The 24th Run Fowl of Hazards Of Outdoor Wargaming.
Tonight, I began putting back on their shelves the troops from the last outdoor wargame. But then I noticed a dark brown pile of something on the base of one of my A Call to Arms 24th foot (or the 24th Redian Foot and Mouth). It had also edged on to his mate's base. It was bird excrement. Either one of my chickens had left her calling card or a flying bird had bombed the unfortunate troops. I, long ago, told my cat, Chloe, to prune down those miscreant, feathered trespassers, but she just continually lolls around munching on processed kangaroo and beef, and occasionally catching the odd mouse. Meanwhile the feathered terrors of the sky defecate on my washing, eat figs and nectarines from my trees AND now, bomb my troops with that most heinous substance. I keep telling the Greenies to do something about trespassing birds, but they give me an uncomprehending, and sometimes an angry look. 'We need more cats roaming around, I tell them, to protect my washing, my fruit and my toy
