Gassed Like a Badger

As I mentioned previously, Friday was the last day of the Summer school excavations for the First Years of the archaeology department at York. Five of my team of ten turned up with a special treat for me. They'd made t-shirts with my face and phrases emblazoned across them. Obviously I'd made some form of impression as Myles went around all day saying 'cunt' for no reason. It was quite touching, really, it's amazing what Stockholm Syndrome can do:

Bless

Along with this, Meg also wrote me a really nice letter of thanks, she also included this photo she'd taken in Japan of a heron by the side of the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto. She named it 'Pensive Heron and Tree' in an incredible flash of inspiration:

Mind you, all this didn't stop me passing out the poisoned cookies I'd prepared. Speaking of which, I notice that the Rapture passed by with very little significance. As a committed Christian I would have assumed that I would have been beamed up into the heavenly spaceship to be zoomed off to see Jebus and God and Uncle Peter and all the rest of the gang in Heaven. It didn't happen, so I celebrated by driving out to Sheffield for a visit to Triples with Ninjasaurus Rex and Dino Los Diablos. The usual suspects were there, ie; overweight, sweating middle aged men. The smell of stale farts and body odour spread a  heavy miasma and it was a relief to emerge back into the fresh air. Actually it's quite refreshing to go to a Wargaming show, as sometimes I feel I may be putting a bit of weight on then I see these fine specimens of humanity and realise I have nothing to worry about at all.

Weight Watchers ain't got nothing on this for keeping the weight off...

There was also a fine example of Hitler's Ubermensch wandering about with a SS Leibstandarte t-shirt on. He looked about 58, stooped, skinny, wearing bad fitting jeans and clutching a bag full of  Thracian Feathered Elvish Warships he'd bought from the bring and buy. The defence of Vienna will be in safe hands! But, seriously? A fucking SS t-shirt? It had 'tour' dates on the back and I don't think he was wearing it ironically. The only place this kind of shit is acceptable, unfortunately, is either at a BNP meeting, an EDL rally or a fucking wargaming show...

'Have you got one with a more prominant swastika?'

Continuing the celebratory feel of surviving the Rapture, I met up with Vin for a few drinks and promptly ran into Logan Josh mid rant in the Golden Slipper. He'd been drinking since Tuesday, it would seem, and abruptly turned his attention on Vin's hat. The rest of the night is lost in haze of drink, but I recall meeting up with the knife man and the armourer before stumbling through the cold and lonely streets of York to home...