Sad News

It is with a heavy heart that I pass on news of the death of Peter, my friend and wargaming colleague of twenty years or more. With cruel irony he was the youngest and, until his illness, the fittest and most active of our small group. My thoughts are very much with Heather and his family.

Readers of this blog are ideally placed to understand how unimportant wargaming is in the scheme of things. And yet, Peter had been wargaming, painting and collecting for fifty years; it was part of who he was (although quite a bit lower in his hobby priorities than horses if truth be told). With that in mind I take some comfort from the last game he played having been the best that any of us had been involved in for a long time, a backwards and forwards tussle with matters undecided until late on the fourth evening. His condition deteriorated shortly after that and neither he nor the rest of us have played since. 

The other interest shared by Peter and me was music. This remained hidden for many years after we first met, until one night I found myself quoting Tom Russell lyrics at the wargames table, as one does. He picked up on that and, our common taste having been established, he introduced me to the fine covers of Russell's songs recorded by Gretchen Peters. We ended up attending gigs together when both artists next visited the UK and I know that I shan't be able to listen to either of them in future without thinking of my friend. As a suitably elegiac way to commemorate that musical bond here is Russell's 'Guadalupe' beautifully sung by Peters:

2018

"The important thing in life is to let the years carry us along" - Lorca

So, here we are again. In oh so many ways 2018 was a complete bag of shit; I confidently predict that 2019 will be worse still. However, let's not indulge in what Eliot termed "the conscious impotence of rage at human folly", let's indulge instead in boring everyone with what a culture vulture I am. Just a couple of months ago one woman formerly of my acquaintance described me - over her shoulder as she left - as a "passive/aggressive point scorer"; guilty as charged.

Opera: I saw twenty one this year, which is rather a lot. I'm going to vote 'Madama Butterfly' as the best, with 'Tosca' a close second; so that's a one-two for Puccini and dead heroines. Posting here has been so erratic that I think I might have to instigate an award in each category for the best performance that I didn't bother to write about. In this case I'm going for a production of 'Suor Angelica' in which clothes were kept on by nuns. So that's actually a one-two-three for Puccini and dead heroines then.

Theatre: I saw fifty three plays and musicals, increased above previous years by the pop-up Shakespeare theatre in York (returning next year I am pleased to say) and by a plethora of Great War commemoration activity. I think my favourite was 'They Don't Pay? We Won't Pay!' - it was certainly the funniest - with a special mention for both 'Journey's End' and 'Barnbow Canaries' - which were certainly the saddest. Best Shakespeare was 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' in York. Top of the unreported was 'From Berlin to Broadway', a marvellous celebration of the work of Kurt Weill.

Music: I saw thirty six bands live, probably down on the previous year if I could be bothered to check, mostly because the local blues club closed. There were some belters (King King, Walter Trout, Devon Allman, Thorbjorn Risager, etc), but top spot has to go to one that I couldn't be arsed to tell you about at the time: Gretchen Peters. If I never again hear anything as good as her version of Tom Russell's 'Guadalupe' then I shall still die a happy man.

Film: I saw sixteen films at the cinema and I think the best of the new ones amongst those was 'Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri', which as it happens was the first that I saw. Best of all was '12 Angry Men', but perhaps it's not fair to judge the others by that. Best new one that I haven't mentioned previously was 'The Florida Project', although I must confess to also really enjoying the rather more lowbrow and shallow 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. Best previously unmentioned re-release was 'The Big Lebowski', apt both because I am sure that we are just about to enter a world of pain, and because the Dude is a Stoic par excellence.

"The Dude abides"

Books: I don't actually know how many books I have read this year; shame on me, I shall start counting forthwith. The non-fiction book of the year had to be 'H.M.S. Electra', the story of the ship on which my uncle served and was lost during the Second World War; incidentally, for those who have played the first video above, Surabaya was the port from which the ship sailed on its final voyage. Best fiction book was - and I bet no one saw this coming - 'League of Spies', the fourth in Robert Merle's 'Fortunes of France' series.

Lectures: A new category for this year. I am rather controversially going to plump for the one on 'Soviet Central Asian Mosaics', which was surprisingly good although admittedly much of the surprise came from the fact that I thought I was going to a talk on 'Australian Aboriginal Art'. Worst by far was that about policing in Otley in the 1950s, which was like a UKIP party political broadcast delivered in the style of Jackanory.

Event of the Year: There was a late entrant into the field for this when only yesterday I over-toasted my pumpkin seeds (not a euphemism) and set the oven on fire. However, and after due consideration, the jury has decided to disallow it on the basis that I rather like the much nuttier flavour; all I need to do now is to find a way to reproduce it without any danger of burning the house down. As an aside, you may not be surprised to hear that at no point did the smoke alarm indicate that anything was amiss.

