caldrail

The first battle has taken place and if I were honest, I didn't do too well. I'd warned my claims advisor that I was upgrading to a noble title, a statement she treated with polite dismissal, and when she called me Mister Caldrail - Well, I was duty bound to put her straight. Unfortunately, she isn't impressed, and rather pointedly refused to change it unless I provided evidence. I duly returned an hour later with the necessary documentation and guess what? She was busy. Sounds to me like a certain lady needs a right royal kick up the bottom. I also suspect this won't be the last time I encounter this sort of resistance. There's a tendency for people to regard up and mobile people (Me? Has anyone noticed I'm unemployed?) as upstarts who really ought to know their place. You know, that's the entire reason I got the title in the first place, to stick a finger in the face of the moral majority. Not suprisingly, I'm going to get a few in my face too. What's new? New Sound My new neighbour has moved in downstairs. A mysterious, anonymous, unseen sort of person, but one with a keen desire to drill holes in the wall. So last evening he began drilling with gusto, obviously hoping to find oil or perhaps a small space on the wall large enough to hang something else. Aaargh! What a racket! Well, I have noise making machinery too. So it's on with the heavy metal CD's and up the volume. These go up to eleven... Frozen Britain Update Nope. Given Up. Don't care. It's cold and slippery - what else do you need to know?

In the late empire, and I suspect more to do with the eastern half, there was a hat rather like a soft fez. Sometimes worn by off-duty legionaries.

For those unaware of the panic in Britain, we've been increasingly concerned about gas and road salt. With only six days of gas supply left, Frozen Britain came perilously close to actually happening. Except of course the government have denied a problem exists. That's original. Road salt though is also getting scarce, so surfaces have been prioritised with regard to need. Many roads and pavements no longer qualify, and everything gets 25% less scattered on top. In order to meet this shortage, and also to look like they were actually doing something in government except enjoying it, the government ordered foreign supplies and diverted some intended for Germany. But it could have been embarrasing. It seems the snow we'd been expecting from Siberia didn't turn up. Luckily fate intervened and instead we got some more snow from the Atlantic. Phew. That was close. Someone could have gotten fired from their jobs. Sunday's mini-blizzard lasted just about until I'd finished writing and posting my last blog entry, then stopped completely. It started again late last night, this time a proper old fashioned flakey snowfall, and immediately that odd silence you get in urban areas when the snow starts descended upon us. It's last orders in the pubs and no-one is wandering up and down the street in noisy singing contests. Oh hang on, it stopped again. That was ten minutes worth of snow. Looks like that's being rationed out as well. Can't See, Can't Think Thing is though now the snow has been swept aside, crushed under foot and wheel, or even melted away here and there, the roads are now a uniform brown mushy colour and white lines invisible. So naturally those road users not acquainted with the layouts are making some very dodgy decisions. One young lady pulled out of a car park from the one way access the wrong direction, and drove across a junction to reach her desired exit without bothering with little details like obeying the circular traffic flow. Now there's a lady who likes to be direct. That said, at least there wasn't any risk of collision, unlike the bicycle rider I saw from my vantage point in the library, who rode across oncoming traffic without a care in the world. Added to that the natural desire of motorists to treat the road as their own personal property and not stop for anything other than a red light regardless of what the Highway Code says (and how many drivers in Britain ever read that after they passed their test?), you have a free for all. On the plus side, I have seen some very chivalrous behaviour from drivers. Apart from a BMW driver who clearly decided that pedestrians shouldn't cross the road without permission from him. Seeing me cross the slushy and slippery road ahead of him as he accelerated out of a car park, he sped forward and demanded I get out of his way with his horn. Since I couldn't see a policeman, I made my displeasure known. Especially since he had to wait for traffic to get out onto the main road.

