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Every Man Needs A Shed

Life and games (but mostly games) from Tony Boydell: Independent UK games designer, self-confessed Agricola-holic and Carl Chudyk fan-boy. www.surprisedstaregames.co.uk What was that beardy bloke going on about?

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Three more castles

Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Newent. Glos
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Longer than I would've liked, this working Wednesday was troubleshooting and yakketty-yakking and general brain-mushing interrogations until, later than I'd planned, I managed to escape to The Escape with barely enough time to climb in to a pair of slacks and eff-off back on to the road again for some Prestatyn Gamin' Lovin'. In a ridiculous contrast to the previous evening's precipitating ice storm, I needed the windows wound down to keep me from suffocating in the heat as I rumbled along the A55 for my mid-week fix.

Supper, after building a quick sandcastle on the beach - the tide being so far out it was lapping against itself on the shores of the Isle of Man - was a beetroot, bean and grainy pulse affair from Marks & Spencers served (my own recipe, this) with a garnish of Melton Mowbray Pork Pie: scrumptious! Washed down with a mango compote and a bag of beef-and-onion crisps, this made for a Kingly (if calorific) dish.



Two tables of six tonight saw Philip (this week's Selector) desperate to learn The Castles of Burgundy so, nobly, I skipped a chance of a first play of Anachrony (with Yv and Mark and Ed) to be 'Teacher'. My golden rule with CoB is 'take Mines' because if you don't have mines, you don't win (access to silverling-bought tiles is awesome); many, many games on boiteajeux.net has taught me this. I failed to take any mines throughout and Philip won rather comfortably (with three of them).

The time-travelling, pool-table hoggers were still only-just reacting to the arrival of the asteroid so Daffydd picked Caylus from Philip's bag. During the run through, both Philip and I emphasised the unimportance and pointlessness of the universally-derided 'Gate' action, only for Daffydd to pick it as his first (ever) placement and then use it to fuck me over over with a 'three spaces back' Provost recall. Hilarious though this (obviously) was, it served to relieve Philip of early pressure thus gifting him the entire game 90 minutes later; indeed, had Daffydd made a sensible, non-contrary joke assignment (an indisputably witty play) he may well have set in chain a series of actions that could've resulted in a virgin victory for himself. I'll not dwell on the incident - comedy 'gold' though it was - but suffice it to say that he spoiled it for everyone and, effectively, Kingmaked Philip to a comfortable win. His fault, not mine. Ahem. When we looked up from the wreckage of our magnificent construction, everyone else had gone home apart from Yvonne who - silent but cheerful - was solo-ing Terraforming Mars in the corner.

A fine evening.
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Today 6:20 am
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Ice Cold In Llandudno

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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Work colleague Craig, and myself, returned from a day's system support to glorious sunshine at the B&B. Ah, how we basked in the Spring glow as we ambled up the stepped gardens, admired the tadpoles wriggling through the quiet-fountained pond and aurally-delighted in the twittering of birds.

Half an hour later, as we set out to hike to the Iron Age village promontory, we were caught in a blizzard of hailstones and a wind cold enough to freeze the piss in your bladder! Cursing, we scuttled to the Cottage Loaf pub for a warming burger and pint of fizzy, fermented apple juice. Finally feeling our fingertips and toes once more, we determined to exercise our full bellies with a walk along the Llandudno pier, hoods up and teeth a-chattering, in the chill sunset.


Peering up the Pier: no fisherman, or jellyfish, at the end.


Oddly, in the far distance, through the forest of windmills, I could see Rhyl and Prestatyn bathed in a Summer's glow of their own - in stark contrast to our Arctic ambulation. Bugger.

The beach, shadowed by the Great Orme, laughed coldly at our frozen faces as the tide rolled in:




Still a beautiful vista, though.
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Wed Apr 26, 2017 1:15 pm
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Whales in Wales

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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After such a lovely weekend, basking in the sunshine and mooching about the garden, it was a proper chore to have to drive back to North Wales for work; the Easter holidays are over for the boys too so, luckily, I got to drop Arthur off at school first. No sightseeing on the journey, it was as quickly as possible to the office to support the latest 'go live' and deliver (even) more training. Ho-diddley-hum; money may make the world go around BUT rhubarbing on to business support staff about task queues and RAG statuses certainly hoovers up the afternoon in the blink of an eye so, as is my routine, it was back to the B&B for a quick-change then supper watching the fat gulls scrounge on the Conwy quayside. Blazing and blue the great Arch may have been above me but there was one Hell of a breeze gusting in off the Irish Sea; the Touran was a-rockin'*