But back to the year that was. I am tempted by the return of running water to the Casa Epictetus and the resultant improvement in hygiene; or the camel racing at the Otley Show, which lured even me away from the Young Farmers' Ladies Tug-of-War;

or the younger Miss Epictetus' return from her travels and graphic description of skydiving at dawn into the Namibian desert, complete with outraged complaint that they hadn't allowed her to do it in flip-flops; or the elder Miss Epictetus causing an unfortunate and relatively blameless lady to knock herself out on the door of the ladies toilet of the Fountaine Inn at Linton-on-Craven (although for obvious reasons I didn't actually witness that one it did sound very funny as she told me about it while we hurriedly made our escape towards Burnsall); or even the Reiki session I had with the estimable Coral Laroc in the brief period when we were back on good terms. However, for this year it has to be the conversation with what turned out to be the goddaughter of my old ATC commander, Squadron Leader Bill Boorer, leading to the fascinating revelation of the whole story behind his rescue after being shot down in the North Sea.

And that's your lot. As Eliot also wrote: "Next year's words await another voice"

2017

I have had better years, but I suppose I should be grateful that we are still here and that neither the tangerine half-wit or the only fat person in North Korea have yet blown us all to kingdom come. In which spirit I offer you my highlights of 2017:

Opera: I have seen 15, albeit a number of them being single act works in Opera North's latest 'Little Greats' season. Among these was a 'Trial by Jury' which I can honestly say was the first Gilbert & Sullivan that I have ever enjoyed. Am I getting old? However, the best piece that I saw was a chamber version of 'The Turn of the Screw' while other highlights included a wonderful semi-staged Turandot and the first Tosca I have seen where the heroine actually throws herself off the battlements instead of doing away with herself in a manner unfaithful to the libretto, but simpler to portray on stage.

Theatre: I saw 46 plays (including Romeo and Juliet four times) which only included one real stinker (which wasn't one of the Romeo and Juliets), plus a few that I wouldn't bother to watch again (which did include one of the Romeo and Juliets). A few things stand out: 'Twelfth Night' at the Globe, Bazza's farewell, and a very explicit 'Rita, Sue and Bob Too'. I'm going to award two prizes: Best One Man Show which will be shared between 'The Autobiography of Jane Eyre' and James Hornsby's 'David Copperfield' and Best Theatrical Experience That Has Something Loosely To Do With Jane Austen which is also shared, this time between 'Mr Darcy Loses the Plot' and 'Austentatious'.

Films: I saw 15 on the big screen. Of the new ones (I'll exclude Vertigo and The Graduate from consideration) the best was 'The Handmaiden' which I highly recommend, although as I think I said at the time it's best not to watch it with your mother. Honourable mentions go to 'The Death of Stalin' (did anyone else think Jason Isaac's Zhukov was essentially an homage to Sean Bean?) and 'Baby Driver'.

Books: I am bereft. I can find no indication that there is any intention to translate the fourth book in the 'Fortunes of France' series into English, let alone the rest of them. This is a disaster. In the absence of 'Le Prince que voila' I am instead going to go for 'The Song of Achilles' by Madeline Miller.

"Throw me a frickin' bone here!" 

Gigs: I have seen 43 of these with the blues featuring very strongly. Nevertheless Tom Russell, whom I saw twice, has to be the best with honourable mentions for Wille and the Bandits, Devon Allman and Eugene 'Hideaway' Bridges.

Pancho Villa crossed the border...

Wargames: Highlight of the year was undoubtedly the trip to Kirriemuir, the biggest game that I am ever likely to play in, and the chance to roll dice with with Charles S. Grant. It was excellent, but it was a long, long way. Best game in the annexe was, I think, the ersatz Eckmuhl with Prussians standing in for Austrians in an EPIC C&C scenario. Best game at James' was Sidi Rezegh. No, just kidding, it was his Garigliano scenario, especially the four player game.

Event of the year: This is a tough one. Possibly I should just acknowledge the fact that this year I didn't get taken to A&E in an ambulance even once. It's also hard to look beyond the kick-off for the new rowing boats on the river, which was extremely funny and compelling in a 'can't take your eyes off it, car crash' sort of way; the lesson learned being that Members of Parliament shouldn't get in a rowing boat with someone four times as heavy as themselves. However, I'm going to plump for what happened in Knaresborough on May 30th, the significance of which wasn't fully understood at the time, and the details of which I am not going to reveal.

Observant readers may have noted that some of the items mentioned above are making their first appearance here. My diarist's mojo deserted me at some point in the autumn with the one beneficial result being that I have no longer had the compulsion to tell you either what I ate for breakfast (porridge with cinnamon, honey and sultanas as it happens) or every last detail of my ongoing cultural pseudery. Among the other elements of my life to be jettisoned was playing boardgames, hence the lack of reports on those recently. I had become somewhat jaded with it all, but I think a period away has restored my appetite and I expect to pick it up again in the new year. If you're really lucky I'll start writing ill-informed guff about operas again as well.

