caldrail

For the third day in a row, the weather is gloriously sunny. A little bit chilly first thing, but you'd expect that, and without doubt it's going to get somewhat warmer later this afternoon. Time then to enjoy a hike into the English countryside? I think so, especially after my last signing-on at the Job Centre. I could do with a break. I suppose from time to time they get suspicious. They're used to people who claim for no other reason thatn to avoid doing anything else. Unfortunately, I do make a moderate and consistent effort to find work, which means the otherwise pleasant woman across the desk has gotten a little curious about my jobseeker record. This last time she was replaced by another woman, a matronly dragon of a claims advisor, who took the record books I had with me and promptly 'lost' them. She then interrogated me about my efforts and clearly had no intention of believing a single word I said to her. That sort of thing, for me at least, is deeply annoying and de-motivating. What's the point of filling in these books (as they require me to do) and then discard them in such a casual manner? For one thing, it destroys trust, and creates an adversarial atmosphere. This wasn't the first time they've done this sort of thing and from this moment on, I'm writing out a copy of my job search record before I go in. They still won't believe me, but all the same, at least I won't have to put up with that sort of humiliation and pressure. Science in Farming I was chatting to guy the other day who lives out in the countryside. He's lost interest in farming seeing as cereal production is so variable and that dairy farming can't compete in today's market. His father is of course a little upset about that because understandably farming is still very much a family concern for many. Out of curiosity, I asked him about driving tractors, seeing I've never been near one. He tells me it's all science now. Tractors are guided by GPS and all you do is input the co-ordinates of the field you want to drive up and down over. Still, just in case the farmer hasn't quite caught up with the twenty-first century, the makers considerately provide markings to show the driver which way round the throttle is fitted. Rabbit and tortoise.

Sort of... But only one head and four legs.

Life in urban England is often portrayed as a struggle against ignorance, decay, violence, and theft. I've made the same noises myself sometimes, so I guess there's a little truth to it, having witnessed the depressing state that society sometimes gets into. Of course there are those who want to stop the destructive tendencies in our midst. A worthy cause, or perhaps a cause to further someones poltiical career? The trouble with dealing with problems of this nature is the uncompromising response it requires. To stifle violence one may well need more than the courage of their conviction, especially if the offenders sense they are stronger than you.. All too often, we don't want to get involved. Self preservation is a natural instinct though perhaps not our most glorious one. On the other hand, there are incidents in which those willing to stand their ground pay the price in injury or even death. Public behaviour seems to rising to the fore just of late. In particular, the easy availability of alcohol and the gimmicks designed to sell it are very much in focus as recent calls for controls on alcohol sales have demonstrated. However, things have gotten a litle more ridiculous. It's been suggested that mock fights should be staged on city streets in England to test and provoke public response. The idea, as far as I can tell, is almost to educate the public that they too can help maintain law and order on the streets. Possibly they can. However I wonder if this 'training' isn't more likely to result in more casualties, because confrontations are as likely to provoke violence as constrain it, and much depends on perceived threat. The attempt to create a community spirit that is willing to risk violence brings with it the risk of vigilante behaviour, and as is often recorded in news stories, the risk of finding yourself on the wrong side of the law in trying to confront others is very real, whatever politicans like to say. I'm reminded of a story I once read in a magazine many years ago, a true one apparently, although much of the detail I've forgotten since my teenage years. It concerned four men in the 'Wild West' at the end of the nineteenth century. They planned to rob a bank, and strode calmly inside holding the good people at gunpoint whilst they collected the money as quietly as possible. Unfortunately for them, an ice-cream seller (proof this wasn't a 'one-horse' town) recognized some of the baddies, and alerted the townsfolk. When the four robbers left the bank thinking they'd gotten away with a healthy sack of customers cash, they found themselves facing a town full of armed and aggrieved citizens. They were all shot dead. Is that really what British authorities want? The Police always tell us to phone them in such situations, and certainly the firearm laws in Britain preclude shooting villains without some form of legal restraint. The same applies to baseball bats and missiles. We are allowed 'appropriate' levels of violence to defend ourselves. Are we then allowed the same to confront others? What is 'appropriate' levels of violence? The considered appraisal of a judge in a courtroom, or the snap decision in the heat of the moment? It seems a bit hard to believe that to counter violence the public are being asked to risk it. Cattle Dog of the Week On my way to a session at the College yesterday I bumped into an old chap walking his dog, an incredibly cute canine with perky ears and stumpy legs. We got chatting and naturally I asked what breed it was. He did tell me the name, but I've forgotten it. However he explained it was a Swedish Cattle Dog. Oh? They have dwarf cattle in Sweden? The old chap was right. It is a bit hard to believe.