Coincidentially I've been reading accounts of the experiments the re-enactment group Comitatus made concerning cavalry vs infantry. The problem the infantry have is that besides the frightening aspect of facing oncoming horses (and I can confirm personally, it can be seriously hair-raising), the constant need to raise a shield high to defend themselves is tiring, thus we can see a major advantage of being on a horse provided the infantry is on the defensive and not sticking spears at them. Add to that the problems of secure footing on a field, possibly muddy or slippery with blood, strewn with discarded articles and bodies. The cavalry have a real possibility of breaking into a formation and causing havoc if the infantty don't stay firm. As regards the infantry, yes, if they present a shield wall they might survive the experience relatively unharmed. From the Strategikon of Maurice in the 6th century we have two formations based on the shield for protection, the famous mobile testudo and the static double row of shields call the Foulkon. In both cases, the exhaustion of maintaining those stances, the lack of observation, and the backlash of shields being hit by heavy blows and causing the soldiers own shield to clout him makes things a little more realistic. Also, the infantry, despite shields massed and locked in front of them, are still likely to suffer to minor injuries to feet and lower legs, thus the front of the formation can, in some circumstances, weaken enough for a horse to push inside. Experiments have shown that two infantry units armed with spears have a natural tendency not to stay apart and fight one on one in true Hollywood fashion, but to engage in 'push-of-spears', which is an aggressive scrum for dominance. Apparently it can only take a few men to pentrate the other line to force a collapse or retreat, so imagine what a horse could do. The upshot of this is that a charge into a formation isn't necessary nor desirable even if achievable. Horses did attack at the gallop - but only against other horse riders and always in open order to allow both sides to pass each other, thus preventing collisions which were harmful to both sides. PS - before anyone brings up the point, the 'push-of-spears' habit of soldiers on ancient battlefields is essentially the same as combat with classic Roman legions armed with gladius and scutum. They close on their enemy, push and shove, thrusting whenever the opportunity exists. It really wasn't much different.

Frozen Britain now seems to be a communal obsession. Tv news devotes nearly half the program to features of people suffering the effects of actual winter conditions. It sort of gives you a warm feeling toknow that however bad it gets, the next county has it worse. The trouble is though these weather reports are really not that reliable. A couple of days ago they showed blankets of snowfall about to drop on southern England. With typical British time-keeping, it might be a day late. Checking the weather for any sign of a let-up I saw the weather-man tell me about a cold wind pushing in from the continent, and warning the chill factor was going to make it feel much colder than it already was. Yeah, whatever. I was out there that morning and it was almost balmy. Cold wind. Pfah! I popped out early evening and what did I find? Yep. The weatherman was right.That was seriously not warm! Still waiting for the promised snowfall though... Ask And Ye Shall Find No, I'm not waiting anymore. Looking out the window I see a veritable blizzard going on. I missed that walking across Swindon an hour earlier. It's that 'dusty' snow again rather than classic flakes, caused by humid air meeting cold winds. There. See? I have been listening after all. Selling Skis Popping in to my local supermarket I grabbed what I needed and made for the check-out. I've been using this supermarket for seven years now and you'd think I 'd know everyone there by now, but modern life isn't quite like that. Nonetheless, I decided to be sociable and talk to the bored lady making beeping noises with my shopping. She saw me fumbling with gloves and money hidden away in my pocket. She asked whether it was cold outside. Pardon? Cold? Coming from a supermarket whose staff complain about the col during Summer? Erm... Yes it is cold... Do you sell skis by any chance? My feeble joke fell on deaf ears and she advised me that a ski shop was located in Old Town. Thank you dear. Sold out of humour I see. Doors of the Week This award definitely goes to those cantankerous portals belonging to the library. You know those infra-red motion sensor things that operate doors? Usually they open sesame no problem at all (much to the chagrin of a local corner shop whose doors open and close every time a pedestrian wanders past on the street - Now there's a shop whose staff are entitled to complain about the cold). At the library though the doors open automatically when they feel like it. On my way out I passed an old couple who seemed a bit confused as to why the library doors were so slow to allow entry. I wouldn't stay in there too long, I warned them, or you'll never get out again. They chuckled politely, but I think they thought I really was joking.

