Monday 27 June 2011

Ebaying






As promised, my ebaying has finally got under way. This wee beastie is a largely scratchbuilt affair, albeit with GW tank wheels and tracks, and some 1/35 stowage. It breaks my heart to have to get rid of her, but times are hard, and they're not so hard for me as for many others! If you fancy a look, she can be found here.




As well as her, I'm also having to sell off some of my IA books. Volume I looks positively tatty these days, so I shan't put it up. Who wants to buy something old and dog-eared? But these three are lovely specimens. I have to admit that I have written in Biro in Volume 5: Siege of Vraks Part 1 and in Imperial Armour Apocalypse. In the former I've corrected some of the horrible spelling and grammar. I didn't think I'd be selling them when I did so! I've left Volume 6 unmarked, though! Both the Vraks books will be shipped with their posters, although I think one has holes around the edges from small pins. I direct those of you with an interest to this address for Imperial Armour Apocalypse, to this address for Imperial Armour Volume 5: Siege of Vraks Part 1 and to this address for IA6: Siege of Vraks Part 2.









And on that note I'll close for now. I have a great many more vehicles to put up, but Ebay seems to have some jolly cheap Baneblades on it right now, and I fear that sort of competition! So I'll probably go with a few more of the sister vehicles of the Griffon above. Rest assured this won't make more than a dent in the total number of vehicles I have! Some day, job willing, I'll rebuild and go on to greater heights, but for now, I need to withdraw into my shell like a snail! Best wishes to you all, and my sympathies to anyone who is actually in a real financial plight at the minute!

Friday 24 June 2011

Ramble, ramble, ramble

Hm, today I've been slapping paint on stuff. Not in a good, honest wargamery way, but in a keeping the house looking good way. Neah. The gloss will in some places need another coat, too, which is a niggling annoyance. I saw my dentist the other day, and had two fillings. I have another scheduled for tomorrow morning. Mm, neah. I put too many chillis in my dinner earlier and it was too hot. Neah. I need to sell my 40k stuff. Neah. So I need to scrutinise Ebay and see whether it's worthwhile so doing. Oh, for Baneblades and similar it just isn't. Neah. And my back's hurting as though I'd been sat in this chair for two days and hadn't spent hours painting a bathroom. Yep, that's a big load of annoying.

We've a bin down in the kitchen. Nobody else empties it. I ambled down there today, just before I stumbled off to paint the bathroom, and remarked on there being two flies vexingly buzzing about the room of culinary activities. Mum said there were fruit flies coming out of the bin. Nice. I shifted the bin. It's got stuff in it from a week ago at the very top. It sure is amazing that we would have devouring insects appearing in the kitchen when nobody bothers to take out the bin for a week. No, nowt o' mine was there, y'snarky fella. But the icing on that cake was when I retired hither, to the ol' bedroom, and two or three blasted fruit-flies followed me in. This place is rarely tidy, but is always clean. Away with ye, o flying monstrosities!

My ex was blind as a bat without her glasses, so anyone with an understanding of cause and effect will glean why I am messier now than when she left me. People, people, it's perfectly possible to potter from step to step without a four-foot-wide expanse of carpet. Y'just need a series of gaps big enough for the ball of your foot. Ladies, take note: charming bachelor, carpet covered in sand-laden models, rude artisan. Charming collection of traits. ;-)

I should expand on that last, lest someone suspect she left me because my carpet turned to sand overnight. This was not the case, I assure you. "Well, what was it, Pete? Hurry up!" Er, yes, right. I think she got bored of me. The poor girl (quiet, friends) had had a rough time of it before uni: confusing novelties, perplexing situations, an unpleasant fellow. I, in all honesty, am a pretty sedate and unflappable type. Is that true? Well, a few weeks before she left me, she did give me three things I must change. First, I must stop getting frothing mad about other drivers. I can't lie, she was quite right that my temper was getting the better of me. I still dislike when other road-users do their level best to murder me, but I don't scream at them like a Banshee any more.

Second, I had to get a job. I think she was talking rot here. Yes, jobs mean money means fun. But "you need a crappy job before anyone will consider you for a better job"? No. Plenty of people go straight from whiling their time away to "productive member of society". The people at my first job were lovely. The job was stultifying. I had to summarise and type Section 106 Planning Agreements up onto a database. Lovely people, tedious work. I used to come home and lie on the floor for half an hour while my brain slowly re-engaged.

