caldrail

Thanks Kosmo. My life is complete

Any unit composed of any soldiers you like can form phalanx if they have spears/pikes of sufficient length. Roman legions had a flirtation with phalanxes for a while. The phalanx is a formation. If the unit assumes another formation, it isn't a phalanx anymore. How hard is that to understand?

It's the Easter weekend and of course that means today is a bank holiday. Is it just me or is this extended weekend something less than it should have been? There was a time when bank holidays were an event. Families migrating to the coast and spending the day parked on a motorway waiting for the queue of traffic to move forward another few feet. Or the thrill of the obligatory James Bond movie. You just don't get that excitement these days. So I suppose I'll pull a can from the fridge and sit slack jawed through Worlds Most Idiotic Videos. That said, saturday unveiled the New Doctor Who! (Cue fanfare and strong hints from BBC newsreaders) I must admit, when it started, I cringed at the excruciatingly unfunny childrens television moment. But it got better. Slightly. What saved the program from utter direness was the lack of those extended goodbyes and emotional wrangling the series indulges in these days. We've got all that to come. But congratulations on the series nonetheless. Not quite a high point, rather a bump on the bank holiday road. Uhh? What was that? Oh never mind... Victory! A few days ago Swindon Town Football Club won a game against Leeds United. You will never know what an orgasmic piece of news that was. Okay, I'm not interested in football as a rule. It's not the game that bothers me but the idea that I should be automatically interested in it. However, my old boss DS supports Leeds and any victory against them 'oop north' is worth a cheer or two. But lets put that victory into perspective. It's like me walking out of a nightclub with a girl under each arm. Such things are the stuff of myth and legend. Hallo Hallo, What's All This Then? Strolling along the ghetto area of Swindon to the internet cafe, I pass a large pub daubed in green paint and irish-esque lettering. There's something about irish themed pubs that immediately puts me off. Not sure why. It's not as if I'm allergic to leprechauns or such. Outside were a line of bad lads against the wall, chatting quietly as a gang of policemen hovered close by. Not quite tense, just sort of a constrained ambience. One policeman studied me as I passed by. By now I've been catalogued and appraised regarding my potential for trouble or lawbreaking, or perhaps he suspected I was an alien in disguise. There's certainly enough of those in Swindon these days. I've learned to recognise space aliens. They speak Polish. Had a guy come to the door a few days back asking if I spoke Polish. Like you do.

There's some pictures from yesterdays expedition to Liddington Hill. The photos don't really convey the scale of the hill and how steep those slopes are. It fascinating to think though that Iron Age Brits and Romano-Brits once lived there, and that possibly Saxon invaders might once have defended those slopes against a certain 'Arthur' and his army. It feels a very lonely place these days. Learn When You're Young The course of the old Wilts & Berks canal forms a back street these days. It isn't one of Swindons most salubrious areas it must be said. Rows of collapsing garages, building sites for flats squeezed into any possible gap, and at times I wonder if the Swindon Grafitti College trains its members there. But on a telegraph pole planted at the end of one of those long and untended gardens was a sign. FREE. A collection of kiddies bicycles were gathered underneath, and a child of seven or eight was preparing for a busy days trading. I can see he's going to go far. Holier Than Thou A Roman Catholic priest has used his Easter sermon to 'recognise their guilt' over the child sex scandals. Archbishop Nichols said: "Talk of sin is not always popular - unless we are talking about other people's sins". Astonishing. A Roman Catholic priest admitting their church is guilty? Whatever next? Actually I can't accept this sermon was completely honest after the Popes Preacher announced that all the criticism of Catholicism following the child sex scandals was shameful and equivalent to the suffering of Jews. It just isn't. I don't see any evidence of railway wagons transporting millions of Catholics to camps in Eastern Europe where they'll be gassed wholesale. What a stupid man. As for the individuals who committed these acts against children, priests or otherwise, I sincerely hope they receive the full force of justice. As for the Cathloic Church, clean your own house before you start spouting moral messsages at us. In fact, don't bother spouting moral messages at all. You're clearly no good at it.

