caldrail

Agreed

A quick jog through Lawns and it's back down to the library for my usual net-fest. I arrived before the inner doors were opened. The security guard, as usual, waited with professional calm for the exact second to stroll toward the locks, and I do suspect he enjoys the process immensely. It doesn't really matter of course, there's still a selection of books available for perusal and... Hello... What's that notice board over by the window? It seems our councils have decided to pursue another makeover opportunity for Swindon. They've been making quite a few grandiose schemes over the last few years, some of which resemble those city-scape matte paintings in Star Trek episodes, but this time they've decided to upgrade Regent Street, one of the pedestrianised shopping streets in town. On the face of it there's little to suggest a huge improvement. The artists impressions, a mixture of photography and renderings, looked all very tidy (and notice the 'after' pictures with lots of happy people being sociable and content in Post-Madeover Swindon), yet it was hard to see why all the effort of ripping up the pavement to replace it with a duller pattern is really necessary. One point I did approve of was the exposure of the old tramway tracks. They're still there? Apparently so, buried under pavement, and it's good to see that after all these years Swindon is starting to appreciate it's heritage. On the other hand, Swindon has always been more comfortable with future ambition and the makeover shows all the hallmarks of modernist thinking. They intend to install neon lights in the pavement so our happy citizens can tell which parts of the street are fit to be happy in. It probably won't suprise you, but the artists impression of bright electric blue lamps in the footwalk doesn't exactly thrill me at all. It's a very cheap and tacky idea, gentlemen. Welcome to Nightclub City. Ugh. Leaner, Fitter Me I woke this morning feeling none too bad for my energetic hike yesterday. Heck, I even went for a jog this morning. Hang on though... Am I imagining things, or am I genuinely losing weight? Oh ye gods, my spare tire has become partially deflated. I have lost weight! Seriously, I'm in danger of becoming unbearably smug. At least until I realise I can't make jokes about being officially fat anymore. I have to say though that these fat-burners only work if you burn fat, or in other words, exercise, and eat sensibly. It isn't a quick fix for obese walrus types. If my weight loss continues at this pace, I'll need bouyancy aids in the bathroom.

I suspect the Saxon raiders were less concerned with social instability than getting rich quick, and since their tribal members were becoming a little migratory, one would expect fewer Saxons at home, especially since sea levels were rising, inundating their coastal settlements, and forcing aggressive behaviour with a view to profitable survival. The Saxons allowed into Britain as settlers proved to be good citizens - the Romans describe them as such - and therefore show far less social instability than their avaricious continental cousins. Since the raiders on the Saxon Shore were effectively attacking their own countrymen as often as not, the question of social instability is a moot point and hardly indiciative of anything more significant than typical human larceny brought on by opportunity and intent.

Never said they weren't. Unfortunately, they didn't just spring into being. That level of popularity had to develop and only with the Augustan Franchise did arena combat see empire wide acceptance as another facet of Roman culture to aspire to. Further, gladiatorial combat may have retained a level of audience interest in the late empire, but its popularity had faded since the Pax Imperium. It isn't reasonable to suggest that an emperor could simply ban a hugely popular entertainment and not receive a bad review from the bullish Roman populace. The games in Rome by the 4th century had changed. Whereas in previous styles the idea was a fast paced real sword fight ending in a clean kill (the reason gladiators fought with unprotected chests), the idea now was to accentuate the drama with weapons designed to wound rather than kill, and fights became slogging matches. Certainly some parts of the public would have enjoyed the spectacle anyway, but increasingly the arena combat was viwed, in Italy at least, as undesirable. Chariot racing was always more popular. There is easily available evidence for that too.