Who's Gonna Build Your Wall?

I have been to Hebden Bridge Trades Club to see the mighty Tom Russell. The last time I visited the town was way back before the floods, when the big bouncy woman and I took a stroll up to Hardcastle Crags one very pleasant October morning in 2015, coincidentally just a couple of weeks after I previously saw Russell in concert. I had never been to the venue before, and found it to be - and I choose my words carefully - atmospheric. It suffered very badly from water damage, being close to both canal and river, but may or may not have been extensively renovated; it was hard to tell. It also made me wonder whether the governments austerity programme has led to a reduction in inspections by the fire brigade. As for the clientele, they were somewhat of a mixed bunch. For the record I am not referring to Peter who, as a big fan of this type of music and Russell in particular, was there; making a rare interface of wargaming and my other hobbies such as music and...well  my other hobbies.  My companion for the evening was a bit disconcerted by the person - neither of us could work out whether it was a man or a woman - sitting next to her. When said person got up to have a wander during the interval he/she left behind on the chair, and in plain view, some money, a phone battery and a condom. I'm not sure what enjoyment one could hope to have without taking those three essentials with you, but perhaps that's just me. In any event the audience was obviously very knowledgeable about the man's music, indeed they appeared to sometimes be shouting out for songs that were so obscure that even he had never heard of them.

But, despite all that, the gig was great. Russell's between song talking is almost as important as his singing. He told various anecdotes about, for example, Johnny Cash and managed to be entertainingly rude about both Torquay and Tromso, showing the sort of cosmopolitan outlook so often lacking in these dark times. There has been a silver lining for him at least, as he was able to report an sizeable uptick in royalties from his song "Who's Gonna Build Your Wall", written a decade ago, but enjoying a new relevance. It was an almost universally excellent concert. One must perhaps overlook the song about Dylan Thomas that was quite clearly "Streets of London" with different words, and most of those either direct quotes from "Do Go Gentle Into That Good Night" or just the names of pubs in Swansea; even one's heroes occasionally fail to meet our expectations. Once again featuring the marvellous Max di Bernardi on guitar, the set list overlapped that of the last time I saw him - he could surely never get away without singing Tonight We Ride and one or two others - but with an extensive back catalogue and a willingness to cover people's songs - a rather fine Johnny Cash medley this time, Warren Zevon's Carmelita last time - there is plenty of variety. He is apparently returning in November and I hope to see him again then.

I Guess A Man's Got To Do What He's Best At

A couple of posts ago I noted that I had some hot wargaming action to report on, but I can't for the life of me imagine to what I was referring, so we're back to music again. I have been to see Ian Siegal and Jimbo Mathus play some acoustic blues. I've seen the former before when he was backed by the Mississippi Mudbloods featuring the rather excellent Cody and Luther Dickinson, but not on that occasion Alvin Youngblood Hart. It was only three years ago or so but I don't seem to have written it up in this blog at the time. For the record: the band were excellent; I was accompanied by a rather delightful French lady that I used to knock about with (inexplicably only now making her first appearance in the blog); and the council/police closed the venue down almost immediately afterwards. It was through the Dickinson brothers that Siegal met Mathus, himself from Mississippi and a man with strong connections to the history of the blues. Indeed his childhood nanny was Rosetta Patton, daughter of Charley Patton, the man who taught Robert Johnson to play and Chester Burnett to sing. Siegal, who does a nice Howlin' Wolf type vocal tribute, comes from the deep south of Hampshire rather than the delta and tells the story of how the locals in the Mississippi hill country, having trouble pronouncing his first name, gave him a nickname based on his place of origin: 'Overseas' Siegal. Knowledge of the rest of the world has never been a strength among Americans in my experience.

Musically, they covered a wider range than strictly the blues, indeed they equalled Tom Russell's record of playing two songs referencing Pancho Villa in the lyrics; these being Russell's own 'Gallo del Cielo' and Steve Earle's 'Mercenary Song'. From the folk canon they gave us 'Casey Jones' and, of all things, 'Dirty Old Town'.

We ourselves must walk the path

So, what happened this year then? I should first apologise for the content of the blog, which was consistently neither relevant nor interesting. If it's any consolation, the comments that I have left on other people's blogs have generally been even worse; bloggers must wince when they see my username appear. All I can do is quote Rudyard Kipling: "You must learn to forgive a man when he's in love. He's always a nuisance."

