Tuesday, October 17, 2017

That's not my Tiger

That's Not My Tiger...That's Not My Tiger... by Fiona Watt
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

After confronting the essential poverty and meaninglessness of existence in a post modern age, a young mouse embarks on a quest to find "her tiger". Disregarding hedonism and the tawdry distractions of other lesser tigers, she demands that which neither a deracinated capitalism nor a cold and ruthless socialism can provide. This focus on the local and the particular clearly underlines the pre-modern essence of the text.

A Scrutonian voyage of discovery for the under twos.

Also chewable.


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Monday, October 9, 2017

What I did on my holidays by Conrad Kinch, aged 37 1/2






An artists impression of John Treadaway enroute to tell me that my copy is late. 
(Squat Trike from the pen of Paul Bonner)


My recent trip to London was a roaring success. Four nights of uninterrupted sleep was magical. Meeting John Treadaway was great fun. Lovely fella - he rather put me in mind of one of the old GW
squat bikers with his beard, ponytail, leather jacket and giant machine. It was definitely a few days of meeting old friends and making new ones. 

The Austrians advance under the command of the doughty Brian Carrick
(picture cheerfully thieved from Bob Cordery)


The game on Saturday was magnificent. A spread of 2,000 figures on a playing area sixty feet by sixty feet. I commanded the Swedish contingent (mainly played by Prussians in this instance) and finished the game in the suburbs of Leipzig having done for the Imperial Guard, which will always remain something of a career highlight. The company was excellent. Made some new friends and caught up with some old ones.

I was not in a position to take photographs, but you'll find some good pictures at the fine blogs below. 





St. Paul's went a little over board on the incense while I was there. 

Service at Westminister Abbey was wonderful. St. Paul's was magnificent, I thought it was expensive at first, but wildly underestimated how vast the place is. Worth every penny. Had longish natter with one of the Canons named Mike.  I paid my respects at Wellington's tomb. It always does to remember the local boy.

Gordon's Tomb
(image tea leafed from the Church Monument Society)

I am a great admirer of Charles Gordon and I was strangely moved when I saw his sarcophagus.  I had not realised he was quite so small.  There I think is the difference between having read a thing and knowing it. 

My own, slightly smaller, Gordon. 

My daughter was named Gordon for a day while she was in hospital.  We had settled on a name and when we saw her, we realised that it didn't suit her exactly and it took us a day while we thought of a new one.  I was very tempted to add Gordon as a middle name when I went to register her birth, but forebore at the last moment.  She has his mercurial and exploring temperament. 

I will take her to see her (almost) namesakes tomb someday.

I miscalculated and hadn't realised that the Pre-Raphaelite exhibition at the National Gallery hadn't begun yet, which was a shame. The Horse Guards museum was a joy, particularly as you get to watch the lads at stable duty. I ended up having a long old chat with some of the Ministry of Defence police who were on duty outside. I certainly noticed the greater presence of armed police and talked to several of them around the city, I suppose because it is so unusual from an Irish perspective. They were unfailingly friendly. The thing that really struck me was the number of them with beards - the Met clearly having different regulations on this matter. .


An artist's impression of the National Army Museum

Of the National Army museum, the less said the better. It was the only sour note in an otherwise excellent trip.

I should have listened Tim. I should have listened.  And what only makes it worse is that I missed the Wallace Collection because of it. 

I survived Charing Cross Road and Martins Lane with only minor damage to my wallet. Not many books this trip, but quite a few prints - mostly fashion for Mrs. Kinch and Alice and Pooh Bear for the Kinchlets. There is more framing in my future. 

I'm still wondering if anyone does a suitable train in 20mm

I was very happy to get a single large engraving (done as a special by the Illustrated London News) of "a reconaissance in force" in 1882, which the Egyptians record as the Battle of Kafr el Dawr. It's an engagement that has intrigued me for a while, so I was glad to get it. There was a definite thrill of discovery when I recognised the geography and the regimental numbers in the otherwise anonymous piece.

After that it was home again, home again, jiggity jig. Mrs. Kinch and the Kinchlets seemed none the worse my absence and quite pleased to see me actually.