What makes me happy? Various things. I used to enjoy driving fast cars and flying aeroplanes, but sadly life in the fast lane is no longer available to me. A good game on the PC? It helps if your computer works of course. I got mine back from the repairers yesterday evening after a heated phone call only to discover that they hadn't connected the sound. What about sex? That's a luxury increasingly scarce in my middle age and a news item tells us that couples shouldn't sleep together because it's bad for their health. Fairly terminal for their offspring I imagine, though there is of course artificial insemination, which kind of proves how dull our Brave New World is going to be. There is another news item I spotted just now that suggests taller people are happier. Sadly, biology prevents me from getting any taller so that isn't an option. I shall content myself with a wander into the wilds of Darkest Wiltshire, enjoying the English countryside with it's verdant splendour.... That is, at least, until my legs get tired and my feet get blistered again. Pension Statement of the Week A long time ago I left work to go on the road with a rock band. It seemed a wise idea to set myself up as a business and open a pension account. The government of the day were very keen for people to do that, what with the increasing cost of social provision. It turns out my investment hasn't been too impressive. At todays prices, my pension income will be less than the benefits I claim as a jobseeker. All those thousands of pounds that accumulated in there really aren't going to pay off too well. Not only that, but the company pension I contributed to for fifteen years might well be declared defunct before long leaving me with little else. Buddy, have ya got a dime? Some years ago you occaisionally saw some hairy old guy in disvelled rags begging for spare change, at least before a policeman moved him on. Now there are certain places where you expect youths in hoodies capitalising on this source of income, and yesterday, a teenage girl clearly able to afford decent clothes sat in the alleyway between a car park and shopping arcade (now a popular and established haunt of beggars) asking passers-by for extra coins. Sorry, but you only have a few years left. I'm beginning to think that space is reserved for me.

On my way home yesterday I went by the main shopping street through Swindon. As expected for a warm afternoon (despite the threat of rain - shoppers have no fear) the street was busy with people ambling around in pairs, or mothers pushing their kids in buggies whilst screeching at them to behave even if they were already tightly strapped in and incapable of mischieve. The open-fronted bars were busy and thanks, but I already know about my choice of clothes. A little bit further down the street was a series of benches for shoppers to rest in between mad dashes for bargains, but on one particular seat were a couple of teenage girls. One simply didn't appear on my radar, but the other I must confess was a genuinely pretty blonde who wouldn't have disgraced the front cover of a fashion magazine. Stop looking Caldrail, she's noticed. There's nothing worse than a teenager who thinks you're interested in her. "I'm thinking about it!" She announced in working class tones as I strode by. She can think about it all she wants. Thankfully I'm a little older and wiser than to succumb to that sort of approach. I suppose for her life is all fresh and exciting, and I've no doubt she wants to experiment and youngsters often do, but you have to wonder at the sense of trying it on with an older man she doesn't know. As it happens, I've no interest in teenage girls - not because my instincts are dulled, I did appraise her physical beauty after all, but lets be honest - can you imagine the grief she'd cause? Advert Ban of the Week It seems that pressure to improve late-night behaviour (and indeed, health) has resulted in doctors pressing for a ban on alcohol advertisements. I suppose that's a worthy cause as such, but then, the ban on smoking adverts hasn't really done much to stop smoking has it? As a matter of fact, I doubt that an advertising ban on alcohol will make any difference whatsoever. People get drunk because they want to, not because they want to spend money on a particular brand of booze. I really don't know what doctors are worried about. Pubs are going out of business anyway and whilst I happen to know that alcohol-related injuries are increasing in the Swindon area, at least when they're wrapped up in bandages in a hospital bed they're not out there getting drunk and destroying their internal organs. That's all they have to do. Better yet, ban teenagers. Then half their problems will go away.