There were plenty of Romans who didn't like gladiatorial combat, despite the more violent and bloodthirsty mindset of the day, and arguably the increasing religious objection with regard to christian practises in conjunction with deliberately more bloody staged fights as gladiatorial combat reached it's final days would have polarised the audience largely into two camps - those who wanted it stopped on religious or humanitarian grounds, and those who wanted to see a good fight. That such combat survived a ban and lasted for more than a century in the distant provinces shows a cultural bias, and we can discount some of the dark age staged combats as the plaything of wealthy lords rather than a contiuance of a tradition. Since the cost of staging these games was rising, especially with an increasing shortage of suitable animals for hunts and beast-fights, the emphasis must have changed from large scale spectaculars and returned to private displays of a more modest kind, given the increasing disapproval of the public at large. It worth bearing in mind that chariot races remained more popular than gladiatorial combat throughout, and survived the end of such combat.

It isn't proof of anything. Northern Neil has made some observations and linked them to a map - it's evidence, not a conclusion. Since the prevailing strategic policy was defense in depth at the latter part of the empire, which presumably was the case in Britain as much as anywhere else, we then have a failure of an 'integrated system' regarding the Saxon Shore. The defenses had been in place since the 3rd century and had been under pressure from Saxons since that time. The evidence of Roman coin hoards in Saxon hands suggest succesful raiding (there's rather too many to indicate succesful trade which involves payment for goods as much as taking them) throughout the period, thus if integrated, the system had serious flaws. As already observed, the defenses were designed primarily to discourage Saxon depridation rather than destroy it, which given the limited Roman communications network of the day was quite probably an impossible endeavour. What makes this situation worse toward the end of empire is the increasing use of Saxon mercenaries as defenders. Even feoderatii were used wholesale without Roman training under their own officers (or more accurately, tribal leaders), thus weren't rained in the Roman methods of waging war. It is highly probable therefore that these mercenaries were not as keen defenders of the Roman state as might be imagined, since they would have been loyal to their pay check in this circumstance. It doesn't stretch the imagination to see the later Saxon defenders as somewhat lazy and indifferent. Integrated systems of defense have one essential property. Communication. Without that, the disparate forces available to it have no means of central control. The Count of the Saxon Shore was functionally unable to control centrally. In any event, his was a primarily administrative task in that it would be his responsibility to organise the forces prior to the incursion, to ensure they were capable of meeting that threat. I concede that if close to a situation the Count would be required to lead a response personally, but this wasn't his primary task. That the system was failing (the Saxons were successfully raiding and remained an ever present threat even with any assumed co-operation from continental assets) rather points to a lack of co-ordination, a natural consequence of the limited command capability of Roman times. It would be wrong to assume that a Count of the Saxon Shore could scramble a squadron of cavalry to counter any threat once detected by observation. Firstly, the forts were not closely spaced, the coastline offered many chances of making safe landfall in areas outside of direct observation, and that the Saxons weren't likely to announce their presence at all, preferring instead to mount suprise raids. We then must consider response times of the Saxon Shore. Since the defenders would be relying on patrols encountering incursions, or signals from other emplacements, or perhaps no more than hue and cry, the intelligence received of an enemy threat would be variable in scope, according to situation. Again we return to the lack of Roman preparation in late empire forces. Untrained feoderatii may well have been slow to respond (that remains an assumption - those saxon defenders with more enthusiasm would have reacted quicker but then we have little evidence to gauge their motivations). All in all, the lack of maintenance and operational ability in the defenders will have told heavily on the supposed 'integration' of the Saxon Shore. But what exactly is 'integration'? Boat patrols must, by their very nature, have operated independently. Cavalry patrols were orbital to their station, from whom the initial response would have started by word of mouth, without direct communication other than riding back to their station. In short, patrols were there to ward off the enemy, to discourage his arrival, as any attempt to fight them was by that patrol alone. There was little chance of immediate aid in the event of an encounter.

