Where the heck did everyone go? Isn't that just terrific. I decide to spend more time on SG, and everyone disappears. Sigh.
It's my day off and I am supremely unmotivated to do anything. As you can discern from my last journal entry, I have been marching and drilling with muskets for the past three days. My arms are sore from lifting and holding the muskets in certain postions in order to load and fire them. My ankles are sore from marching up and down and up and down the field, over and over again, while carrying said musket in left hand. My feet are blistered from second-hand procession boots, with steel toes. It's all awfully hard to do, and I have been using muscles that, I am embarassed to admit, haven't been used in at least a couple of years. I think I ruined a few pairs of bras and panties I just bought at La Senza (on sale, of course) which I stupidly wore to work. They were soaked with sweat by noon, thank you, wool uniform. I have developed a close physical relationship with black shoe polish, Braso, and WD40. I also anticipate being smothered with black powder residue for the duration of the summer.
The black powder, I must say, is really cool (it's made with potassium nitrate, charcoal and the ever lovely smelling ingredient of sulfur. You can learn all about it, and even make your own by going here). We all had to be certified yesterday by a firearms safety inspector. So all the musket drilling we had done the previous two days had been without the actual powder. My first time using it was in front of the inspector, and he was specifically watching to make sure we kept our hands and faces (and other appendages) away from the muzzle. We also got to fire the 6 pound cannon, which was a lot of fun. I got to hook and clean the barrel, as well as load the cartridge. We are required to wear ear plugs, particularly around the cannon. It was pretty freaking loud.
A camera crew showed up and recorded the whole procedure, as well as some marching, for a Toronto tourism commercial. Apparently we are going to have a lot of camera crews around over the duration of the summer. I have also been told that I should get used to having my picture taken by tourists, or with tourists.
But the best part, I have saved for last. Apparently anyone shooting documentaries or movies in the area, who require period soldiers, of course, come to us. And we get paid. Movie money paid.
An unexpected bonus. For this aching body, it's enough to lift the spirits and roll me out of bed tomorrow morning.
In reading this over, I sound like such a wimp.
It's my day off and I am supremely unmotivated to do anything. As you can discern from my last journal entry, I have been marching and drilling with muskets for the past three days. My arms are sore from lifting and holding the muskets in certain postions in order to load and fire them. My ankles are sore from marching up and down and up and down the field, over and over again, while carrying said musket in left hand. My feet are blistered from second-hand procession boots, with steel toes. It's all awfully hard to do, and I have been using muscles that, I am embarassed to admit, haven't been used in at least a couple of years. I think I ruined a few pairs of bras and panties I just bought at La Senza (on sale, of course) which I stupidly wore to work. They were soaked with sweat by noon, thank you, wool uniform. I have developed a close physical relationship with black shoe polish, Braso, and WD40. I also anticipate being smothered with black powder residue for the duration of the summer.
The black powder, I must say, is really cool (it's made with potassium nitrate, charcoal and the ever lovely smelling ingredient of sulfur. You can learn all about it, and even make your own by going here). We all had to be certified yesterday by a firearms safety inspector. So all the musket drilling we had done the previous two days had been without the actual powder. My first time using it was in front of the inspector, and he was specifically watching to make sure we kept our hands and faces (and other appendages) away from the muzzle. We also got to fire the 6 pound cannon, which was a lot of fun. I got to hook and clean the barrel, as well as load the cartridge. We are required to wear ear plugs, particularly around the cannon. It was pretty freaking loud.
A camera crew showed up and recorded the whole procedure, as well as some marching, for a Toronto tourism commercial. Apparently we are going to have a lot of camera crews around over the duration of the summer. I have also been told that I should get used to having my picture taken by tourists, or with tourists.
But the best part, I have saved for last. Apparently anyone shooting documentaries or movies in the area, who require period soldiers, of course, come to us. And we get paid. Movie money paid.
An unexpected bonus. For this aching body, it's enough to lift the spirits and roll me out of bed tomorrow morning.
In reading this over, I sound like such a wimp.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
Take it easy out there-