The time is almost upon me. The time when I gird my loins and square my shoulders, or possibly square my loins and gird my shoulders, and head for the centralised collection of Work for the Dole programs that is our national capital. Here I and a select handful like me will meet amongst a horde of crazed hobbyists, crazed role players and the just generally crazed to participate in a wargaming competition which I'm sure you will all agree is a thoroughly sane way to spend a long weekend.
We will sit in our corner of the convention centre looking out at the great unwashed (and definitely undeodorised) mob and reflect smugly on how different we are from these losers who devote vast amounts of time and money to these childish and trivial entertainments. Then we'll go back to our war go bang bang game which largely consists of cardboard counters and a rulebook and which none of us has spent less than ten thousand dollars on and counting.
Yes CanCon is upon us again. The Australia Day (or whatever) long weekend is the signal for me to head in the direction of Canberra in the company of those of my acquaintances who can still tolerate my presence for two and a half days of hard fought competition against Australia's best*. Actually the number of my acquaintances who can still tolerate my presence is apparently none since I am flying to Canberra alone. However once there I shall meet up with fellow cardboard molesters Dave Wilson and Mark McGilchrist who between them will be transporting me to the competition venue (they don't know this yet, I like to keep it a surprise).
Traditionally I have done well at this tournament. I have turned up and frequently got through two or three turns of the game before screaming about how everything is rigged and hurling my dice at the ceiling or, on one or two occasions, my opponent. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times concerned fellow gamers have had to coax me in off window ledges as a result of poor play. Mind you the number of times amused fellow gamers have gathered around shouting "jump, jump, jump" has now reached a level where I can no longer consider it a coincidence.
OK, I haven't done terribly well at this tournament. I never do terribly well at tournaments because I'm not a particularly good player. What I have to hope for is some spectacular pieces of dice related good fortune fall my way thus enabling those who deserve victory to be crushed beneath my chariot wheels. This happened once at a competition I attended in America. I was matched with a genuinely superb player and the look of absolute outrage on his face as I diced and bullshitted my way to a victory kept me warm for many nights to come.
Once the dust has settled and the medication has started to take effect I shall of cause give a brief update of the games played and results gained and post it on this blog if only because I'm afraid that the thing is becoming a bushwalking blog by default. It's useful to remind people that I have two strange hobbies that no sane person would contemplate. I call that having a balanced personality. Others refer to it as "suffering from multiple conditions".
*"best" being defined as "those who bothered to turn up"
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