The board gamers were squeezed in to one half of the restaurant bar because - shock! horror! - now that the weather had brightened up, everyone and his Father-in-Law/Boss/Probation Officer had come out to twat white balls around 100 acres of reclaimed silt. No matter, Ed and Aaron and Tim and myself bagsied the window seats and set up Mr Alan Paull's criminally-overlooked (but highly-regarded by those in-the-know) Confucius:


Halfway through clear-up, I remembered I needed to snap the board state: note me (purple) in a criminally picked-on last place.



My action: sail to distant lands for this fabulous Emperor's reward card.
Aaron's action: send his army in to the last Invasion tile space.
My action: Swear and sulk and curse and moan and grumble.


I know how to play it in my head but stumbled through letting everyone else know; Aaron remembered bits from a while back too so, between us, we managed to piece things together for the other two. Playing pace was brisk and there was much giving and receiving of gifts which lead to the inevitable "What? I have to pay for YOUR candidate in the examination rather than mine...because you slipped me this f**king gift?! Damnit!" and so on. Aaron ran away with it all, in the end, but it was fun to give the old hoss a new airing. Funnily, Confucius was recently higlighted as "a hidden gem of board gaming" on Geek and Sundry (!):

http://geekandsundry.com/3-hidden-gems-of-board-gaming-you-s...

(time to give it a Twenteens facelift and a reissue, surely?!)


Ed and Tim lagged behind for a chat and then we suddenly found ourselves the only ones not 'in a game' so, naturally, we put ourselves 'in a game' and I chose the "something in about an hour" New Bedford:


I managed to 'land' three of the four KS promo tiles, thanks to my 'furthest out' little ship, plus a sack load of cash (from stolen goods via the Chemist Shop) and a VP-rich Seamen's Bethel for a (first ever) game-winning 26 points!


I meandered about the room, after Tim left, and managed to blag a three-player Linko! with Dewi and Denise. Apparently, Dewi has only lost at this once so it was extra-pleasing to hold him to a 40-40 tie after three rounds! My seven 1s were followed by, yes, _his_ seven 2s and he let me take them back (!); I played them again next turn, unchallenged, leaving me four 8s to end the round and steal his almost-certain victory away from him: huzzah!

I needed a toothbrush, so drove around for a bit in the hurricane until I found a 7-11; confusingly, when I parked up at the B&B - in the shadow of the Great Orme - the air was as still as a mouse's millpond. Where had all that angry air gotten to? I'll be blowed if I know.

*consequently, no-one came a-knockin'
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Tue Apr 25, 2017 6:35 am
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A Castle For All Seasons

Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Newent. Glos
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Goodrich Castle, April 2017.

This is the castle that I've probably visited the most in my life: on school trips, both before and after my family had moved up the Wye Valley from Newport; on cider-drinking, school-bunking afternoon's off from the Sixth Form; and, countless times, with our own - and extended - families.

It's a brilliant place; sunk in to a square 'well' on the hill, it overlooks the River Wye on two sides and has everything one could possible want from a visitable castle:
A dry moat? Check!
Towers you can climb to the top of? Check!
A dungeon you can go in? Check!
Spiral staircases by the dozen? Check!
A restored Chapel? Check!
A deep, DEEP Well? Check!
A cannon and some cannon balls? Check!
Outbuildings? Check!
Big rocks you can climb? Check!
Battlements you can walk along? Check!
Garderobes? Checketty-check-check-check!

It's just perfect...and only 15 miles down the road!

On this occasion, we met up with Mrs B's cousin and her family (whose parents live just a 10 minute walk up the hill a bit further) and took the same paths, scrambled over the same rocks and wobbled vertiginously at the top of the same towers as we ever did:
























Naturally, once we had had our fill (this time) of goodly Goodrich, it was off to the Uncle/Aunts for tea and hot crossed buns. Oh, and Arthur discovered the joys of sliding, face-first, down a staircase on one's belly:


He's such a special child.
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Mon Apr 24, 2017 6:30 am
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Clip Quip

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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Recently, I've been working on a redesign of Paperclip Railways; now, if only I had something to help me keep my notes gathered together in the one place: like such as a stapler?

