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


Friday, 13 September 2013

All Better Now

Commands & Colors board with 7-inch hexes - official layout at last.
With thanks for messages of sympathy for my dalliance with senility – much appreciated – I am pleased to announce that I have worked extra hard today, and the battle board refurb job is pretty much finished. I have some minor touching up to do to improve two points where the joins don’t quite line up, and to an extent I have proved that a battered old board repainted is still a battered old board, but mission accomplished, I think.

I’ve also wheeled out some of my new scenic plates with roads on, to see how they look – simple, but useable. Genuine C&C devotees will be perplexed by this, since roads do not feature in Mr Borg’s games. However, I have recently been reading Tactique, which is an old Napoleonic game based on Commands & Colors, predating C&CN – this was published in Vae Victis a good while ago. In this game, roads are used – interesting. I am, in any event, giving thought to including road rules in my ECW variant, so – anyway – here you see some roads, which will not win any prizes but are a big improvement on the laminated paper efforts I used in my Battle of Nantwich.


Mr Borg may have already realised that roads don't run naturally straight across the table in
C&C - maybe that's one reason they don't appear?
I’ll leave everything to cure for this evening, then get everything tidied away. You are familiar with the concept of a Portable Wargame – my wargames are Stowable Wargames, of necessity, since I use the family dining room for games. Thus all components must be flock free, easily handled and capable of disappearing into cupboards when required to do so!

Thursday, 12 September 2013

Oh Strewth...!

Boards #4 and #3 (behind) - good so far...
Good news and bad news. There is even a moral – the moral is that it is possible to outsmart myself by trying to be too clever. The working definition of “too clever” is not as impressive as it once was...

I’ve been promising myself for a couple of years that I will replace my current battlefield boards with some nice new 18mm MDF ones, and paint them up with the hexes the right way round for Commands & Colors. My existing table is battered, ½” chipboard, and was painted in the mid 1970s with hexes that are, sadly, 30° awry for C&C. I did have the foresight, however, to have the correct table proportions of 13 hexes by 9. Yes – I know, I know – I even had a number of Mr Borg’s game mechanisms spot on all those 35 years ago, but somehow I still managed to avoid inventing Battle Cry, and avoid becoming rich and famous as a result.

Anyway – no matter. This week I suddenly decided that, instead, I would just refurbish my old boards. If I really didn’t like the results I could still do it again with the full MDF, and the practice would be useful. So I went to the hardware store in Dunbar that does paint mixing to order, and bought in the official shades. I was trying very hard to remember the history of these old boards, and how I had painted the hex cells last time – last time being in the days when I had crisp eyesight and knew no fear.

Last Time

My boards were originally the sort of dark, hen house green that I had seen at my local wargames club. It was the sort of green that made the room actually seem darker when you switched the overhead lights on. When the time came to apply hexagons, I switched to a paler, pea-soup shade which I have used ever since. The hex-cells were painstakingly scribed in pencil, using a homemade cardboard stencil (which I still have), then I inked in the grid lines – literally – with black Indian ink and a fine brush. I felt a bit like one of those fabulous Japanese artists you see on the TV – as I got into the job, my skill improved, and they really were surprisingly neat. Well, I thought so, anyway. Only problem was that the black ink was very vivid, and the overall effect was like the old Pop Art from whenever-it-was (1960s?). If you stared at it for a little while the room started to rotate, which is distracting during a wargame. So I had to tone it down a bit.

My plan was to thin down some of the pea-soup green – about 40% water – and apply it with a roller, building it up, coat by coat, until the grid lines were sufficiently obscured to give a better effect. I was concerned about the waterproof qualities of Indian ink – I had nightmares about my nice black lines running in all directions when I overpainted them. I recall that I asked Allan Gallacher what he thought, and he reckoned it would be all right, so I went ahead. In fact it was all right, but when I discussed it with Allan later he said he based his opinion on the need for Indian ink to be capable of withstanding monsoons. Thank you, Allan...

This Time

I decided this time I would use a similar approach, but instead of spidery black lines I would make a feature of the fact that it was hand-painted, and use a pleasing khaki shade in rather thicker lines, the intention being that I could still apply coats of thinned-down green if it was too much.

I started on Wednesday. Two coats of pea-soup green to obliterate the old markings – 2 hours drying between coats, then pencil scribing and freehand painting with the khaki, and then block-in the off-table areas outside the 13 x 9 hexes with a complementary grey-green, in proper C&C style. It looks OK – I’m pleased with it. The khaki was a bit of a fright after the old arrangement, but it has grown on me and I have decided against the over-wash.