In the last year or so I've been making half hearted efforts to maintain my physical fitness. The ennui of unemployment and its incessant requirement to stay active in the jobsearch has left me, ironically, with less time to devote to physical exercise. Slowly but surely I've become aware that hiking has become tougher on my reserves of energy, and that my rebellious waistline is advancing it's remorseless progress ahead of me. Walking through town the other day I passed a shop dealing with health foods aimed at athletes and sportspeople. To be honest, I've never given the shop a second glance before, but in the corner of my eye I spotted a window ad for 'fat-burners', and I stopped in my tracks. Would that be helpful in my quest to be more than another ageing has-been? Shall I ask? Yes. Let's. Inside the store was a plethora of plastic tubs containing everything from atomic powered porridge to aviation grade food additives on an industrial scale. People consume this stuff? It was like entering the brave new worlds of Isaac Asimov. Anyhow, I asked the guy behind the counter about fat-burners. After some questions about lifestyle and health he took me to an unassuming range of pills that he thought would suit my needs. It did worry me a bit that he was only four feet tall. Heck, those fat-burners must really work. I went to bed that night wondering what would happen to me. Would I awake a seven stone cyclist with a strange passion for lycra? Or would I mutate painfully into a hairy sexually rampant monster? As it happens, I awoke feeling no different. My six-pack stomach was still buried under a mound of wobbly blubber, pretty much as I expected, and there were no traffic cones adorning my bedroom decor. It's early. Half past seven. The sun is up and I'm in a mood for a hike. A fair test then to decide whether these strange chemicals will affect my physical performance on the hills and dales of North Wiltshire. Hike of the Week The verdant English summer has gone. In its place is the sombre greyness of Autumn, whose russet foliage bears little comparison to the extrovert colours of American deciduous forests. The soft ivory sun struggled to penetrate the listless clouds and there was a hint of chill in the air as I set out to climb the escarpments toward Barbury. Did those strange pills work? Funnily enough, yes, they did. Make no mistake, the symptoms of lengthy exertion were still evident. I still breathed heavily and sweated like a pig on the steep hills. My legs still ached, my feet grew sore, and yes, I think a small blister is developing on my little toe. The pills don't make you any fitter than you already were. But at the same time, I didn't feel as weighed down as I normally would. On the last few miles back into Swindon after a twelve to fifteen mile round trip, I was still striding purposefully forward, instead of the exhausted plodding I normally resort to by that stage. Sure I was tired. But I felt good about it. So good in fact, I had to pop down to the library and tell everyone about it. Now that I've had to wait an hour or two for an available computer, my physical condition is catching up with me. What I have noticed is how thirsty I've become. The guy in the shop had suggested I should drink plenty of water. He wasn't kidding.

It just proves that advertising is nothing new. Bad boy Caracalla was only too keen to project a Mr Nasty image. That is after all what busts were for regarding living characters. Advertisements for the personality cult.

If nothing else, Constantine was a great opportunist. How he got away with that stunt is beyond me, but it was a superstitious age.

We do take a lot on face value regarding historical accounts, and in all likeliehood, the events are exaggerated by the victors (We won, by the way, if you haven't heard). Now there is some patriotic pride involved as there always will be in the success of a nations past. The problem with reconstructive analyses like this is that often the researcher has started with the express intention of proving something he or she believes, thus raising the possibility of bias. A statistical revision also runs the risk of being widely incorrect because it doesn't necessarily include all the relevant factors (or only includes those the researcher feels is relevant) and that many modern assumptions can creep into the equation. Re-enactive research is useful and does point out some obvious fallacies, but that isn't just dry research made real, it also involves a lot of intuition and even guesswork, because many of the activities and paraphenalia used at the time are no longer part of ordinary life and thus things deemed mundane aren't likely to be recorded, a potential calamity for us ignorant modern day types. I would view this revision with interest. Perhaps it's worth reading or simply bunkum, but in this sort of thing it's worth keeping in mind. For my part, I would say there has to be something that links modern insight with events as recorded, even if it isn't what the chroniclers of old wrote down for us. If a complete revision is called for, this actually needs justification. Can the researcher point to peripheral events that support his hypothesis? Further, a revised account isn't necessarily correct despite good intentions, and whilst we can accept the qualifications and indeed quality of the work, we should never blindly accept revision unless the case is overwhelming. In thisparticular case, I've yet to be convinced, but it is an interesting possibility.