*baddomp-tish*
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Sun Apr 23, 2017 6:30 am
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Almost 'gypt by Arthur!

Anthony Boydell
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Just a quick one: yesterday I managed - Shock! Horror! - to fit in a board game with the peeps who happened to be in the kitchen: a proper spur-of-the-moment thing! It was just for 30 minutes:



...but it was a perfectly-formed 30 minutes!

Me, Mrs B (whose birthday it was), Benedict and Arthur for an Imhotep with added (essential) boat-sailing dickery! I won, but only just, from Arthur - who seems to have picked up an evil streak from somewhere!
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Sat Apr 22, 2017 1:36 pm
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Volume 2: My Mother, when...

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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In an occasional series, leading up to July's 2000th post, I'll be scanning the first year's blog outpourings. I'm not looking for any kind of personal revelation, just curious as to what was occupying my thoughts six years ago. It's a fun, melancholic, sometimes confusing and/or anger-inducing exercise: a lot has happened and I'm glad I committed it all to a digital diary!

British comedy shows are, quite simply, the best in the World and there is no argument that can contradict this statement. My favourite writers/performers have a surreal and often viciously-satirical edge to them (Christopher Morris, Armando Ianucci and Stewart Lee) or are just plain silly (the Pythons, Fry & Laurie). Naturally, their 'style' leaks in to my blog voice and it's no more obvious - to those who have seen the Armando Ianucci Show - than in this early 2011 homage:


Quote:

(Tony sits in a large, inflatable armchair covered with so many puncture-repair plasters. His back is straight, his knees are together - in the Catholic fashion - and his hands placed,palms up, on his lap. A partially-eaten Eccles cake dries slowly in front of a log-burning stove. An adjacent, pristine inflatable chair stands empty)

Tony: (directly to you, dear reader) I'm just waiting for my grandfather…

(A log cracks loudly in the flames and a shower of sparks lands on the hearth)

Tony: ...he'll be along in a minute…

(a short cough)

Tony:…here he comes…

(The door bell rings)

Tony: (calling) Come in, grandfather!

(An aged gentleman enters - he looks exactly like Tony, but with bad Hollywood 'age' makeup on. He totters over to the spare inflatable chair and falls face-first into it. It bounces away onto the stove and pops. Acrid black smoke from the burning plastic quickly fills the room)

Tony: Hello, grandfather; I was just thinking about adapting life-jackets for colostomy patients who spend a lot of time at sea.

Grandfather: We never used to have colostomy bags in my day…we used to have a hole in the ground and a wheelbarrow. When you fancied a little walk, you'd put the hole into the wheelbarrow and took it along with you.

Tony: And what about board games? How was it different when you were a "wee bairn"?

Grandfather: There weren’t so many Reiner Knizia games for a start – you had only three or four hundred to choose from. Of course, we were at war with Reiner…and Friedemann Friese…twice.

Tony: Did that affect the games that you were able to play?

Grandfather: Of course! When you’re at war with someone, you don’t buy their excellent boardgames at the same time – every copy of Die Macher would fund a doodlebug; every Adlungspiele deck another tank shell!

Tony: So, what games DID you play?

Grandfather: We used to sit around the hearth of an evening looking at a picture of Settlers of Catan that we got off the Black Market. Munchkin was very popular, but only for the first 3 minutes of any given games evening; we used to get them off the GI’s in return for ‘favours’…

Tony: ‘Favours..?’

Grandfather: (blushing) I’m not proud of it, lad, but they were hard times and if you didn’t ‘go’ with the Yanks, you ended up with half a Monopoly set or worse…

Tony: Snakes and Ladders?

Grandfather: (angry; stands and waves his false elbow at the mantel) I’ll not have that name spake in t’house, lad. (calms down) During the Coronation in ’52, after the war, we went round next doors and saw a colour version of Carcassonne on their television – it were only the basic set then, of course.

Tony: The television?

Grandfather: No – Carcassonne. And we used to play Finca with real fruit, though figs were hard to come by so we used shriveled Ox scrota instead.

Tony: (pausing, a grapefruit speared on his thumb) Was it about this time that you met Grandma?

