The Little World

What kind of a modeller are you?

I don’t mean are you old or young, fat or slim, etc. I mean, are you the sort who breeze into a room, throw a kit open on the table, and start weathering the scupper recovery ports with half your dinner jacket on…or do you need to psyche yourself up into a precise frame of mind for an hour before nipping something off a sprue tree?

I confess to being a little of both – looking long at some job that needs to be done while finding other things to do to put it off – and then leaping into four assembly stages all at once and wondering why my fingers are glued together. I’m sure my modelling output suffers from this and I know my mind is also stained, spotted, and glued together.

But that is only on some days. A good session in the Little Workshop or the Little Inside Bench Where It Is Warm And Dry will have me sitting down with no other household tasks to threaten me, looking clearly at what I need to achieve, and proceeding squarely to the task. All will go as planned and the final coat of finish will be flawless. And there is only the sound of the unicorns and gryphons frolicking on the roof to break the silence.

Aside: The Little Workshop is a Colourbond shed with two fibreglass roof panels. Hot in summer and freezing in winter, but perfect for dusty and untidy modelling. It is no man-cave with plush seating or coloured lighting – fluoro tubes and a stool with a cracked leatherette cover do me – but it is all my own and I can produce what I like, when I like. It does have rooftop stalkers – crows and willy wagtails. The wagtails sometimes walk into the place and stride round the benches inspecting the work. I dread them deciding to nest as they would order me off the premises.

There are also spiders, but so far only a few of them have been redbacks, and once discovered have been Dealt With Accordingly.

Back on track. Timing is everything. When you are a working stiff and your hobby is the relief from it, any time you can snatch for the plastic kits is precious. When you’re retired you may get a bit more blasé – one day being very much like the next one. This is the point at which you become either  a pro or a dilettante. You either man-up and sit down at the bench and cut and paint like a trooper or you just drift in and poke at something. Of the two, the first is the healthier choice.

You may end up being a mono-maniac but it is better than being bored to death.