I had intended to go on a hike yesterday but the unsettled weather put me off. Today however was due to be sunshine and showers, and after looking at the weather map on tv I decided to risk a venture into the countryside. So this morning I was up early and all packed. My intention was to climb to the top of Liddington Hill, the highest spot in Wiltshire and not too far away, although the route I planned to go by meant following the road south then doubling back up the escarpment, a fair distance to walk with a weight on your back. Trudging through the mud is a very tiring experience. So I decided not to go the long way, and instead followed the country road east from Chiseldon and clambering up the grassy hillsides. It's been a long time since I've been up there, and since I hadn't arrived via the Ridgeway as I usually would, I discovered to my suprise and delight that their were ditches and ramparts guarding the slightly less torturous inclines of the plateau behind the hillfort. As for the weather I encountered no showers at all. Cloudy, some sunny spells, and a chill breeze. That all changed when I got to the top of Liddington Hill. Up there the wind was fiercely cold and unrelenting. Ye gods you'd need to be tough to live up there during winter. No wonder the hillfort was abandoned more than once. The view of course is brilliant. You can see over the plain to the north, and into both valleys tracing southward either side. A light aeroplane flew past me, climbing through cloud and revealing just how low the cloud was above my head. It was nice to get up there again - but a whole lot nicer back down again! How Not To Pat Dogs The lady had been trying to call her dog for a while. Trouble is, a dog's nose is so much more an effective sensory device than our own it's hard to realise what vistas of information they uncover as they sniff the urine left by the previous canine visitor. Eventually the dog obeyed. This bulky muscular dog then spotted me returning to Swindon on the footpath and decided to investigate. Hello Dog. How are you? Let me just pet you.. Woah!... For a moment I thought the animal was going to bite. The dog thought I was going to slap him. So we sort of both backed off. "He's quite harmless" The woman said. Yeah, I know, they always are at home when everythings normal. Still, the dog showed some initiative and began a game of Can I Get Close Without Him Stopping Me?. Uhhh... Lady?... I'm getting bored of this game. Could you call your dog?... Youngsters The Neighbours have rediscovered the delights of loud music. I think young people should be banned. Just ban them. All of them. The world would be a better place.

Two armies face each other across a grassy plain waiting for the orders to begin their advance upon the other. Try to put yourself there, lined up with the others, taking your place in the line. It's been a long march to this place. You've suffered ferociously hot days, cold nights, wind and rain. You're far from home. Instead of enjoying life with friends and families, you're here, amongst thugs, cheats, warriors, and yes, one or two potential cowards by your side. And there they are. After weeks of weary marching, dragging tired legs up hills and placing blistered feet on rough gravel, not to mention the aching shoulders from hauling your belongings with you, there's the enemy. At this distance you see little more than lines of men, shields, helmets, standards, long lines of spear points at ease. Shouts can be heard. Those spears fall level at the ready. You hear a reaction from your own commanders. Battle is to be joined. They're marching toward you. An older man, a veteran, sees your nervousness and whispers to you to stay calm. He makes it seem easy. Those enemy soldiers are advancing remorselessly, grim faced, seemingly immune to the pangs of fear that are clutching your heart. Oh yes, you made brave boasts the night before, how you would fight and how the foe would flee from your courage. Perhaps your courage feels little more than empty words as a loud voice behind calls for you to march into the face of the oncoming wall of shields, swords, and spear points. Of course you obey. Almost automatically you begin to place one foot in front of the other, marching with your comrades, going through the motions, doing what they taught you in those first few days, but now? You're beginning to lose awareness of your surroundings. As you approach the enemy, you realise which of them you are facing. You can see them, swarthy skinned men of a different realm, staring back at you in cold emnity. A shout! A great yell arises from them, and they begin to charge toward you... Okay, that description is of course nothing more than fiction. The important question is however - Who will win? There is a tendency, which you can clearly see in these forums as much as anywhere else, that in considering the possible outcome of a battle to think in purely mechanistic terms, to play "Top Trumps". Who has the best weapon? The longest range? The most endurance? The best protection? The best reputation? Now I can't dismiss these factors entirely, and they do make a difference, but is that all combat is about? I remember discussing combat with a friend who used to be a member of a dark age re-enactment society. In one display, a situation arose between a Saxon Thane and four Norman spearmen. The Thane was of course better armoured, and armed with an axe. For safety reasons he wasn't allowed to use this axe in the vertical plane, to bring it down on enemy heads with full force - fairly obviously. Against four spearmen? All they had to do was surround him - there were no obstructions to doing that - and move in. Strictly speaking, it was only a matter of time before the Thane fell from spear thrusts in his back. Instead, he yelled. he screamed. He threw his axe from hand to hand and taunted the opponents to take him on. His aggression suprised and terrified the spearmen, who instinctively stood together nervously as they inched forward. Think about it. Who will win?