I forget what the third ultimatum was, but I have a feeling I didn't fulfil it. But when one's got to the stage of giving one's other half a tripartite ultimatum to save the relationship, and the wedding is 2.5 months away, maybe it won't make a blind bit of difference if they tick all the boxes in column B and fill out Box 17D. ;-) So, yeah, no wedding there. But I don't think any of that mattered. Afterwards I scrutinised past events, as one does, and realised that we'd had a conversation back at the start of her last year at uni (September/October), and that she'd said she was sad. I'd tried to cheer her up by burbling the usual (subjectively true at that time ;-) ) things about her being lovely and this and that. But whereas every time before I'd got her at least to grin when I told her I couldn't live without her, this time she just looked worried and upset. At the time, I put it down to her being more upset than usual. In retrospect, it's apparent she'd fallen out of love with me by then.


It was a dreadful year, that was. She had stayed on to do a Master's in Cultural Heritage Management. She hated the course. A friend of ours, Chris, had done it two years beforehand. Every time we saw him he remarked on how he hated the course, and that his fellows . . . really could have put in a bit more effort. If I may bowdlerise! She didn't have any recollection of this. Anyway, she hated the course. I hated driving - if the aforementioned screaming fits didn't clue you in! - and was driving 4.5 hours to see her every fortnight or week, and then the same distance home. I would arrive, feeling like I wanted to stick my fist in the nose of some fellow who had tried to assassinate me. She would be there, distraught at the problems she was having with sub-section X of Unit 3 of the course. She needed to blow off steam. I needed to sit in a chair and not think for half an hour so I could cool down. Instead, she blew steam at me, and I angrily blew it right back in her face.


It would be easy to blame her. But couldn't I have got there and sat in a pub for half an hour before going to see her? I'm not that practical and sensible. You'' raise a Spock-like eyebrow, but I was the more sensible of the two of us. She was by far the cleverer, but you know what they say about intellect not translating into common sense. If I couldn't think to sit in a pub, she couldn't think to yadayadayada. So it came to the end of the year, and we had both had enough. I was lying to myself that it was just the stress of her course making her insufferable, and doubtless she was telling herself comparable lies.

I had and evidently still have a tendency to protect her by suppressing stuff. I should get over that, as it's unhealthy. She was often upset. For about four years I managed to deal with this by cheering her up when she cried. About half a year before she broke up with me, I gave up. I'd had a particularly annoying drive down. She had greeted me with barbed words, and my snappish response had driven her to tears. At any point in the last four years, I'd have suppressed my irritation and dedicated time (as much as two hours on numerous occasions) to cheering her up again. This time I was just too annoyed. I decamped to the Student Union and had a few drinks with friends, returning later, when her tears had died down without my help.

There are a few things to say at this juncture. First, I shouldn't have done that. Second, she shouldn't have refused for four years to get any help with her depression. Third, I won't put myself in a relationship with someone suffering from depression ever again! I really can't emphasise that third point strongly enough. I started out a perfect gentleman: considerate, polite, sweet, &c, &c. I ended up walking out in anger on a woman who was in floods of tears. That's the mark of a monster, and I knew it.

I hated myself as a result of that. I hadn't lived up to my self-image. I had done The Wrong Thing. There were a few other instances when I screwed up badly during that period, but I shan't go into them. In my opinion, that was the co-equal worst. I realised later on that she had stopped loving me first, but while her conduct was wrong, we always blame ourselves more than others. So after her ultimatum she broke up with me about two months before the wedding was to have happened. In a niggling sense, it was annoying to have booked a reception at a hotel for four grand, which I then cancelled. Friends urged me to hold one anyway, but it didn't seem right.


I think she got the wrong idea about me later on. We stayed in touch. I moved to London, first looking after a friend's place, and then after my Uncle's. I'd not bothered her about the money for the reception; her family is poor as church mice. But before we'd broken up, she'd got a bicycle and some accoutrements. I can't now recall what it came to (the best I can remember is a couple of hundred pounds, but whether that was £250 or £500, you could beat me with sticks and I'd not know). Anyway, I'd offered to pay. She had accepted with the firm provision that she would pay me back. Frankly, I didn't care. I had plenty of money in those days, and I was buying my affianced a bicycle. But she was very specific about it.

