Every Man Needs A Shed

Life and Games (but mostly games) from Tony Boydell: Dad, Husband and Independent UK Game Designer, Agricola fanboy and jealous admirer of Carl Chudyk. www.surprisedstaregames.co.uk
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The Drunk Man, Boomeranging

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!
An odd noise roused me from my aching, grunting slumber; a sort of rattling, wet sound - pittering and pattering like an ill-closed tap. Apparently our imminent departure from Llanberis (and it's wallowing in the delights of spectacular tectonics and glaciation) had brought the sky to tears.

After the scrumblingly-delicious breakfast, we had an hour-or-so until John the Driver arrived so I retired - calves protesting - to the room and listened to podcast episodes (Athetico Mince) and finished my latest book. From Llanberis to Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch via the Britannia Bridge:

(from L to R) Kuba, Me, Kurt, Russ and Brian.

A closer look at the Menai Straits and its bridges was within our timings so John showed us a less-travelled path down to the base pillars and a glimpse at the splendid lions; these were visible at the railway level before the bridge burned down in the 1970s and rebuilt with the A5 above - now they languish, hidden, down the sides and unseen by the hundreds of travellers per hour:

Lunch was a toasted sandwich that took 45 minutes to cook; tasty though it was, our afternoon of gaming with the Snowdonia Dragons in Bangor was being put in jeopardy! Fortunately, Yvonne was happy to wait the extra 30 mins until we lugged my big bag of games up to the Pontio Art Centre (5th Floor).

As it turned out, there was ONLY Yvonne there - accompanied by a table groaning with drinks, biscuits, fruit and other snacks. Introductions made, we split in to two tables: Kuba, Russ and Brian shipping and telling Tales while Kurt, Yvonne and I went off to Malta via the Snowdonia: Deluxe Master Set:

This is a FAST scenario; I won with 62 points WITHOUT A SINGLE CONTRACT (taken or completed)!

Finishing synchronously, we just swapped tables:

More messing about in boats and more tweaks for the notebook; the biggest tweak has yet to be tried but could open up the game for a 5th player and reduce some of the down time (thanks, Kuba!)

We closed with an all-six-of-us Citadels; Yvonne got assassinated at least four times in five rounds but still managed a close third. King Kuba the Third, though, was a late 20s victor.

We bade farewell to our generous and patient host - cutting a somewhat lonely figure as we boys trudged to our connection - and on to a sunny Manchester. Our hotel for the night, the Britannia Airport, was - in comparison to the genial Plas Coch - a complete shithole: confused staff, plain rooms with a scent of stale cigarette smoke behind the chemical pine and a restaurant menu fresh off the freezer aisle at Iceland. Our 'waiter' didn't know the soup or dessert options and had to go and ask (twice) while a racist, needy old bat was complaining (on the adjacent table) to any staff who would listen about "how rude young people are today".

We repaired to the TV-dominated bar area for one last Snowdonia and picked up Kurt's suggestion of the tricky (and heavy) Trans-Australian Railway scenario:

This is a corker of a scenario at the full five player count: lots of nipping and tucking, jostling and elbowing, to a back-drop of long periods of drought. Russ stormed it with a final round double-cube excavation that netted him over 30 points! This glorious finale to the evening in the company of these splendid gents couldn't even be tarnished by the drunk-bloke-with-carrier-bags who was repeatedly being ejected on to the driveway only to stagger (sideways) back in to the Hotel foyer: what a bloody state to find oneself in, the poor bugger.
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