Ups and downs

I see a 41 year old ex-soldier at Sandhurst has had sex with a precocious 13 year old girl despite being warned by a female officer that the girl was dangerous. He's gotten off a harsh 14 year jail sentence because it turns out the youngster 'made all the running'. Well maybe she did, but the bloke still went for it didn't he? It takes two after all. Sorry, but seducted or not, the man is old enough to know better. In a sense I do sympathise because I've encountered younger girls who fancy an attempt at hooking an older man, something I've avoided like the plague both to remain free of legal entanglements, eighteen year child support payments, and if I were honest, headaches. Nonetheless this man is guilty. I'm sorry, he just is. And the judge thought so too, leaving him with a suspended sentence for his lack of restraint. I'm definitely not envious. Naughty Scanners With a resurgence in aircraft hijacking and bombing it isn't suprising that efforts are being made to deal with the very real threat to health and sfety in the skies. The American response is understandable if none too original, as they decide to put more people on board airliners with guns. Great. I might be paying hundreds of pounds to sit in a transatlantic shooting alley at some point. The British response is to take on board new technology that allows discreet searching with strange space ray scanners. All very X-files and James Bond, but at least there;'s a practical point. Unfortunately the scanners are so good that you're left in no doubt about the subject being scanned, and someone has brought up the issue that these scanners infringe laws concerning sex and privacy. Can I accept the risk of people scrutinising my physical form, possibly recording images for posting on the internet for the world worlds entertainment? I'd have to say it's a lot less risky than running the gauntlet of religious zealots intent on bagging seven hundred virgins in the afterlife by blowing me up. Mind you, since the terrorists manhood gets blown up in the process, methinks maybe his seven hundred virgins aren't going to be too impressed. So I'm not envious on this point, either. Cultural Dress Walking home through Swindons own moslem ghetto I notice a variety of cultural influences. For the most part, these people are vaguely westernised if somewhat distinctive. The Turkish community in particular all seem identical and I cabn't help wondering if it's one humungous family owning the street. That said, I passed a pair of moslem girls in traditional garb that left only the eyes visible. Now, if they choose to follow that tradition as opposed to their menfolk demanding it, then I have no issue over it. But it all seems so.. What's the word?... Penal. Anyway the two girls seemed none to concerned at their reclusive lifestyle and jabbered away at each other in typical westernised gossip mode. No, I'm still not envious. And that, it seems, is the point of hiding women in body socks. I am left curious though... Are these women seductive sirens of supernatural beauty? Or just too embarrasing to be seen in public? Oh hang, I mustn't criticise. I might be blown up in someone's quest to obtain post anhiliation sex. She's Back Again That irritating irish woman is in the library again. She likes to have conversations, which isn't a crime, but she also likes to talk very loudly. For her a discussioin is something to savoured with a loudhailer. Imagine an upper class irish accent spoken very slowly at full volume? It just sets your teeth on edge. Just In Case Now you might be wondering if complete normality has return ed to Swindon. Nope, it's still cold, though today we're blessed with another sunny day. Last year when we had a snow fall we got glassy layer of ice across the town for our trouble, but this year it just hasn't happened, a result of the continued cold temperatures and lack of a thaw. But don't breath again, for the siberian weather isn't finished yet. Apparently there's another belt of snow preparing to mount an aerial invasion of the southern counties. So it looks like Yorkshire will just have to tolerate not being the toughest hardest hit county in Britain right now. Sorry about that.

Last night was definitely the coldest I can remember. According to the weather report it went down to around -7 degrees centigrade. Thats pretty balmy weather if you hail from Russia or Scandanavia, but for us middle Englanders, it's pretty darn cold! The contractors working downstairs seemed a little subdued this morning, and I suppose the thought of having to work to keep warm wasn't pleasing them at all. Anyway, the sound of their radio playing came through the floorboards of this old house and that meant it was time to get up and... Ye gods! This is cold! A quick burst of speed to the bathroom... ah... ah... ah... Cold... And the taps aren't working. Uh oh. Once the gas heater was back to full blast the pipes provided fresh clean water again. Phew! That's the closest I've come to frozen pipes ever. So rest assured I am still washed and unsmelly. Even if I do look like I've been dragged through a hedge all night. Back To Normality? Swindon is still oddly quiet. I notice the buses are running this morning and driving round in three's now there's no-one to get on them. A news report last said that Sainsbury's, a supermarket chain here in Blighty, are refusing to pay any staff who don't turn up for work because of the weather. I can understand their viewpoint but naturally the union is up in arms because their members have been deprived of their human right to stay in bed when it's cold. The funny thing is, every time I pop down to Sainsbury's for my daily bread and water, the ladies on the tills always complain about how cold it is, even with a moderate and comfortable temperature. I know of people (always female) who leave the central heating on all year. You know, the problem isn't that it's actually cold, but that the modern cossetted person doesn't tolerate any discomfort any more. I can talk. The library is warm and cosy with all these computers pouring out climate changing waste heat, and I'm in no hurry to pop back home to my cold refuge against the world. How on earth did they cope in the ice ages? Naah, don't feel like hunting mammoths today, it's too effing freezing. Now I know why the Neanderthals died out. They didn't invent the trade union.

Nice to see you active again Doc. But don't worry about not being a party animal anymore. Fun is what you make of life with a smile (one of those glorious bits of hedonistic philosophy that probably doesn't mean anything but who cares when you're having a laugh? )

So true!