Present pikes in all directions? Strictly speaking that's no longer a phalanx and should be considered a square. A different formation, one that remains stationary and attempts to fend off any cavalry in the area. The Romans were of course correct. What they needed was plenty of missile troops to whittle down the defenders - and I see they did exactly that. The phalanx is not a unit type. It's a specific formation for using long pikes in a particular way.

Today is big news for me. I have published my first book, available from all good booksellers, entitled Introspective and Non-Triumphant Behaviour Among Adolescent Roman Males (by Caldrail). Took me ages to research the subject. Finally finished and out on the shelves. Woo Hooo! You are all going to buy a copy, aren't you? This was of course a complete April Fools joke and the said book does not exist. It also happens to be a subtle if somewhat abstract poke at some of my dole-seeking friends at the Work Experience Programme Centre and my early exit on Thursday. Oh come on... Who'd buy a book with 'Caldrail' on the cover? Proof of Pyshic Powers I was right. I am psychic. TB did indeed attempt to call me. Unfortunately I set the wrong year on my mobile phone so the message never got through. Whoops. Must remember not to make mistakes like that again. Proof of Jobsearch Todays activity at our weekly Jobsearch Day was to make a milk smoothie. I have absolutely no idea why flavoured dairy drinks have any meaningful benefit to our unemployed status, but there you go. One lady was perusing the various recipes on the net, usually involving lots of expensive strawberries, but I made a few helpful suggestions, such as... Vindaloo Smoothie. Lots of fiery chilli, potato, and a meat of your choice, plus the knowledge that you will find a use for all that excess toilet paper you bought in the last weekends sale. Brussel Sprout and Vinegar Smoothie. Let it not be said th at I don't cater for vegetarians. Full of sprouting goodness. As usual our chimps tea party took no notice of the what was going on and resported to loud debate concerning football results, Miss M's ever eventful love life, the Malignant Pixie's sex aid, the latest gossip from Facebook, and for those who could bear it, rap music from the PC's. It seems I was the only one who heard TB say that if we applied for enough jobs we could go home earlier. I was a little delayed due to a snail having been reincarnated as a computer, but fifteen minutes later I was triumphantly waving a wad of print-outs and away I went. See ya, KS. Enjoy your day at the Programme Centre. Note The Date Some of you might have spotted the date. I take no responsibility for trips to the bookstore and long-winded enquiries to members of staff. In fact, all in all, I've had a very irresponsible day!

In the last ten minutes, I was attacked by hailstones. Luckily we Brits only get the feeble variety, little frozen pellets that bounce off the top of your head with a slight stinging sensation. Just thought I'd mention it. It's probably the most exciting thing that happened today. I was going to write about S, our new fellow placementee who joined us today for our daily round of fun, frolics, and cardboard monotony, but it turns out he's a quiet chap who's about as interesting to talk to as charting the hourly migration of goldfish in a bowl. However it's also true that I was put in charge of training him, so I refused an command from one of the shop floor managers and maintained I needed to train him. One needs to learn when to use initiative in the stockroom enviroment. A Phone Call Away KS tells me that TB, our Programme Advisor, phoned him yesterday afternoon. She wanted to meet up for a review of his progress and asked whether he could travel back into town. At three in the afternoon? KS 'ummed and ahhed' and said no. I on the other hand have been suffering the usual problems with mobile phones such as flat batteries, forgetting to switch it on, forgetting to carry it with me, and basically forgetting where I put it. Maybe it's just my natural paranoia, but my psychic powers are telling me I might have a message waiting for me. Hey... An after hours meet with TB? Good grief, I'm dangerously close to having a social life. It Worked Before Well whaddaya know? Gordon Brown has wheeled out Tony Blair as his campaign 'centre forward'. I'm not suprised in any way whatsoever. Tony Blair gave his stablemate his current job on a plate as it is, now he's persuading us to keep him in office. Someone please please shoot the pair of them before Britain goes down the plughole. As for the Liberal Democrats.. Well all they do is criticise everyone else. What exactly are their policies? Anyone know?... Nope, thought not. As for the Conservative Party... we can only hope they're slightly less crooked in managing Britains finances. Why do I get this sinking feeling that they mean well but haven't the slightest clue what they're doing? The alternatives? There's the Nun Of The Above Party, the various Monster Raving Looney Parties, or maybe just J's All Weekend Party instead. Choices... Choices... P.S. Oh yes. Before I forget. Hello Miss G! Didn't want you to think I was being unsociable and ignorant. Politeness matters.