Grandfather: Yes it were! There used to be these Theme nights down at the Town Hall; you know the kind of thing: ‘Big Games In A Small Box’, ‘The Letter P’, ‘Games you will Hate almost immediately’ – that kind of thing. Your grandma was demo-ing a session of Illuminati: New World Order and I was on the next table playing Agricola: Farmers of the Moor. Our eyes met across the animeeples.

Tony: Sounds wonderfully romantic!

Grandfather: Not really – when I say ‘our eyes met’, I mean that my glass eye and hers had popped out and rolled across the floor like marbles. According to the Cambridge Rules, MY eye bombsie-d HER eye so it were mine to keep.

Tony: (aghast) You both had glass eyes?

Grandfather: Oh yes. It was all the rage then – like ear-piercings or Thunderstone. My friend Bill lost a thumb in Sicily and had it replaced with a miniature set of Villa Paletti…and my old Sergeant had his cock and balls swapped for a dice tower….nice one...with stickers and everything.

Tony: Let's go back to the war, grandfather; after all it was a difficult time for the gaming community and, being an old fart, that's all you want to bloody go on about anyway…what was it like playing tournament –level Ticket To Ride against the Hun?

Grandfather: Churchill banned all pens as they were being converted into knives, submarines and wotnot, so that ruled out Railway Rivals. The Yanks dropped demo copies of Ticket To Ride all over mainland Europe and it quickly became a propaganda nightmare. The Bosch were better at it than us, you see. Some of the lads down ‘the Legion’ still won’t talk about the Marklin edition.

Tony: You mentioned the Blitz - how did you cope?

Grandfather: Multiplayer Magic: The Gathering began to get popular back then. It's natural when you're all cooped up in a Nissan hut - it's either Emperor or talking to Mrs Scroggins about black-market bacon.

Tony: Was there a black market for TCG's too?

Grandfather: Oh yes! Spivs would come round the pubs offering "Carpet Of Flowers for the Lady?" or "Genuine Spectral Tigers?" or (singing) "Cockles and Netrunner Boosters - Alive, Alive-Oh!"

Tony: That sounds like a jolly song - were there any others?

Grandfather: "Roll Through The Barrel" was quite popular; so was "Hitler Has Only Got One Power Station", "My Old Man's A Semi-Professional Backgammon Player", ‘I’ve Got A Lover-ly Bunch of Macao-nuts’, ‘Rondel, Rabbit, Rondel’ and ‘Knees Up, Mother Bauza’.

Tony: (standing) Would you like a cup of tea before you die?



Genius.
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Sat Apr 22, 2017 6:40 am
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Another True Story

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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I was so pleased when I turned up and found the Games Club buzzing with excitement and was two-thirds of the way through our Sushi Go starter before a passer-by asked what I was doing "sitting in that bee-hive"; noises confuse me, which is why I always get into police trouble when a church bell goes 'bong'.

In the actual venue, quite a few tables were setting up; I thought, for a moment, that I had become magnetic because every time I approached a spare chair, it would slide - seemingly of it's own accord - away from me and under the table; when I remarked that "We must be the same Poles", someone replied: "A pole of some sort, certainly" and turned around to let me see the attractive design on the back of his tee-shirt.

Wondering if Sod's Law would apply - that there would only be space for me at the last table I tried - I decided to visit the last table by the fire, second-to-last, and vice versa and managed to slide on to the cushioned caquetoire before my new-found repulsive field could take effect. The other players did that funny thing they always do when I join a game - it's sort of a club tradition - ie. simultaneously roll their eyes and tut. I can only do one of those two things at a time, so that's why we don't bother when anyone else comes in late.

