Every Man Needs A Shed

Life and Games (but mostly games) from Tony Boydell: Dad, Husband and Independent UK Game Designer, Agricola fanboy and jealous admirer of Carl Chudyk. www.surprisedstaregames.co.uk

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The Kite Runner

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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A little way from our house through the Forest of Dean, and then down the main road (immediately parallel to the River Severn) to Lydney, will find you in the grassy field and cluttered artisan workshops of Taurus Crafts. It's been a while since we needed to avail ourselves of the handicraft-ed toddler clothes and wooden toys, but we have returned for little 'Event Days' like Gifford's Circus and the amazing Illuminarium.

This weekend saw them running a Kite Festival, so we (me, Mrs B and Arthur) rummaged in the lockup/Shed for any Kites we might have lying about the place, dusted off the spiders and trundled along in the late A.M. It was quite clear but, importantly, too still to get anything up when we first arrived; mind you, our signature flyer was missing a cross-bar, so I ripped in to a nearby hedge for a suitable replacement spar:


Success!


Mrs B was cornered - pretty impressive given we were in an open field - by a Kite Bore who regaled (what he thought were) interesting tales of altitude, wind speed and the mechanics of a good launch (he ACTUALLY used the word 'trajectory'!). Seeing she was in trouble - backing slowly towards the heavily-walled Pitch 'N Putt centre - I whisked both her and young Arthur off for some lunch; when replete, we returned to find conditions much more amenable:


With only a bit of coaxing, our pink/lime dart was soon hovering in the heights!



Higher, even, than the show-off's kite!



Soul-soaringly sensational!


Arthur was completely rapt! After an hour the wind dropped and the dart drifted to the ground; we did try and launch it again but the field had become over-crowded: no room for a decent run up. There would be running of a 'Blade' kind later in the day (with the older boys) but, for now, this was a gorgeous, and refreshingly-active, way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

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Tue Oct 10, 2017 6:24 am
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He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

Anthony Boydell
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I remember those halcyon days when podcasts had just become popular and we were delighted, and still are, to download hundreds of hours for nothing more than a passing fraction of our monthly broadband charge (for free, of course, if you made sure you did it using the Work Wi-Fi or went round to a mates to piggyback off her/his bandwidth). There was a brief moment when some of the more famous content providers slapped a 49p/99p charge on each iTunes episode and we exploded in a stinky bottom-cloud of bleating outrage...but it didn’t last long and we were soon back to moaning about how infrequently the episodes were rather than having to stump up actual cash for them.

In the last year-or-so, the subject of remuneration for podcast/vlogger services-rendered has surfaced again but – this time – it’s been rebranded so that in return for paying, out-and-out, for our favourite voices we also get extra stuff as well: nothing excites our voracious need and greed more than 'reward levels'!

For some, Kickstarter provides an annual injection of moolah but is fraught with the risks of initial or subsequent campaign failure: (internal monologue) "Can I afford $30 this time around?". For others, the Patreon model is better: smaller amounts but regularly and – like a standing order to your Electric Company or Local Church - it’s an “always on until you switch it off ” mechanism.

I indulge in both but the latter option is obviously better for the Patreonee BUT I won’t (can't) adopt it for everyone: access to my Bank Account, on a monthly basis, is not a privilege granted lightly. Currently, there are two gaming-related projects that I feel strongly-enough about to commit a direct debit to (though I am trying to free up resources for a couple more):



If you don’t already support a project then I strongly urge you to give a monthly dollar or five to, and / or support the annual fundraiser for, something equally dear to you. I would also urge you to look at, and seriously-consider, the two campaigns above: they really ARE top notch.

It certainly gives me a warm feeling, during playback, to know that I am doubly-invested (time and money) in something that gives me so much pleasure.
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Mon Oct 9, 2017 6:20 am
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(sweet, sweet memoirs you gave a-me)

Anthony Boydell
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Boffo and Smudge were intending to be in Newent for a bit on Saturday: Smudge to browse a brace of excellent 'Sewing' shops, Boffo to pick up a consignment of Memoir '44 that I had (obligingly) couriered back from North Wales.

With the kettle on, they 'halloo'-ed their ingress and we decamped to the library room to pack and label various bits (Boffo had pre-sold some of the items already); this would be a matter of just a few mins and we could then - perhaps - fit in a quick game of something Agricola-shaped? Unfortunately, the prior owner of Borg's Finest had - through general love and play - mixed and matched terrain tiles, cards and minis so the whole thing was going to need a proper sort-out:



Ninety minutes later and - with the aid of EXCELLENT 'manifest summaries' on BGG - Boffo and I had sifted, collated and baggy-ed two base sets and five miscellaneous expansions; all that remained was a restorative amble in to the Town and the Post Office. Oddly, despite missing out on some Farming gorgeousness, there was something rather satisfying about resolving the component Chaos in to Order. Or maybe that's just me?