How significant are these connections in family names? Is it simply a family tree or does this reflect more than just ancestory? The Romans certainly indicate that breeding was everything, but a part of me suspects a certain amount of snobbery from wealthy and succesful families. More to the point, do these connections reflect a social order from before Rome was created, amongst the tribal raiders of the Tiber valley?

I'd be happy to. Unfortunately... the Romans were inconsiderate regarding comparisons between ancient and modern tactics, strategy, organisation, and methodology, in that they never wrote any such treatise, at least as far as I can tell, so like everyone in the modern day, you'll have to rely on post-historical analysis, like wot I wrote. On the other hand, if you don't like mine, there are other authors as qualified if not more so currently in print who deal with such issues, and if they aren't to your taste, you might like to attempt an analysis yourself.

Is Tony Blair going for the EU's President job or not? I'm biting my nails as I speak. It is a bit worrying because Gordon Brown has started campaigning to get him the job, which raises the possibility that Mr Brown will one day follow as leader of our new European supersate. We're already going to have to pay an extra

Integrated system? I think that's overstating it. I agree the Romans were well organised, certainly better so than their opponents, but introducing modern concepts and ascribing them to Roman organisation is a common tendency amongst commentators which is historically suspect. I've seen this many times, with people describing Roman and modern units as "equivalent". This is a fallacy. There is no equivalence, because the organisation of Roman forces differs from that of modern pyramid-style armies. Granted, the unit sizes are conveniently close in some cases, but you will find this was down to Roman experience of handling men in combat - there's a limit to the practical leadership one man can provide over a host of soldiers (about a hundred men in Roman experience) and the Romans did not employ squad tactics in battle. The vexillations sometimes mentioned were ad hoc formations assigned to tasks, not to battlefield situations where you really would want to be there in substantial numbers. It is true that in the late empire the Romans had established permanent armies with legions of a smaller size becoming almost the same as regiments as we see them today. The old strategies of large legions as independent armies in theior own right had long since gone, and indeed, one of the reasons for the defeat at Adrianople was that the Romans had simply lost the expertise required for controlling large scale battles. At that period, they had instead evolved a system of small scale actions designed to disrupt the enemy rather than defeat him outright in one place. The increasing co-operation of the barbarians and the extended borders made set-piece battles more difficult to conduct - the enemy might simply march around a large force rather than meet it head on and the increasing mobility of Rome's enemies also meant that a flexible defense was required. Now it is also true that Roman signalling was well established. Although this wasn't a battlefield phenomenon, the Romans were able to send messages between stations with relative ease, though I should point out that a lot depended on line of sight, and that the evidence for the continuance of such signals in the later empire is somewhat sparse. However, the functionality of Roman command during the Saxon threat required that forces operate from stations on local patrols, be they land or sea. This does not require integration. The signalling system of old was designed primarily to call for reinforcements in the event of an enemy attack, not necessarily to call to other stations on the line, which by the standards we see at Hadrians Wall for instance were lightly defended if at all, being essentially a customs obstacle rather than a military one. Further, the ability of Romans to conducy signalling from the small raiding vessels they employed on the British coast was effectively impossible. Integration requires central command. Whilst the Romans employed a man to oversee operations, it had always been Roman practice to encourage local initiative in command. In effect, a station would respond to an incursion or situation as best it could (and the response might be very ineffective in some circumstances) whilst sending for help. This does not mean the man responsible was going to survey his maps and order units to seal a gap. Far from it. He might be elsewhere and out of touch, and without modern communications even Roman signalling couldn't compensate for this difficulty. Instead, whatever internal reinforcement station existed would have sent troops as required by circumstance and local initiative. That's all very well, but in the late empire of Roman Britain the older system of depth defense had been replaced. In effect, the coastal stations of the Saxon Shore were patrolling for incursions with limited support and with little integration at all.