The man who spoke the loudest and, therefore, seemed to be in charge, was messing about with an enormous box labelled 'nevahmoolG' - the box was facing away from me and I could only see the name in the fireplace mirror. There was a lot of stuff and he had some stickers that he set to one side as he gave us all piles of special cards. The stickers were coated with quite a strong adhesive and I was able to cover an entire beermat with them – on both sides! – before the leader started shouting and waving his arms around. “You want to be careful” I warned, as he flailed about with his face turning redder and redder; “you might knock someone’s drink over”. I showed him how this might happen by picking up my neighbours bottle of fizzy Mexican ale and pouring it over the landscape board: “See? That would be a total bitch to clean up afterwards.”. My mother always appreciated me trying to help and would often send me on errands along the Dual Carriageway: picking up litter, repainting the chevrons, washing the windscreens of passing “Artic”s etc. The man lunged across the table at me, oblivious to my warning, scattering chits and other components, and we fell sideways on to the enormous box; I am not a small person and neither is he, so the combined kinetic energy of our tumble made quick work - and a musical, tearing rasp - of the carton's vertical structure. There were several small packets of playing card-sized playing cards pressing in to my head and neck, so I pulled them free and they scattered and slid across the carpet to where the Pub's dog was sleeping: he awoke and began chewing at the shinier ones, as dogs do. The man, having been lifted by his friends, was vigorously using his feet to get me off the 'nevahmoolG' box; once more I was reminded of my recently-acquired corporeal magnetism, this time in an attractive sense, when his steel toe-capped boot kept landing on my face regardless of which way I rolled. I was leaking a lot of blood from my nose at this point; the sight of blood always makes me feel cold and nauseous so I heaved the remains of the crushed papery 'Glo/en' mass on to the glowing embers of the fire for warmth.

The man, now being restrained by the Bar staff, was still making a lot of noise and upsetting families who had only come in for a quiet supper, for Christ's sake!. I wiped my ensanguined chin and nodded to the other players, who didn't know where to put themselves now that their friend was being so (frankly) embarrassing. "I did tell him to be careful", I said. "I think you'd better just go" one of them replied.

Outside, the noise of the traffic roared in my ears and I climbed on top of the Bus Stop in case the lion would end up eating me.
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Fri Apr 21, 2017 6:30 am
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As Above, So Below

Anthony Boydell
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So I sat in my car watching the Prestatyn tide roll in, the sea-windmills turn and a fat lass chase her toddler across the sand and nearly collapse of a coronary. I did this to the gentle soundtrack of Nick Drake whilst scoffing a cheese and paté roll and, intermittently, reading an interview with Steve Jones (of the Sex Pistols).

It's been a week of curious encounters, as evidenced by the following public sign:

I doubled-back at the next roundabout to double-take this particular piece of ludicrous phonemic orthography


The party from last night's Abergele FCM conference were joined by Mark and Paul at The Beach House bar and we split in to two threes; the others (Mark, Yvonne and Daffydd) tootled off with Imperial Settlers whilst we (me, Ed and Paul) got our teeth in to Above and Below:


Pretty and straightforward: a non-taxing pleasure.


In summary: It's sort-of worker allocation and pseudo-set collection/push your luck (a bit) VP chaser. Your people can build things (for enhanced abilities, resources and points), recruit other people AND go off an 'explore' an underground world rich in more abilities, resources and points. Tying it all together is an encounter book - sort of Fighting Fantasy - that offers you a selection of 'explore' options in narrative form - go for the easy option or push for something juicier? Your explorers roll dice to see if they look hard enough to reach your selected 'explore' goal: if they do you get stuff, if they don't you get nothing or - maybe - you suffer a consequence.

A&B was quick, engaging and enjoyable (I won 49:39:27) - if a little light for my own tastes - and I'd be glad to play it again in similarly-genial company...so it's a good job I know Ross-on-Wye's Boffo has a copy secreted about his person.

The others were still flopping cards, so Ed - who was King of Picks tonight - landed an old friend on to the red-clothed pool table:


Paul won his debut at my sentimentally-storied pick-up-and-deliverer, pipping me by just a pair of well-proportioned sheep: 31-29-27


With still a good hour to go, Yvonne swapped tables to join me and Ed for one of my absolute all-time faves: Suburbia


My airports, and my 'highest reputation' secret goal, kept me just out of Yvonne's reach; I absolutely adore Suburbia and seem to have a particular aptitude for it. Unlike my colossal catering clumsiness on Tuesday, Wednesday evening found me more relaxed and in-tune with the games: it proves the benefits of intricate, melancholy guitar folk music over pissed tourists as a pre-session warm-up technique. Next week I'll try some Brian Eno to see if I can't chill myself out even more.
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Thu Apr 20, 2017 6:45 am
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The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking

Anthony Boydell
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I left the house at a reasonable hour, still sluggish from the long holiday weekend, after making the awakening beverages: a whistle-stop visit to Llandudno with, hopefully, a couple of evenings of gaming thrown in for good measure. With the sun out, and the sky blue, it seem churlish not to go the scenic (Llangollen) route so – despite the fuel light angrily-blinking ’50 miles’ and ‘Please refuel’, I swung left on to the A5. By the time I got to Betwys y coed*, the car was rasping it’s thirst so I pulled in to a garage for Diesel and lunch; while paying, my phone joined in with a trilling alert that Theresa May, our Prime Minister, has called a ‘snap’ General Election for June – and just after she’d triggered the EU-vacating Article 50 too?! I must admit to being shocked and, simultaneously, not in the least-bit shocked at all: we live in corrupt and terrifying times.