The problem with blogs is that there's a tendency to reveal too much. There's been a warning recently about people giving away information on social networking sites that a fraudster or a burglar could use. I own a large vicious dog by the way, just in case that's of any use to you. If not, you can always smile at the cameras. But more to the point, something else has gone beyond a joke in my life and whilst there's a self impiosed limit on family news to be made public, I think it's time one piece of information (which is actually pretty useless to burglars or fraudsters so quite safe) should be placed on public view. My mother is a committed christian, and outwardly at least, a quiet and inoffensive member of the community. Certainly she wants to be seen that way. In fact, she made sure I was aware she didn't want anything written about her on blogs or forums. At the time, that was okay with me, but just lately, things have gotten a little more heated. My mother has always wanted me to be Christian. She took me to church on Sundays as a child and I remember those dull sermons and pointless rituals with relief I don't have to bother with them now. That's essentially the problem. With my spritiuality declared, mother wants me back in the fold. She was the one who mentioned earlier that 'You can always come back'. Quite why I don't know because I never a believer in the first place. But it gets worse. Mother is not the most sophisticated person in the world (even she would have to admit that) and I honestly think there were people in the Middle Ages who knew more about the Universe than she does. She once discovered my childish satanic paraphenalia that many Heavy Metal fans collect for the sake of it. At the time, all she did was fume angrily and grimly mutter "I know something about you" repeatedly. Hard to believe that people like that are still around in our otherwise so enlightened age isn't it? I've kept it quiet for a long time now, simply because that was how family life was, but seeing the extent of interference in my everyday affairs that has been going on and increasing both in frequency and spitelfulness, I would like it known that.... Your insults will get you nowhere Mum. Sorry, but I'm over the age of consent and that means I choose what I believe in. I choose to be a spiritualist (of a sort, anyway). There is no truth in Jesus if all he is is an excuse to control others. Class of the Week It's back to school for me today as I've just completed my first session on my Electrical Awareness course. I did think it was going to be a fairly inocuous series of lectures about wiring but ye gods next session I'm testing live mains installations with no rescue helicopter outside. School was never like this!

I got a phone call from a flustered computer technician on Friday. "Uhhh... We can't load your Windows.... Have you got a license code?" Groan. Yes I do. Please wait. Off I went, found the necessary document, and told him the code over the phone. He was happy and informed me the computer would be ready that afternoon. I hung up and went about my daily business. That of course means guitar practice at the moment. A short while later the phone rang when I was in the middle of a hot screaming solo. Oh not now you cretin! But a phone call is a phone call... I pulled the guitar of my shoulder and was about to put it on the stand when I realised I still had my earphones on. Oh... Ahhh.... Put the guitar down Caldrail, anywhere.... Oh no it's falling over!.... Whoops, I've just pulled the headphone socket out and dislocated my neck. Eventully however, I disentangled myself from those lethal rubber cables we musicians plug into everything and reached breathlessly for the phone. It ws the technician again. "We can't load your license number..." He moaned. What? Please don't tell me I'm going to have to walk across Swindon to sort this out... Yep, I am. That's an eight mile round trip in hot sunshine then. When I got there the repairman at the desk was busy chatting up the lady behind it. Not repairing my PC I see? Anyway, I handed him the info and he confidently promised the PC would be delievered next day. He'll phone. Next day I waited. Waited. Waited... Tired... Wait a bit more... Very tired... Wait... Zzzzzzzzzzz........ The phone rang to announce my immediate alertness following a cardiac arrest. A quick scramble for the handset.... "We've finished your computer. It's just been turned off." He happily announced, "Now it's ready for collection." Collection?!!!! Are they serious? "Oh, I meant delivery." He said quickly, "We can deliver on Monday" I'm busy Monday, all day. Oh all right, Tuesday it is. He'll phone me when they're ready. Simpsons of the Week I know this sounds like product placement, but the other night I fell prey to temptation and strode up the hill to the local fish and chip shop. The Chinese crew are all youngsters these days. There used to be an old couple in there who did a great job, but in all fairness, the youngsters aren't too shabby either. Apart from their dress sense that is. I know it's a bit hypocritical considering how fond I am of casual wear, but getting served by a guy in a soiled vest with hair hangin down his face doesn't fill you with confidence. That's all beside the point. On the television mounted behind The Simpsons were performing their usual buffoonery. Only this time it was dubbed in Cantonese with English subtitles. Talk about strange... Listening to young Lisa saying "Doh Jay Meester Pwinciple" was a seriously ridiculous thing to hear. But who am I to judge? At least the Chinese at the takeaway were enjoying it.