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Sun Oct 8, 2017 6:30 am
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-y vs -ist

Anthony Boydell
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It has been brought to my attention that the title of this Blog is sexist, discriminatory and a typical everyday-reinforcement of the unjust dominance of a persistent patriarchy. This is a shiny new millennium and there should be no place for such backward thinking.

Of course every man should have a shed but so should every woman, every man who identifies as a woman and every woman who identifies as a man and everyone in-between who refuses to be pigeon-holed by such narrow definitions of physiognomy: sheds are gender-fluid and are for everyone!

I agree 100%. I have no excuse for this insensitive oversight beyond "I never really thought about it" which is, of course, the biggest problem of all: lack of thought.

So, with the help of you good persons, I'd like to address my failing and am open to suggestions for a NEW Blog title; my initial suggestions include:

Poll
Which of the following titles should become the new title for this blogular distraction?
Every Gamer Needs A Shed?
The Universally-Accessible Shed?
Tony and His Amazing Technicolor DreamShed?
A Shed For All?
Something else - see Comments below
      184 answers
Poll created by tonyboydell


Thoughts?
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Sat Oct 7, 2017 6:50 am
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I don't want to change the world...

Anthony Boydell
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My looooong week of working away had almost come to it's end. It being a Thursday, I'd normally have been off down The Marches with a song in my heart and a pork pie on the passenger seat but, this time, it's the full Monday thru Friday for Uncle Tony *gasp*. The dilemma of where to eat (and what to fill the evening with) presented itself on the dot of four o'clock when the last trainee logged off the training system and left the training room; it was too late to start anything new and, besides, I had been barking new functionality and spinning practical exercises since 0900HRS: it was time to get the fudge out. My choice was to either fritter away another £20 on a cinema trip to see the preview screening of Blade Runner 2049 OR be a true gamer and trundle 15 miles South - on the A55 North Wales Expressway - to join the Snowdonia Dragons (West) at the Pontio Arts Centre in Bangor:

Bangor is the oldest city in Wales and one of the smallest cities in the UK. Bangor lies on the coast of North Wales near the Menai Strait which separates the island of Anglesey from the mainland. The origins of the city date back to the early 6th century.

I had an hour to spare and the Sun had come out - how could I not go for a wander?


Garth Pier is the second longest pier in Wales, and the ninth longest in the British Isles, at 1,500 feet (460 m) in length. It was opened in 1893 and was a promenade pier, for the amusement of holiday-makers who could stroll among the pinnacle-roofed kiosks.


The Pontio Art Centre is all shiny perspex and angular carpets; it's also an off-shoot of the city's University and was buzzing with end-of-the-day students walking about in their so-called "trousers" and sipping their Soy Chai Lattes in an ironic way. I scurried to the lift, head-down lest one of them speak to me, and found the fifth floor café space that hosted the Dragon's meet-up. We were joined, for a prompt 6PM start, by Ed and Aaron and Tim and Tim and Rob and Alan and David (not Daffydd) and got stuck in to a raucous 6 nimmt! (see below); oddly, for me, I played an absolute fucking BLINDER and ended up with my last card scoring one piffling penalty point to take the win!

Eight is a magic number, so we split immediately the Nimmt! cards were back in their box for St Petersburg (them) and Rails of New England: me, Aaron, Tim (not that one, the other one) and David (not...well, you get the idea).



In summary: card drafting and money-spending to build connections in a Power Grid manner across a detailed map of New England; historical Events and Depressions/Prosperity interact with your economic engines like the Cubes and Weather in Snowdonia. Additionally, players compete for income-generating Mail Contracts, end-to-end long routes and 'State Subsidies' - the latter are cute VP wrinkles based on historic details like tunnels, riverboat routes etc.

It took us the better part of two and a half hours to puff through 14 rounds of play and it was a lot of pseudo 18XX-y fun - how could I NOT enjoy a 'proper' railway game? - but my knack with the d10 provided an extraordinarily-prosperous, money-rich session. At one point, Aaron called Tim - the other one - over to lament the general lack of poverty and loan stress. 'Our' Tim managed to squeak a $12 win over David (despite me playing all the 'Take That!' actions against him and hate-drafting his businesses), with me $49 behind and Aaron as far back again; we sort-of managed to run out of meaningful things to do in the last couple of rounds thanks to the vigorous fountain of cash coming our ways. It was still a satisfying experience, though.