I trundled across Betwys’ Waterloo bridge, tank creakingly-full, and ready to rejoin the last leg of my journey, when I was flagged down by a couple of rucksack-laden hitch-hikers; normally, I would bimble merrily along and give them no further thought but – today – I was extra conscious of being in a big, mostly empty, people carrier and (perhaps) the foreboding of a Tory Government until 2022 made me think “What the hell; let’s extend the hand of friendship while we still can!”.

Hannah and Miriam are German students – one on an internship, the other over for a short holiday – and had spent the week walking (and hitching) from Machynlleth through the Snowdonia National Park (the Trawsfynydd lakeside nuclear power station, Mount Snowdon etc) and were looking to spend their last day in Conwy which – of course – is about 2 minutes from where I work when ‘oop North’. Oddly, they were the first Germans I’ve met who have NEVER heard of Essen Spiel, so any tales I might have woven about my (tenuous) link to the Snowdon Mountain Railway (which they didn’t use anyway because they walked to the summit, which was misty and cold when they got there) would’ve been confusing and irrelevant**. I dropped them off by Conwy Castle’s suspension bridge and wished them a cheery farewell before re-setting the day to it’s more conventional path: office, emails and analysis.

Dumping my stuff at the B&B, I was soon back on the road - this time to Abergele and a restaurant/bar called The Departure Lounge; I was plenty early for the rendevous with Daffydd, Yvonne and Ed so I ordered a burger-with-the-works and refreshed myself with the rulebook for Food Chain Magnate. As I was sipping my lime-and-soda and running through the milestones appendix, a couple - who must each have been in their mid-60s - sagged in to the booth adjacent: he was orange-skinned with a Duran Duran haircut and the skinniest jeans, she a be-furred and heavily-sighing heap of drunken complaint. With a thick, slurred Birmingham accent, she informed me that "I'm afraid I am very drunk" as my stacked meat-in-a-bun arrived, dripping with BBQ sauce and coleslaw, with a side-order of fries (served in their own miniature fryer pan). She eyed my maris pipers hungrily and demanded an omelette from her patient partner. Thankfully, Ed arrived to rescue me from this old lush and we scarpered to another room with a long, tall table excellently-suitable for gaming:




I was inspired to suggest Food Chain Magnate at the weekend after watching the superb Heavy Cardboard live teaching and play-thru video (I saw the beginning and the end and filled the intervening couple of hours with Arthur's bedtime routine); it is a game that scares and intrigues me in equal part.

Last night, I followed a simple Training-first/Get a Fridge plan (T1: Trainer, T2: Train in to a Pizza Cook and get 1st to Train, T3: Produce and throwaway Pizza to get Fridge + Pizza milestones) but then found myself locked out of most deliveries by Yvonne (I forgot about the Business Developer, which would've opened up plenty of new choffing custom on my - lonely and sparse - corner of the board and trained a Discount Manager too late). Daffydd was tuning and fine-tuning his corporate structure but only just selling enough to cover costs with a bit left over. Ed, on the other hand, was rounding up Waitresses like a Human Trafficking Syndicate and produced only just enough fizzy drinks and junk food to keep the Vice Squad off his sordid little tail! Thankfully, the Just-ness of Yvonne's straight-forward "feed the people" approach pipped Ed's 1950s-themed knocking shop by a paltry $12.

Tonight, in Prestatyn, it could be Above & Below or Snowdonia or something else entirely from the evening's Captains of the Selection: Ed and Phillip. See you in the morning with my next report: good day.

*(as opposed to ‘by the time I got to Woodstock’)
**(no change there, then)
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Wed Apr 19, 2017 6:35 am
Post Rolls
  • [+] Dice rolls

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