Model replacement model to dust

The italicised portions of this post will probably be brought to you with half an eye on 42 all time classics.

I realised, today, again, that it is all context. How you see things, how I see things, how the world is, how the world isn’t. Step up, step down, step once and step around. To say I realised this today is a lie. I have, I guess, always known this. How can you not, when you talk to others and get blank looks, uncomprehending stares and platitudes in response to ideas and concepts that are vitally important?

OK, so it isn’t as if I always pay heed to forcing bids, but there is a limit, and the dumb computer AI made me grind my teeth. Then more so, as even if we were in too low a contract, watching it play out was painful. All trumps drawn. So what do you do next? Of course, keep playing the trumps out. And out. Oh look, now we are out, and won’t make the contract. Still, it was fun.

As today is the anniversary of the slavery abolition act, it was fitting we sang Amazing Grace. But I have had worries about singing this in Engerland before. The tune is wrong over this way. Maybe I am used to 17th century buildings and raised organs, but it shouldn’t sound like a seaside jaunt played on a ballroom organ. Too much up and downs. It subtely changes the tune. More than subtley, if I told the truth. And not in the way I like it.

Field Tactics. I remember playing that as a child. It might have been an Avalon Hill game, but it might not have been. Set up your cards on the grid, clutch the who-beats-who instructions, and move towards the goal. It was great. I used to be quite good at it. Alas, my eldest (ok, so no suprise here then) kicks me around at it. The wee Nintendo machine makes playing these types of games easier, but I am not sure it is better. But you don’t need tabletop. It wasn’t called FT when I was young, but for the life of me I don’t recall what it was called.

And somebody give this dizzy bint a copy of Persian Fire. Please. And take back her liberal arts degree, the next post-colonial wannabe feminist class warrior needs it.

42 All Time Classics. A genius set of games. Truly a small cart of joy.

The eye is done.

All down the A-line