Allodoxaphobia

I've had a good few weeks of gaming goodness, recently, so it's something of a surprise that I have not burbled on about it here.

Sometimes I just have no idea what I'm going to type and I just lay down a Joycean stream of consciousness - other times I have an idea in my head that I simply have to preserve for posterity. Normally in a jar of vinegar.

Other times I just seem to be too busy working and actually playing games rather than trying to come up with entertaining anecdotes about them.

So, anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I finally got my grubby little kitchen hands on a copy of Small World, courtesy of the Hustler and his Clotted Connections. Which meant that this magnificent octopus hit the table at our last games night and a good time was had by all. Commando Halflings, Flying Elves, Diplomatic Trolls and Outrageous Poodles- the game has it all in equal measure and, let's not be coy about this, a shed load of arguments when it is played by four uber competitive 'adults'.

More table talk than physical piece movement, in many cases.
I love it. I've also clocked it up a fair few times, in two player mode, with Steerpike Jr and it scales well (but with less of the bitter recriminations).

Talking of two players, I also managed to slaughter the Welsh Lamb at 1960 again last night. So confident was my Kennedy that he even flew over to California, for awhile, to help shift that state to the Democrats. First time that that has happened in one of my many plays of this little gem.

Furthermore I also took the opportunity, last week, to venture out into the darker world of the Outer Dwellings to play a few games with the Hidden Gamers. A fine evening of Union Pacific, Notre Dame and Dominion. I remembered my manners and only won one game.

When I was leaving, the Leader of the Hidden Ones mentioned that he was looking forward to my blog report. Maybe that's what has caused my writers block over the last few days. I've been pondering this and it's kind of related to my last post.

In the early days of my blog it was all pretty anonymous. None of my readership were people that I actually knew in the real world, so I was pretty free to say what I wanted.
Of course, gradually over time, this has changed - sometimes because I actually arranged to play face to face games with some of my contributors, and other times because I just pointed my innocent victims here to give them a right to reply.

IN my last posting, Poodle made a comment about the vaguely irritating name I had bestowed upon him. (Despite the fact that we both know it has razor sharp resonance and pin point accuracy).
But, I've known him for years, so in many ways it just washes over his head.
Likewise the Welsh Lamb.

But the Clotted Hustler may feel different - the time I've known him is probably equal to the time I've dissed him here in the kitchen. The two things are in sync and therefore there is very little history.

Likewise the Hidden Gamers - I barely know them (though I did bump into their leader at a "Slade" tribute band on the local green). So, I feel the need to be more careful about what I say.
Not that I have anything particularly controversial to share, but I'm not so sure it would be as acceptable to make similar comments as I would if it were, for example, Poodle.
Not yet, anyway.

Yes, self censorship, something most of my friends would barely recognise as a potential character trait in me.

Sometimes I feel like I barely know myself anymore.
We've grown apart.

It's a strange old world.
And a Small one, at that.