Paddling In The Time Streams...

 With the passing of another member of Sheffield Wargames Society, in the form of David 'Rabid' Ranson, the long time treasurer of that club, I am once again being made aware of the lights in my night sky blinking out, with the knock on effect that I get depressed and begin considering my own mortality and the stupidity of that old chestnut that, 'You can't die whilst you have unpainted figures."

Well, I wish someone had told Pete 'Greblord' Armstrong that because he's dead and had thousands of unpainted figures... 

I also generally get to looking at my life and thinking that sure-fire 'trigger', 'Have I wasted the majority of my life playing with toy solders and games of let's pretend?' 

The answer is that in the big picture, I probably have, but there again, games have been how I have made my living for around 30 of my ears on this planet, and along the way I've worked for and with some of the founders of the hobby who figuratively and in a couple of cases literally, shaped my life.

Probably the most influential outside of the painting of miniatures side of things was Chris Harvey of Chris Harvey Games / Flying Buffalo UK.

I read the Flying Buffalo News newsletter/fanzine from cover to cover both ways (incidentally, if you have any of these, please reach out to me) as we all did back then with gaming magazines, and I reckon many of us could recite a dozen or more entries from the Games Of Liverpool adverts in White Dwarf.

Say what you like about the power of the internet, having to wait for a monthly fix of gaming goodness and then that joy of reading every word, often several times - explaining why so many old magazines are so worn, more so in some cases, than porn mags of the same vintage - was unbeatable. How many times, when my dad managed to get WD delivered by my newsagent every month - I swear my Dad bought it and then asked the newsagent to deliver it, because I'd tried and it was a 'no go' - did I leave it whilst the last minute on WD Day, to go to school, praying for early paper delivery that day of the morning paper, so that I could have a read before another day in the gulag?

But, back to Christopher Matthew Harvey...

In the early 90s, we were so poor that we couldn't even afford the proverbial urine receptacle, so I did the odd bit of miniature painting here and there whilst my offspring took the afternoon nap that separated her A.M and P.M rampages. 

I don’t recall how he located me, but one day a well-spoken gentleman from the West Midlands sent a letter asking whether I could paint a few figures for him. I agreed, and over the next few months we had a lot of telephone conversations about figures and games. This was before we ever had a telephone in the house. We were as I said, the proverbial church mice, and I had to use a public telephone to have those conversations.

 The gentleman’s name rang bells with me, and I suddenly realised that he ran Flying Buffalo U.K, a company that imported the ‘Tunnels & Trolls’ role-playing game as well as a number of other products from the USA.   

In the 80’s I had regularly sent off for the latest catalogues and the excellent ‘fanzine’ that was ‘Flying Buffalo News’ and here I was speaking the man behind it all in a cold public telephone box in a rough area of Sheffield. It was during one of these conversations that Chris said that he would bet me ten pounds, I’d not be painting figures in 5 years time. I of course indignantly responded to the contrary. 

As it turned out he was correct.

In 1994 I was asked if I could meet Chris and a couple of friends in Sheffield for lunch and a chat. I assumed of course that this was to maybe show say thank you for the odd bits of painting that I’d done and maybe give an excuse for a day out from the office. Never mind, it was the first time I’d been out for lunch with a businessman before. Free food was always welcome. I asked if I could take a friend and Christopher kindly agreed, and so it was that on an overcast Friday I went with Rich Would, a friend and fellow gamer to meet the Walsall triumvirate.

Mr Harvey and his colleagues, were every bit the classic 'old school' businessmen, with smart, well-cut bespoke pinstripe suits, large car with exquisite leather interior, the likes of which the average working-class Sheffield lad only gets to ride in to weddings or funerals – and the final time, he’s not going to have the opportunity to enjoy it.

We went for lunch, I can’t recall where, but I do recall that Richard ate as much as he could because he wasn’t paying the bill. To be fair, I'd have done the same normally because food was a bit of a luxury at the time, but I had a nagging sensation in my whole body which said, 'Remember all the the things your parents taught you about manners, and you might just get out of this alive, and on top.'

It was all very pleasant but at the end of the day I couldn’t see why Chris and his friends had come all the way from Walsall, and I was none the wiser as I was driven home that day - the neighbours coming to the window to watch that good for nothing Hippy over the road be delivered home by three men in a vintage Daimler, in a scene redolent of all those 70s and 80s TV shows like Minder or The Professionals.