There are 4 boards in total. I started with No.3, which is the right-hand middle sheet, and then moved on to No.4, the right hand end. Great. As of this morning, the second coat of green on No.2 – the other middle sheet – was dry and I was ready to start scribing to match the meeting edge of No.3. Because of the limitations of my work area, I had to rotate the board through 180° and work the other way round. Sadly, because I managed to confuse myself by this rotation, I then transposed the sequence of half-hexes and whole hexes at the meeting edge, but didn’t notice until I had finished painting the grid lines. I mean FINISHED PAINTING the grid lines. I made a nice job of them too. I had been really pleased with myself today – in much better form than of late – popping in from cutting the lawns to apply more paint – all that. Around 8pm I suddenly realised that I had screwed up in a big way, so board No.2 is now green again, and should get its second (fourth) coat of green about 11pm. By 10 o’clock tomorrow morning, after I get back from an appointment at the hairdresser, things will be exactly as they were this morning at around 8am. It’s hard to see this as progress.

I did get the Contesse to check that I really had got it wrong, in case I painted it over, back to green, when I didn’t need to, which would be even less amusing than the current situation. She confirmed it was wrong – I had almost kept a little hope alive that it was somehow correct...


Never mind, I’ll be even better and faster tomorrow, but it’s hard to dress this up in a way which conceals the fact that I have lost a complete day through my own, mind-boggling stupidity. The job is now half done (again? still?) instead of the three-quarters I had aimed for by tonight. Still hope to finish it off by tomorrow night, but a few other things I should have been doing tomorrow are going to fall by the wayside. That’s OK – it will feel like a little penance, and something small and dark and mean in my upbringing approves of that.

More haste, less wassname. If time permits, the plan is also to apply coats of plain green to the reverse side of the boards, so that I may keep the option of some proper wargaming if the mood takes me.

Onward and upward – with a few staggers on the way.

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

Summer Prize Competition 2013 – Results



Time up – please stop writing and put your pens down.

Well now – fascinating. Thanks again, ever so much, to everyone who entered into the spirit of the thing and submitted a name for my new ECW siege mortar – I had a lot of fun reading through them, though it certainly hasn’t been easy coming up with a winner.

There were so many really good names suggested – including a wealth of variations on the theme of large or otherwise formidable ladies, with excellent descriptions and classical references.

Pjotr suggested Big Mathilde (a B-List entry – he didn’t want the prize), and I voted this the best of the B-Listers, largely because of his story and supporting photo of a statue in Ostend which is officially called The Sea, but is universally known as Dikke Mathilde. Here she is…

The Sea...?
Special mention – among so many other good suggestions - goes to Bloggerator for Sharp Rejoinder (a pleasing tribute to Iain Banks, apart from being a good name in its own right), to Steve for Apollyon (the angel of destruction from The Pilgrim’s Progress, which has a good, near-contemporary relevance apart from the classical kudos) and – especially – to David Crook’s splendid Fuggle’s Thunder, which is based on the engrossing but unlikely tale of the famed dyspepsia of a blacksmith named Harbottle Fuggle. I also liked Evan’s God’s Hammer, and Peter’s graceful Swan of Lonsdale, which ties in nicely with my north-western campaign plans, but is maybe an odd name for a gun. I was intrigued by Vance’s Are You Sure?, and there were a couple of other ideas which may have owed something to chemical stimulants, but all very entertaining.

After much pondering, I decided I like Ray’s The Clapperdudgeon best, mainly because it is such a fantastic word. A clapperdudgeon, it seems, was a king of the beggars – there is also a theory that the word relates to a specialist beggar who treated his skin with arsenic, to produce wounds akin to leprosy and thus increase his market value. Too gory for me – the King of Beggars will do nicely and – as Ray suggests – old Charles I might be just the boy!

The Clapperdudgeon!
Pjotr and I had a brief email exchange on the topic of why the default personality should be female for an object whose physical form would appear, intuitively, to be sort of male (you would think). Pjotr’s view, with which I think I agree, is that there might be a certain reluctance for rough servicemen to say much about working with, handling or even admiring Big Archie (for example) – traditional military homophobia would make mastery of large females much less embarrassing. Let’s move on, quickly.

Congratulations and best wishes to Uncle Ray. Thanks again, everyone.

Monday, 9 September 2013

Hooptedoodle #96 - Fashion Icon

Since Martin and Prof De Vries both scoffed at the idea of the Max Foy limited edition tee shirt, here is some firm evidence. Eat your heart out.


Sunday, 8 September 2013

Danube Trip – Bribes & Gifts Dept

In grateful response to excellent suggestions made previously on this blog, I have been arranging for a small stock of diplomatic goodies for our forthcoming trip, to go some way towards rewarding our volunteer battlefield guides for their efforts. For a while I considered painting up a suitable figurine myself, but I don’t really have time (though I would like to have done it), and there is a slight risk that the recipient might not have known what it was if I had.