As always the weather has dominated my British sensibilities. Our ever changing climate has been a bit different to the one predicted by long range forecasts during the last year, which told us of 'barbeque summers and mild winters'. Ho ho ho. The culprit has been a static zone of high pressure keeping the warm jetstream from reaching our shores. I think we forget that Britain is on the same latitude as Labrador, and only that jetstream, a high altitude wind from the Carribean, keeps Britain from freezing in the Siberian temperatures we ought to be getting. (actually I should add that the ocean currents also help, but don't seem to be right now!) Of course we're complaining about the cold. It is, literally, freezing here, but for the most part still quite mild and little less than -2 or -3 degrees C. Scotland has recorded a record low of -18 or so, and with the big freeze threatening to continue, they're now expecting a temperature of -20 degrees to come. Down south (and I notice the traditional Yorkshire scorn for us southern softies) things aren't quite that cold but then it's a lot colder than we're used to at this time of year. Brrrr-rr-rrr-rr-rr-rrr. Yesterdays snow was unusual. In fact, it wasn't all that bad, coming down in spurts of wintery deluge but returning to a light spray of 'dusty' snow for much of the day, although I notice my car has collected a raft of snow on top of it seven or eight inches thick. For the most part everything else has now been trampled to a thin icy layer of grey slush, made worse by the bright cloudless morning freezing it solid. The sun is shining out there but you just know the same old pavements are going to be slippery. That said, the side road opposite my home is closed. The steep gradient is just too much for traffic to cope with in these conditions. It must be said. Swindon has been very quiet these last two days, and obviously the weather has meant people are finding it difficult to come and go, and I overheard one lady yesterday lunchtime busy conversing on her mobile phone that the buses were stopping services at 2pm. Haven't seen any moving this morning either. Due To Bad Weather As it turned out I was tipped off that the Heritage Library (not the main one that I normally inhabit, but the national institution based in the old railworks) had information I was looking for. So I dutifully tramped off through the snow, running the gauntlet of kids throwing snowballs and 4x4 drivers spraying slush at everyone to announce the passing of their superior vehicles. Thanks mate. On arrival the security guard grimaced at my somewhat dishevelled appearance (Aww come on, it's winter out there. Have you seen those 4x4 drivers?) and informed me the library was shut today. Snow stopped play? This time snow stopped reading too. That says it all.

Cool.

It's snowing! Lots of snowing! It's been snowing since midnight last night. This can't be happening, it isn't possible, Swindon doesn't get snow. Hang on a moment, I'll look out the window, just to make sure I'm not imagining it... It's snowing! Everything is white. It's a complete snow fest in Swindon... Somebody stop the snow! Meanwhile, back at the world Oh, lot's of things going on. Gordon Brown is facing a possible coup from his MP's, a flashy powerboat used by demonstrators got sliced in two by kamikaze whhale hunters, Yemeni police caught an Al Qaeda chief, MP George Galloway caught in an Egyptian police riot, and lots of other stuff. And I don't care... Because it's snowing!

