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Chillidragon

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Everything posted by Chillidragon

  1. I had valid points to make thereafter. I intended the comment to be conciliatory to both sides of this debate; some very good points having been made. Without the emotive dambusting it would have remained interesting and enjoyable, even though this era and subject are not on my list of modelling interests. I feel that I really don't deserve to be threatened, unless I should take that as an imperative, rather than a threat? I never react well to threats. I'll take at least 31 days off, then, and actually get something done away from the keyboard. Chillidragon out.
  2. Cantankerous? Argumentative? A matter of opinion. But 'know nothing'? No-one in this debate has struck me as deserving of that. The Physics mentioned here is the very same as that which I studied, possibly at around the same time - after all, I do come from the same Universe, as do you. On the exhausts, my opinion is this: that heat is best exchanged by conduction, and the areas around exhausts do get very hot - more so, I would say, than the exhaust gas and therefore the material over which it is blown. So the black paint probably was heat resistant; after all, it doesn't look burned. Aesthetics do play a part in the maintenance of weapons of war which have periods away from the muck and bullets; it's a matter of morale, unit pride as a whole and that of the pilot in particular. Hence emblems and other artwork. Nothing wrong about wanting to risk your life in a well groomed mount, if you must risk it at all. Pride inspires confidence. If you don't want to win, nor think you can, the battle is lost - ancient authorities on combat knew this. Read Musashi Miyamoto's Go Rin No Sho - the Book of Five Spheres. Work goes better with good tools, and that includes appearance. I would suggest that the intake geometry on the 109F onwards was deliberately designed to facilitate fitting of filters; a 'plug and play' solution, perhaps. If there was concern about 'rebreathing', surely a simple duct would have sufficed? None of this, however, answers the original question!
  3. Yes to both. But does it clear the aforementioned product? I would check first, and if it does, then yes, definitely. Always choose the least hazardous option!
  4. No, indeed. You need to be swift with the rinse afterwards, and only use it for cleaning out Klear/Pledge or similar. No point using it for anything else.
  5. A valid point, but the most ridiculously extreme Reductio ad Absurd(issim)am argument I've ever heard. There's not enough information by far for me to attempt a build (even if the subject appealed to me), but let us not ridicule those brave souls who might now spend serious time and brainpower trying to work something out!
  6. Which are, of course, drawn around real people only recently deceased. Well; usually. Sounds to me this judge was looking for an opportunity to launch his little 'bon mots' and be thought quite the little wit, at the expense of actually doing his job in a measured and professional manner.
  7. Mine is Boots brand, but they may query your use. Or maybe that's just England.
  8. My favourite version, I think? (103B). The fence on the C spoils the lines for me. Brå!
  9. I loved those kits. I had a P38; I and an acquaintance each had one of different brands, and some details differed. We thought that one of them represented a post-war version. When I left home, it was given to the nephew. I only found out when, on a visit, I was called upon to reassemble it. Good that I never had an Uzi; I would have really missed that. Shortly after, my whole collection, huge bits box and my stash all ended up in the same place. As for blank pistols; I had a starting pistol, .22 short, top discharging. Being a science student at that time I took a large Humbrol pot and a hammer; soon I had an expansion and focussing chamber which, when bonded to said pistol, turned it into a non-lethal psychological weapon; a Sonic Demobiliser. My drinking colleagues of the time assured me - loudly and, strangely, angrily - that it worked. It drew few compliments, which puzzles me to this day... Note for whomever-it-may-concern, not that I think it ought to: I no longer possess any such objects nor the means to produce nor arm them. I present this as a cautionary tale and urge readers not to emulate my actions.
  10. Mwa ha ha ha ha! Heh heh! No. They were a distraction, just details to draw you ever further in. Like any good diorama; provide lots of storytelling detail, and people will look for it and at it.
  11. A quote from Miss Monroe found its way onto the cover of a refill pad of my favoured brand in the 80s (along with others from more obvious academic luminaries - one to each pad) If memory serves the gist was: "One day I'm going to marry the President of the United States. That'll [show? teach?] them." I think that's a better candidate for Famous (nearly) Last Words.