Last night was a quiet evening. That's a refreshing change after the constant droning noises from my neighbours. A chance then to enjoy a good read, safe in the knowledge that nothing would disturb the atmosphere of peace and calm. The occaisional passing car made no difference, even the ones with stereos capable of setting off a major earthquake response. With the damp and uncertain weather outside, there wasn't much disturbance from pedestrians either. Previously I've mentioned the noisy carousing expected of an evening. Youths jostling for social status by chanting louder than anyone else, young girls totally in the grip of giggle fever, and thugs warning each other of dire consequences if the other paerty doesn't immediately indulge in sex and travel. Last night there was something difference. A pair of young women were walking down the street, presumably on their way to a night club, both singing together tunefully with a strong voices and vibrato. These ladies can actually sing! My immediate urge was to rush downstairs, run after them, and beg them to sing on my recordings. I suspect though they may not see it as a career opportunity. Photo's of the Week There's been a photo competition at the library. Not the usual sort, where you submit much loved creations and have your ego crushed by judges who prefer meaningless splashes of colour, but instead a collection of old photo's from Swindons past and the need to identify the event they depicted. I haven't seen these pictures before, but I recognised the tram crash of the 1900's (which took place just across the road from where the library is today), the old manor house at Lawns (now demolished), and the canal wharf at Milton Road (now demolished too). I have no idea what the others were about. Images of people from a past time, expressions and characters frozen in silver nitrate. They seem so ill at ease at having their photographs taken yet so willing to stand there until the flash went off. The photography may have been primitive and staid, but what a priceless recording of an instant so long ago.

Then there's no arguement, because we're not suggesting that's the case. What we're suggesting is the possibility of mercenaries retained either using 'Roman authority' in it's actual absence, or mercenaries pretending to have that authority for their own purposes.

Sometimes I wonder if falling over is a communicable disease. A former boss, DS, has long demonstrated a complete inability to stay on her feet, drunk or sobre. It seems I'm starting to show signs of the same affliction. My task for the day was simple. I have one of those desktop lamps that doesn't have a bulb to fit it. So I set off with the aim to find a suitable light bulb with which to illuminate the darkened recesses of my hovel. Unfortunately the lamp happens to be one of those old Woolworths types, and since the whole shopping chain went bust a while back, there aren't any bulbs to fit. After several attempts it was becoming obvious I was on a lost cause. Instead, I decided it was probably easier to find a shop that sold new desktop lamps. That wasn't so easy. One shop I found looked like the sort of domestic equipment store that might sell these items. It didn't. Then I found another that did, but they had sold the last one a few minutes earlier. Sorry. Oh good grief, how many ex-Woolworth shoppers are there? At the end of the street was a potential vendor. I'd never been in there before so with some resigned optimism I decided to give it one last try. As I entered I discovered the floor tiles were incompatible with worn trainers, dead leaves, and damp conditions. Without any warning, I came down quite heavily. It did hurt. With all the compensation culture that goes on I suppose I could have have made a big deal over it, but then, I'm really not that convincing as a victim of a serious accident. In any case I tend to grin and bear it. So I got up, breathed out, and noticed everyone looking at me. Show's over people, you can go about your business. Caldrail has left the building. Tall Ships and Oil To Fund Them Looking through those specialist magazines in the library I spotted one about steam engineering. It was pretty much what I expected, cute branch railways almost given over entirely to nature and picture postcard villages, though I study one article about a horse-driven tramway serving a quarry in days of yore. Quite interesting, and an eye-opener to the weight those horses had to haul up and down inclines. The real bonus though was an article about merchant ships carrying oil under sail. These were tall ships with rows of canvas and rigging sailing the waters around England in the 1900's that had been fitted out to carry oil instead of whatever cargoes they'd been built for. I'm not into ships at all, but the photographs showed some seriously elegant vessels, seven masted, modernesque hulls, sails full of wind as they ploughed through the waves. It's a lost world. Shortest Gig of the Week Morrisey had been due to play a gig in Swindon over the weekend, at the Oasis sports centre. Apparently he sang one song then was rushed to hospital. No really, it happened. And the great thing is, I don't have to draw any fatuous conclusions at all.