Thus I have obtained a ready-painted collector figure from FirstLegion, and here he is. This, gentlemen, in 54mm, is a sapper of the Bavarian I.R. Nr. 5, Graf Preysing, as he would have appeared at Eggmühl. He is pictured next to a bottle of genuine East Lothian Falling-Down Water – we have a couple of these to take. They are usually well received.

I did also consider the special, limited-edition Max Foy teeshirt (available in L, XL and XXL), but decided against it. If you are interested in FirstLegion, click here. If you are interested in Glenkinchie, click here.

This just proves that I do occasionally listen to other people’s ideas – thanks very much, guys!

Friday, 6 September 2013

The Engineer and the Coffee Table



I am still exploring the possibilities for providing my British Peninsular army with some engineers and sappers for their siege activities, as discussed in a recent post. I have had some very interesting and useful suggestions, for which thanks to anyone I haven’t thanked already. I’ve looked at some plastic ACW engineers, which were interesting but not quite suitable (primarily because of that physique thing – 1/72 plastic models are mostly wonderfully sculpted, but they also seem to represent a race of men with skinnier build and smaller heads than 1/72 metals), and the latest suggestion – from Rod – is the Art Miniaturen set JS72/0468, Napoleonic Austrian engineers, for which I have reproduced Herr Schmaeling's  catalogue picture at the top of this post. I’ve ordered some of these. I reckon a man in a shirt is a man in a shirt, regardless of nationality, though I may feel the need to carve off the odd moustache.

I think the aforementioned Finescale Factory French pontonniers which I have in the Spares Box may also switch sides and join the Brits – still thinking about this – and I have been offered some weaponless British infantry who should lend themselves to odd-jobbing and landscaping. One thing I haven’t got a source for is someone like this...


This is the only depiction I’ve ever seen of a British engineer from this period in serious working kit. The drawing is by Richard Scollins, and comes from a book I have which has an unjustly chequered past.

The book is shiny, big format. The edition I have comes from Book Club Associates, and the whole production is very obviously that most uncomfortable of things, a Coffee Table Book [gasp]. You know the sort of thing – lots of nice pictures and not much detail. A book about sieges for people who really couldn’t care less. You just know that the well known print of Major Ridge of the 5th climbing the breach at Badajoz will be there and – sure enough – there it is. My lack of enthusiasm is evidenced by the fact that I unsuccessfully tried to unload it on eBay – twice, I think. No takers.



Well, in fact the book is not bad at all, once I got around to having a proper look at it. If anyone else is selling it on eBay, it's worth a modest bid. It contains some good stuff on artillery and engineering and all the unglamorous bits of sieges, and there are a lot of illustrations I’ve never seen anywhere else. So – credit where it’s due – I regret having previously rejected this volume – it’s fine. It even has some good pictures of British 10-inch howitzers, and you can’t get more specialist than that.

Monday, 2 September 2013

Hooptedoodle #95 - The Wrong Tariff




I spent some time this weekend sorting out my mother’s account with BT – that’s British Telecom, who provide her with (predictably) broadband and telephone services. She is a customer of BT largely because I am one, and I am one because part of the bewildering network of BT companies – Openreach – provides and maintains the cabling and the communications infrastructure in this corner of the world; I chose to avoid getting stuck in the middle of the finger-pointing exercise which invariably follows any problem with a slow, precarious country broadband service if you have separate suppliers who can pass the blame on to each other.

Apart from my lack of enthusiasm for their customer helplines, I find BT OK. It takes a bit of constant monitoring to make sure we get value for money, but they probably compare favourably at present with our alternative suppliers.

Someone else's mum
My mum’s problem was that she had got stuck in The Wrong Tariff. I myself am in what I consider to be The Correct Tariff with BT, but only because I have the time, the knowledge and the resources to put regular effort into monitoring my bills online, and keep tabs on the constantly changing product names and complicated pricing arrangements which telecoms firms – and much of the rest of the commercial world – use to con us out of our money, not to mention our time. My mum would not know where to start. I know how to do it, but increasingly I begrudge the effort required, and – increasingly – I am not sure why we have to keep up this struggle.

Some specifics – I just know you want some details of my mother’s account.

When my mum got broadband set up – primarily so that she could do her shopping online – we agreed to what was called BT Total Broadband 2, which allowed her rather more data-shifting capacity than she was ever likely to require, and also got her a complementary licence for anti-virus and firewalling from McAfee. For actual land-line phone calls, she was offered a deal called Unlimited Weekends and Evenings, which requires a standing charge of £2 a month, and allows you – that’s right – free calls to UK land-line numbers in defined off-peak hours plus some other discounts on calls to mobiles in those periods.

