Everyone loves a Sailor.

Well, date three came and went and sure enough, I broached the subject. Turns out she really seemed interested. Or at least she claimed to be.

I asked why she hadn't run a mile and the answer was thus:

• If i'm into re-enactment, i'd mainly be around men. No scope for cheating (or at least a reduced scope for cheating).
• I am much more likely to spend my money on battledress/ invasion boots/ a 1943 dated lifebelt than I am on drugs, cigarettes, prostitutes, beer, buying beer for drug addled prostitutes.
• I'm not a leary football hooligan - I'm so much more likely to read and do research.
• I have respect for the past.
• It means I can iron, sew, stitch and have an eye for colour and decent fabric.
• I'm partial to 'histroic style'.
• I'm less likely to be a f*cking moron. (She did actually say that bit - I think she meant i'm more likely to be educated).

Of course, she'd never seen me in my get-up in the flesh so I can't say for sure what impact that would have had but the signs were positive. She even read my website. This was something she actually did really rather thoroughly and something I was nervous about showing her, for obvious reasons. It's one thing to have other re-enactors or school teachers read your website, but to expose it to the critical eyes of a potential love-match was a rather nerve-wracking experience.

I need not have worried. She was complimentary about the effort i'd gone to.

All-in-all a pleasant experience form what she was exposed to. I have to say though, she was one of the kindest people on the planet so i'm worndering wheather she had it in her to call me a weirdo...

An unexpected encounter with another pretty young thing put my mind at ease. Slightly.

More on that next time.

All I want are my principles back...

I daren't think about what women want. It's just too bloody confusing.

I'm better sticking with my undated (ahem) hairstyle and perfecting my wartime mannerisms than chasing girls. If I keep telling myself that, I might one day ACTUALLY believe it.

After saying earlier that women and re-enacting don't mix, I was actually stating an untruth, a half-truth or just a blatant lie. Allow me to explain.

Depsite what the more manly members of the re-enacting community think, this hobby does involve dressing up. Now, I'm not saying we're all 5 years olds with cowboy chaps and ice-cream dripping from our neckerchiefs, but it IS dressing up, all the same. Now onto my point. Women love dressing up. They do. If they didn't, they'd get married in that skin-tight boob-tube they wore on their first 'date'.

The distinction between 'dressing up' and re-enactment is something called Historical Accuracy. Now, for most re-enactors (or living historians), Historical Accuracy is a stick with which they beat the unsuspecting members of the public with when they go to an event having got 'dressed up'. Or rather, it would be said stick used in said manner if most re-enactors had the balls to stick to their principles. Which most don't. Unless it's on an internet forum.

I class myself in the bollock-less category of late having tried to broach the subject with suitable candidates for the future Mrs Anzio44 role (of which there have been many. I've not got low standards, I just like women. A lot.)

All candidates so far have either loved camping 'and getting silly', 'fancy dress', rennaissance fairs OR have had a picture of them 'dressed up' as something for some occaision (at which the only criteria for getting in are plunging neck lines or greyhound skirts).

When faced with a pretty young thing who's 'dressed up', thoughts of wielding the Historical Accuracy stick go straight out the window.

I know it's early in the year but what the heck.
Dear Father Christmas...all I want this year, are my principles back...

It's like having kids...

Re-enacting. It's like having kids. Apart from the obvious comparison of it being a money sapping, constant pre-occupation, re-enacting in the dating world is like telling people you have kids.

Now, I need to be careful here. There is nothing wrong with having kids and dating, obviously. It should be noted though, that the killer for many women on dating websites is when they say 'lovely mum to a beautiful son' etc. How many people klick 'block' straight away?

Kids are mainstream. Re-enacting is not. How can one say "lovely father to a beautiful Sten Gun" without having that gorgeous curly haired wench insult you, block you and then call the police? It just doesn't happen. Like I said, currently i'm going on a three date rule. Give it two to get the pleasantries and potential pyschos out of the way and then, BAM! - hit them with the fact that you're a ammo-boot toting research freak who likes exploring the buttons on his battledress almost as much as the curves on his latest conquest.

I swear if I ever get to date three, i'll let you know.

As an aside, I seem to have hit a bit of a brick wall regarding Regiment De La Chaudiere cap badges so if anyone can help, give me a shout.

Pretty, young things

Women and dressing up in old clothes don't mix. Yeah, sure, we've all seen those pictures of very pretty young things re-enacting QAIMNS or other such, but i'm not actually sure they exist.

To most women (and by that I mean, the attractive ones), dressing up as a WW2 Canadian Soldier holds little interest to them. They get up and walk on the other side of the metophorical street, as it were.

How does one combine one's pleasure of re-enacting with one's desire to find a 'life partner' (pretty young thing, but with a brain)? It's tough. A lot tougher than our hero (me, in case you were wondering) thought. "Hey love, want to check out my turtle helmet" doesn't really cut the mustard when you're vying for fair maden's attention with someone who can bench-press a landing craft and has the support of so many wingmen, it would make the current RAF green with envy.