I don't have documentary evidence or information on that subject, therefore I speculated. Sorry if it's too obvious for you, but the whole point is to continue a discussion on the subject, not to have it thrown in the bin. I'm not your student. I'm on this site to discuss the subject with anyone who's interested - that's what a forum is for. But since speculation is defined as inadmissable, I'll have to resort to questions. So.... What exactly was Olaf doing in the haybarn the day before he dug the ditch?

Money. The German tribes wanted their slice of the action. There were tax initiatives in the late empire to encourage Germans to settle in Roman lands for the purposes of bringing them into the Roman fold and using them as reinforcements for their shrinking recruitment pool. There were also a number of tribes who weren't invited and saw the lands south of the river as wealthier than their own temperate rainforests and heathland. They were right. It was. Not just because of rural success, which was sometimes under strain due to military recruitment, but also because as the empire drew to a close there was a tendency for rural communities to opt out of governmental control, thus avoiding taxes and the draft.

I agree, an interesting speculation. My own feeling is that Hannibal didn't use any inspiration for the battle plan other than his own crafty imagination. Battle plans were decided before battle commenced in the ancient world, as it was difficult, if not impossible, to control an army effectively for people of the time. The Romans had for a long time treated maniples/cohorts as semi-independent units within the legion that relied on individual initiative of their commanders more often than not. I strongly suspect Hannibal knew that, and deliberately set his forces to disrupt the large unwieldy formation used to attack Carthage on the day by forcing troops on the periphery to turn and face the flanks. This then caused the flanks of the Roman formation to slow down and stop whilst the centre dragged inexorably on, thus enabling them to be bottled up so easily. Hannibal did, after all, have a knack for clever subterfuge in tactics. In strategy Hannibal scores far less, and there's already been debates on his failures on campaign.

English weather is incredible. It's launched more conversations than the activities of fecund neighbours, and that really is saying something. Right now I'm sat staring out the window as the weather drifts by. One moment it's a sky of blue, then clumps of white cloud, then great cloaks of dark sombre grey, and I can see rainfall over West Swindon, all with the sun shining from the other direction. You know, it's occured to me the great thrill about our weather is the gambling element. Will I get home okay, or will I get soaked, or will I get swept away by autumnal hurricanes? You just never know. On the other hand, looking at the blanket of cloud on the horizon, I think I do. The Pope Needs You! If you've been watching the news lately you'll probably know that the Roman Catholic church has offered to recruit disaffected Anglican priests and give them dispensation for their different practises. A part of me says this is hugely cynical and smacking of hypocrisy, given the track record of heresy trials in the past, but then again, the Catholic church is the result of political necessity rather than unified worship. So why then is the Pope recruitng new priests in England? Is he going to challenge Gordon Brown in the next election? Vote Pope. Taking Britain into the Next Life. Uh Oh... The sun ain't shinin' no more. Thats a substantial rainshower out the window. You know the sort? Misty grey from horizon to horizon? Policies of the Week All is revealed. Jack Straw and Tony Blair thought up a plan to let even more immigrants into the country to create multi cultural England and didn't tell anyone. As if England wasn't overpopulated already. Perhaps it might be worth suggesting that Tony Blair and his accomplices emmigrate from England to make room for these new settlers? Unfortunately, now I've said that, I sound like a member of Nick Griffins British National Party, the fun face of British extremism. Having wowwed the crowd at a recent television panel show and complained to the BBC for giving him public exposure and a chance to speak his mind, I too laughed in disbelief at the shallow excuses he made for his extremist views, and indeed, neo-nazi background. Tell yer what, Tone, I'll let you stay in England if you kick Griffin off his podium. How's that for a deal? I suspect though nothing will happen. Tony Blair is a recent recruit to Roman Catholicism and therefore now works for the Pope. Vote Labour. Save Your Souls. You'll have nothing else left. Right, now I've poured water on our current governments chances of obtaining my vote.... Yep, It's Raining... The window has a hosepipe trained on it. Just thought you'd like to know in case you were planning to settle in England anytime soon.