The last time I had any contact with her was in 2005 or so. I'd been out drinking with some friends, and irritably texted her about the bike. She assumed my interest was purely based on money. I guess, being poor, that was a natural assumption to make. Impoverished readers, I'm not trying to insult you but to excuse her. Even now. I later sent an email, thoroughly sarcastic in tone, asking about the money. Maybe it's not her being poor that's the issue, but my former richness. I didn't want a load of money. If she'd sent it me, I doubt it would have then meant anything. Although today it would mean a great deal! :-D I was disappointed in her failure to honour her promise to repay me. I hadn't wanted her to; I had tried to persuade her to accept it as a gift. She'd refused, and insisted that she'd pay me back. Yeah, it's 2011 now. I haven't seen a penny yet.

When relationships go bad, eh? I dunno. It does erode one's faith in humanity rather: one can't trust oneself to be a good man, and one can spend 4.5 years loving someone who doesn't turn out to be a good woman. Meanwhile, fruit flies are still buzzing me! I don't miss her. I don't want her back. I really hope she's happy with her husband. He's the guy she was dating before she came to uni. I never met him, but I know he must be better able to make her happy than I ever was. That's worth something, eh? Maybe I'll fall apart, but on the other hand, she'll still be happy. I feel like I'm in a Disney film even being like this, but it does make me smile to think of her being happy. God save me from ever seeing her again, mind, but I'm glad she's happy!

Mm, the weekend will see me start throwing models onto the Ebay pyre. Tsk.

Thursday 23 June 2011

The end of a doomed dream

Purple prose again! I accepted earlier on that I need to get rid of a lot of my 40K stuff. I would rather not. In fact, it feels like selling books. Selling books is better than burning them, but not by enough. Likewise selling models is better than dropping 'em off a tall building, but not by much! However, the financial situation is such that I find m'self most regrettably impecunious, my dear fellow. Put it on my tab, won't you? Oh, I say!

So I shall have a little sleep, paint a bit of bathroom, and then I shall fling armsful of GW and FW products in the general direction of Ebay. What is it Farnsworth [cf. Futurama} says? "I suppose I could part with one [Doomsday Weapon] and still be feared." It will have to be more than one, I'm sorry to say. Unless, of course, everyone reading this feels so much sorrier for me than for starving and dispossessed people that you all suddenly shower me with undeserved wealth. Mm, unlikely! ;-)

I've probably two to four grand (Sterling) in IG stuff, and GW/FW's recent price increases will let me pretend I am making a profit on my original purchases, provided I ignore the existence of inflation! If I've demonstrated any ability in my life, it's to ignore financial repercussions, so with a little switching of goalposts (what's the American for this? Touch-down zones? Base-plates?), I can settle my head tidily.

Again, I'd rather not do this, and I have held off as long as I feel I can. But eventually I have just had to accept the inevitable. I've no damned money. I've no damned job. So to the market with my models and with whatever rulebooks look likely to turn a few pennies. I shall hold back the 40K rulebook proper for now, but I don't think Imperial Armour 5 does me much good. Actually, given the spelling, it probably just makes my blood pressure worse, unless I just use it as a picture book. Er, but you should buy it because it's, er, great. Have I dug myself out of that? Well, who buys a FW book expecting it to be legible? One's grateful that the staff have typed it out. Come to think of it, I am pretty sure I started correcting the English in one of those tomes. Mm. I had best discount that one a bit . . . because it contains better English scrawled in blue biro than the original typed trash. Oops!

Well, another post tomorrow when I stick stuff up on Ebay, folks. For now, au revoir!

Monday 20 June 2011

Some thoughts on composition


Further to my last entry, I've taken a few pictures of some rough ideas for those bunker-shaped bits of polystyrene foam. Does anything strike any of my readers as particularly to be desired? Do any of you have suggestions you prefer to my ideas? I'm all ears!


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Hills, bunkers, Lego and all that


It's a bumper crop of terrain I'll be working on tonight. The sand I mentioned has dried, so I'll be slapping a load of it on the above hill and a couple of other bits and bobs. This bunker (polystyrene packaging) has been awaiting completion, and should now be finished within the week. I want to prepare some hatches whence ICBMs or similar might be launched. She'll make a nice wee objective for a small game, and is bulky enough to obscure vehicles in larger ones. The Steel Legion Commissar and Hellhound should give some idea of the size of these terrain pieces.

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A little hillock here.  It isn't a particularly realistic configuration, but it's quite handy as a piece of terrain that'll block tanks but permit access to infantry.

