More than a couple of painting sessions yesterday (Saturday) and today, working solely on the muskets carried by most of the 20 figures currently under the brush. Specifically, musket barrels, bayonets, ramrods (Yes, you read that right!) and firelocks/pans just above the musketeers' left hands. These items were touched lightly with Gun Metal, using a 000 sable round, a color which I prefer to straight silver in this instance. Look very carefully. It's there.
The various brass fittings followed and took an age over several sessions in the painting chair late this morning and throughout the afternoon. Miraculously (some might suggest kindly), the painting gods smiled on me throughout, and there were relatively few misplaced blotches to clean up later. It is not always so.
To be sure, there were a few flubs along the way. Along with hissed blue language. But it could have been worse. Overall, though, I'm relatively pleased with the way the current batch of figures is coming along. Not perfect by any means, but good enough at arm's length. And that's fine by me.
When everything is finished, glossed, and cemented to the usual 3mm ply bases, they'll look fine. After a while, even I won't be able to find the perceived mistakes. It's fine to want to paint to the best of our ability, but at the same time it's important to remember another key point. There are two kinds of tabletop units. Perfect versus those that are finished (in this lifetime) to a reasonably competent wargaming standard. I'm perfectly happy with the latter. Ramrods notwithstanding!
But what of the other details awaiting my attention? Well, I thought about pressing on this evening to apply white to the three tiny straps that hold down the flap on the fur knapsacks over the musketeers' left hips, but thought better of it. Why tempt fate with tired eyes and freshly caffeinated hands after all? Know when to stop and paint again another day is one of my many irritating mottos. Just ask the Grand Duchess and Young Master to elaborate. They will.
Long-winded, opinionated, pompous, self-righteous. Generally irritating on a good day. Baby, I've got it all!
Ahem.
Returning to more comfortable, less inward looking territory, Paul and I enjoyed a very pleasant breakfast together this late morning, during which he chatted to me in English, German, and Spanish. I remember just enough of the latter to follow along. Kind of. But we had a nice time. He seems to be wired for languages and is rapidly turning into a polyglot of sorts. It will be interesting to see where all of this might lead.
As we cleared the breakfast table, we had a conversation about the brain working out a system for language learning which seems to sharpen with each new language added to the mix. And of course tackling languages within the same family helps too. 35 years ago, a young Austrian woman in a mixed group of students I befriended while attending the International Student Festival in Trondheim (ISFIT) observed offhandedly, "Well, after you've learned a couple of additional languages besides your native language, it's just one more language."
Not only was her English excellent, but she spoke Italian, French, and of course her native German too. But the absolute best was a guy from Portugal, originally Angolan, named Marco, whose English wasn't quite as good. He was, however, a genuine raconteur and kept our group in stitches every waking moment for the week we were together with his stories about people, life, and so forth all peppered with bizarre non sequiturs, malapropisms, and questions that weren't always phrased in the right way especially in a mixed group.
The best part was that he was perpetually good-natured and laughed along with the rest of us, handling our numerous linguistic corrections with aplomb. Pretty amazing for someone in his late teens or early 20s when you think about..
I've always wondered whatever happened to Marco. We initially tried to keep in touch and exchanged a couple of letters each months later. But eventually mine to him in Portugal bounced back a couple of times undelivered, and the connection was broken. Too bad since he would probably be even more interesting now in our late 50s.
But I digress!
In any case, the Grand Duchess returns tomorrow night from visiting her parents and sister in Seattle. Just in time to rein in our madcap Advent zaniness and right our moral compass ahead of Christmas.
All kidding aside, what would we do without our partners and spouses?
-- Stokes
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