I haven't found the answer. I did have a conversation with a stunningly pretty young thing (with brain) who admitted she like the renaissance faires 'back home'. She's American. Here was I thinking that I might be able to hold a conversation with her until she kills the conversation stone dead with the phrase "yeah we used to dress up...good times". So I get bowled out by the first girl not to run a mile when she finds out that I too have a thing for dresses...albeit Battledress.

And at what point into a relationship does one bring this little hobby (life obsession) up?! At the start? No bloody fear! If you raise the fact that you spend your weekends going back in time by standing in an field with other like-minded nutters at the start, you'd never get another date, let alone having your helmet felt. Turtle, or otherwise.

No, it's much better to bring it up around date number 3, I reckon. Long enough for her to know that you're not a pervert just trying to get into her knickers (bloomers?) but soon enough so that she doesn't accuse you of hiding it.

Who'd have thought having a hobby would be this hard? 

Well it's happened

I'm single. Again.

I say again like it's a fairly common occurance but it isn't. I, unlike many men my age (Under 30) am not affraid of commitment. I actually enjoy it.

It wasn't the re-enacting that ended it though. It was me.

So here we are, back living with my parents until I get my house sorted and then move on. This means drastically curtailing my spending which is a real buggerance as i'm trying to put together a nice walking out uniform of a soldier of Le Regiment De Le Chaudiere. I have a spare Canadian Battledress lying around and want to do something with it. Now I can't until I find my feet and move on.

Speaking of feet, how bloody hard is it to find someone to make Canadian WW2 Invasion (Assault) boots?! Bloody impossible. I may have found someone who can do it but at £160.00 a pop, it'll have to wait. Damn shame as they're bloody lovely boots and are an absolute must for anyone doing a 3rd Division impression for D-Day.

Now you see my problem. What I've written in the above paragraph is hardly going to have the ladies lining up at the door is it? Neither is an overly-trim wasteline and penchant for books over beer.

I'm not a jock, so am unlikely to win said fair maden's heart with a dashing fact about pebble-grain leather on my ammo boots.

I'm not desperate to move on but dislike being alone. I also love female company as I spend most of time reenacting with men. I have noticed a trend though.

I have had the occaisional look at these dating websites that seem to offer true love with a petit curly-haired blonde (I prefer red-heads but never mind), who hangs off your every word like you were some great orator giving a speach to rival those of Winston Churchill. the truth is rather different.

I've noticed a trend. Women are, by and large, liars. Now before I get stomped on by a radical feminist, allow me to qualify what i've just written. Firstly, not ALL women are liars. Secondly not all liers lie ALL the time. Everybody lies, I understand that. The problem comes when reading the 'MAN SPECIFICATION' that these women post. They all want 'genuine guys' or 'decent blokes' or some other such derivative.

They don't. What women want are the types of blokes who start football riots because their team lost. They want the type of bloke that would sleep with their best friend just because he can and would then blame it on them for suffocating them. Of course, that's not to say women my age actively want to be treated badly, far from it. It's just that they don't find decent men attractive. And when they do, they've been messed around for that long that they wouldn't trust a decent man if he came along and fell at their feet. So, they lie. They tell you they want someone they can trust whilst going off with a jock. Who'll treat them like shit and then the process starts again, ad infinitum.

If I sound cynical then I make no apologies. I'm not angry about it, I just wish that these women would respond with a simple one liner like 'I'm sorry but you're not my type' rather than ignoring a firendly message or an offer to chat. I'll hardly collapse on the floor and turn into a jibbering wreck now will I? It's the decent thing to do. Which, given what THEY'RE after, is kind of ironic, don't you think?

I'll keep you posted.

I'm not a weirdo...honest

I'm odd. I've been told many a time in my professional life that i'm 'traditional', 'old-fashioned' or just plan 'weird'.

Truth be told I am a little odd but i'm not a weirdo. Weird is hanging around bus stops talking to yourself, swearing at passers-by with a frightening glint in your eye and just a touch of drool dripping form your chin.

I'm odd because I like the past. I'd rather be there than here. I use plenty of old fashioned objects in my life.
Example: I went hiking up Helvellyn some weeks ago and passed so many wheeze-bags dressed in skin-tight synthetics - literally head to toe in the latest branded, shiny, moob-hugging lycra...
I went up there in my leather boots, heavy cotton trousers and my WW2 submariners sweater. I must say, I did cut a dashing figure...spiffing, even.

I like the past so much, I try to live it. I re-enact British and Canadian WW2 infantry at weekends and on my days off. Make of that what you will but I enjoy it and it's fairly harmless. Unlike the real thing, of course.

I should take this opportunity to mention that my girlfriend hates it. Almost as much as she dislikes me, personally.

For anybody who gives a toss i'll tell you why later.