Everyone Needs A Shed

Life and Games (but mostly games) from Tony Boydell: Father, Grandfather, Husband and Independent UK Game Designer.
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Hail Friese Uwe

Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Newent. Glos
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Every homo sapiens needs an outbuilding within the curtelage of their property
Welcome...to my Shed!
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(this is now, in my mind at least, an established Christmas tradition: read it yourself, to your neighbours, to your children, to your collection of Keyper character meeples and/or your gaming group. Just the one more sleep!!! Oh, and read the blog title aloud: I'm quite pleased with it)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was playing Terraforming Mouse
The boosters were hung by the chimney with care,
With hope that some (7) Wonder-ful promos be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While Indian Summer played out in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down with T.T.A app.

There came such a noise from the Study below
We both thought, at first, "We're Finished, you know!"
Away to the Games Room I flew fast-as-able
Tore open the cupboards and unfurl’d the table.

The moon on those shelves of some new-varnished pine
Gave lustre of mid-day, made all boxes shine!
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a tiny wheeled truck, and eight tiny reindeer,

From gallery of tonyboydell

With a little old driver, so quick to manouvre,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Uwe!
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, in German, and called them by name:

To the shelving for Euros! To the section for dice!
To the Lookout edition of Nusfjord (nice!)

As punched cardboard sprews that fill rubbish bins high
When caught by the chill wind, mount up to the sky,
So up through the ‘fillers’ the coursers they flew,
With a trolley for games, and St. Rosenberg too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard o’er the peace
The prancing and pawing of Friedemann Friese!
I let out a cry at his brightly-green quiff!
Down the Fortress-like chimney he fell with a sniff.

From gallery of tonyboydell

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to the floor,
And the holes in his belt numbered five hundred and four
A bundle of map boards were flung on his back,
And he named himself ‘Greench’ as he gave me a smack!

His eyes – how they twinkled with mischief un-hid
For he carried a minty Fabled Power Grid;
His droll little mouth opened wider and smiled
As a new batch of Fast Forward games he compiled!

And Die drei Gebote was alight...in his teeth!
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he coughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf
The Greench that stole Christmas, in spite of himself;
But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a twerk,
And smiled – yes! He smiled! His ankle-bells chimed
Gave me Friday, Flee, Fear and Fabled Fruit: Limes;

He sprang to the sleigh and St Uwe gave whistle,
And away they both flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard them exclaim, though I felt pretty whacked:
"Frohe Weihnachten euch allen, und allen eine gute Nacht!"
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