There's a fair bit of work to do associated with all this, particularly burning many CD's of uniform plates and wargame rules for myself and friends before I pass on the old PC to my son (who'll probably just cannibalise it anyway). All of which is eating into my lead painting time and, by default, into Frank's project, which isn't good at all as I'd promised to get the stuff done sharpish. To add insult to injury, I can't make it to the Triples because of work commitments. See, I told you it was mostly good.
I've noticed lately that painting is becoming more therapeutic as I get older and there's no immediate need to rush through projects. I can paint for a couple of hours, no problem, and be happy with the result, even if I've not actally achieved much. Not so much a sign of old age or increasing maturity as the realisation that the damn things will be herer long after me.
I'm surprised at how much I seem to know about painting and paint properties compared to other people, but I have been at it for a few years. I'm also less worried about making a mess of something because I know I can easily correct any mistakes, so I suppose that takes any pressure off. Just as well really as I'm becoming as blind as a bat . . . .
Just watched a programme about a working men's club is Bradford. Not a very exciting job, but strangely compelling viewing and the first in the BBC's 'White' series. Bradford is a pretty run down place anyway (Bingley's nice though) and the programme didn't do much to improve its image. The people in the programme made some canny observations, but most of them seemed like alcoholics with a pretty tenuous grasp of common sense and reality. I've never been a fan of WMC's because of their stupid rules about women and I've only actually been into one (about 30 years ago). This place was well on its way out and deserved to be because the committee couldn't run the proverbial and wouldn't face up to facts. Probably a reflection of the last days of empire.
I went to a Polish club once in Crewe which was being used as the reception venue for a brother-in-law's wedding. My God, if was a dismal place and the (mostly older) Poles were miserable sods. I'm sure they were still plotting about the Warsaw Uprising because they all spoke in murmurs in Polish - maybe that should be Polish murmurs. Anyway, Andy and I livened things up a bit when we told'em their rum was shite and was probably watered down. I don't think we did much to promote Anglo-Polish relations, but it made the evening more interesting.
Good segue into my next bit of news which is that I appointed my first Pole this afternoon to an admin job. She's got drive like I've not seen for a while and a natural confidence which can only come from somebody who's made it across here with a young child,live in two places since then and never been out of employment. She's going to be a great asset to the team and I think she'll go a lot further. Good luck to her, she deserves it.
Anyway, haven't got any Polish leads, so we'll have to make do with this:
He's an Austrian Napoleonic Brigadier (15mm)