Irregular Wars Wargaming

Chapter 1,Sorviodunum Read stranger, the apocryphal words of Saint Neot the Lesser, servant of God and compiler of this, the Annals of the Relic of Saint Pius. It is a tale of Britons and Saxons, of Irish pirates and valiant knights. A song of holy relics and vile heathens, of the bravest of deeds and the most villainous of treacheries. I should know, for I was there... Flavius Constans, a man who fancied himself descended from a line of Roman Emperors, stared contemptuously down the slopes of Sorviodunum at the rabble gathering below. Sure, the combined Hiberno-Saxon host had driven him out of Venta of the Belgae– a centre his opponents were now calling Venta-chester, as if they thought he would let them stay. Sure, the barbarous hoards had forced him to seek shelter within the crumbling defences of Sorvidunum – but he had not gone down without a fight. Now, only two enemy warbands remained in any condition to continue the fight: Æthelwulf's band of Angles and a boat-lo

This week marked six months since we left the sun-drenched shores of my native Antipodes and landed up here on these mist shrouded isles at the edge of Europe. I do love it here and have no regrets about the move,  but there have certainly been some ups and downs since arriving. To recap a little, we have been living at my in-law's house (down), for free (up). Wee Hotspur took his first real strolls only after arriving in Ulster (up) and is now competently feeding himself with a spoon (up). Wee Hotspur inspecting (London)Derry's 1641 ordinance. I didn't get the dream job straight away (definite down); and have instead have worked on some pretty average archaeology (down), some of which was actually really amazing (big up) but was so incompetently directed that the crew felt the need to start a mutiny which only ended with the direct involvement of the Minister for the Environment (a huge down topped with a bit of an 'up' cherry). An editorial in the mos