  12. I can't speak for clear parts, but I have heard of people using Ammonia solution for airbrush cleaning. I use it for brush brush cleaning but CAVEAT! Work outdoors and upwind. The sole reason that Ammonia has never been used as a war gas it that it's amazingly soluble in water.
  13. Yours must have perforated. I can't remember how long the last appendectomy I saw (1989?) took, but not three hours! And I never nursed a post-op patient who needed three days of Pethidine. Yours was no straightforward case, dear comrade. Good that we still have you!
  14. When Airfix did their Bloodhound kit, they seem to have focussed on the missile and treated it as an aircraft; this is why, it is said, it was produced in 1/72 rather than Railway Scale - 1/76 - like their vehicles. (The SAM 2 went the other way, it seems; perhaps to fit in with the vehicle range.). If, on the other hand, the lorry is the focus, the 'Raison d'Etre' of the build, then I would say that it's a vehicle - and an excellent rendition of an interesting subject!
  15. What, a 750 micron figure? At that scale, whole moons are still a bit large; major space station or space dock?
  16. On Heller instruction sheets, the colour is described as 'Gris Perle'; Pearl Grey. I was thinking of Humbrol 191, but on reflection that looks too light to me, and 56 too dark. I've always found 11 too shiny; and don't Humbrol reckon that their metallics cannot be overcoated?
  17. Apart from the attorney's job, that sounds too much like my life. A story now from me. When at home in far off Llanforien I used to go off up into the wild mountains, beneath the trees and beside bubbling fresh, cool springs. There I would seek my inner peace, but all too often in vain. This changed one summer morning. I came upon a hill I had seen many times, and skirted on my way to one of my favourite spots for meditation; but today was not to be like any other day. Today, I decided, I would ascend, and see what might lie beyond. And I was well rewarded for the effort thus expended; I beheld an unspoilt valley, neglected due to its small size, in which stood a lake. On the (not very) far shore I beheld a building, looking for all the world like an Oriental temple. I leapt the stream which fed the lake and approached. A sign, in beautiful calligraphy, confirmed the use of this bijou edifice and announced its identity; I made out 没山庙 - which I read as "Mei Shan Miao" - translated underneath as "Deml Heb Vynydd". I noted that both renditions were archaic, and in English proclaimed this to be "Temple of No Mountain", or "Mountainless Temple". This suggested to me two things: that there was some heritage to be found within, and that the Temple was of the Daoist School, mountains having a special significance to them, even when, in this case, the temple was not to be found on one. I entered to an aroma of sweet and subtle incense, and good tea. I found the Abbess there, who bade me sit and passed me a cup. Silently, we sipped and only then exchanged introductions. Wang Meihua (who took the name Blodwen in Welsh) was very welcoming, and promised that, should I return the next day, I would witness something remarkable. I slept well that night despite my excitement, returning at dawn to again find myself imbibing that divinely ordained infusion. We meditated for a time, then Abbess Wang indicated the closed sliding leaves of a plain wooden door which partitioned the building. The Aroma changed, and instrumental music struck up. I heard a small but full orchestra in there, whose music waxed, shone, then gently waned like the Moon, to be followed by a choir - perhaps the very same musicians - whose wordless vocalisations brought to mind thoughts deep, profound, and yet supremely peaceful. I asked what it was that I had just experienced; Abbess Wang assured me that the spectacle beyond the door was far greater than even that which I had sampled, for a mere sample it was. Alas, she could tell me nothing more, nor could she show me, for I was not an Initiate of Mei Shan Jia (The School of No Mountain). I returned each day for another week; the ceremony proved to be a daily observance, but my questions were still met with regretful silence. I began to despair of ever learning what ceremony could be so profound, so important, to be greater than the impressions conjured by that amazing sound. After the visit which I decided would be my last, at least for a while, I asked no more questions. Instead, I took in all of the ceremony that I could as a precious memory, and something to further ponder, then prepared to leave, hiding my disappointment as a good guest should; Abbess Wang bade me stay for another cup, this time of ShaoXing Jiu; Yellow Wine. This arrived, at blood heat, and Abbess Wang invited me to pour for her, if I so wished; eagerly I did so, handing her the cup with a deep bow. She drank; and at that point, Abbess Blodwen Wang Meihua became, for me, Wang Shifu or Athrawes Wang; Teacher Wang. For the rest of that summer I came daily; we drank tea, studied and discussed