The Theban advance in echelon might support on side of the lead phalanx, but it's circumstantial whether there's any benefit to that. In the case of Leuctra, no, there wasn't, because all the cavalry was facing off in the centre of the action, and the infantry action was deliberately intended as a simple push-on-push of pikes. As for how the Romans might react, it's more of a case of how a particular commander would react. Some Roman generals were very gifted, many simply followed the guidelines without any talent or forethought, . Okay, let's suppose I arrive at the battlefield and there's the Thebans lined up with cavalry at the front. What is he playing at? Surely the wings are more important? No matter. I'm not confronting his cavalry at all. Mine are securing the wings and will attempt to prevent the enemy horsemen from escaping the killing zone between our phalanxes. I sense a victory in the offing. Warfare has often been compared to a game of chess but in relaity it's more down to trickery and guile as to who gets the upper edge before you begin. Imagine it instead as a game of poker. You know what you have in your hand. You might be able to guess how strong his hand is. Can you outplay him?

I was in a grim state last night. My temperature was rising, my visits to the toilet increasingly frantic and frequent, and I felt dreadful. Why is it that medicine never tastes nice? Grin and bear it, Caldrail, you'll feel better in the morning. And so I was. The cold damp morning didn't put me off at all. After the heavy showers of yesterday, the big screen television bolted to the side of the multi-story car park insisted today was going to bring drizzle. I think they might have a different definition of drizzle than we do in Swindon - it was raining very robustly this afternoon. KS also arrived for work fit and healthy. It turns out that he did indeed set his clock so out of sync with the rest of the universe that his mother had to rescue him from his time/space anomaly by shouting up the stairs to enquire whether he was going to work that day. So he phoned in sick. And, as we now know, he even got away with that. But I digress. He later complained of being knackered from his football last night. Football? You were off sick and still played football? Well there you have it. Forget expensive medicines and other conventional treatments - go out and play football with your mates. A tried and tested cure for all ills. Do This.. No... Do That It was going on all day. My boss has been to Egypt for a holiday (no doubt to learn how slaves should be treated and efficiently employed to stack cartons) and whilst the brochures and television ads make tempting visions of sun and sand, the reality of Egypt is that it's a very unfriendly place for us westerners. So I guess she learned a great deal from her police overseers whilst she was there. Every so often she would pull me to one side and get me to set about a task designed to bring patient men to the very edge of of explosive temper. And when I set about my task, usually around ten minutes later whilst I'm still getting organised, she gets overrulled by her boss and another task, much harder and exacting, is presented to me. It was a bit like playing a computer game where you advance to the next level before you've done anything. Just a helpless spiral of human endurance and mental capacity. She was watching our every move. Matters of Boris It seems being called Boris really does things for your popularity. Walking along the high street a couple of pretty girls remarked "Oooh look, there's Boris" Hey, I've still got it. But the other Boris in the news is our Mayor of London, who has proclaimed that our capital city is to made the 'Centre of fun for the whole universe'. Zaphod Beeblebrox please take note. Good for you Boris. Maybe the 2012 Olympics will be fun after all. So at least we'll be able to laugh and remember the good times when the bills roll in. Poetry Corner Look, I know I once wrote a poem on this blog but please don't think I do this sort of thing ordinarily. You see, KS has requested, nay, begged me to include his poem written to Mrs T. This is all his own work, I take no responsibility for injuries caused by mirth, anger, or indeed any psychological trauma resulting from this poem. Here goes... Roses are red Violets are blue Show me some boxes I'll do them for you Stacking's okay Prepping's alright But when I'm with you My day shines bright Ugh. Ghastly. And completely dishonest. KS has voiced his opinion that assisting Mrs T is like being married. What's that on your head? No, there... Look... A thumbprint on top of your head...