Of late the news in Britain has focused on the market town of Wootton Basset, just a few miles down the road from I live, which has the burden of being the nearest habitation to Lyneham Airbase. That's where our fallen soldiers are returning to home shores from foreign entanglements like Afghanistan. So with the recent jingoism to whip up public support for the campaign the town is regularly featured as lining up to watch funeral corteges crawling past. The place has become synonymous with observing respect for servicemen dying in the line of duty (whether they like it or not, and I gather not all townsfolk are overly happy with the news coverage). Now it's become a hot potato. So complete has the identification with this solemn spectacle become that a radical moslem group wants to make a protest march through the town against the war in Afghanistan, to the fury of the establishment. Two things might be said. Firstly, what did the establishment expect? Not everyone in Britain wants a war in Afghanistan, for various reasons, and the constant reference to Wootton Basset was bound to attract a response sooner or later. Secondly, this moslem group represents a bunch of people who live, work, and claim dole money in this country, enjoy it's relatively benign culture and prosperity, yet still despise what the nation stands for. For them, it's a chance to grin mischieviously as they parade through a town sanctified by what amounts to British media propaganda and display their own messages of hatred and disrespect. The moslem community in Britain is quick to distance itself from such hotheaded behaviour, with good reason, but are they quick to influence this group and put down an ugly demonstration before the authorities are forced to do so publicly? The Nevada Triangle Last night I started watching a tv program about a phenomenon known as the Nevada Triangle. It's an area of the Sierra Nevada mountains and stretching from Reno to Las Vegas. There have been an enormous number of aeroplane crashes in the area. Hundreds of them, and due to the difficult terrain, many of those crash sites remain undiscovered. As the program discussed the huge number of lost aeroplanes and speculated about the close proximity of Area 51, the legendary military base so steeped in UFO folklore, I sighed and thought I was going to get the usual conspiracy theories. I was mistaken. The talking heads dismissed military or alien intervention. The program then focused on the fate of Steve Fosset, the very same aerial adventurer who went for records with Richard Branson, and who disappeared in the Triangle in 2007, sparking one of the biggest search and rescue missions in American history, and one that ultimately failed to find him. Why did he crash? My thoughts went back to when I flew in New Zealand back in 1995. Southeast of Ardmore, the airfield I was flying from, is a volcano, albeit one that's no longer that active anymore and forms part of a nature reserve. On one particular day I was with some family members in a Cessna 172, cruising around the bay north of the Thames Estuary between the Coromandel Peninsula and that wooded mountain. As I headed north adjacent to the mountain, I became aware the aeroplane was descending. Okay, I was still above three thousand feet and in no immediate danger, but it was an uncomfortable sensation knowing that despite full power and a climb attitude, the aeroplane wasn't gaining height. Once past the mountain we were okay again. The problem was that we were in the lee of that mountain, and had flown through descending air. That was a lesson about mountain flying I haven't forgotten. So when this tv documentary started asking why Steve Fosset had crashed, I immediately thought of airflow over terrain. Mountains and wind are a dodgy combination. I was right. The conclusion of the experts was that Steve Fosset had encountered difficult airflow and had been forced down like so many others in the Nevada Triangle. Even expert pilots fall victim to this invisible hazard. So do some of the inexperienced ones to a greater or lesser degree. I just happened to fly out of it in one piece. The Lurve God Apparently the actor Warren Beatty claims to have had sex with 12,775 women apart from quickies, stolen kisses, and other minor encounters with the opposite sex. Wow. I'm impressed. That's something like 319 women a year (plus a dwarf). I also notice they don't stick around. I wonder if Mr Beatty, for all his professed sexual conquests, is nothing more than a very lonely man. If so, he has only himself to blame. Fight! Fight! Fight! Sooner or later the law will demand a general election this year. All sides are sniping at the other and proclaiming they have all the answers. Well, I've heard it all before, and it goes with the democratic territory that we get the hard sell when it matters. What fascinated me however was a recent interview with Gordon Brown. He claimed he was a fighter. That he'd always fought for what he got. That's all well and good Gordon, but if you're such a fighter, why are you resisting the chance to win a general election? Again? Truth is, you don't want that fight at all. Snowfall of the Week? A special thank you to whoever laid all that road salt on the pavement adjacent to the Old College car park. Nice to see that health and safety on the sidewalks happens in as little time as two weeks in this country. Mind you, it seems it might be a little ineffective. As I write this, the weather report warns of heavy snow across the region. I was a child when Swindon last got heavy snow. Are we going to be buried in snow drifts this winter? On my way to the library I noticed one or two flakes, but so far the expected inundation hasn't arrived. The credibility of the weather people rests on this afternoon! We shall see.

The B29 was such a costly aeroplane that they designed another, the B32 Dominator, to be its understudy in case the '29 was a huge costly white elephant like most big bomber projects. Remember the B19? Huge. Simply huge. But only one built for flight testing and later used as a transport. XB19... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_XB-19 B32... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B-32_Dominator