Scylla, seriously, I know you like having the last word but defining fiction for us was pointless, and yes, it does take us away from the Saxon Shore and the Adventures of Olaf. I especially love the bit where he tries to pay his tavern bill in sestercii. Classic stuff. Incidentially, for all Saxon Shore fans, it's worth pointing out that the forts were protecting strategic landing places and who knows?.... Warning: This is a speculation. Anyone suffering from speculative allergies should see their doctor before reading Whilst we obviously see the Saxon Shore in purely defensive military terms, isn't that a bit limiting?. You see, although these forts covered strategic landing points they couldn't offer continual protection along the coastline. Given the normal Roman policies for securing territory, I would have to speculate that like other forts these constructions were used as bases for patrols. On sea as well as land? Bear in mind that coastlines and estuaries change significantly over two thousand years. In other words, rather like the modern day, these were immigration patrols more often than military defenses. After all, why would the Romano-British administration want a load of Saxon hooligans setting up camp?

Some years a Cessna took off from Edinburgh. The pilot was giving his girlfriend a joyride in the local area. Unfortunately the pilot left his radio on 'transmit' which made it impossible for air traffic control to contact anyone on that frequency for more than an hour, during which personal conversations and long periods of intimate silence were heard. What astonishes me is not the application to join the Half-Mile-Club, but that he succeeded in intimate relations within the very cramped cockpit of a Cessna 150. The man is a sexual genius, albeit a little short of common sense and self restraint. He landed at Edinburgh without incident to discover that everyone on that radio frequency had overheard his club application. Are such incidents common? Well, I do happen to know about an incident in America when the pilot of a twin engined aeroplane left it on autopilot and took his girl into the passenger cabin for... Well use your imagination. Didn't your parents tell you about the birds and the bees? In this case, the cockpit door swung shut as the plane flew through turbulent air and because of safety restrictions the pair couldn't access the controls. They had to take the door off its hinges with a nailfile, long after the aeroplane had passed its intended destination and almost out of fuel. Now it seems an airliner overshot its destination by 150 miles in America just recently. Neither air traffic control nor other aircraft in the vicinity could raise any response from the crew, and eventually a stewardess managed to get a reaction and all ended happliy ever after, apart from the enquiry currently taking place. The crew claim they were in a heated discussion and didn't notice they had overshot their landing path. That's some discussion guys. The authorities are a little more suspicious and believe the crew were asleep at the controls. What? All three of them? Given the track record for pilots behaviour in these circumstances, one can't help wondering if there wasn't some Three-In-A-Cockpit orgy going on. Have You Seen Our Dog? Yesterday I took advantage of a lull in the rainy weather and headed for the hills with a backpack. The mud was heavy going and I have to confess, I did stop at a country pub for a pint. Not illegal of course, but I imagimne there are plenty of people who want unemployed people to stop enjoyinmg themselves and darn well get a job. I am trying, but let's face it, after so many rejection letters wouldn't you resort to drink? On the way home through Coate Water, or perhaps more accurately around Coate Water, I could hear the desperate calls of a dog owner. The gentleman was understandably concerned at the disappearance of his best friend. I hope he recovers the dog safe and well, because other than reporting its location there wasn't a lot I could have done. Later I trudged across the grassy hillside of Lawns, in Old Town, a park that was once a the grounds of a manor house. An old woman asked me if I owned a lercher, one of those shag pile greyhound types that are commonly associated with gypsies. One of these days I really am going to have to improve my image. I told I didn't, and she explained that a lercher was wandering around by itself. She's clearly a kindly woman concerned with the welfare of stray dogs, but I can't really see what I stood to gain from running after a very swift dog with heavy pack on my pack. Lerchers are hunting dogs by instinct. I seriously don't think it's going to share a rabbit with me.

