I had my reloading bench in a sort of mezzanine floor loft conversion - like a minstrels gallery in a bedroom. It was in an old flint cottage with a gappy roof. I was sat at the bench and focussed on the cartridges - very absorbed. Suddenly something appeared - huge in my vision coming at my face. It was enormous. Think Smaug on steroids. I reared backwards flailing like a threshing machine on bad acid. My chair tipped backwards. The backward leaning chair formed a rather effective slide, directing my now supine form to the edge of the mezzanine. At this time I wished I had got around to installing any form of saftey rail around the edge. I suppose it was a little late to start. Exiting the mezannine floor (inverted) I executed a pike and double twist and landed as light as a feather. Sadly there was no-one there to witness it. My wifes enquiry as to who was bombing the house from 30,000 feet with fully grown elephants was both inaccurate and slanderous. As I searched for a sword of the Numenoreans (a blue glow would have helped) or at least a rearing whits charger, my darling wife captured Smaug.......in a tea towel. The sneaky dragon then morphed into a rather tiny tree creeper. What a low trick.
Red