Thinking the unthinkable

A Newline Designs French Pioneer,

a touch more expensive than your typical infantryman

Human tragedy is regrettably my stock in trade and while violence is generally one of the most memorable aspect of many incidents, there are plenty of other sources of hurt. When I worked for the Church I dealt with a Canadian couple who were visitors to Ireland. A hand bag had been stolen from the lady which she was understandably very upset about. But what upset her the most was that it contained the last picture she had of her son alive. The money was immaterial, there were some things that cannot be replaced.

Paddy Griffith told me once that his home was burgled in the early eighties, toy soldiers were taken. What stung most of all was that the burglar was obviously not a casual criminal, but a fellow traveller. The key point being that the collection was mostly made up of Airfix plastics leavened with metals. The humble Airfix soldiers were left, but the more expensive metals were torn from their bases. Not the sort of fine distinction made by the typical second storey man.

I know that I would be gutted if my collection were stolen or damaged. But while my men are full of associations for me and are irreplaceable, if they were lost I would like to fill the hole somehow. I was reflecting on this while investigating a burglary some time ago. I was making notes in my notebook, establishing the likely point of entry and mentally working out which members of the parish eleven were not behind bars at present and therefore were likely suspects, when the house holder began to list off what property had been stolen. She did this with such aplomb that I stopped taking notes for a moment and began to evaluate her claim critically. By a curious coincidence it happened that very little of this property, much of which seemed to be particularly valuable, could not have its existence independently verified.

After work I applied the same logic to my own home. Mrs Kinchs jewellery and some of my rarer books are recorded on the house insurance, but beyond that there is nothing beyond the usual contents insurance. My collection of toy soldiers which has absorbed so much time and trouble, to say nothing of money, is not listed. I have visions of dealing with a hard nosed insurance assessor who will treat my claims as to how much my collection is worth with some skepticism.

But how much is it worth? Some collectors make astonishing claims as to what such-and-such a figure is worth, but travelling down that route could be problematic. I decided to approach the problem from a rather more prosaic angle - how much would it cost me to replace?

I buy most of my figures from the UK so I'll be working in pounds sterling for this exercise. Through a variety of means I have fixed on the figure of twelve pence as the cost of a plastic infantryman.

Outfitting him with magnetic basing, static grass and such adds approximately another three pence.

Painting him is the largest cost. My own painter does the job at a very reasonable 85 pence per man plus ten percent to post him. So 93.5p for uniform and kit.

Which means that the final figure is per infantryman is £1.08.5.

A unit for Command & Colours Napoleonics which consists of -

16 Other ranks

1 Subalterns

1 Non Commissioned officer

1 Bandsman

1 casualty figure

Cost £21.70 not including the cost of a metal sabot base.

This simple calculation suggests that the end result will be a considerable sum and that therefore the exercise is not without merit.

Even so the very idea of losing my boys makes me nauseous.