I’m not responsible! My wife wasn’t keen on my sons following their dad into the world of toy soldiers. It’s not my fault! My “father” bought “me” a train set , I hated it. My wife believes in the naughty step, I believe in shouting and threats. I’m not to blame! I cheer when the Nazi tank gets blown up in the film. I well up when the redcoats sing the Men of Harlech as the native Africans attempt to highlight issues of cultural and economic imperialism. My sons have discovered wargaming….
It may be the twenty fifth anniversary of Games Workshop’s Space Marines but I have never even played 40K. I admit to collecting the fantasy miniatures but the chapters of the Imperium were before my time. One must admire the staff of the local Warhammer store. My eldest son got an invite from his school Warhammer club to visit the store. Within an hour, both my sons had been shown how to construct and then paint their first mini. My wife looked strangely perplexed. I thought it best to suppress any smile.
A weekend of glueing and cutting. My sons blocked the colours in and then washed the pre-mixed colour over the base. A drybrush of light blue and they were done. Now all I need to do is tackle the rulebook. My own experience of school wargames clubs leads me to believe that a knowledge of the rulebook is not wholly necessary but that’s true of “adult gaming too. Thanks to the much maligned evil empire of Warhammer, I now have wargaming sons. Bless you Warhammer!