It's a sunny morning, a clear blue sky, so I thought I'd drop by the park and enjoy the sunshine. There was hardly anyone around but eventually this old guy hobbled to the edge of the lake and deposited half a loaf of bread in the water. The nearby ducks eagerly paddled after this awesome prize and began tugging at the sodden excess of white loaf with relish. To them, it was a veritable feast. Over the lake was a flock of seabirds. Small white ones, petrels I think, though I'm sure I'm wrong. One flew to the fountain, then hovered back and forth, beating it's wings furiously to stay airborne. I've never seen a bird do that before. getting a wash while flying. That's a first. Once satisified his feathers were bright and white (birds have yet to invent washing powder) he circled over the ducks and realised they were feeding. The little petrel chose his spot then descended on a duck, stealing whatever bread he could snatch away. The other petrels spotted this mugging and thought they too too could enjoy a feed at the expense of the suprised ducks, who were already thinking of moving away. The entire flock repeated the exercise, attacking the ducks like a rampant gang. Survival of the fittest, demonstrated in the safety of the park. Ahhh... There's a bunch of youths over there, beercans in hand, looking around for something to do. You know sometimes how you just know it's not a good idea to stick around? Hoodie of the Week Yesterday I was walking through our local ghetto area. I was just about to cross the road and looked behind to check for traffic. Instead, I spotted a black youth behind me. Well I couldn't fail to, he was only a few feet away. At any rate, I slowed down to wait for traffic to pass, and after the young man had sauntered past me, I spotted something in his hand that looked remarkably like a jacknife handle. You know sometimes how you just.... Well, youi know what I'm saying.

