The Royal North British Dragoons and some members of the 92nd Highlanders get stuck in with the French on the fateful day in June 1815. I believe that's the eagle and standard of the 45th Line off to the left.
Lately, lots of lawn, garden, and real life -- in the form of recasting existing courses for online delivery come September -- getting in the way of any appreciable toy soldiering, but there we are as Bertie Wooster might put it.
When I have been able to escape the computer and online training, it's been lots of marigolds, Begonias, Hostas, and edging of beds with the spade. And then there is the grass, which must bee mowed twice a week to stay looking ship shape. It's been pretty dry since mid-May though, so it's no longer as lush and green as ear;ier in the spring. No amount of organic fertilizer or biochar seems to help with summer dormancy during drier periods.
But enough of all that suburban dad stuff! At the painting desk, I have been adding very dark blue highlights to all of that black horse tack as and when time has permitted though. I know, I know. . . But it just adds that extra little something before I call the 36 dragoon mounts finished and move on to the actual men and officers themselves. In the meantime, I really must do something about this damned alliterative sickness!
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