Anyway, on to the much sought after Epictetus annual awards:

• Opera of the year:  'The Flying Dutchman' with an honourable mention for  'Tales of Hoffman'
• Theatre of the year: 'Beryl' with an honourable mention for 'The History Boys'.
• Gig of the year: I've seen an awful lot of excellent gigs, but it's a toss up between  Nils Lofgren and Tom Russell with an honourable mention for Gigspanner (which good as it was I don't seem to have posted about before), plus of course the Ilkley Blues Festival for sheer value for money.
• Film of the year: 'Lunchbox' with a dishonourable mention for 'Spectre'; once again I haven't actually been to see that many films.
• Book of the year: City of Wisdom and Blood, the second in the Fortune of War series by Robert Merle, the first volume of which was my book of the year for 2014. There's a pattern developing.
• Wargame of the year: There's been a lot of Seven Years War this year and I'm going to go for the large game in the summer where James got all his Prussians and Russians out on the table.
• Boardgame of the year: Quartermaster General, no doubt at all, but there have been a lot of very good ones among the 265 plays of 134 different games that I've managed this year.
• Cake of the year: I think pear and chocolate although the elder Miss Epictetus is a firm champion of the spiced fruit loaf.
• Event of the year: I'm tempted to cheat and choose every time that the big, bouncy woman came and sat on my lap; or possibly the Otley Wool Fair (I really enjoyed that day); or perhaps a truly memorable afternoon in the Victoria Hotel (definitely my pub of the year). However, instead I'm opting for a walk up to Top Withens that I took at the end of August, during which we got wet, the past was laid to rest and the future mapped out. As Christina Rossetti wrote in the poem of the year:

I loved you first: but afterwards your love 

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

Love Is Like Stealing Electricity

Two hearts go d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da
D-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da
D-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da-da

 We climb so high in search of a kindred soul
Till we grab hold of a live wire up on a high line pole
The laws of nature say you get nothing for free
And love is like stealing electricity

 Two hearts go d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da
D-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da
D-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da-da

Tom Russell has featured on this blog a couple of times recently and he's about to feature again, because I have been to see him perform. Russell, along with Dave Alvin, is credited with inventing Americana, although judging by his comments last night he has no more idea what that actually means than anyone else. Russell's genuine sense of geographic attachment to the Old West, his ackowledgement that his route there came via Scandinavia, Ireland and California, plus his natural gift for storytelling, all shine through in his songs, the way that he sings them and the between song anecdotes that are an essential part of the show. Accompanied by the smoking hot Max di Bernardi on guitar he also referenced the influence of diverse acts such as Bo Diddley, Warren Zevon and Ray Davies. I'm not going to bother to tell you he was excellent, but I strongly urge you to check out his music.

Here's Gretchen Peters doing one of Russell's songs:

Here's Warren Zevon's Carmelita performed by Linda Ronstadt:

And let's finish with some more Russell, one of a number of his songs that reference Pancho Villa in the lyrics:

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall

                                      "They say, best men are moulded out of faults,
                                        And, for the most, become much more the better
                                        For being a little bad."

And so to the theatre. I have been to London yet again and it goes without saying that my journey was made significantly worse than it needed to be by the incompetence of Virgin East Coast, which resulted in me being so late that I missed a big chunk of why I went in the first place. However, I suspect that you're even more bored than I am with all that so I shall swiftly move on.

It was to the Globe that I went to forget my disdain for beardy Branson and to watch a very enjoyable production of Measure for Measure. This is obviously one of Shakespeare's dodgier plays (I believe that to be the term commonly used in literary criticism) and is perhaps difficult for modern audiences. It's very hard to understand the motivation of anyone among the leading characters (Mariana in particular needs her head examining), or to navigate the path the playwright is weaving through the hypocritical sexual morals of the time. As expected, the Globe - which I enjoy more and more each time that I visit it - takes full advantage of the comic potential with Elbow, Barnadine and Lucio all outstanding (and I do realise that the first two are played by the same actor). The performance was being filmed and I'd urge everyone to catch when it's released; you'll just have to hope they somehow edit out the noise of the helicopter circling during the big scene between Angelo and Isabella.

Bob Dylan wrote a song addressing the same dilemma as that which forms the heart of the plot of Measure for Measure. One of this blog's few readers is a Tom Russell fan - as well as being the world's champion thrower of ones at the wargames table - so here's a cover version by the man from God knows where:

You don't need teeth for kissing girls

I've had a request that if I am going to insist on filling a wargaming blog with music videos can I at least put up one that has some wargaming relevance. Of course the obvious choice in 2015 is 'Waterloo' by Abba, and this blog has a well known fondness for Agnetha.

Any excuse

But, striking out in a different direction - and a year early anniversarywise, here is Tom Russell singing about Pancho Villa's raid on Columbus, New Mexico in 1916; an event that I at least have long wanted to recreate on the tabletop.

And here he is again, accompanied by Nanci Griffith, with a song about human relationships. Wargamers, look away now.