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Wednesday, 10 March 2010

The day is rapidly approaching.

Soon masses of 25mm figures will trade volleys of ill-aimed musket fire as Chas watches from his palatial carriage and sips his Chardonnay. Still none the wiser as to what is going on, just that its a bunch of lace-clad types picking a fight with a bunch of even more lace-clad types.

At the same time tiny little planes will be dogfighting over some corner of this green and pleasant land, as the valiant RAF attempt to hold off the nasty, caddish and downright mean Luftwaffe. Gus is setting this one up, using his planes on my mat.

1 comment:

  1. I shall be sitting in my carriage composing a letter to the King blaming my sub generals for not winning the battle for me.
    Thats if I do not get distracted by the noise of aeroplanes in the distance.

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