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'A gaping silken dragon,/Puffed by the wind, suffices us for God./We, not the City, are the Empire's soul:/A rotten tree lives only in its rind.'

Thursday, 24 May 2012

The last ...

... of the Humbrol Authenticolours:

I feel as if I should play a brief lament, or sound a suitable bugle call. This little tin is around 28 years old. I opened it this evening for what was probably its last outing - for the lower surfaces of the Me Bf 109G-10. The paint was a bit separated, but with a good stir, it looked ok. But, sadly, on application, it turned out to have a very fine grittiness about it. I decided to battle on and use it as an undercoat, hoping that a bit of sanding will work wonders. So, farewell, old tin, you were the last of a famous breed.


  1. At the opening of the pot and the squirting of the acrlyic,

    We shall remember them.

  2. Some old paints become like old friends and its sad to see their demise.

  3. Thanks chaps! Odd, isn't it? There's something about the human condition in all this, even in a tiny pot of paint.

  4. Old tins never die, they just fade away.

    1. or... they just go all hard and cracked. A bit like us.