Well it's finally 2010. Contrary to my expectations the debris from the celebrations hasn't been too bad. It was suprising that so few fireworks were let off. At the appointed hour, there was a quick fusilade of rockets from the barbarians who live next door, but that shook the windows for only a few minutes before they ran out of ammunition and enthusiasm for standing in the cold night, and cold it was, almost clear skies lit by moonlight. Officially Noble Well that's it then. I am from this month the Most Honourable and Noble Lord Caldrail. I haven't made much of it other than writing about it in this blog, but I've noticed a few trends which are both interesting, saddening, and predictable. Firstly, I had a library computer booked, and my name has already been changed in line withmy new found status. A woman was looking for a PC to use and stared at the display of my booking on the screen. Her face was a scream, it really was. She just couldn't take it in that a real live lord of the realm was about to use the computer. When I turned up and politely pointed out it was my turn to use it, she was even more astnished, expecting a tweed and brown leather country gentleman as opposed to a black leather jacket and military surplus trousers. We nobles have to move with the times too you know. Secondly, my claims advisor was clearly unimpressed with my warning that my details would have to be changed. She means to make a huge joke of it (you can sort of tell) and has warned me in turn toexpect public embarrasement by way of hints. Actually, I don't think it makes any difference. I genuinely have the title now so if she wants to make a big deal of it, that's up to her. The joke will wear off for her too. I suspect I will always run into people who want to claim social superiority in a sort of reverse snobbery. Officially Rubbish For once I ignored my instincts and decided to watch the new years Dr Who special (The one where David Tennant does the right thing for his career by abandoning the role). Has anyone noticed how irredeemably awful that series is? FLASH! BANG WALLOP! Oh no, I've been stationary for two seconds, quick, lets run about a lot! The music doesn't let up for a second. There's no time to savour the plot (because there isn't one) or consider the drama (because then you'd notice how over the top the acting is). Simply awful. What makes it worse are those prolongued tear-jerking moments when the dying Doctor wanders through time and space saying goodbye to everyone. Do I really want to see it all over again? Oh no, he's visiting someone else... Please, just do the right thing and die... But of course, the Doctor doesn't. He simply regenerates into someone else every couple of years, so what he's getting all emotional about is beyond me. Sheer unadulterated rubbish. So what if it's popular? So were Bananarama... Officially Criminal On the news last night I hear the government wants to expand it's fining system for minor criminal behaviour. Can anyone see just how loathsome that practice is? Instead of punishing criminals who make life bad for everyone else, the government want to tax them and make more of us liable to those fines. It's so greedy and cynical it's little short of criminal. Bright End of the Week It's a nice day. Bright sunshine, birds singing, everyone too wasted from the night before to fill the town with noisy mischief. What a pleasant change. It's been like that for a couple of days now, though this morning we were left with a carpet of snow from the night before.

I'm sorry, I just can't see how adding two more solid points of contact with the horse won't give you way superior balance in the saddle? Thereby enabling you to stay mounted through even harder impacts, making charges into enemy formations much safer both as far as employing lances in a charge and as far as engaging the enemy up close with swords etc.] The essential point is that you haven't thought the mechanics of a stirrup through. They aren't 'solid' at all. They pivot and twist readily. If your horse comes to a sudden stop, the stirrup is of no benefit whatsoever, as you can see from a horse race in the modern day when an animal refuses a jump. As for providing some support for crouched lances, no, that just isn't possible. It's the saddle that provides support for that sort of thing, and the Roman saddle was every bit as effective as anything that came later - just ask a re-enactor if you don't believe me. In order for the stirrup to support a crouched lance, you would have to be leaning as far forward as possible with legs outstretched behind you - and no cavalryman ever attacked like that. This business about saddles and stirrups is the second worst fallacy ever, it really is. The top place must go to charging into the enemy physically... So when your horse arrives at the enemy, barges into them, sends them all flying, what then? What would actually happen (assuming you could persuade your horse to hit something at speed willingly, which can assure you is not going to happen) is that your horse will stumble on a carpet of writhing victims and send you backside over mammary gland into a throng of seriously annoyed enemy soldiers. That would make your survival chances pretty slim. A trotting horse will still give the tip of the lance enormous penetrating power. So will a good shove. However, our Roman sources tell us something different about cavalry tactics. I can see you're going to repeat these ideas like a religious mantra, so I strongly suggest you read what the Romans themselves said about cavalry instead of romanticising about the subject, because there is no historical precedent whatsoever for horsemen colliding with infantry in the manner you suggest, not even in the early middle age golden period you point at. Cavalry of the time was effective because their protection increased whilst the infantry tended to be relatively less protected, because the cavalry had become a practised military elite s opposed to a bunch of local levies, and because the military balance had swung in favour of such tactics, a situation overturned by gunpowder in a later age. The iimpression we get of cavalry smashing their enemies apart is partly down to the result of men deciding to back off at their approach. Please forgive my reference to a later period, but take Ney's cavalry charges at Waterloo. Huge numbers of horsemen gathered for a mighty all out charge against the British. Result? The British formed squares and the cavalry milled around all day doing no good whatsoever except slow the British troops to a standstill. The situation in the ancient world wasn't much different. A formed infantry unit with a measure of protection, by way of equipment, tactics, and discipline, can keep cavalry at bay however much they charge here and there. That's historical. It's in the written record. Where cavalry succeed is when the infantry break up in panic - then the cavalryman has a distinct advantage, and history records that too, but tending to glamourise the cavalry's success that leads us to believe an all out charge is all you need. It isn't. The next time a riot takes place the evening news watch the result. It's the most interesting comparison between disciplined and 'levied' troops you will ever see in the modern day. Watch especially the way a police charge the crowd. The horse doesn't like it. You can see it trying to pull back. The only reason it completes the charge is because it's been trained to expect the crowd to back off. Lets face it - no riot crowd is trained and equipped tto see off a horse charge - but notice above all else that the horse slows to a stop in their midst,ot against them. The whole point was to break the crowd up - and that's what cavalry has always been used for.

