The combination of seemingly unstoppable rain for almost a fortnight now combined with our drastic cut to social life thanks to covid and the predictably disastrous end to the biggest con executed upon the British people since the dissolution of the monasteries – I refer, of course, to the no-deal – may drive some of the more susceptible of us  to drink and despair and the less susceptible to spend more time on personal leisure activities whether these be the exploration of the more abstruse passages of the Kama Sutra or other exotic practises to develop the mind and other parts.

I’ve tended to find that a nice way to get one’s mind off the present calamitous world situation (actually hasn’t any world situation since the end of the last Ice Age been calamitous) is to take to modelling. No, not for Vogue, not even to photograph some alluring siren on the cat walk – I’ve my own felines to do that. Here’s one I did in marquetry some years back:

But, instead, to indulge in a hobby I have enjoyed on and off since my earliest days: that of making miniatures of buildings or modes of transport or animals using a variety of materials.

For wood there’s my vague Sopwith camel imitation.

Sandra may probably manage to come over here on this cardboard version of a monoplane:

Of buildings this will probably be the closest I’ll get to owning a castle.

The nice thing about it is that the keep slides off to reveal the inner sanctum of the lordly habitation complete with treasure chest and minstrels.

Of course, the ancient Romans were more laid back with one of their villas here, complete with triclinium and Arcadian arbour.

As for Lucca’s mediaeval times I’ve managed to piece together this miniaturised version of the Guinigi tower. Making it from a pre-printed postcard was really too small for comfort.

I love my prehistoric and not so prehistoric animals: our planet’s denizens if it goes on any further like this might soon join them

Our bathroom is not exempt from this activity although it tends to concentrate more on fluorescent jigsaws and plastic fish.

Of models that actually work I’ve this variety of gliders. When younger I used to have great fun making them with the more sophisticated Keil Kraft gliders (remember them?).

I love messing about in boats (having obtained a RYA certificate in the Thames waters):

And cutting cute woodland book ends have been my pride and joy.

There’s nothing to beat a typical English nineteen thirties semi. Here are a couple I’ve completed for nostalgia’s sake.

My finest model is not on show. Regrettably it got lost in transit from the UK to Italy many years ago

I’d spent ages on the cardboard version of one of Spain’s most fabulous buildings; the King’s palace of Escorial. I’d even fitted it up with interior lights and with loudspeakers to transmit the motets of that greatest of Hispanic renaissance composers Tomas Luis de Victoria. I also added a bit of Soler who was also resident at the palace, played exquisitely by friend Gilbert Roland who has recorded every one of his amazing sonatas. Who knows where this model is now? Not even the company that supplied me the parts for its construction is in existence any more. ‘Sic transit…

At least my Victorian house remains. It has proved most useful in my English lessons to Italian children. They all now know what upstairs/downstairs means…and as for counterpanes,

This chap is a frenetic jazz drummer I picked up in pieces from a fabulous wood modelling centre in Wales at Timberkits models in the heart of beautiful mid wales. Our drummer will shortly have a double bass player to keep him company. Just turn their Handels and hear the sounds that come out.

There is a pile of Airfix-type models I still have to piece together. If the bloody pandemic carries on like this I, might well have to complete further warships and tanks in order to fight the world’s injustices

Anyway the best modelists are Italians both in the wonderful way the world’s most beautiful girls do the cat walk with the world’s most gorgeous dresses and with the presepi or cribs which every Christmas tide grace Italian churches and streets. Sadly this year there will be so much fewer of them around but I will still attempt to hunt out those that are on display. At least my one poor effort, cobbled from some ready-made ones, and my own additions will grace the mantelpiece on top of our fire this Christmastide.

And, by the way, with all the snow that’s happened and the extra we are promised we cannot do without this little multi-coloured snowman I also recently put together.