Sorry, but it looks as if I'm going to have to repeat a point or two. Roman legions of the Pre-Marian Republican era were simply not permanent institutions. They were supposed to be raised annually for the campaigning season (armies generally didn't go to war over winter though there were always exceptions). This is well attested to by various sources, please check out works by Adrian Goldsworthy or Peter Connolly, or perhaps one of the Osprey series if you need a precis. Ooops... I've clicked my fingers... Sorry about that. Secondly, whilst we are blessed with Roman sources, it is noticeable that the literary quality can be fanciful at times. Cassius Dio in particular liked to relate speeches that couldn't possibly be memorised and put to parchment later. Did Livy and Polybius really know the motives of Fabius at every stage? I seriously doubt it. We are talking about a culture who gloried in war, even in their earlier stages, the Romans were always a martial society. It stands to reason then in relating the story of Fabius, they write about him in a favourable light. This was after all written by the man you described as a supremacist. But isn't this pretty much what I said? The Romans had no answer to Hannibals War. They had lost four battles severely and weren't willing to confront him in that manner again. Fabius was playing for time, not annihilating the enemy. Polybius has merely rationalised what was an unadventurous policy designed to minimise the damage rather than sweep it away. If Fabius was such a success, why was it necessary for Scipio to force the issue? Hannibal wasn't going away, part of the senate at least were considering surrender, a portion of Roman territory had sided with the invader, and the war was lingering on at no benefit to the Romans. Of course the Senate slapped themselves on the back and said the Fabian Strategy was the key to success - politicians always back the winning side after the event. Praise for Fabius was an indication of his political acceptance rather than any real military ability. The fact remains that Fabius didn't win the war. Hannibal lost it. Fabius may have been correct in address to the senate in that he had cornered Hannibals army in one place. Fair enough. But then again, Fabius had a vested interest in reporting something positive. All Roman generals were politicians in this era, not career officers. If fabius had gone in their and shame-facedly announced he hadn't won, what was that going to do for his reputation? In short, Fabius exaggerated the success of his actions - I don't doubt Hannibal was having a hard time, invasions are not easy to sustain over long periods even in the modern day - and he could get away with that because events turned away from Italy. Granted, Hannibal may have been less able to deal with the situation than he had, but that doesn't justify a victory. Polybius was writing in such a way to accentuate the importance of Fabius, whio was very typically cautious as the Romans preferred their commanders to be. lastly, Hannibal had lost the initiative after Cannae, at the very time he had the greatest opportunity. Like so many ancient commanders, Hannibal was a brillant commander on the battlefield but not so impressive in strategy.

With my long suffering PC now deceased, I find myself with a lot of time and no means to occupy it. Socialising? Not any more, my bank account is in danger of floating away, if anyone still remembers me that is. Music? Well why not. I now have some time to get a little much needed guitar practice. As it turns out, I've had a chance to play a somewhat expensive guitar, one of those 'Explorer' style instruments (if that means anything to you) that is twenty five years old. I've heard it said wooden instruments mature and sound better as time goes by, which is one reason Stradivarius violins are so valuable, and it's true. The neck was a joy to handle (unlike the unwieldy effort on my own guitar) and the sound had a fine quality to it that you just don't hear very often. Put it back, Caldrail, you can't afford it. The thing is, materialism aside, instruments like that bewitch you. They seriously do. Music is a form of communication and with familiarity you do express yourself through these contrivances. It's like finding a better voice, a better vocal range, better lyrics, clever grammar. All of a sudden you can express yourself easier and more fluently - at least, that is, as far as your skill allows. Pick up the old guitar, Caldrail, and practice some more. Practice Makes Pain When I handed my guitar to the music store for a little fettling recently, I did mention to them it would be nice to hear it played by someone else. I'm used to a certain sound through my own amplifier played with my own particular style (which is none too sophisticated, believe me!). The chap who whisked off a few rapid chords smoothly asked if I practice. Well... Not often. "There you are then. If you practice you'll get better." Said the young whippersnapper who risked a stern response. But he was right, I don't practice enough, and that was always a bugbear in my drumming days. So I'll while away some hours today happily pretending I know how to handle this wooden beastie in my hands, and push the boundaries of my ability just a little bit further. Ye gods my fingertips hurt....

It's nonsense not only because your logical process is flawed at multiple points, but mainly because you're just explaining your own personal guesses.... What, like most historians do? Nothing wrong with my thinking process at all. I just don't agree with you, that's all, but then, why would I consider you the last word in Roman history? Same sources as you more or less. Sorry, I just disagree with your interpretation. I come here to discuss Roman history, not to sit silently while Scylla lectures everybody. What's the point of an internet forum if you can't contribute? In any case it doesn;'t matter. You're just trying to browbeat me into silence for your own reasons. I suggest you cease and desist from that behaviour. Especially since you don't like quoting sources either. It's a lot of trouble to go to isn't it From Wikipedia... The Fabian strategy is a military strategy where pitched battles are avoided in favor of wearing down an opponent through a war of attrition. While avoiding decisive battles, the side employing this strategy harasses its enemy to cause attrition and loss of morale. Employment of this strategy implies that the weaker side believes time is on its side, but it may also be adopted when no feasible alternative strategy can be devised. Scylla - that's exactly what I argued. I therefore submit that I do know what Fabian Strategy is and that you're doing nothing more than attempting to discredit my contribution. On hearing that Lucius Caecilius Metellus and other politicians were at the point of surrender, Scipio gathered with his followers and stormed into the meeting, where at sword-point he forced all present to swear that they would continue in faithful service to Rome. Fortunately, the Roman Senate was of like mind and refused to entertain thoughts of peace despite the great losses Rome had taken in the war