Thanks Guy, but to answer the above point, I don't smoke Think about what was happening. A phalanx is useless unless it advances to contact with the enemy. Both sides therefore begin an advance. If they don't, they gain no momentum. Unusually the cavalry was lined in front of the line - why? - One side or the other made that decision and the opposing force did likewise to face them off. Gaining superiority in cavalry is essential. It really is. If the enemy has cavalry flowing around your line, you're in deep, deep trouble, regardless of how good your phalanxes may be. In the majority of ancient battles the cavalry face off and fight first. So did the Spartans opt for a frontal cavalry charge out of ignorance? Or did the Thebans craftily do that to set up the Spartan horsemen for a fall? We don't know. At any rate, the two sides horses begin their melee across the battlefield. Cavalry fights are always more fluid than infantry, and note that they had a limited time before their phalanxes arrived remorselessly. In other words, they would have to gain whatever advantage and get out before they were trapped between rows of pikes. Since the Thebans advanced in right flank refused (which does not protect the trailing units in any way, please note, it merely delays the time of contact, and phalanxes have extremely limited adaptability and once formed, are difficult to manoever) their cavalry had a wider door to withdraw through. So the Theban cavalry fights not necessarily to win a melee, but to block the exit from that side. As the Theban phalaxes arrive the cavalry backs off, leaving the Spartan horsemen trapped in the worse case scenario. That's all well and good, but consider what happens on the Spartan side. The advancing phalanxes can see their own cavalry in front of them, milling around helplessly. I would imagine a certain amount of hesitation at skewering your men. Whatever the truth of the relative strengths of each sides infantry, one thing must be abundantly clear - that the Spartans would have suffered a certain level of morale drop and confusion. That was advantage the Theban phalanxes needed, and the entire reason for advancing in right flank refused. To trap the enemy cavalry and disrupt the Spartan advance. Game over.

That assumes the phalanxes were all important. Whilst they formed the body of the battle, there was no significant advantage to either side there. The refusement of the right flank without considering the cavalry action in between the lines makes no sense as a winning strategy. Far from it, it's rather pointless and in one respect might actually prevent a Theban victory. It was the cavalry action that swung it, as so often happens in battles of this period.

As many of you might know, this last weekend was the time of year when we put the clocks forward one year, a ritual designed for no apparent reason other than statistics. Getting out of bed an hour earlier wasn't too difficult considering my downstairs neighbours had left their central heating on and whilst that wasn't apparent at first, by the early hours I was gasping for breath in that humid heat. Time to go to work. The weather has turned rainy and I'm informed that snow might hit parts of Britain later in the week, which is almost bound to be elsewhere so I won't worry about that... 7:25 AM J opened the doors and allowed me in with the usual exchange of pleasantries and jokes. "What? No KS?" he observed. Doesn't look like it. 8:00 AM Big discussion about KS. Is he late? Has he forgotten to put his alarm clock an hour forward? The consensus is that we weren't going to tell him he was late. It might hurt his feelings with all of us rolling around the floor clutching ribs. 8:35 AM No KS. What the..? Has he put his clock the wrong way? Will he arrive two hours late? The general consensus was that an hour late was funny, but two hours late demanded no mercy. 09:10 AM Miss L loudly demands that J leave her alone because she 'doesn't want any more fingerprints on her donkey' 9:35 AM Still no KS. Oh dear... If he turns up now, he will be lambasted to the point of tantrum. 13:00 PM It's official, he phoned in sick. That's one more day than his placement allowance so he is also offically in trouble. Did we laugh? Mrs T called him a 'lazy piece of turf'. 14:05 PM "Hiyah" Said a woman passing me on the high street. Who on earth is she? She merely shrugged and carried on her way shaking her head. For the life of me I haven't a clue who she was. Former girlfriend? Not with that woolly hat. Former fan of my musical past? No, she didn't ask for an autograph. Well, for now this chance meeting will remain a mystery. Perhaps the shoe that occaisionally gets left outside my home will fit her? heck - I hope not. 14:10 PM It's official, I've been declared well and truly ill. A fever is taking hold and I'm writing this piece bleary eyed and breathless, coughing every so often to confirm I still live... Too ill to type any more.... Brain functions at 33% and falling... Core temperature rising... Imminent meltdown expected.... Cough.

