and he rather enjoyed his job, which didn't pay much, until one day he inherited the family money, and set up the model and hobby shop he had always wanted.

By the time I knew him, the shop had been open about 12 years, and he hated it. Initially it had been fine - there were long quiet periods during the day when he could get on with his own interests (mostly working model steam engines when I knew him), but he would continually be interrupted by - well, customers, I guess. He said to me, "Some fat bloke with a squeaky voice will come in and bend my ear all afternoon about the exact shade of cream paint for LMS railway carriages, and - frankly - I couldn't care less!". He had some health problems, and eventually sold up to concentrate on his new hobby, which was making furniture.

OK - another tale of frustration and disappointment - but what had he expected it would be like when he started? Maybe we all change with the years, maybe enthusiasm is a sap which dries up. His problem, I suspect was partly that he didn't very much care for people who were a bit like himself (common enough), and that much of the pleasure went out of running the shop when he was relying on it for his livelihood.

To all those who have made a success of making money from their hobby, I offer my compliments and my best wishes - good on you. My earlier post about Moonbeams was an attempt to give appropriate credit to the dreamers and the crackpots who have made wargaming possible as a hobby - we owe these people a great deal, but I still believe that most such ventures fail, sadly.

The Miracle of the Berezina

With this view of Jan Van Papendrecht's celebrated painting, I sincerely wish everyone a warm and happy Christmas. All the very best to everyone, wherever you are.

Hooptedoodle #11 - Weather Report

Yes - all right, all right - I know a whole pile of people have got much worse weather than we have, and I also know that most nations outside the UK seem to cope with snow rather better than we do, but this month has been sufficiently harsh to warrant yet another mention.

I live right next to the sea, and it's fairly rare for us to get snow at all, but here it is - out in the sticks, South East Scotland, this morning, with the sun struggling to rise. Time to bank up the log stove and get my book out.

Hooptedoodle #10a - Supplementaire - SEGOM & MDM

Mention of SEGOM in a comment on the previous post got me searching around the Internet again, and I came up with some new things. These are other people's pictures - if I've borrowed your picture then it's a great picture, and I'm not making anything out of it, so thanks very much!

It seems that SEGOM did indeed produce a 54mm acetate series, and one of the forums I was looking at suggested that they produced these (cheaper) figures to compete with MDM, who were very successful with their Serie de l'Epoque Napoleonienne. There seems to be some confusion between SEGOM and MDM anyway, but the more I look at the MDM examples the more I start to think that maybe my remembered wooden mounting blocks were actually black plastic, and that the labels may in fact have been white! The labels look very familiar...

The first picture are actual SEGOM, apparently, while the rest are all MDM (though some were claimed to be SEGOM). The strange round black base in the final picture is the end cap of a clear plastic box in which the figures were sold.






So I think my figures may well have been MDM, of which I had never heard until this evening. It seems that MDM also made a more expensive series of metal figures - not sure of the scale. If anyone has some actual knowledge on this subject (and I certainly do not!), then please do chip in! I also remember the figures as being rather more attractive, and better finished, but no matter.

Life is like that, I find.

Hooptedoodle #10 - Grandpère et La Samaritaine

You will gather that the arrival of more snow has given me another idle day. Today's ramble is a little bit about my grandfather, but also a request for some clues to something I have wondered about for years.


My family has always been a little complicated. When I was a kid, I was aware that my maternal grandparents had separated before WW2, and that my grandfather lived with his new family in Paris. He was English, but from 1928 until he retired around 1968 he lived and worked in Paris. I only met him a few times - for about 4 years, from the age of about 11, my cousin and I used to go to stay with him during the Summer, at Neuilly-sur-Seine, and he made a huge impression on me.