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This is a surprising find. There's a second one of these downstairs. I dug them up in Mum's garage, gathering dust. They're that old Lego shape used for pirate forts or what-have-you. The pathway up to the summit is just broad enough for a walker or bike, but slightly to narrow for a vehicle. As a guy who spends half his modelling time coming up with IG AFVs, one has to question why I spend the other half coming up with terrain that frustrates them. It's either some deep-seated self-hatred, a pathological desire for fair play or, um, I just like doing stuff like that. I lean to the last interpretation! Anyway, I'm not sure what I shall do with these. I think they have potential whether the right way round or inverted. Perhaps one in either configuration. Thoughts?

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Here's another hill I'll be working on. As you can probably tell, I've applied damped-down toilet tissue to it to provide a less angular appearance to it. I shouldn't have given it right-angled corners, really, but I shall chalk that up to experience.


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This is one of the boxes I was wallpapering the other day. I've already glued sand to the roof. I mean to add a couple of doors at floor level. If you have more confidence in your tidiness than I, you could cut out some holes in the wallpaper prior to applying it. I know that'd go wrong for me!

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Some kindly family-member's left me a present of these two pieces of polystyrene packaging. The obvious idea is to turn them into bunkers, but I shall leave them for a day or two in case my brain hiccups up some better idea. Again, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

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Right, that's all for today, folks. I'm going to have a go at some of these pieces and really try not to cover my floor in sand and PVA glue. Cross your fingers for me, eh? Until next time, may your dice roll high . . . or low, if you're rolling for morale, I guess.

Sunday 19 June 2011

A delightful weekend


I drove down to Peterborough via Birmingham on Friday. Well, my friend Si drove us from Brummagem, to tell the truth, then I did a smidge of chauffeuring once we arrived. 'Twas my friend's birthday party. I've managed to acquire two Kats as friends, so for clarity for the bemused Lampeterian I hereby point out that this is not that Kat I know you know I know. Mm, clarity. We went to Chiquito's, a Mexican-themed restaurant, dressed in stereotypical Mexican fashion. Ben, Kat's awesome other half, had acquired a false moustache which achieved the feat of making him look like an American from the 1980s pretending to be a Mexican from the 1880s. I, as you will agree, looked in no way ridiculous. My hat, fans of high culture will be amazed to learn, was fashioned from newspaper, blue paint and string, my poncho from a towel onto which I spray-painted zig-zags, and my moustache from some spare teddy-bear fur I happened to have lying around. Wargamers may know that it's handy for simulating thatched roofing.

Anyway, a grand time was had by all, and we then gradually repaired to Ben's place for tequila shots and so forth. A sign of my increasing age is to be seen in that I spent most of the evening sitting down, and when we did retire to bed, I stayed up until 4am, finishing Coroner's Pidgin by Margery Allingham. I commend it to you! Up at eleven the next morning, as I had arranged a barbecue at mine for that afternoon. Poor timing on my part? Truth be told, I'd started setting it up about three months ago in an attempt to secure a date suitable for everyone's schedules, and still managed to pick a date several people couldn't make!

That said, despite running a little late and a torrential rainstorm, it went very well, I fancy. We sat beneath an overhang, so the rain wasn't a great problem most of the time. A party of ducks provided some pleasant viewing, despite cruel taunts from some of our party, suggesting they should join us with some hoi sin sauce! ;-) We adjourned to the pool room afterward, so the ladies could revivify themselves with heat (it's about 35C in there), and so we men's brains could puddle in our shoes (see last bracket!). Then we had a wee game of Cranium, which went rather well. Well, for others. Misled by a combination of rum and whisky (imbibed in separate glasses and at different times, I hasten to add), I transposed the H and I in the initial three letters of chihuahua, losing my team a valuable roll of the die. Cranium has a distinct die, a D10 marked twice each with red, blue, green, yellow (the colours of the themed questions/tasks) and purple (the brain!). That reminds me: any tips for rejuvenating my Cranium clay (about seven years old now) gladly accepted.

Cutting it very fine, those of our party who weren't staying overnight made it to the local station for the last train of the evening with about ten seconds to spare! Si, Tammy and I had a relaxing and pleasant time watching The Dark Knight, which they'd somehow managed to avoid after once seeing it in the cinema. Remarkable!

It's Father's Day today, so I should make some mention of this. It's a bit tricky, though, as I slept rather late, and so have yet to see Dad today. He's often busy on any day ending in the penultimate letter of the alphabet.

