I am trying to reverse engineer my way to happiness despite the best efforts of my lovely Wife. This is the philosophy I am attempting to use.
“Retrophrenology:
It works like this. Phrenology, as everyone knows, is a way of reading someone’s character, aptitude and abilities by examining the bumps and hollows on their head. Therefore – according to the kind of logical thinking that characterizes the Ankh-Morpork mind – it should be possible to mould someone’s character by giving them carefully graded bumps in all the right places. You can go into a shop and order an artistic temperament with a tendency to introspection and a side order of hysteria. What you actually get is hit on the head with a selection of different size mallets, but it creates employment and keeps the money in circulation, and that’s the main thing.”
― Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms
Quote and image used without permission
I can gauge my mental state by my surroundings. The tidier and more ordered it is then the better mental state I am in. So I am attempting to reverse engineer a better mental state by organising my environment. Having a now fully functioning laser cutter has been a huge mind saver.
The third time is the charm. There are boxes of tools that I have inherited from my Father and Grandfather, and from my Wife’s Father and Grandfather. I have been sorting through everything, getting rid of any broken bits and setting up tool boxes for my Boys with any duplicates. What I have left has been slowly organised.






Had I enough wood I would have attempted a third go to correct those mistakes.




The corner is gloomy no more.
I have started painting a bit but the joy has been stolen and I am finding it hard to get my mojo.

This guy is going to be part of an Empire Mercenary band. Based for Dragon Rampant.

I must mention the competition being run by Old School Miniatures to design an Orc War Machine
https://www.oldschoolminiatures.co.uk/blog/design-a-war-machine-for-the-osm-mean-green-challenge








































Bravest of the brave. His tales of derring-do are sung (well sort of hummed a bit) after the Midwinter feast of roast ferret and acorn beer. His mighty thews armoured with the spoils of a thousand (well, more than five) dwarven rubbish tips. On his side he wears the mighty sword of champions “Stoatbanger”. Purloined from a visit to Ye Olde Reject Shoppe. Forged in the fires of chaos and twinned to its bearer in an unholy alliance of flesh and soul. Allegedly.
Special Rules
Worshippers of the dour god ‘Arikross these devotees are fed on a diet of muesli. They hide amongst ordinary Snotlings until 6 inches away from an enemy unit. Then irrespective of the normal turn sequence the Fanatic is loosed towards the enemy with squeaky cries of, “Brookie! Brookie!”
Special Rules