He was enormously well-read, a great Fabian, and was opinionated and articulate in equal measure - which makes him sound a little forbidding, but in fact he was also very personable, humorous (as long as he was not the butt of the joke!), and a marvellous raconteur. Sitting down at 7 for a 3-hour dinner was a new experience for two 11-year-olds from Liverpool. I have always regretted that his early death (from lung cancer - he was a lifelong addict to Black & White and Markovitch cigarettes) meant that my own children never got to meet him, because he was an absolute treasure.

There is some point to this story. Grandpère was a great Napoleonic fan, and one day he arranged for us to visit the Musée de l'Armée at Les Invalides outside of public opening hours, on an early Sunday morning - I think that one of the curators was a personal friend. Of course, it was all too much for my childish attention span - I have a confused recollection of countless numbers of tattered flags, and of rows and rows of glass cases with life-size mannequins in uniform, though I do remember very clearly being overawed by the sheer size of a mounted dragoon, and entranced by the Vauban room with its little models of fortress towns. When our heads were obviously spinning, my grandfather sat us on the steps next to Napoleon's tomb, and worked his way around the friezes on the wall, describing (because he knew his stuff) the great battles of this Emperor who was within a few metres of where we sat.

I was never the same again. It was one of those episodes which, on recall, make you wish you had a "replay" button handy so that you could run them again. I have been to the Musée de l'Armée a few times in later life, but it seemed smaller and less bewildering than my first experience - this may simply be because of faulty recollection, but I suspect we may have been taken to places which are off-limits to normal day visitors.

On a couple of occasions after that, my cousin and I received gifts from Paris which were models of Napoleonic soldiers. They were beautifully painted - like nothing I had ever seen - though of course I didn't really understand what they represented. I recall that I had a line infantry fusilier, and my cousin had a most impressive infantry sapeur with a fine beard and a big apron. One of my figures had a small accident when his plume got broken off, and I stuck it back on with clear Durofix. I knew little of model soldiers (still true!), and over the years, of course, they disappeared, along with most of the other priceless jewels of childhood. Of recent years, I have often wondered what they might have been - i.e. who was the maker. I have had a good poke around on the internet - especially in eBay - to look for something similar, but never found anything, so if anyone has any ideas, I'd be pleased to know them.

I cannot show pictures, obviously, because they are long gone. They were 54mm figures - very elegant - cast in a hard plastic which was a very slightly creamy white. They were very finely painted, in glossy, toy-soldier style - I remember being very struck by the detailing of piping and cockades and shako cords. The white parts of the uniforms were unpainted - the white plastic showed through. They had small rectangular bases, which were painted an earth brown shade, and they were mounted on small wooden blocks, bearing a stuck-on label (presumably paper or card), which was printed in black with a dull gold background, giving details of the unit, the year and so on.


I never knew the maker - it would have meant nothing to me, anyway. It has been suggested that they might have been Starlux, though I have not seen Starlux figures mounted on blocks in this way. They must have been purchased new around 1958-61, I would guess, and almost certainly from the toy department at La Samaritaine - now closed, alas, but still fondly remembered as a very fine working definition of Heaven for small boys of all ages.

It really doesn't matter, of course, but, in an idle sort of way which is appropriate to being snowed in again, I'd be pleased to shine a little light into the past.

Weather in Wargames

In my experience, weather is an important addition to wargames, but it is one of the most likely things to get forgotten about when you are trying to rally the troops one last time at about 2am, and it is certainly one of the most likely things to be dropped from the rules for big games.

Accordingly, I really only consider the weather in detail in computerised games – the old computer, he never forgets, he never gets tired. I’m sitting here this morning, happy that the last lot of snow has gone, but aware from the TV news that more is expected, so some mention of weather seems appropriate.

I have to apologise immediately for the fact that, since they are primarily intended for Summer campaigns in Spain, my weather rules, in their present form, do not cover snow or extreme temperature, neither do they allow for fog/mist (except by implication). Oh – and wind isn’t covered either. In fact, I’m becoming increasingly ashamed of the whole thing as I write.