My own personal view is that Polybius was around at a time when Rome was rising out of the almost disastrous Second Punic War and rebuilding its strength and confidence, so perhaps he can be forgiven for some national pride. It is true that he saw the Roman constitution as something inherently stronger by virtue of its checks and balances, but then he doesn't consider that the balance might go too far one way. Since 'change' is an inherent part of our cosmic reality and moves from growth to decay in all things, he is underlining a truth about politics, yet his pride in Roman culture clearly wants his own state to rise above the inevitable fall from grace that he predicts in all things political. I do rationalise that a little. My own feeling is that whatever the ultimate outcome of Roman history was to be, he saw Rome on a rising trend and thought the best was yet to come, so in terms of his own human longevity, experience, and indeed political thinking, he had every reason to feel positive about the city state he lived in.

Where do we all come from? I'm not sure. I seem to have sprung forth from inside my mothers tummy but it's a bit difficult to see how we could all get in there. My physics teacher assured me it was the birds and the bees (which means I'm actually a feathered insect). A comedy author however insists I'm descended from apes, an idea put forward by Darwin who got laughed at. Paleontologists tell me my dim distant ancestors (through various gerbils, mammal-like reptiles, amphibians, fish, and several-celled jellyblobs) are slime. Then again, Fred Hoyle says life did not originate on Earth at all, which makes me a space alien. Some people have ventured the suggestion I come from a looney bin, whilst others tell me they know where I come from but never elaborate because they're too busy disagreeing with what I've just said. But then again, it seems the stuff we're all made of were once fused together in a long gone star, which implies we all come from a small tiny spot that contained everything. And we blew that up too

Caligula: Divine Wrath is the offending title. On no account buy it unless you want porno stories about Caligula, Claudius, and Commodus, not to mention some astonishing (and quite ridiculous) revelations about the behaviour of arena crowds. No it isn't, I've just checked, and Scylla is correct. However I won't be checking the ciontents again.

Until a few months ago, one of my usual 'get-fit' routes was to follow the farm trail to Southleaze and cross the M4 motorway on that concrete arch bridge. For some reason it was decided the bridge must go, inspired partially by the new housing developments taking place on Swindons Front Lawn. Yesterday I went that way again out of curiosity. A new bridge has been installed but I wanted to see if it was accessible. It was. Not by cars anymore however. The bridge has steps on one side instead of a steep embankment, and the south side no longer has that curved approach path. That's all been torn up, and the track leading from the road now ends at a field. Which, incidentially, is also what happens the south side of the bridge. There's a long gravel path leading down to a grassy field, and you have to cross a potentially muddy area to reach the old track. That's progress I guess. Progress on Personal Fitness I can still sprint a respectable 100 metres. True, I'm not likely to challenge Mr Bolt (my legs just aren't long enough and my athlete to pensioner ratio isn't getting any better) but hey, I can still do it. Unfortunately, this 'get-fit' stuff isn't doing much for my endurance. I reached the top of a long rise gasping and sweating exactly like the unfit individual I'm trying not to be. Is there an easier way to get fit? What's the point of trying hard to stay healthy and active in later life if you die of a heart attack through exertion? Same time tomorrow then.

