Sunday, 6 April 2014

Game of teeny, tiny, fiddly hand painted Thrones

Wake now my merry lads! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;
Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken.
Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is....

I knew that it was going to be an interesting journey into Middle Earth once these words
were uttered across the plastic rendered battlefield that stood proudly in the centre 
of the shop. Moomin's latest obsession with painting microscopic goblins, orcs
and fierce warriors had eventually drawn me in, certainly more out of curiosity
rather than involvement to join an epic quest into folklorish lands of far away and
times long gone....if they ever existed that is.
My sceptical and 'never in a month of Sunday's' approach didn't last. I had intended to 
venture to the nearest coffee emporium whilst Moomin got down to the fiddly 
painting activities but somehow I suddenly found myself sat at a well appointed
table with an inch high figure (a space marine by all accounts) gripped between my fingers
as I carefully daubed paint on him. 
"Wow, you're really good at this, that's awesome" was suddenly aimed in my direction
causing me to look up and from side to side. "Oh you're down there" I replied on noticing
a very small warrior of about ten or eleven who seemed to be admiring my efforts.
I was then treated to the entire historic back catalogue about space marines
and although I would normally find myself not caring at this point....I strangely
found myself listening with interest.
"So what do you do?" came another voice, this time from someone with a 
huge beard and very dusty glasses...let's call him a dwarf as he reminded me
of the one from Lord of the Rings. "Er, I'm a painter" I replied. "A-W-E-S-O-M-E" he 
answered "so this must be easy for you then". I smiled politely and nodded. "Who's
a painter?" came yet another voice. Several people pointed in my
direction at this request. 'Awesome babe" was his reply.
Indeed being a painter is awesome although some of my recent clients have made my job
very, well let's say not awesome.
What seemed like an hour but in actual fact was the best part of an entire day, 
we eventually left the citadel of battle games and went home.
So...picture the scene, my kitchen now has an obscene amount of these figures
which adorn most shelf space and flat surfaces implying that I may have joined the 
ranks of the twenty first century knights of make believe. The strangest thing
is that this is a therapeutic way to unwind. After a long day of 
creating artwork and such endeavours, there is nothing better than going down to 
the kitchen to create and paint something else to apparently get away from I'm confused.

His sword was long, his lance was keen.
His shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his awesome shield.

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