So this is just an outline – food for thought, if you like. If you find the ideas interesting, I’m confident you can easily improve on what I do, or produce something more suitable for your own games. My weather rules are very much based in the scale and style of games I fight. For example, my main Napoleonic rules have 30-minute bounds and 200-pace hexes, and do not allow for formed musket volley fire – musketry is included in close combat, and the effect of weather on the combat rules reflects this. My MEP Grand Tactical variant will use the same set-up in its automated form, with some adjustment for the 1-hour bounds, the halved ground-scale and the simplified combat rules.

Although the implementation of these rules is on a computer, I shall attempt to illustrate them in the form of dice-throws.

My starting point is a simple, linear, numerical barometer which I think I originally adopted from Charlie Wesencraft (or it might have been Featherstone) about 40 years ago. You can use a cardboard track, or a homemade numbered pegboard – whatever you like. You start with a 2D6 throw to set the weather indicator (wr) – the detail of all this is set out in the attached note – 2 means that it’s fine, 12 that it’s bucketing down with rain.

There are 4 indicators, Weather, Visibility, Mud and Dampness. You’ll need to keep track of the time of day, and determine (at the outset) the official time of dusk, and you’ll need a pair of weather dice – just normal 6-sided dice, but different colours. I use a white one and a black – where necessary, the white counts as +ve and the black as –ve – in all that follows, w is the white dice score, and b the black one. At the end of each bound, roll the 2 weather dice once and adjust the indicators (note this is just a single roll of the 2 dice - eveything can be worked out from this one roll):

Weather (wr), which is the main sliding barometer – this is set initially by rolling the weather dice and adding them together (w + b) – thereafter it is moved up and down each bound – increase by 1 if w > b, decrease by 1 if w < b. If w = b then it stays the same.

Visibility (visi), is the number of hexagons at which units may be seen on the tabletop, and thus the limit of artillery fire. The distance at which Blinds may be spotted, and it which generals may influence the conduct and discipline of their troops is also limited by small values of visi. visi is calculated as (12 – wr), tweaked for the onset of dusk and given a minimum value of 1.

Mud (mud), which is another sliding scale, is initially set equal to b, and its subsequent change is driven by the current value of wr and the value of (w + b) each bound – progressively higher values of mud will limit artillery “bounce-through” for deep targets, prevent the use of movement bonuses, reduce movement rates for all troops, and ultimately prevent all movement of artillery and vehicles.

Dampness (damp) , is initially set to w, and subsequently changes in a manner very similar to mud. damp is a measure of the effect of wet weather on powder-dependent troops. At high values, it stops skirmish fire, reduces the combat effectiveness of infantry and, ultimately, also limits the effects of artillery fire.


At the outset, the start time is set, and the time of dusk (from a scenario, or whatever), and the initial values of wr, visi, mud and damp are set, as described. . If they agree to do so, the generals may request a re-throw, but they may only do this twice – after 2 recalculations they must accept the conditions as given.

Hither Pommerania - the Continuing Story

Since Christmas is a traditional time for legends and fairy tales, here is more of the little-known history of the Duchy of Stralsund-Rügen, during it's brief membership of the Confederation of the Rhine.

First, some pictures. The dress uniforms of the two regiments of chevauxlegers were in the style of French chasseurs, but white with coloured facings and piping. This proved to be an impractical choice - the white garments became very shabby on campaign, and supplies of white cloth were so limited that there are descriptions of the cavalry troopers of the Brigade Rugeois wearing grey or brown, and there is some evidence that they were supplied with French-issue green uniforms.


Next we have our artist's interpretation of the regulations for the infantry standards. They are known to have been 140cm square, unfringed, and carried on a blackened pole with a gilt spear-head finial. No examples or contemporary illustrations exist, though there is a description of what appears to have been the colour of the Von Grimmen battalion, hanging in the cathedral at Huesca in 1882.





