I've just gone and dropped the box containing all my Greeks! I blame the wife who was yagging away in my ear about something as I was coming down the stairs. I was trying to carry a few boards as well and as I turned to listen to what she was yapping about (some bloody nonsense about a painting she's bought) the box slipped out.
Although all my models have magnetised bases, a good dunk on the ground will test that bond to the utmost.
Opening up the box revealed my worst fears - a big jumble of figures with bent spears (mainly pikes and lances), some chipped paint and a lot of flock knocked off in the impact. Luckily no spears were broken although some felt very flimsy as I tried to bend them back into shape.
As I'm untangling the mess, Mrs B comes over for a look.
"Oh dear - are you toy soldiers broken?" (I'll give her 'toy soldiers')
"Yes - that was the thump you heard as I was coming down the stairs while you were telling me that riveting story about the picture"
"Never mind - no harm done" (errr - apart from the hours I'm going to need to fix the damage)
She then chooses this exact moment to try to pluck a stray grey hair from the back of my head. Now imagine that she's - say - dropped a plate on the floor and is trying to pick up the peices. Would YOU choose that moment to tug hairs out of her head? No - because you have common sense. Not Mrs B though...
"That's coming out" - tug, tug, tug "Oh, missed it" tug tug tug etc.
She then waves the offending hair under my nose saying "Plenty more where that came from, plenty more where that came from.." while I'm trying to extricate the figures gently from the mess.
My response - short, sharp and succinct - meant she left the room immediately (albeit in a massive huff) leaving me to survey the carnage alone.
Women! Can't live with them....can't live with them.