A Touch Of Weather

There Is A Certain Irony In The British Weather
For, Lo! doth it not make a wonderful ice-breaker in conversation when you are out and about in public?  
     Well, yes, it would - if we British were at all prone to chat amongst strangers, because we're not.  Thus those various opportunities to make lifelong friends thanks to the weather are a bit of a wasting asset.  

"You!  You two - I command that you commune with each other!"

     This struggle against the weather is probably what has bonded the populations of South Canada together across the centuries; they foster strong relationships amongst themselves whilst coping with the aftermath of tornadoes, earthquakes and invasions of KILLER EELS! potato beetles.  

Know your enemy

     Those lovable mop-tops from Liverpool were taking a real chance back in 1963; they might have been sprayed with DDT and sent back on a freight ship.
     Where were we?
     Oh yes, fighter aircraft of the RAF during the Second Unpleasantness.  You didn't get the memo?  Do keep up!
     You ought to be aware of the Hawker Hurricane, at least: humble and under-recognised workhorse of the Battle of Britain, able to adapt to various roles and equally able to soak up punishment.  Art?

Humble yet hawkish

     Then you have the monstrously brutal Hawker Typhoon, a thuggish beast of a plane more akin to a giant flying hatchet than anything delicate or graceful.  If you were beneath the strafing run of a Typhoon, the earth would most definitely move for you.

Some unfortunate Teutons are going to rue the day.

     Developed from that very beast, there is next the Hawker Tempest, which was a sleeker creature indeed, yet still packing four 20 m.m. cannon - which had to be specially redesigned in order to fit into the thinner wing.*

A Tempest .  No teapot involved.

     And so we find our way to the Westland aircraft entitled "Whirlwind".  Did you see where I was going with all that?
     DOG BUNS!  THAT B****Y COINCIDENCE HYDRA AGAIN!

A Tornado of the Brylcreem Boys

     What do I find when the BBC website comes into view?  Why, nothing but an article about the RAF retiring it's Tornadoes once they return from service overseas, pounding Daesh into pudding.
     Here an aside.  Conrad, being of ancient lineage, well remembers when the "Panavia MRCA" came into service, as it did not come with a name attached back in those days.  O it was a futuristic bit of kit indeed, swing-wing and all.  And now it is obsolete, it's place being now occupied by the <drum roll> Typhoon.

Typhoon Mk. 2

     Anyway - hang on, where were we?  O yes - the Westland Whirlwind.  Art?

A Westland Whirlwind

     This little wonder was only ever produced in very small quantities, as it went into limited production when demand for well-established fighter such as the Spitfire, was at a premium.  Those prongs sticking out of the front are 20 m.m. cannon, four of 'em, which would turn any enemy aircraft encountered into flying confetti in seconds flat.  Or, turn a locomotive into a giant pile of iron filings, or an E-boat into floating shavings.  These were the results of what the Brylcreem Boys fondly called "Rhubarbs", where they would swan across Northern France, doing their best to make life horrid for the occupying Teutons.  They were fast and manoeuvrable enough to also take on enemy fighters at low level, so the bally Hun were on a hiding to nothing.

Neeeyyyooowwwwwwwwww DAGGADAGGADAGGA
(Ahem!)

     Now, let us hurl the motley from the aircraft, after hurling it's parachute out first!

     Well, that was a contemplation of deadly weather phenomena, wasn't it?  I suppose it wouldn't do if you were in the RAF, chatting to other pilots in the mess, and the subject of what aircraft you flew came up.
     "Oh, I'm in Tiffies," proudly announces one pilot (Typhoons)
     "I'm in Spits," boasts another (Spitfires)
     "I'm in Lesser Spotted Dogroses," mumbles a third.

All fire and fury!

  
     Enough of the RAF and strife in the skies!  With the amount of publicity they've gotten out of me of late, I should be getting a commission <pauses hopefully for the money to come rolling in, bank account remains firmly static, feels sad, gets back to work>

Back In The Game
The wargame, that is.  It was with a degree of surprise that I realised yesterday that I'd left my Square Bashing game untouched for a couple of months, after starting to lay it out in October <Ooerr!>.  Fortunately the rules aren't too complex, so reading up on them and getting back into - sorry about this terrestrial strife after the aerial variety - the game wasn't too hard.

One I prepared years ago

     I have been keeping a photo log of laying out the game, and at the end of each turn, which - O have no doubt! - I will be posting here, and you'd better believe it.  There you go, something to look forward to with eager anticipation/a sense of dread/eye-rolling boredom (delete where applicable).

"Polar" Soundtrack
I liked this.  There, now your pallid and etiolated lives are made worth living again, since you are better informed, and there's no such thing as too much knowledge.
     Having said that, of course Conrad cannot leave well alone and simply had to see who was responsible, because that's the kind of sad obsessive/diligent researcher/anorak (delete where applicable) he is.
     It turned out to be Deadmau5, who is a person not a band.  If Art will put down his nuclear fuel rod for a second -
                 
                                                    In and out of his Maus mask.
     I'd heard the name in some vague way, without being aware of more than it existed.  It transpires that Ol' Ded is one of the most in-demand DJ's, producers and musicians in the world if not the galaxy, and certainly the Solar System -

 -  which gives us an excuse to put an astronomy photograph.
(NGC 3756)

     His iconic and characteristic Maus head was challenged by the loathsomely litigious Disney Company, whose lawyers probably scented both blood and money from several thousand miles away, they being in California (probably) and Ol' Ded living in British America.  They have apparently buried their differences, but watch this space.


     I dunno.  Maybe you have to be young and/or under the influence.




*  According to Pierre Closterman.