From the top, these are the colours of the Grenadiers Zum Alten Greif (bearing the arms of Stralsund), the 1st and 2nd Infantry Battalions (bearing, respectively, the arms of the Podebusk Princes of Rügen and of the house of Von Grimmen) and the Jaegers (bearing the Pommerngreif, the traditional griffin of Pommerania).

Continuing the history of the units of Rugeois in the service of the French Emperor.

The unit of Grenadiers served as the Stralsund garrison - their role was to show the flag at parades, underlining the status of Herzog Friedrich and generally acting as town guard. The rest of the army was distributed in small detachments around the convoluted coast of Rügen itself and the towns on the Baltic shore, their main duty being to discourage British trade, which was still carried on, in total defiance of the Continental System. The problem seems to have been heightened by the fact that an estimated one-third of the population made their living, directly or indirectly, through this illegal commerce. The Duke's Army were almost entirely ineffective in their efforts to interfere, not least because of the very high degree of corruption and bribery which persisted in the Army. Jacques Lazare, who succeeded Molitor as French ambassador to the Duke, is on record as saying, "it is hard to stop this infernal business when the authorities and the army are making more money from it than the smugglers".

In an attempt to make a high-profile example, Major Ernst Arschkratzer of the Grenadiers was sentenced to a public flogging in Stralsund's Fischmarkt in November 1808, but he was pardoned by the Duchess before the punishment could be carried out. The real low point came during Ferdinand von Schill's brief adventure in Vorpommern - he and his German partisan "Freikorps" picked the Duchy as an obvious easy option when they required to seize a port on the Baltic. Von Schill's troops were defeated at the so-called Battle of Stralsund in May 1809, and Von Schill himself was killed. It is noticeable that the "French" forces which beat him were Danes, Dutch (2nd, 5th, 6th & 9th Dutch Line Regts, 2nd Cuirassiers, some artillery) and a small number of French regulars - the Duchy's own soldiers were conspicuously absent. Further, Mattaeus Hoffnunglos, colonel-in-second of the Infanteriebataillon Graf von Grimmen, was imprisoned for publishing a pamphlet which claimed that it was "unethical and unnatural" for the Vorpommern troops to be ordered to fire on their German brothers.

The enthusiasm for Napoleon had already largely vanished - desertion and corruption continued unabated and there were frequent confrontations between local troops and French officials and citizens in Stralsund and elsewhere. Napoleon ordered the worst of the officers to be replaced - largely with Frenchmen and Hanoverians - and the whole force was sent to Northern Spain in October 1809 to form part of the counter-insurgency force. In fact they performed passably well, probably because of the iron will of Marshal Suchet, and because desertion meant almost certain torture and a slow death at the hands of the guerillas. When the best of the French allies were being sent home from Spain for the Russian campaign in the Winter of 1811-12, the Rugeois were not even considered.

After Napoleon's failure in Russia, Vorpommern returned to its former situation - the people had their own traditions - they had largely ignored the Swedes when they were in power, now they ignored the elderly Duke and his French supporters. The survivors of the forces of the Duchy were marched back from Spain into France - just 87 of them arrived back home - though the probable truth is that many more got back home but went into hiding to escape military service. There was a brief, and chaotic, period of French military occupation, then the Duchy was abandoned, and withdrew from the Confederation of the Rhine - the old patriarch went back to being the Herr von Putbus, and to his hobby of sailing hand-carved model boats on his pond at Quitzin. The Swedes returned briefly, and arranged a swap with the Danes - they traded Vorpommern for Norway. Then in 1814 the Congress of Vienna presented the whole area to Prussia, which is probably where it should have been all along.

In the University at Greifswald, among other material of interest, there is a manuscript memoir of a sergeant in the Prussian Army who fought at Ligny and Wavre in 1815, who was a native of Franzburg and had previously served in Spain with the Jaegerbataillon – I am trying to arrange to get a competent translation made available.