On the modelling front, my brother's kindly given me some of his sand, which he tends to use for such peculiar purposes as making cement or perhaps I mean concrete. So I'm drying that out now, and should be able to move forward on a lot of the terrain I've been working on very shortly. I've popped an initial coat of light grey paint on those boxes from the other day, but you can see how busy (and even absent) I've been over the weekend, so you must forgive my failure to proceed with more alacrity, milords and ladies! Au revoir!

Thursday 16 June 2011

Assorted Terrain in Progress



Or ATIP, one might say! ;-) I've been working on lots of bits and pieces over the last few days. First off is a selection of tents, inspired by the awesome work of Digits and Old Guard over at the Ammobunker. Go see. It's fantastic.

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The other night I grabbed a few armsful of stuff -

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- wallpaper, boxes, Pringles tubes, wood, polystyrene, &c, &c, and set to. I don't seem to be able to kick my brain into gear at the minute, so I'm keeping my hands busy until I wake up from this intellectual torpor. Right, so I hot-glued some matchsticks to bases. As I say, not much sand left here, so I've only done one base and a standard who'd missed being done some time in the distant past.


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Until I've finished my ridiculously steep hill, I fancied I needed some buildings behind which one could park a Leman Russ or similar and not get shot. A smallish box'll hide one, but it's a bit flimsy, and I am running low on bits and bobs with which to texture it. What to do? Left-over wallpaper from making some roads for gaming. Eureka!

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The diabolical foot partly pictured in that last belongs to yours truly. I assure you I haven't been lopping off strangers' feet to pose them in camera. I'm not dying of a wasting disease that turns me white, either. But I did start painting another bathroom today. I fully intend not to spend six months on this one! Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel, people.

Tuesday 14 June 2011

Old, old, old

I'm not the sort of guy who gets upset about birthdays: "No! I have to change the numerals and this indicates I am older than yesterday!"
That isn't my bag, baby. But I have been remarking today and yesterday on how long ago things were. I was fishing around the attic for things to turn into terrain earlier, and I found an old notebook of mine from university, which contained notes about which texts I was doing next year and other odds and ends. I forget precisely which year this covers, but either way, we're talking about a decade ago. I remember the good old days when it was school that was a decade ago. But now it's university! Mark my words, it won't be long before it's a decade since my MA! Too shocking to contemplate.

I felt ridiculously down earlier. I have a bushelful of things to do, mainly involving writing. I have offered to review a friend's story, which was probably a mistake. I am not a literary critic. I tend to read his work and say "Yay!" Well, words to that effect. I need to get back to another friend on the historicity of some things that never happened in Siberia. If you aren't familiar with alternative (or for the Americans alternate) history, I'll briefly say it's to do with exploring why history turned out as it did and how it might have turned out differently. What if Napoleon had won at Waterloo or Lee at Gettysburg are two popular themes, but as with real history, one can't just have battles all the time. I also need to reply to another friend's letter. That I have been delaying because of technical difficulties. Well, I've been delaying reading the first friend's work because of technical problems, too.

You see, I can't access files from this machine. Hotmail's functionality has outpaced my EeePC's technological capabilities. I can see I have email, and I can read it, if it's just in the email. If it's in an attachment - well, the last few times I tried to open them the wee computery beastie froze like a bunny in the headlights. I could write the reply to the third friend's letter on here, but then I'd have to manually transfer it to an external HDD (unless I have one of those pen drive doodahs hiding and about to reveal itself), and walk downstairs and copy it over. Unless . . . Windows doesn't like Linux. This is surmountable, but there's sufficient "grit" to make me delay setting the engine running. There's another friend I need to reply to, too. All this writing and delaying writing has really been sapping my ability to write owt lately.

I spent a few hours earlier angrily measuring boxes, cutting wallpaper and using the hot glue gun to affix matchsticks to some bases. Then I sawed a load of wood into smaller bits to make more bases. The sawing was anger-free. I felt very peaceful yesterday, but today, with all this work undone, a downbeat frame of mind, as I said, had come over me. Handily, as I was finding a decade-old notebook I was reminded that about a decade ago I regularly used to make myself angry so that I didn't get upset. It might be worth going back to that for a while, although in the long term being consumed with wrath is surely only for madmen and high-powered business leaders.