It's occored to me that a deeper analysis of the cavalry charge is in order. The common conception is like a game of bowls. The horse crashes into the poor bloody infantrymen, and knocks them aside like ninepins. I must confess, having observed the approach of galloping horses at race meetings, it's a fairly nerve wracking experience to imagine standing in front of that oncoming herd, and you really do sene the weight and energy coming at you. But that's wrong. The problem is the horse. It isn't a machine. It's an animal, and it can be wilful, frightened, or suffer pain when you least expect it. They won't warn you. If they decide they don't like the idea of getting hurt (and a collision with the infantry is going to be as catastrophic for the horse and rider as much as the guy they trampled) the horse will simply stop. Right there. It'll just dig in its hooves and send you over its head, whether you have stirrips or not. Even trained horses behave like that. They have minds of their own regardless of how compliant they may seem, and any horse rider of any experience will tell you that some horses just don't like being told what to do! So if it isn't a game of bowls, what is a cavalry charge? It's a game of chicken. Who will break first? The horse, frightened of colliding with rows of shields and spears? Or the infantry, convinced that the horse really isn't going to stop? The cavalry charge is a risk, not a certainty. If the infantry remain steadfast, and present a solid wall, the horses will baulk, and the cavalry rider knows it. That's why the Roman cavalry generally avoided a frontal charge. It just wasn't worth the risk, and they considered it far better to harass the enemy until such a time as they could approach the enemies flank or rear, when they could so some real damage in melee, not by impact.

maybe so, but bear in mind on of the accepted trials of knighthood was to vault onto a horse in full armour, an act that didn't require stirrups and was intended as a demonstration of gaining your horse again in the heat of battle without fussing about footholds (or wooden cranes, for that matter!) In any case, the use of stirrups by the Huns is disputed - there's no direct evidence since if they did use them they were only made of rope and thus not very persistent in the archaeological record - but I also note that many formations of different nationalities of horsemen went without the benefit of stirrups. After all, the plains indians never used them and they were described by one contemporary as the best light cavalry in the world. The introduction of additional comfort in horse riding provided by the stirrup isn't disputed

The mass charge of cavalry with couched lances belongs to a later period. As for devastating charges, cataphracts, being hevily armoured on horses that didn't easily cope with such loads, refused to gallop, and attacked at the trot. I run into this problem quite often. The lure of the cavalry charge comes from very deep in the human psyche and it's a romantic ideal, the same attitude got hundreds killed in the first and second world wars (at least until someone remembered the other side had machine guns). If you can point at a Roman source that backs your arguement then I'll listen, but my research into Roman warfare suggests a very different cavalry regime than the one you're expecting. You cannot, simply cannot, brace yourself for impact with stirrups, and in fact, the Roman saddle was just as capable of retaining you in the saddle as later ones in that regard. It wasn't necessary in any case, because the Roman riders were more intelligent than horsemen in later periods and knew full well horses don't like bumping into shield walls or rows of sharp pointy things. Horses were shock troops in any case - their weight and size made them so - but they weren't used in that manner. It was the threat of facing cavalry that made them useful, and since cavalry units were almost always faced off against each other, clearly it was a contest to dominate. The winner would then be able to attack the rear or flank of his enemy at will. An important consideration. The Romans left us a number of sources which tell us exactly what they did on the battlefield. Roman cavalry used a lance overhand as a stabbing and thrusting weapon. Preferably though they would approach, wheel, and throw missiles, a manoever they are recorded as practising. Unit manoevers were very important because cavalry depended on mobility and used it to the full on the ancient battlefield.

