Anyone reading the other week will be thinking, "Pete, you've got loads of stuff on the go. Why ain't we done seen it, boy! Why, shucks!" OK, anyone from 160 years or so ago in the Wild West will be saying that, though don't ask me how they got their hands on a computer, let alone internet access. I think we can blame the boys at NASA for this - or the girls at Stargate Command - or the Smizmars at Futurama HQ. I've exhausted my genders, so goodbye, joke!
I have all that stuff, aye, and it's all still ready to come to life. I have an oddly regular hill (we'll say it sits on a spaceship's cargo container), a snow-bound rocky dwelling, that big ol' trench, this ruin, that ruin, that VAST ruin, that thing with the protein powder containers, the fuel thingy, and now a doormat. "Why a doormat, y'weirdo?" I'm glad you asked me that, though I disapprove of the tone in which you asked it. "Answer me!" Well, I want to make some more cornfields, don't I? Years ago there was an article in an issue of Wargames Illustrated by a chap who had the excellent idea of using doormats for fields. Then his wife had the even better idea of cutting bits out to so that models could be temporarily placed within rather than hovering over the fields like flying saucers.
I bought myself a mat, cut half of it up, then foolishly let Mum espy it. I couldn't refuse her request to pop it outside the back door. Then I ran low on funds, and by the time I'd recovered them the local DIY place wasn't selling them - just fancy ones. Then it shut down. Shucks. Today I perambulated around a nearby Sainsbury's, which sells all manner of mad stuff - stuff I never would have predicted as a child that Sainsbury's would sell when I had stopped being a child. Physically, at least. So there was a doormat for a fiver. Bargain! So I shall be making some more fields.
As well as all this, the other night I found myself watching Quentin Tarantino's renowned WWII film. The film obviously made a big impression on my unconscious, as I had a truly terrifying nightmare afterwards. I think I am getting more squeamish in my old age. Would those of you who are now pelting me with sticks - because you do not believe thirty-one to be old - please desist! Anyway, during the film I made some techy roads. Which is to say that I got some 0.5mm plasticard, carved bits out of it, glued other bits atop the whole, and am now prevaricating about the painting.
In short: roads, ruins, earthworks, buildings and . . . rivers - I keep wanting to do something with rivers. The three things about the Spanish Inquisition! Wait, four - four things - no, five! Yes. So I'll see you next time, folks!
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