So in a minute I shall head down to t'other PC, and thus deal with one or two of these outstanding items. I watched some of the Edward Petherbridge/Harriet Walter Wimsey adaptations the other night, which were rather lovely, although I must admit that Gaudy Night struck me as a bit slow. Perhaps that's just the absence of Wimsey. I shall probably watch the third tonight, in which Harriet finds a chap on a beach covered in blood. I shan't spoil it for you. They're on Youtube if you care to have a shufti. They're about 2.5 hours long each, I think. Mum tells me that these ones were adapted for the screen by a relative of mine, and it's rather nice to think of that. He passed on some years ago, I'm afraid. With that admonition not to waste time ringing in my ears, I shall go check on the freedom or otherwise of the useful PC. Auf wiedersehen!

Saturday 11 June 2011

Rolling along toward the woods


Shell-blasted woods: just a few twigs from the garden and some bases. I've more twigs left over, but I've misplaced the several CDs I was hoarding, so, er, bit of an impasse there. Right, so let's recap. The hill remains as before.

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New to the tale are the aforementioned trees. Hat tip to Roundwood's World, which has far lovelier trees, which inspired my own. I hope to do a bit more justice to the originals!

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I've a few extra bits of wood, which are probably going to mount some barbed wire. Everybody loves barbed wire. Well, sheep don't. OK, perhaps soldiers are not always keen on it. Well, at least if I stick some barbed wire on there then, er, tanks will have a function in games, constantly crushing the stuff! I have about 39" (by 3" deep) of barbed wire bases so far, mostly in 3" by 3" sections (the measurements chosen to fit The Mud and the Blood ruleset from TFL, if memory serves.

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Last of all, a trio of building shots. This will mark my first experiment with using corrugated card to replicate corrugated metal. We'll see how it goes. The latter building is coming along a bit now. I blocked off a few gaps with mesh and plasticard the other night.

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I hope to get something done and photographed by tomorrow. I got up today and worked on getting all the gloss painting done in the bathroom. It can't have taken two hours, but I have been wandering about zombie-like since then. I've forced some sugar in me, hoping it'd mitigate the fact that I am transparently growing old (who needs a nap after painting a bathroom?), and from my use of the word "mitigate" it's clearly not been a total waste of empty carbohydrates. I may fall into bed shortly, but I feel it'd be bizarre to collapse against the pillow having only been awake for ten hours. Yes, about two in the afternoon was when I woke up. The joys of the weekend, eh? Au revoir, dear reader!

Friday 10 June 2011

Survivors: tank crew and a hill to hide behind


Mainly a trio of the old tank crew models today, but also a little terrain. I'm forced to admit they are from the same painting session as the Enginseer and Psyker. Again it has been a day when I've not been able to do so much on the model front despite doing a lot of painting. Yes, you've divined the truth: I've finished painting the wallpaper in the bathroom. All I need to do tomorrow is to paint the woodwork and radiator with gloss and it'll all be done. I actually started this just before the appendicitis, so this work has stretched from January through to June!

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 A little teaser here of a current project: the hill. The base is 2' by 1', and the hill proper is about 10" by 18". As intended, she's tall enough to obscure a Stormblade or similar. I've not checked whether a Baneblade can peek over the peak, as it were. ;-) The sides being too steep for most models, I've added some flat halfway points for troops ascending to rest on, either marking the position of their squad or denoting troops hiding just behind the crest of the hill. I am not sure she'll be finished soon, as I have exhausted my supplies both of sand and Polyfilla. Maybe in a few weeks, though!

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And finally, as they say, I'd like to thank Ron from FTW, who has kindly added me to the FTW blogroll. I'm most pleased by this, and a special welcome to anyone who has found his or her way here as a result of this. I have noted that as part of the joining, one is supposed to comment on other the blogs of other members, so I shall be upping the ante in that regard. It's an area I haven't been so handy in, frankly. To the future!
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Thursday 9 June 2011

Techpriest Enginseer and Primey Psyker fella

Despite lamenting my sorry thousand-film fate, I have managed to get a little painting done. I worked a bit on these two chaps and some other models the other night while watching The Good Thief, a Nick Nolte film which tells you all you need to know in the title, really. His voice in the film is delightful, but probably consumed France's annual supply of gravel. There's a robbery, a pretty young thing, plots and double-crosses, the loveable old thief. Certainly worth a bit of your time.

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Right, tonight I'm going to have a stab at finishing off some more Cadians, probably while distracting myself with the comedy Tough Guys. Seriously, has anyone heard of this film? We have a vast volume of these things here. Toodle-oo!
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