the Classics; we meditated whilst sitting, and, after I was invited to bring Long Jian Ya, my pet sword, I was taught to wield her properly. Teacher Wang was some years my senior - her age was impossible to accurately gauge - but moved with the precision, grace and speed of the very Tylwyth Teg (or Shen, Fae, Sidhe - take your pick) themselves. Under her expert tutelage, I improved in knowledge and understanding of myself, my universe - and their inseparability, continuity, unity. My sword was no longer an instrument for parting souls from bodies, no; it would unite me with my opponent, and, unless relentless and supremely harmful in intent, both of us would walk away from any aggressive encounter. I was taught to apply these lessons when physically swordless also. I had found my inner peace, and the means to wear it around me like a soft, warm yet impervious armour forged in the heart of stars - as are we all. I was no finished product, yet the foundations had been well laid to further build upon and abundant material provided with which to continue. All this time I had heard that miraculous sound beyond the outer room, and could still not witness the ceremony within; I was a student of Wang Shifu, and therefore of Mei Shan Jia, truly, but not an Initiate. But now I had come to accept that, and understand its importance. The following day I arrived for my lesson, somewhat troubled; there was an air of completion, of a journey's end. And so it proved to be; when entering the outer room I was met, not by my kind, wise teacher and friend, but by a group of monks. With solemn gentleness they invited me to change from my outside clothes into a silken robe which one of them held for me. It was a beautiful black robe, embroidered with a dragon in several rich colours of thread. I belted it with a sash and put on my sword, worn on my back in the Daoist fashion. (It frees the hands for climbing). Then one of them stood by me to wait while, behind me, the others entered the Inner Room. This, I knew, was it; my day had come. I would be initiated into the No Mountain School, in the Temple of No Mountain itself, by the Abbess, my much loved teacher. My companion turned me to face the door; it opened, and there stood Wang Shifu, who led me into the inner room, that chamber of wonder and mystery, just as the aroma created by a powdered incense of rare and fragrant resins and spices rose to the heavens and the instrumental part of the ceremony began. What an experience. Thus began, for me, the auspicious part of my life, the beginning of the greater journey for which my teacher had prepared and nurtured me. The Yi Jing has the saying " [The King] approaches the Temple; regrets cease". Whilst I am no king, the truth of this proved to be mine. At the end, I left, transformed in so many ways; I returned eagerly the following day. When I arrived in that blessed little valley, I saw that the Temple was gone, without trace; it was as though it had never been. All that remained, on a rock, was a small paper package. I had hung my robe in the Outer Room, expecting to wear it on my visits, and Abbess Wang had left it for me. I took it up and walked home, still filled with awe and profound wonder from that last day, which remains with me yet. What, you ask, did I witness in that Inner Room? What ceremony, what kind of spectacle? I already mentioned the Incense, the instrumental music then the choir; but none of that prepared me at all for the sight which I beheld, the incredible thing in which, rather than witness, I played my part! All around me... But wait; I deeply, deeply regret that I can say no more, for none of you are Initiates of Mei Shan Jia.
  18. The only time to be concerned by the quality of parenthood is when you can tell yourself you have all the answers and are a perfect parent. Then, your biggest problem - and it's a disaster waiting to spring, believe me - is that you think you have none. If, in later years, you draw praise from your offspring, then bask in it. I'm sure you will, and should - in that order. And, as a bonus, now I know what a Bolingbroke looked like!
  19. I find that print machine oddly reminiscent of the "Laser facelift" scene in Logan's Run.
  20. I've very much taken to that aircraft... Is it going on general sale? I really, really hope I can afford one when it does.
  21. Amen. Truly words to live by. Heal and find peace, dear comrade.
  22. Yes, hazardous indeed that T-Stoff and C-Stoff. Tankers carrying each were, of course, never used for anything else, and were not allowed onto the field at the same time. Each and every piece of equipment was flushed after use, and pilots wore a Neoprene suit to protect them from the Peroxide - the tanks formed the cockpit walls! The pilot wouldn't dissolve completely, but at that concentration his flesh would. This I have seen and done, with a clinical solution (much lower concentration than the oxidant, but higher than that available over the counter) used for wound debridement.
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