Unpolluted nonense? That's a little harsh Scylla. No, it isn't nonsense. Nor is it hidden. It's simply looking at the issue from first principles without all the baggage of conventional opinion. Shall we try an analogy? Okay, sit comfiortably, we'll begin. Let's assume for the moment that you've just invaded these forums. That you're out to conquer this website. So how would I stop you? By folding my arms and waiting? Fabian strategy was considered necessary by it's originator because he had nothing else to offer, no method of achieving a decisive victory against his invaders. Allowing Hannibal to trample over the Roman countryside for thirteen years did not bring him to his knees or force him to surrender. Despite a quick rearmament after Cannae (at least as far as they could), the four great defeats prior to that had taught the Romans theuy couldn't tackle Hannibal on the field of battle. Which incidentially makes me a little curious why you persist in regarding Rome as the masters of ancient warfare, but there you go. So what answer did they come to? They didn't. It's almost as if they just hoped Hannibal would get bored and go home, which he didn't. The 2nd Punic War had therefore become a war of attrition on Roman soil. Hannibal received at least one major reinforcement and re-supply by sea, and another Carthaginian general was bringing fresh troops in through the north of Italy. Roman towns and cities had mutineed against Rome and sided with Hannibal, most notably places like Capua. It would seem then that the war of attrition was going Hannibals way. Perhaps not entirely, Hannibal had his own difficulties, but his failure to grasp the nettle after Cannae meant that Rome was not utterly defeated, but lingering on. Which brings us to Scipio and his demand at sword point to the senate not to surrender. Clearly he'd lost patience with the prevarication of Roman leadership and wanted something done, especially in the face of public outcry against what was seen as some very dubious motives on the part of Roman senators. In other words, it was Scipio's grabbibng of the initiative that turned things around, not the will of the people nor the command of the Senate. Whereas Hannibal lost the initiaitve, Scipio regained it. In between, it was no more than weak leadership from a city state unable to make any decisive action to end the war in their favour. You're welcome.

You know, I'm starting to wonder about that Chaos Theory I mentioned yesterday. On the way home from the shops I wandered down the alleyway at the back of the house. The sprouting foliage has become quite thick now the College is an abandoned site. Where once you could drive a car along the rough gravel surface, now there's only a narrow path between the grass, brambles, horsetails, and overhanging trees. A solitary butterfly, in shades of brown, went about it's erratic business. Later that day I paused to look upward and the edges of heavy cloud were very apparent in the hazy sky. Rain? Possibly, those clouds looked heavy enough, but the sun was still shining so I took no notice. During the afternoon I was indoors, enjoying a good read. So intent on the written word was I that I really hadn't noticed how dark it was getting. What attracted my attention was a background noise, a rising tide of rainfall that was loud enough to overcome the barrier of my double glazing (which isn't all that soundproof, as I know to my cost). I looked up and yes, there was the rain, absolutely belting down. Yawn. The book's more interesting. A sharp crackle and a resonant rumble followed soon after. A thunderstorm? I looked out and found a very curious scene. The edge of the towering cumulo-nimbus cloud was above the house. To the east, it was slate grey heaviness, a curtain of falling water that obscured the view beyond a few hundred yards. To the west, bright sunshine. Looking out the back it was odd to see rain pouring onto the yard with the sun shining. You could see the water evaporating on the asphalt like thin steam. The storm drifted gently northeast, following the prevailing wind and rumbling away elsewhere. Butterfly - I'm impressed. Storm of the Week Hurricane Jimena had hit a tourist spot in Mexico. Wow... Those guys have some serious butterflies....

The Fabian Strategy was ineffective. If the idea was to avoid a confrontation and casualties, that achieved nothing. If the idea was to 'starve' Hannibals army as a force far from home and without direct support, that failed too. Hannibals campaign lasted eighteen years in which Rome's defense was trashed - only a poor strategic decision by Hannibal prevented utter Roman defeat - and reinforcements were on the way. Hannibal wasn't neutralised - he lost the initiative, and that was not a Roman device.