We closed with a random table pick: Toledo 1085:



In summary: a set-collection affair with a Fzzzt!-feel ie. plenty of auctions along a sequential line of 'Lots'. There are four 'sets' to collect and the first player to collect at least 10 points worth in each set triggers the end-game. Money - we all start with the same fixed amount divvied out each round - comes in three types: vellum, Silver and Gold.

We misinterpreted the bidding as functioning like a kind of priority system ie. Vellum-only bids are trumped by a Silver-based bid (silver or silver plus vellum) and Silver-based bids are trumped by Gold-based bids (Gold or Gold plus other stuff etc). This made things very interesting but fell apart at the end when I'd managed to haul a load of coin-converter cards (promotes one type to the next one up) and was promptly able to easily win every card I wanted. It turns out the fan-produced translation of the original French rulebook, printed in 4 point font, contained an alternative explanation of the money in a random annex/paragraph which we discovered only at the end when looking for the final scoring rules ie. it was actually a mundane 4V = 1S / 4S = 1G mathematics arse-ache. The artwork and presentation are lovely, though.

Studious types were still gazing, pensively, in to their Macbooks in the 'Social Engineering Suite' as I scurried back to the car; it's a hard life being in your early twenties, they take everything so seriously!


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Fri Oct 6, 2017 6:45 am
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The Joy of a Toy

Anthony Boydell
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zombie

This is what the end of the world looks like:


A bleak, drizzling dusk on a broken shell-strewn beach; the salt/fish stench of rotting bivalves and the brown sea roaring and slapping against the sand. I was the only person for 500m in either direction; I wouldn't have been surprised if Viggo Mortensen had emerged from the myopic horizon pushing a shopping trolley of detritus with a child by his side. Hand-to-mouth, hand-to-mouth; the do-it-myself sandwich supper and the thousand yard stare through the rain-soaked windscreen. The waves break and the wind rocks the car; I am running the engine to keep warm but it will be much, much warmer inside The Beach House.


laugh

This is what happiness looks like:


Good folk sharing the simple joy of being together to play board games; look in to our eyes and see how they shine!

blush

This is what A Buggers' Muddle looks like:



The 10 minutes to get seated and the 10 minutes of looking up Leader abilities and the constant drafting/playing out of sync and the questions interrupted by other questions and the answers crossing in mid-air to end up in the wrong ears and the fiasco of the three-tries final totalling.

This is what a glorious evening looks like.

What a glorious evening.

A glorious evening.

Glorious.

Us.
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Thu Oct 5, 2017 6:50 am
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Yet Another True Story

Anthony Boydell
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(Spiel, 2016)

The Hotel man, who writes things in a special Breakfast Book, looked very grumpy as I put the hard-boiled eggs in to my rucksack for day snacks; the bowl was heavy so I had to use both hands to lift it, bracing the lip of the bag with my chin as I poured them in. Some of them were cracked and crushed and when I zipped it up, the bag puffed an eggy cloud over my face.

The Messe security guards gave me a similar grumpy look when I showed my exhibitor pass and wandered in to Hall 1; lying down in the back of the van for the journey across Essen meant I had accidently squashed a few more eggs; the fabric of the rucksack was damp with yolk, as was my branded Stand tee-shirt. I wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t miss out on the new Concordia expansion, so I stopped by Mr Gerdts’ and paid for 200 of them – I’m pretty sure I’ll be guaranteed a copy now if I stop by early tomorrow.

I was the first person to get to the stand and was horrified to find that everything had been stolen - the games, shelves, boxes, tables and chairs – and replaced by someone else’s games, shelves, boxes, tables and chairs! I ran to the Administrator’s office in an awful tizzy and waited for 20 minutes until it opened; by that time, I’d forgotten what I’d gone there for and had to come away again. I met Alan by the entrance and he told me there was egg-white leaking down the back of my trousers; he also told me that we were in Hall 2 and not Hall 1: “Does that mean you caught the robbers?” I asked. He walked off, holding his nose.

It was very busy just after they opened the main doors; several people wanted to try out Guilds of London, so I poured the contents of the box on to the table. I reached in to my rucksack and offered them each a handful of crushed egg; one of them was a bit sick in the back of their mouth.

