I've been having doubts. These doubts were a by-product of kittens. The appearance of the kittens was fuelled by the steep rise of a tankful. Amongst other things. The purse strings are now tuned an octave higher, and horizons brought considerably closer. These factors, and the nagging fascination with micro layouts, has fuelled the selective compression - a withdrawl if you will - onto the board singular you see below.
This response aligns closely to Darwinian precepts, in that the
Well, after a deal of too-ing and fro-ing, a busy time at work, a short OU course and a lot of commuting later, I finally have somewhere to play (or in my case perpetually plan) trains. I'm a lucky boy, I know. The room used to be a downstairs loo and bathroom for the people that lived here about ten years ago. The previous owner knocked it out and put in a carpet. It's still flippin' cold though. Must be those three airbricks on the outside wall...
Anyway, the REAL reason for writin
....and almost 20 years later, I've actually got it back up....
.... only to take it down again, because we're moving house in 2 weeks time.....
So..... what's the point?
well - like a lobster bisque - it's purely shellfish.... I'm hoping that this will spur your 'umble scribe to resurrect the skeletal remains of two decades of fear of failure, and make some headway into the pile of etched brass and plastic (not to mention copperclad sleeper strip) that I have invested so much in...
... I was persuaded to enter my nascent minimum P4 opus - originally called "D Wharf" but subsequently renamed - into the Gloucester Model Railway Club Exhibition. This was October, 1991 (I think) and I had the idiocy to presume the bare boards and plethora of copperclad pointwork would burgeon into a fully-functional, living, breathing entity that would keep me entertained in the years to come.
How wrong a boy can be... not so much "opus" as hopeless....