Amazing as it may seem, scientific research is not just gratuitous speculation or wild fantasy; there is something more, that can in fact be explained even by wikipedia... In any case, there's nothing wrong in writing fiction, as long as it is not sold as History. Fiction? Fiction is storytelling for the purposes of entertainment. As far as I'm aware, speculation is a different process, although some do pass it off as fact. Fact: The Romans withdrew their legions in 409 Speculation: Soldiers left pots of gold behind them, an established practice over the ages. Fiction: Olaf The Saxon Ditch Digger got very wealthy. I do know why you have such an apparent distaste for speculation, but I'm afraid to inform you that whilst this site aims to achieve a high standard of history it also remains a place for discussing Roman history, and naturally speculation will provide intriguing and entertaining topics. The discourse of these topics will also generate answers that rely on fact, either to prove or disprove the point. After all, isn't the entire point of a Roman forum a place to debate issues? If it becomes merely a question and answer session, what a dull site this would become. Nonetheless, speculation does sometimes give rise to possibilities that hadn't been considered before. If this proves to consistent with the available evidence and provides a clearer reason for decisions and events made in the past, I'm all in favour of it. It has, in this case, advanced the study of history by improving understanding of what occured. What could I learn from simply accepting the text of classical sources and nothing more? Nothing new, and in limiting the study of history to accepted and established dogma, it would be impossible to learn something from any individual that I couldn't learn from another. I already know the legions withdrew from Britain in 409. I would like to know whether they left any pots of gold behind (which I mean in an abstract, general sense), and perhaps tonight before I switch the lamp off and retire for the evening, I'll sit with a mug of cocoa and chuckle at the adventures of Olaf the Ditch Digger as he rights wrongs and gets the girl in the final chapter. Personally, I don't see the problem.

It was just another day in rain soaked Swindon. A lorry rumbled past, bouncing on the road surface with loud rattles, spraying water on the faceless citizens scurrying from place to place. This is one tough town, where only the driest survive. Who knows? Maybe some mysterious dame will walk through my door and complicate my life. It was not to be. An impersonal text message arrived on my phone. SBD will collect your faulty laptop today between 07:00 and 20:00. Oh? I wasn't informed about this. And whilst we're on the subject, I have a faulty PC, not a laptop. Who on earth is SBD anyway? My first thought was that the vendor who sold me that somewhat dodgy computer in the first place was up to something. I phoned for consumer advice, which wasn't entirely helpful on this occaision, then proceeded to track down the guilty party. Phoning the vendor produced a lot of passing the parcel and audible shrugs. Great. The message didn't originate from them and now they think I'm slightly insane. That'll help my case. However, one voice in the background suggested SBD was a courier. Aha! A lead. The phone book didn't help me at all. There was no phone number for SBD at all and phoning Telephone Enquiry numbers these days requires a second mortgage. Is this an official collection by Trading Standards for a safety inspection? No, it wasn't. Could this be some sort of clever scam to knick a computer? Dunno. Was it the company dealing with my data recovery? "Yes, SBD work for us." The woman on the other end of the phone answered with a jovial giggle. "The disks are being sent to a laboratory. We've been having problems with their automated booking service. You shouldn't have received that text message at all. I am sorry." Oh that's all right. I've just spent a few quid chasing this up. Next time I'll just wait for some indifferent van driver to turn up and send him on his way frustrated. Well, since I've still got a few quid left, I'll pop down to the shops and buy a cider bottle. Pictures At An Exhibition The problem with our visually entertained world is that people generally prefer something visual with their information. Photos and diagrams have become essential in publishing these days. That's even more true of the internet. Now that I've been writing web pages on one subject or another, it's time to consider an illustration. I've discovered a heritage site that has collections of images connected with Roman history available for download. That's cool, let's check it out. The images were indeed excellent. Photographs of modern re-enactors, archaeological sites, and some stunning artists impressions of Roman life in Britain. Naturally I checked out the license conditions. Copyright can be a thorny issue and I've no intention of treading on someones toes. So there's personal use, editorial use, and creative use. Let's see.... Web pages... Yes, I need a license for editorial use. The average cost is