Alan suggested I take a break and “get some coffees”; he gave me a 20 euro note and pointed to the far corner of the Hall at a restaurant booth: “There’s a branch of Starbucks in the town centre” he continued, “it shouldn’t take you more than an hour to get there-and-back.”. It is very confusing to be in a foreign city, so I played it safe – navigation wise – and followed the U-Bahn rails back to the Hauptbahnhof; I only had to duck against the wall twice to let a train passed. My mission was a bit of a failure because the coffee, which I had put in to my rucksack to keep warm with the eggs, had all leaked out by the time I returned to the Messe. My back was sticky and, to be honest, the smell was making me gag.

I met a friend from Boardgamegeek who told me that the International Gamers Award was about to be presented at their booth and would I like to come and watch? I thought this would be nice but it was very crowded; I nipped around the back and stood next to a man who looked a lot like Stefan Feld. I put my rucksack at my feet - which took the weight off my shoulders – and put on my serious listening face when the speeches started. When the IGA Man said “Mombasa!”, everyone began clapping and the man next to me stepped forward with his arms waving; he hadn’t noticed my rucksack and caught his feet in the white chocolate mocha-dribbled straps and plummeted off the podium – face first – in to the carpet. The noise his head made was like the sound of the eggs being crushed from the morning. I began laughing, then, because I remembered that I often mixed up Stefan Feld with Alexander Pfister and that I had, ironically, been stood next to the latter famous designer all along!

All this excitement had obviously made him tired because he had fallen asleep where he fell; it’s nice to have a ‘power nap’ in the middle of the day (Ted Alspach does it all the time, I hear), so I did that too with the help of the IGA Man. He used the trophy on me as a soporific.
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Wed Oct 4, 2017 6:25 am
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Gentes Prefer Blondes

Anthony Boydell
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There were all four seasons in one day as I did a big sort-of-inner-loop around Wales: cool and damp along the Heads of the Valleys to Merthyr and down the sunny Dawned Vale of Neath to Carmarthen. Pause to do some actual work then Northwards - through the drizzling countryside - to Aberaeron (painted houses and honey ice-cream) for lunch with me Dad, brother and sister. Continuing North to Aberystwyth, Machynlleth and Dolgellau the dark clouds glowered until - around Blaenau Ffestiniog - it looked like late dusk even though it was only 3.30PM! Following the river Conwy from Llanrwst, the Sun pulled out from behind the mountains and made everything Spring and by the time I got to Llandudno I'd wound the windows down and had an arm draped on the sill as cool air breezed in to the car. It seems I'd driven under-and-through the tail of an Atlantic 'system' that was travelling North too because everything was turning grey again as I sat in the Conwy Marina car park scoffing chicken-in-a-bucket. Later that evening, it would piss merry Hell against the Golf Club windows while we were all safe-within playing board games.


A carefully-selected filter hides an appallingly-blurred 'selfie';
(clockwise from L): David, Aaron and me.
Daffydd refused to take part in such juvenile behaviour and backed out of the shot.


To start, then, was Gentes: a game that I have been keen to get back to the (any) table since it's ignominious debut at the Ross-on-Wye club. Explaining how the recruiting and card-buying 'ranges' worked took a few minutes longer than expected but, otherwise, we were able to get off to a sensible start. Having neglected city-building last time, I made sure to set myself up for some useful Decline Phase bonuses by getting in - early - to all three areas on the board; combined with a couple of filled-then-emptied hands of cards (including the first two that cleared action spaces on my top row), I found myself far more productive and co-ordinated. Aaron was having a similarly-synchronised game with he and I breaking in to the three Bonus chits before the others (David and Daffydd) got even close. Despite me pulling a couple of late, easy-to-solve cards for the Game End clearance, Aaron stayed 8 points ahead for the victory. Gentes is fantastic.


This is the end.


We had eaten in to a fair chunk of the Snowdonia Dragons' evening, so it was fillers all the way until kicking out time; first, at Aaron's enthusiastic behest, was Colossal Arena. From the early pen of Dr K, this rowdy, card-flopping exercise in 'set preservation' and underhandedness is a corking delight!

In summary (from this very Parish): Each round one of the creatures will die. To decide which unlucky soul will be the victim, players put numbered power cards in front of the creatures, with the lowest one going to the graveyard. The jockeying for position and strategic diplomacy in playing the numbered power cards can be intense - but what makes this game even more interesting is that the players' place bets throughout the game which will sometimes allow them to use a creature's special power in battle!


Lots of game in small packages.