Nevertheless, I’d had a great day and Chris had been really good company, having a passion for the hobby and the business behind it to a degree that I have rarely seen equalled. I'd just had lunch and larks with one of founders of the hobby in the U.K, and that was enough for me.   

We had recently finally and a great cost at the time,  managed to be in a position to have our own telephone installed and that evening as I sat telling Kayte about the day I’d had, Chris called and, has been the way of things for me over the years, the smell of roses began to manifest. 

In fact, friends have often suggested that I have a pact with the Devil himself but I don’t recall signing anywhere in blood. I'm sure I haven't, but I better check.

Chris asked me if I’d enjoyed myself to which I obviously answered that I had. So that was it, being every bit the gentleman that he was, he’d called to confirm that I’d had a good time. But then he asked me if he remembered the bet that we had made previously. Again I answered in the affirmative.

‘Well I think I may have just won the bet.’ Mr H almost taunted like a child. I was confused. This was not how a businessman acted was it?

‘Err, Okay. Why?’ After all I may have had to part with ten pounds, and that would of course totally screw up what had been a good day.

He continued; ‘Well my friends are directors of the company and they liked you.’ Well of course they did. Despite my long hair and recently pierced nose I was well mannered and knew my gaming subjects inside out, didn't I? I'd been brought up correctly and, had followed my instincts all day.

‘Thank you, but how does that mean that you have won the bet?’ I responded, somewhat puzzled.

‘We want to open a store in Sheffield. We already have one in Birmingham and another in Walsall both named ‘Dungeons and Starships’ and we’d like you to consider running the Sheffield branch.’

As you can imagine, I was dumbstruck. This was the dream of many a young gamer, to work in a shop that sold the games they played. But this was better because I’d been asked to manage a store. 

Apart from a few retail jobs in the years immediately after leaving school, I’d never done anything like it before, and here I was being given what was, to me anyway, the chance of a lifetime.

I was in a state of Geekgasm... 

'I... I need time to think.’ I stammered, still in shock.

'Fine.' Chris replied, suddenly a bit sterner of tone as if warning me I had one chance. 'Talk it over with Kayte and let me know on Monday. Have a good weekend. Bye-bye.’ And that was it the conversation was over.

Well, Kayte did indeed talk it over and on Monday morning I took my first step into what was the best and eventually the worst time of my life. 

Of late I've revisited the turning points in my life where the opportunity arose, to get my head down and lead a normal life, in a normal way, but even though I do have my doubts about some choices and certainly regrets about some of my actions, I can't say that I haven't had a hell of a life.

I guess my problem is that I have been aware of mortality since I was 4, and have had a morbid, screaming terror running in the background since I was about 14, a sense that life is futile. They say that life is for living, but there's no point is there? There's nothing to achieve at the end of it all, when you make that last rasping gasp, piss yourself and become a piece of meat, all that stands between the the next generation and them having that new Play Station they saw on TV...

That's where I am at present... I have to deal with it, but this is why I won't waste my time on humouring people I have no interest in. After all, I'd be wasting my time and of course, selfishly using up their time on this plane.

I'm finding myself experimenting with dreaming, as I have noticed that in the last few years, an alternative and pretty consistent 'world' has manifested when I am asleep long enough to dream. I'll not go into details, but it is always experienced as night time or twilight, and some of the topography is impossible based on my experience of the places I know in the waking world, but the reality of it is such that we can drive past a place I have known all my life and I recall precisely how it looks in my dreams.

I often wonder if time travel of sorts is possible within our own minds, in dream states and the like, and I may dip a toe into the time streams and see what the mind can do, as a sort of therapy and maybe as a way to address a few glaring regrets in my life. I suppose it's a sort of self analysis.

This insanity keeps me sane, I'm sure. And I think that it's something to do with the brain preparing itself for a last excursion of sorts...

Gaming-wise, I've been reading about the Bay of Pigs and looking at 'Pulp' Sci-fi gaming. I'm also considering a return to 'Nam gaming but going with games based around the riverine campaigns and recon missions. I may actually go a bit of that beaten track and go into the wars in Laos and Cambodia as I have over the years done Vietnam to death somewhat.

I also have a bee in my bonnet about 70s Cold War 'what-if' games and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.

I've decided against collecting Traveller RPG stuff again, because if I'm realistic, I'll not find players and whilst it's a great read, I could make better use of time and money.

Right, it's time for my first cup of tea of the day and watch a half hour of Michel Roux before another day at the coalface of creativity. 

TTFN