Weekend before last, I went to Manchester to a war gaming show and bought a pair of pink six sided dice, and had a very nice experience in the Museum Of Science And Technology, Then on the Sunday, I went to Lytham 1940’s Wartime Festival. Loads of people dress up in 1940’s clothes, with the stocking seam line, drawn up the back of the leg with eyebrow pencil, fox furs and high heeled slingbacks. And that was just the guys. It was really good fun and the weather was great.
Sunday gone, I went to Newark War Gaming Show and bought a book about Rommel and one called ‘Hitlers Children’ and now because of that and because I said the German uniform was better aesthetically, then the others, they’re all jokingly calling me the priest from Father Ted. This is not true because there’s nothing I like better than killing Nazi’s in Wolfenstein. Why kill vampires, zombies, monsters, anything, when you can kill Nazi’s in Wolfenstein? Those guys weren’t just evil personified, they were also for real. That’s what’s so horrifying and terrifying, they’re real. For me, it’s mostly about ‘know thy enemy’, be forewarned and forearmed. Learn from our history.
We drove through the Peak District to Glossop, in Derbyshire on the way back, beautiful countryside and lovely picturesque villages.
In the early evening, when we got home, all the electricity was off in our home. So we had to call our landlord. He got our electricity back on with the flick of a switch but he explained that he has sensitive safety trips on the electricity system. We couldn’t understand why these safety switches had gone off in the first place, as we’d been out since eight in the morning and nothing electrical was on. It was only later that evening that we noticed that the whole cable of one of our table lamps had been stripped to the copper wire, by, we think, our pet cockatiel, Jerry. Going to have to make sure that nothing like that happens again. My landlord just saved my bird(s) from being Kentucky Fried Cockatiel.
I also role play over Skype, these Summer Sunday evenings, with my husband as Game Master, with our American friends. (The pink dice were useless by the way, kept rolling twelves) I play a wood elf who likes smoking weed, a sort of stoned Legolas. I play alongside another elf called Finn, who is, very naturally, the clever, more clued up version of myself. He’s like Abbot, I’m Costello. Probably in real life as well. There’s also a gentle voiced halfling called Purl Knittington, who has become a ‘Dick Puncher’ (her words) She disables people who ‘disrespect’ her, especially one drunken, libidinous but strangely charismatic dwarf called ‘Swig Ofale’ who dared to smack her bottom one time. With one strike of her dainty but well placed and forceful hobbit fist, Purl can put the male species out of action for a good while. Swig, who was one of the lucky ones, was walking like John Wayne for a couple of sunsets. She’s not to be messed with.