Despite being targeted relentlessly for having the gall to put a couple of tokens out early (top row = 4 points, if they survive), I managed a well-timed Dragon to kill off a previously safe-looking Troll and rob Daffydd (not David) and Aaron of three chips between them! In the end, David (not Daffydd) had quietly spread himself in the mid-ranges but fell a single point short of my own triumphant haul!

Finally, with the Moon now emerging in the black Autumn sky - and the rain well on it's way to the Isle of Man - we played a couple of rounds of Too Many Cinderellas: quirky and daft, I failed to present a suitable glass-slippering candidate in both, though - in the second - I was foiled not by the players but by the turn of the last, random card.
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Tue Oct 3, 2017 6:30 am
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Dragondaze are here again

Anthony Boydell
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Hardly on the scale of an Essen Spiel or a UK Games Expo, South (Welsh) Wales' DragonDaze (http://dragondaze.com/) is a pocket-sized micro-con held in the chlorine-tanged environs of The Newport Centre: with flexible conference facilities, a music stage and a (mainly) family swimming pool with flume, wave machine and a fitness suite attached. The Saturday morning shoppers were out in force but seemed determinedly-focused on only one of the two main town centre car parks; this allowed Arthur and I to breeze in to 'the Kingsway', which has been in Newport as long as I have been alive, pretty much - I have lens-fogged memories of being in Arthur's age in the passenger seat of my Father's MGB GT or his Triumph Spitfire or his Vauxhall Viva or his Mini Clubman or his...well, he had a LOT of cars in the 1970s.

Arthur got in for free, so it was just £7.50 'on the door' and narrowly-avoiding ending up in the changing rooms, we navigated to the Main Hall:


From L to R: The esteemed venue; the meet 'n greet stewardess scares the living sh*t out of every child that enters; the view from one side and the (blurred) view from the other.


It was pleasant buzzing and there was plenty of variety to be enjoyed: foamy LARP gear, dice, miniatures, tee-shirts, comics, jewellery, an Esdevium-run demo square and a sprinkling of board games and board game prototypes. There was no chance of missing Bez (see below); Bez was dressed in bright red and her enormous pointy beard swung about in a graceful arc every time she turned her head. In a Bind has been picked up and given a much wider release (including a 10 minute spot on a French TV-based magazine show) so me and the lad joined a forlorn-looking punter to show off this ridiculous plastic-sheetless version of Twister:


Getting in a bit of a twist with Yogi (note that Bez can't keep still for even a microsecond!) and Arthur, proudly, finds one of his Dad's games in the free-play Library!


Of more pressing interest - because he and his models were eye-distractingly adjacent to Bez's contortionist lair (and hair) - was David J. Mortimer and his new pre-KS miniatures project. It's a combat game with 3D models that you buy the templates for and, thus, can then reproduce to your heart's delight; the system is straight-forward so that even I had a rough idea of what was going on:


Ironclads: Space Battles in the Victorian Aether: Rules and 3D printer templates coming to a KS near you very soon.


Arthur got off to a literal flier by special action-ing his entire fleet, across the length of the Sector, to lurk right outside my figurative front-door! Much ramming, blasting and asteroid-avoiding ensued in what was an ugly conflict; we were both rather too 'gung-ho' to be in charge of military hardware, littering the Po-Tay-Toh System with torn Victorian steel. Arthur managed to puncture my last remaining hull to take the victory; 'twas a hollow one, however, because my die-rolling was abominable. That's MY excuse and I am sticking by it (David? You were there...speak up for me!).

Arthur's RADAR led us to 'Find of the Day' in the form of this grandly-illustrated 1984 curio for just a pocket-money dispensing £5:


We trekked once more around the room to see if we'd missed 'owt (mind you, I'm not going to buy anything 'big-boxy' this close to Spiel) and nipped up to the boardgamer's free-play area for a mooch (see above); we managed a quick try-out of Rainbow Rage but aching feet and the urgent call of sweets called us homeward. Same again next year? I hope so.
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Mon Oct 2, 2017 6:14 am
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Swirling in the Heavens

Anthony Boydell
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I was recently put on to a new podcast by, incestuously, a different podcast and it's been a bit of an addiction these last few weeks; just like when I first discovered 'Perfect Information' or 'Heavy Cardboard', I've been rootling through the iTunes archives and digesting as much as possible.

It's not board game-related but, instead, is a fiery and ferocious mix of politics, rage, improvisation, obituaries and raw emotion that carries you along with its eloquence, wit and zeal:



I suggest you start with the most recent episode ("Curries") and, perhaps, the one with the Jerry Lewis retrospective ("Deans"); it's very, VERY fine work indeed.
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Sun Oct 1, 2017 6:20 am
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