And, since about March 2008, that contract has been running happily. Every month, BT send a direct debit request to her bank, and convenience reigns withal. This month she got a letter from BT telling her that, since her current monthly debit is not meeting costs, she has run up a bit of a debt, and thus they will be increasing her payments to an amount which surprised me. My mum is 88 and pretty deaf, and uses the Internet about twice a month to get her groceries ordered. So I set up online billing for her with BT, and we had a good look at what’s what.

Wrong Tariff.

Because of her circumstances, she makes all her phone calls during the day. She is (sadly) running out of people she might wish to phone in the evenings, and the concept of a weekend is meaningless when you are 88. My mother is paying full price for all her phone calls. Also, her broadband usage is trivial, and the free McAfee package is so awful that we replaced it ages ago with a free Microsoft product which works better and is less of a nuisance.

Wrong Tariff – and, because we should have spotted it and done something about it before now, I have the additional burden that it is our – well, my – fault. If at any time I had called up BT and complained about value for money, they would have said – quite correctly – that we were getting what we asked for and signed up for.

Quite so
By reducing the service level to basic, no-frills broadband, and changing the phone contract details to Unlimited Anytime (£7 a month), as from 9th September, her monthly costs will now drop from £59 to £35, which is important if you are a pensioner. The infuriating things about this are:

(1) Her use of BT services will be exactly the same, whatever the contract is called.

(2) BT claim that they keep a paternal eye on your account, to make sure that you are in the best-value, most suitable contract and that your payments are adequate. Bollocks.

(3) BT’s focus – in common with everyone else’s nowadays – is the new customer. By definition, anyone who is an old customer is a mug and should be stiffed mercilessly until they notice and complain about it. I call this “The Negative Loyalty Bonus”. It is everywhere – don’t get me started. In the last few years, we have had major fights about pricing with our insurance company, our supplier of domestic LPG, our mobile phone companies, our BANKS (aargh!), etc etc. In most cases, we ended up changing suppliers, and saved a lot of money, but many people don’t, and many people just keep on handing over cash they can’t afford.

I’ll spare you the rant about Aviva, BP, Royal Bank of Scotland and all the others – maybe for another day. This is now business as usual. I hate it. Let me end with two short stories about lightbulb moments in my economic education – I apologise if I come across as unreasonably trusting or naïve in these, but I tell it as it is.

My background includes a lot of study, including some heavy, classical economics, but I come from a druidic, actuarial world in which the prices of things are worked out scientifically with great precision, and the dirty spirit of competition sneaks into pricing only at the last minute, to ensure that one might actually sell something occasionally. The concept of someone getting ripped off is not incomprehensible, but certainly alien to my upbringing.


Story 1 – the Man from Swissair

In the days when I was in salaried employment, and before I made the strategic error of becoming unfashionably old, I used to get sent on what were laughingly described as management training courses. I can only assume they offered my employer a source of tax-deductible expense. The main, maybe the only, attraction of these was that I got to meet some interesting people.

On one course, there was a fellow from Swissair, and he described for my benefit that strange phenomenon which occurs on aeroplanes, where no two people may have paid the same price for their tickets, though they will consume the same food and fuel and arrive in the same place at the same time. Neanderthal that I was, I had never really thought about this before. The most interesting bit came at the end. There is a point, he said, where the tickets sold cover the cost of the flight, and anything at all you can make on any further empty seats is a bonus.

Thus the fact that business class passengers from Geneva to NYC in those days were paying £1400 a pop was irrelevant. Once the flight was paid for, any remaining seats could be sold for almost nothing. If the extra passenger would require say £50 worth of extra fuel and food, then he might fly for £50.50 and you would have made a profit of 50 pence.

Yes, I know that everyone understands this, but for me it was a lightbulb.


Story 2 – Price Guarantees

A kid who was a friend of one of my older sons got a job for six months before he went to college. He worked as assistant manager in a computer game store, on a shopping mall on the outskirts of Edinburgh. He was seventeen and a half, and he knew nothing about anything, but he explained to me how price guarantees work.

In his store there were notices up on the walls, which said something like

“If you can purchase any product from a physical shop within 12 miles of here for less than we sold it to you, we will gladly refund the difference”

And then, of course, they deliberately cranked up their prices by about 5%, right across the board, so they knew they were more expensive than the competition.

If anyone spotted a cheaper product elsewhere, remembered the guarantee, still had the receipt and could be bothered paying to travel all the way out to the outskirts of the city, the shop would happily, smilingly make the promised refund. Have a nice day. However, in reality, hardly anyone ever came back. The deliberately inflated prices made them a lot of extra profit – in some cases doubled the mark-up on specific products.

This applies in big, respectable department stores as much as nerd shops. If your local John Lewis publicizes such a price guarantee, it’s a pretty safe bet (said my young tutor) that they know their prices are high to start with, and they are chancing it.

Lightbulb.