Deep tissue blisters, paper hankies, flashing the postman and not being in Scotland

First a note to the three of you who e-mailed about the bride in the last update (you know who you are). It is merely a fold in the dress, yes she is a proper woman (and a very hot one at that) and no the groom was not sore behind in the morning. You have very warped minds. That being said it did give ma a chuckle.


Anyway, on to business. This week I have been labouring under the immense burden of a particularly virulent strain of the dreaded 'man flu'. Almost incapacitated by a constant stream of snot I have soldiered on without a whit of compassion from the wife and proceeded with head swap week. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like.

In a bid to give the punters even more variety the beast boys have me doing head variants for each pack in the upcoming Saxon range. It's a bit of a pig I can tell you. So far this week I have worked on 93 separate head swaps, that's 186 separate holes all drilled by hand because I can't risk slipping with the dremel and damaging a master. The constant wear from the pin vice has given be a nasty blister on my right thumb but due to the quite thick calluses on my sculpting fingers it has manifested deep below the surface. Its very odd but you can just discern the fluid pouch deep under the skin. It hurts like buggery (not that I'd know first hand but you hear stories...) and is making further work difficult. Be that as it may most of the heads are on securely now and it just remains for me to hide the joins. This is usually a fairly easy job but with all the fancy plaits and hair do's it's taking a bit longer that I'd hoped. Add to this human cost the fact that I've gone through two sets of clippers, due to the super hard metal our masters are cast in, and what seems on the face of it to be a minor task has turned into a bit of a mare. I have the whole thing to look forward to again after I submit the rest of the greens. That's another 224 head swaps. Deep joy.
Still, mustn't grumble.

Last Friday I was not in Scotland. I wasn't there over the weekend either. This is not unusual, I'm not in Scotland at the moment and people the world over manage not to be in Scotland on a regular basis without causing a song and dance about it. Last weekend though I should have been there and I wasn't. I am still a little annoyed about this. The annual Beast trip north of the border was trumped (as I may have mentioned before) by a family wedding. Yes, another bleeding wedding. Again it was one from 'her side' so I pretty much only knew the people I came with and had a thoroughly unfullfilling time, as is the law when at a family do. I'm actually quite looking forward to chum Howard's wedding later this month as for once I'll know more people than she does. Not many more but a few. That and the fact that I'm quite looking forward to seeing the cake toppers painted and displayed. Anyway, back to Scotland (or not as the case may be...) it seems I missed a good couple of nights poker where the Beast continued it's run away success and between them fleeced everyone. Oh yeah and there was a show, or something. That was pretty good too.
Still, mustn't grumble.

Had a cracking row with the wife the other day which, as ever, weaved across the entire span of human understanding and back again and resulted in an all inclusive holiday to Crete at the end of the month. I'm still not entirely sure how that happened but apparently there was nothing else worth spending my tax rebate on. So now I've got to spend a week in the sun with nothing to do but eat drink and read. Inconveniently it also falls a couple of weeks before my final dead line for the Saxons so they're bound to turn up late thus ruining my plans for a full splash release. The wife will pay dearly for this.
Still, mustn't grumble.

In other news the masters for the GB horses have arrived and now that I see them in the metal I very happy indeed. Now all I have to do is make half a dozen variants and then tack all 12 up for each of our many ranges. For once I actually managed to wake up when the postie called instead of having to make the usual walk to the depot. I'm not sure he was quite as pleased as me as I managed to leap out of bed and answer the door stark bollock naked. Never has the phrase "print and sign in box four" been delivered with such cold sobriety and averting of the eyes. He wont come to the door anymore. I fear I may have been black listed down at the depot.
Still, mustn't grumble.

Well if you've hung on this long you may as well have a little reward. Here is a picture of my desk at the height of head swap week. So in the style of the ever popular 'where's Wally' see if you can find:

An Imperial thunderbolt pilot
Anti fag pills
A bag of the new GB horse masters
Two sticks of Pro Create
A brooch I'm fixing for the mother in law
Half a dozen snotty tissues
A present from Russia (cheers Olga!)
holiday security measures
Outrageous Gripping Beast merchandising product placement
Some Saxons I started painting
The evidence of my afternoon snack
An aborted attempt at the new GB horses (he's shy)
A little luxury because I have a cold, I mean life threatening man flu...obviously.
Spare arms
A Saxon taking the piss out of King Harold at the Battle of Hastings
A Welshman on an invisible horse
dirt
Two appearances by Samuel L Jackson
The TV remote
The end of march

If you spot all twenty award yourself a small break.


Stay lucky,
Soaps.