The key to the strategy is cavalry. Both sides untypically deployed horsemen along the line ahead of the phalanxes. With greek battles, as indeed was common throughout the ancient period, establishing cavalry superiority was essential to control your flanks and rear. The Theban cavalry was better in any case - the Spartans were known to be indifferent horsemen. When the battle begins, the lines of cavalry set to against each other for dominance, with phalanxes trudging on behind. With a right flank refused diagonal, this allowed a progressive escape route for the Theban cavalry and with each withdrawal another Spartan cavalry block was trapped between both sides - the Spartan phalanxes did not halt. They simply couldn't get out because the Thebans were jamming them in. Later in the battle this gave the Thebans a cavalry ascendancy in which they were pretty much unchallenged, now able to attack the Spartan flanks and rear without hindrance.

Walking along the alleyway beside the yard at theback of my home, I spotted the first 'horsetail' sprouting out of the sandy gravel and grass beside the white (and decorated) plywood fence. Without the fronds it'll grow later, it resembles a sort of greeny-white phallus, though the colours blend in perfectly with the surroundings and so it's already grown several inches without my seeing before. In a sense this harbinger of spring is an event, something to bring a smile to to your face, to make joy blossom like... (*sound of needle drawn across a vinyl record*) That's quite enough of that. Yes, the horsetail is there, but the romance of wayside weeds isn't going to enliven this blog at all. Last night I watched The Odessa File, a 60's feature film about secret Nazi skulduggery. As films go, it's quite good. It has a tight plot, decent acting, some understated action sequences, and a suprise ending. It's also showing its age. As good as it is, it doesn't have a modern edge to it. Now I don't mean those silly films like Kick-Ass or Sahara which are just so ridiculous as make you weep, but I found last nights film to be something of a disappointment. Ahh... Not enough explosions. Now as a child I was brought up on a diet of Gerry Anderson puppet shows. Anything could happen in the next half hour as Marineville inevitably dropped into it's bunker in every episode. The grand opening of some fabulous engineering project was always a disaster, with the somewhat strange lads from a secret Pacific island rescuing everyone before everything exploded. Alien creatures on Mars trying to overthrow Earth by the stupidest means possible. Oh yeah.. And some nine year old geek who's transformed into James Bond by a government sponsored gizmo and who gets to drive around in a wheeled jet engine without the police noticing. You'd think the lessons would have rubbed off on me, but no, they didn't... Fashion Dummy of the Week Some of the guys at the store were discussing their imminent trip to the Donnington Festival, where AC/DC are putting on their last gig on English soil and so forth. It's one of those big mega-events that resembles a communal mud-bath with a long-haired stereo in the background. Miss L was moaning because flares were banned. Banned? Oh come on, L, what is the world coming to? Off course you go in with flares. "No" Said J in an authorative tone, "They're classed as offensive weapons". I should explain that J goes glassy eyed at the word 'offensive' and to him, as a keen martial art dude, anything remotely weaponish is a source of stimulating fantasy. Hang on a minute J. Since when were trousers classed as offensive weapons? I mean I know fashion is taken a little seriously but that's ridiculous. Take risks, express yourself, turn up in whatever togs you want. "Errr... No," J looked askance at Miss L, "We mean flares. You know? Shooty ones? Big red and green rockets?" Excellent. Get wet, muddy, deafened, and rescued by an RAF helicopter all in one weekend. But nonetheless I've proven that I've been working with natural and man-made fabrics for too long. I think I need a dose of explosions. Time to break out a computer game and lose myself in pixellated pandemonium. Ahhh... Explosions....