Stirrups had nothing to do with it. The Rman saddle has been deomonstrated by re-enactors to be perfectly capable of supporting riders in combat, and since the Romans employed that style of saddle for centuries, one has to note they saw no reason to dispense with it. The trend toward cavalry had developed during the Roman period, partly by experience, partly by foreign influence. It also developed because of changing tactical balance with regard to protection and offensive capability between cavalry and infanty, the increasing sizes of horses available, the increasing numbers of horses available, and for military fashion. I wouldn't discount Roman cavalry tactics entirely - they worked very well indeed in the limited circumstances of the ancient battlefield, and without them, the legions would have been ambushed and outflanked a great deal more often. http://www.unrv.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=6537 Furthermore, the medieval cavalryman as you define it (the armoured knight) was a minority of the troops available and generally found tremendous success against unprotected peasants and militia (and in one remarkable case, an entire turkish army attempting to besiege Antioch). Of course it was superior in these circumstances, but it wasn't universally true. In any case, the stirrup wasn't the key to success. It was physchological attitude and heavy protection by that time.

Actually, no, because the Romans were on the defensive and subject to withering assaults all day, both by missile and melee, and in any case, although the spatha was longer, it was still usable as a thrusting sword in the Roman manner, and I've pointed myself to the difficulties of fighting when pushed together so tightly, because there comes a point when the concentration of men makes fighting difficut regardless of the type of sword used. In any case, the majority of Roman soldiers at Adrianople were mediocre quality and many unwilling to be there at all, and noticeably Vegetius and Zosimus both mention the poor quality of manhood displayed by troops of the day (I think Marcellinus does too, but I don't remember what he said). In fact, the lack of quality was one of the reasons Vegetius wrote his manual of legionary practice.

The lack of stirrups made no effective difference. Roman saddles were designed to retain their rider by supporting them between prongs. It's a complete fallacy that stirrups allowed cavalry a quantum leap in capability and for the most part only allow the rider more comfort. Since the Roman cavalry never made mass charges anyway it was irrelevant. I can't stress this enough. Roman horsemen were used in a light role, to scout, harass, and pursue. Whilst the advantage of being on a horse was recognised, they were valuable assets and the Romans weren't keen to waste them against shield walls and ranks of sharp points. Typical tactics were to frighten the enemy by bluffs, force them to make a relatively immobile defensive formation, and to wheel away while throwing missiles. Usually a battle began with cavalry manoevers on the wings, not necessarily closing in, but riding to seek an advantage and secure the flanks against their opposing cavalry. There is a report that one sides cavalry waited for their enemy to get tired before commtitting themselves to melee. It was standard practice to charge at an enemy cavalry unit (they wouldn't charge a compact infantry unit because horses interpret that as solid barrier and don't like it, never mind the problems in penetrating mass ranks) in open order, the receiving unit spreading their horses likewise, in order to avoid collisions. The lack of 'horse culture' was one of the reasons the Romans employed auxillaries.

When did the Great War end? Now most of you will say November 1918, but you'd be wrong. Nope, not after that Russian trouble in 1920/21 either. It offically ended on September 25th 1939, when the little country of Andorra (who'd been forgotten by the Versailles Treaty) kissed and made up with Germany. Hmmm... One wonders they suddenly decided to make a big deal of it... When did the Secobnd World War end? If you said August 1945 and muttered about gay slogans on bombers carrying atom bombs, you're completely wrong. Apparently President Truman declared the Second World War officially at an end in December 1946. Just in case anyone hadn't noticed.

'Tis the eve of a new year good people, and the party mood is upon me. It's upon the birds in the park too, and walking through the otherwise empty beauty spot I noticed a certain feistiness in the collected flocks of swans, geese, ducks,coots, moorhens, pidgeons, and those little white seabirds with black tails. All except the solitary crane at the back of the lake, viewing the noise and excitement of the breadcrumb hunt with it's usual static disdain. Sometimes I wonder if birds have an easier time of it. They only wake up when they feel like it and not by the savage noise of electric tools downstairs. Trust me to live in the only noisy part of Swindon this morning. I also suspect it might get a tad noisier tonight. Just a gut feeling. Music Giveaway of the Year Here's a little New years gift, recorded at no expense whatsoever last night in the wee small hours. Yes, it's me playing keyboards live. You can even hear all the fumbled keypresses and bum notes. I wouldn't cheat you. InAndOut.mp3