Whistling in the dark.

Pindaris -

shady customers to a man hopelessly devoted to looting, murder and rapine.

Forgive the lack of clarity, this picture was taken with my snazzy new Iphone which while a life saver in many other respects is simply not as good a camera as my camera is. Though in its defence it is a much better phone than my camera and a distinctly better navigational aide. When it comes to buttering bread, the honours are about equal.

Above you will find some Pindaris that I made the other day. After the exertions of the week (and exertions they were) I had set aside some time to spend in drunken buffoonery, a harmless pastime that has given me much innocent fun over the years. While recovering from the after affects of having rectified this shameful neglect I read an inspiring blog post.

This set me to thinking about Subcontinental imaginations. I think in some ways I would find greater freedom in writing about an Indian imagination than a European one because I know rather more about Europe than I do about India and more importantly, I know what I don't know about Europe. Known unknowns often have a brutal way with my creative juices.

So Kipling had his Kaffiristan, Howard his Nagdragore, Mallinson his Chintal and Kinch his...?

Who knows. What I do know is that it was to be populated by four boxes of ESCI Arab warriors, until I realised I couldn't find them. I searched the house, a raging hangover as naught before my desire, but to no avail. While searching, I did find a set of HAT Cossacks that I didn't know I had and more out of a desire to do something, I set about turning them into rampaging Indian mercenaries. After some in depth research (I believe I looked the cover of "The Nizams Daughters" twice) and some careful snipping of furry hats and a quick application of green stuff turbans, my fictional Raja had his first troops.

I trust that my ESCI Arabs will now realise that I will simply carry on without them and they had best come out and show themselves.