That assumes the intention is to go home again, and that they intend to weigh themselves down in the process.

I would add that 'charging' in phalanx, whilst laughably impracticle, is also unnecessary. The weight of numbers advancing remorselessly behind multiple ranks of pike heads was more than effective enough to compensate for any loss of aggression. Now, as to whether a phalanx is defensive, that can only be the case when facing them from the front. Arguably it was possible for the formation to reverse direction relatively easily, possibly even left or right, but they can only present pikes in one direction. In each over aspect they are vulnerable. This is of course why armies using phalanxes advanced in line, so that each phalanx was 'protected' by the one next to it, and also a good reason for winning the cavalry confrontation on the wings.

Never quite cloudy... Never quite rainy... It's been a day of woeful indecision from Mother Nature. We of the Stockroom Breed however have been much more determined. After all, we've been there ten weeks now. We're already discussing the need to be awarded campaign medals. Mr R died of old age. W left after his criminal record was exposed. Mistymouth left after exposing his.. well.. oddness. There was apparently another new starter who left the next day with a sprained wrist. We are the survivors. A Lesson In Baling Miss L sometimes helps with the baling of waste cardboard and plastic. As I ambled past on my way to find some banter I spotted her attempting to fill the last few cubic inches of space available in the big yellow machine. The obstinate plastic bag refused to comply with her curses. So, with all the powers of L at her command, she grabbed her broom and rammed the poor plastic in there quite violently. After which everything already stuffed inside fell out. She looked at me balefully as I guffawed. You have to laugh. A Lesson In Physics KS was hauling a clothes rail from the lift with his usual downtrodden slave persona. Such an opportunity was too good to miss. Miss L leapt onto to the back of the rail and saved herself a walk down the racks. Unfortunately she had forgotten that the walkway has a right bend in it, and when KS pulled the strangely heavier rail round the perpendicular course it immediately oversteered, swinging such that Miss L was propelled into the rack along the wall. She made such a helpless squeak in alarm at her predicament that I couldn't help falling over laughing. A Lesson In Gymnastics In one of the racks I have responsibility for is a metal ladder, a sizeable and unwieldy contraption with wheels, brakes, probably even cup holders too. To Miss L, it represents a climbing frame, and in her youthful innocence made an attempt to reach the top from the other side to the steps... Like you do. Once again she made a squeak of alarm as the whole thing began to overbalance. Trust me, Lara Croft is a better gymnast. Ouch. Short Leash Miss L wandered past in a state of complete amusement and said "She's got him on such a short leash" She meant the hold Mrs T has over KS, who answered her every call and whim, and woe betide him if he wandered off for some banter. Miss L suggested Mrs T use a small bell to summon his services and that was the running joke of the day. Mrs T was not amused. Ahhh... Sorry about that... Invitation To A Lunchtime After ten weeks working at the store the guys finally invited me along to their social gathering at the local sandwich bar. I opted for a steak and cheese sub with olives and peppers in herb bread, but at a whopping

A phalanx is a phalanx. The whole point is to push long spears into the face of the enemy by weight of numbers, or in the case you mention, keep them busy whilst cavalry took advantage of an opportunity. Not defensive at all. Exercise value apart, running at the charge into an enemy is not about keeping formation, it's about aggression. Wedge formations are however something of a grey area. They're almost always described as offensive in nature yet make far more sense as a defense against frontal cavalry attacks, persuading horses to flow either side rather neatly. There really isn't any advantage in setting your phalanx as a wedge or a column when advancing on the enemy, and arguably the column attacks across a broader front from the off thus is less easily defended against.

