My “Glory Eriksen” Attempt
So, I had this grand idea, right? Dubbed it “Glory Eriksen.” Not ’cause I’m a massive football nut, though that whole comeback story is something else, eh? Nah, it was more about my own little comeback. Trying to get back on the horse with an old hobby. Miniature painting, if you must know. Used to be pretty decent, or so I told myself.
The Setup – Or So I Thought
Pulled out all the old gear. Brushes looking a bit sad, paints probably drier than a desert. But hey, enthusiasm, right? Got some new paints, a couple of fancy new miniatures. This was gonna be it. My masterpiece. My “Glory Eriksen” moment where I proved I still had it.
The Mess Begins
First brushstroke. Disaster. Hands shaking like I’d had ten coffees. Eyesight not what it used to be, even with the fancy magnifying lamp I reluctantly bought. That tiny little space marine looked like he’d wrestled a paint pot and lost. Badly.
- Priming was a mess. Splotchy.
- Base coating? More like base… blobbing.
- And don’t even get me started on trying to do edge highlights. My “highlights” looked more like fat, wobbly stripes.
Honestly, it was embarrassing. Week one, I almost chucked the whole lot in the bin. “Glory Eriksen”? More like “Epic Fail Eriksen.” I was frustrated, properly cheesed off. All those YouTube tutorials make it look so bloody easy. Liars, the lot of ’em. Or maybe I was just past it.
The Grind and the Tiny Glimmer
But something kept me going. Stubbornness, maybe. Or I’d just spent too much on new paints to quit. So, I stripped that poor marine. Started again. And again.
Practice, Practice, Ugh, More Practice
I wasn’t aiming for perfection anymore. Just… better. I watched more videos, but this time, I really watched them. Paused. Rewound. Tried to copy one tiny technique at a time. My desk looked like a warzone. Paint everywhere. More paint on me than the model sometimes.
- Learned about thinning paints. Properly, this time. Game changer, that.
- Got a better grip on holding the brush. Sounds daft, but it made a difference.
- Even managed a semi-decent dry brush. Small victories, eh?
It wasn’t glorious. It was slow. Painful, even. My back ached. My eyes strained. There were days I’d just stare at the half-painted thing and think, “Why am I doing this to myself?” This “glory” thing felt miles away. More like a slow crawl through mud.
The “Eriksen” Part, Sort Of
Then, one evening, after weeks of this slog, I finished one. Just one. Not a Golden Demon winner, not by a long shot. But it wasn’t a total horror show. It was… okay. Decent, even, for an old bloke getting back into it.
The Realization
And that’s when it clicked. The “Glory Eriksen” thing wasn’t about painting a masterpiece straight out of the gate. It wasn’t about being as good as I remembered, or as good as those internet wizards. It was about the fight. The comeback. The sheer bloody-mindedness of picking up that brush again after wanting to snap it in half.
It was about finding a tiny bit of joy in the process again, even when it was frustrating as hell. About rediscovering patience I thought I’d lost. That, for me, was the real “glory.” Not the painted figure, but the fact I didn’t give up. Just like Eriksen, in a way, right? Getting back on the field. My field was just a tiny plastic soldier.
So yeah, “Glory Eriksen.” Still a work in progress, like most things in life, I suppose. But I’m still painting. And that’s something.
