The idea of any model being a ‘weekend project’ in adult life really was the triumph of hope over experience. Deep down I knew what a realistic timescale looked like, but every so often reality got pushed into the back seat. Fortunately this never, ever happened on any real life aerospace projects I got involved with.
The weekend project fallacy teaches us about realism, delusion and project schedule slippage. Yet more of those pesky cognitive biases, it would seem. Daniel Kahnemann never mentioned Airfix kits in Thinking Fast and Slow but I have my suspicions.
Charitable works
After a period of relative calm, this flared up again in the early 90s. Charity shops very rarely sell model kits, but minding my own business in Chiswick High Street I suddenly spotted a Hasegawa 1/48 F-16C Block 30. A decent looking modern kit, which would surely go together in no time at all? And an absolute bargain, of course. Maybe find some interesting markings… something like a Spangdahlem-based aircraft? But as time went on, it became clear that the project would require quite a lot of effort to build properly. And the end result would be essentially a bog standard-looking, very grey model of an F-16C. Even more difficult and vexing details emerged, and inevitably, it went to someone else’s stash via eBay. After a few years of considering the options, of course.
Go West. Or possibly East, depending on how you look at it.
A decade later in Bristol, I would occasionally wander into Nobby’s Hobbies and pick up something like a Tamiya MiG-15bis:
I still had a recurring illusion of putting these kits together in a relatively uncomplicated way. They looked straightforward and well designed, especially compared with the stuff I grew up with. As you may recall, at least this MiG-15 wouldn’t be a tail sitter if you followed the instructions:
I forgot all about my inevitable dissatisfaction with any model I could feasibly build. So despite a suspicion that nothing would emerge from the box in anywhere near a weekend, the Tamiya MiG-15bis followed me home.
My first copy of this impressive MiG-15 reference was part of that ever-expanding weekend project. It ended up on permanent loan to someone claiming to be building a flying model. After references, the next step was looking longingly at aftermarket stuff like decal sheets, and generally laying the foundations for an unachievable aspiration. More of a Project than a project.
Another long weekend
Then after that came a Tamiya Focke-Wulf Fw190F, which went down the same path. But I hung on to this book for years, gazing hopefully at the pictures and imagining that one day, it might be useful.
Some years later, a set of 1/72 Owl Nachtschlacht decals caught my eye. Not sure why, perhaps a Go145 seemed interesting, as opposed to fiddly and ridiculously small. Kept the decals for a while, found out what the relevant kits were like and promptly sold them on. And eventually realised that even ‘Luftwaffe Schlachtgruppen’ wasn’t sparking much joy either.
That particular long weekend had lasted approximately 15 years.
Captivating visions
There may be some alternate reality in which models get built over a weekend. We can catch a glimpse of this magical world – until we cross the cursed threshold of the model shop. Emerging into the cold light of day the alluring vision fades, vanishing completely by the time we get home.
So [spoiler alert] like David Bowie in The Hunger, our new kit gets banished to the stash – for eternity. (The typical model enthusiast may not look quite like Catherine Deneuve, but it was the best analogy I could think of at the time, OK?)