I think you're very, very wrong. Let me explain why I believe this to be the case. A wall is, in purely military terms, a linear defense. Hdrians Wall was not primarily military nor intended as a defense in that sense, but rather a security line in what amounts to a very modern concept. The problem with assuming that troops were rushed from one section of the line to another is that it leaves another section of wall undefended. In other words, all the Picts had to do was create a feint, get the Romans to react, and then attack the vacated sections. The Picts may have been barbarians in the classic sense but they certainly weren't stupid, and don't forget that arms smuggling was one of the reasons that the wall existed in the first place. The Romans were actually quite sophisticated about military matters compared to their contemporaries (not quite as sophisticated as some people believe even if they were well organised - remember that the legions were deliberately brutish and larceny from civilians tolerated) and they would have spotted the strategic flaw in linear reinforcement - that was the entire reason for troop bases north and south of the line - to reinforce gaps in the event of attack. Look at it from another perspective. The presence of the 500/1000 man garrisons was a deterrent, not a preventative measure, and formed the base from which patrols marched along the security line. Suppose the Picts attack (allegedly) and break through. They then spread southward causing havoc. By the time the adjacent formations have reacted and arrived at the point of penetration the enemy has moved on. The only feasible way to prevent their advance is to block it in the direction of travel or as near as possible. Otherwise your troops will be forced to chase after them and that takes longer, plus opens the rear of their column to encircling attacks from barbarian groups following after. You may or may not agree, but I've learned not to make assumptions about military dispositions. There is always a reason, and it may not be the one that seems obvious.

Erm... No. Caligula ruled from 37 to 41, followed by Claudius, then Nero took the throne. He was born in December 37, and ruled from 54.

Thursday is jobsearch day again, and that's official. You would expect that we get access to facilities and resources to assist us in the quest for gainful employment and up to a point you'd be right, but what might suprise you is the extent to which the advisors go to obstruct and prevent us from actually making any attempt to apply for a job. As usual TB began her class in... erm... whatever it was, I've forgotten already... Oh yes, I remember now, it was a group thing about a hypothetical product or service and present a sales presentation on it. One table actually attempted this, discussing a baby-alert thingy, We have a television show in Blighty called Dragons Den in which a panel of business success stories offer investment and executive input if the hopeful guests impress them

KS plays football three nights a week. He sports a 'hard boy' shaven head. He spends ten miniutes every morning covering every inch and fold with 'man-spray'. He's dated almost every young lady employed at this department store. Whilst he hasn't advertised the fact, he also took a short video of himself in the Dungeon sparring with a cardboard box. Quite the young man isn't he? I had to laugh. Today he was given to Mrs T as her personal assistant. She's a mature lady who clearly wasn't going to let him catch his breath once during the day. You could hear the whip cracking at every opportunity, and like every youth working with an older woman, he was utterly obedient. At the close of our shift today I did tease him about being under the thumb. "I'm a broken man" He answered. Poor lad. He's exhausted. Spacial Ignorance Earlier today a manageress brought up a display table to be stored away in the Dungeon. It's quite a sizeable multi-shelved affair and how she got it into the goods lift to begin with is very impressive. The problem is that the sheer bulk of the display makes it impossible to manhandle along the aisles between haphazard ranks of cardboard and disused trolleys. To make it clear how difficult this objective was, I would describe it as Officially Impossible. But since when did that stop a manageress from demanding we lesser males do her bidding? So we all had to rearrange the entire stockroom to squeeze it past. Surely she must have realised it was too large? I know many woman struggle with spatial awareness (check out how many suitcases they pack for holiday or their inability to understand a map) but a part of me is suspicious that she didn't care. It was of course far more important that we lesser males stayed busy, sweating our poor little hearts out, and totally subservient to her every whim. Hmmm... Not sure... But I think I might have stumbled on a male weakness... Mistymouth Update Our investigative reporters here at Rushey Platt Daily can report that Mistymouth was escorted off the premises thanks to his odd behaviour, groundless accusations, and lack of popularity among female members of staff. Hello, Who's This? Woah... A classy brunette has just climbed the stairs here in the library. Sorry, just thought I'd mention it in cse o spllin miitztak s oh no she smiled at me. Help. I'm melting....

The British experience suggests that it will. And of course that means the political need to maintain levels of care will become something of a bugbear. One of the biggest problems with our current health provisions is the 'lottery' aspect of it. Where you live dictates which services and treatments are available.