Funny how little things can seem so important. There is of course that quaint Chaos Theory that suggests a butterfly in motion could upset a balance that leads to a storm elsewhere. At first glance, it seems a ridiculous notion, because the laws of physics clearly indicate that a butterfly would have a hard time creating a massive cyclonic movement of air that flattens most of the Eastern US seaboard. But then again, little things matter. There was that time I thought I was losing fuel in flight, when in fact it was merely a failure of Cessna's notoriously inaccurate fuel gauges. A minor failure that caused some concern at the time. Or the bolt in my little Nissan Cherry hatchback, the one the mechanic had failed to tighten after a service that left me stranded in the countryside at night. These are of course inconsequential problems despite the inconvenience they caused. Then we have to think again when we consider the tragic results of minor failures on Space Shuttle flights. One exploded on take off, another burned up on re-entry, both from stupidly tiny and insignificant failures. The trouble is that such disasters are politically embarrasing as well as tragic, and I see that the Space Shuttle fleet is to be retired in 2011, leaving NASA with commercial rockets to send their payloads into orbit. It seems a little sad. The Space Shuttle was supposed to be a step forward, the proof of concept of re-usable spacecraft, and one that proved without doubt that space is even more unforgiving that ordinary flight. We are of course at an early stage of space exploration. For us, the easy and mundane interstellar travel of popular genres like Star Trek are beyond us for now, if possible at all. A part of me hopes that NASA will recover its nerve (and funding) and make a better attempt at everyday spaceflight in the future. One wonders what the insurance bill of Virgins projected orbital flights will be, especially after the inevitable tiny failure occurs. Failure of the Week Of all things, a tiny signal splitter in my recording gear has disintergrated. It just fell apart, and I had to disassemble my guitar to free bits of it. Not the end of the world, certainly, but an annoying failure which now sends me on a quest across Swindon to find another. The local music store doesn't have one, nor does the video equipment shop outside the library, so I must gird my loins and head toward the business parks and the large premises of major retailers, to do battle with ignorant and insignificant shop assistants.

Testosterone? I wasn't aware that had anything to do with romanticism. Yes, romanticised. The image of Roman invincibility is simply that. An image. It's rather like those youngsters with glazed eyes every time you mention special forces, seeing muscled heroes with and supernatural invulnerability. Have you ever met a real special forces guy? They seem pretty ordinary people when they pass you in the street, with variations of character and capability like anyone else, albeit probably a tad better at soldiering than most. The Republican Roman legions were militia (at least until 107BC buts outside the scope of this thread) which makes them ordinary people, not highly skilled military geniuses. To regard them as the best in the world and use that as the reason for Romes expansion is a bit simplistic and naive. It's like saying the SAS won Desert Storm. Of course they didn't, despite their useful (and romanticised) contribution. Regular troops, of varying quality, and a co-operative incisive strategy from the commanders, not to mention politics in the background prevailed. The Romans of the Pre-Marian era didn't need to be brilliant. I do take on board the quote you gave above, which is interesting but not indicative of a consistent level of skill. An impressive performance at one event does not equate to the standard of the time, and one has to wary because history is written by the victor and Romans were no strangers to exaggeration or glorification of their military achievements. So much is dependent on the quality of leadership. Otherwise poor troops can be galvanised and well-motivated in the presence of a more capable leader (as in the case of Spartacus), or experienced troops left confused and disorganised (as say during the Varian Disaster of a later time) by inept leadership. After all, without Scipio and his insightful command would Rome have prevailed in the 2nd Punic War? The indications are that they were close to surrendering, or at least dithering to the point that such rumours were abroad. The reason is partly this romance of the Roman legion as a mighty force, which as I've mentioned is persistent and very attractive to the human psyche - we like associating with strong tribes by instinct - but also the association of the Roman legion with modern military practises. This is definitely wrong. Okay, they did some things that parallel our modern regimes and indeed it sometimes looks hauntingly familiar, but it's a mistake to assume that the regimes were identical in all but name and equipmment. Further, there is a tendency to foist the high degree of professionalism in the legions of the post-civil war era on the militia of the earlier time. There is little basis for this, since each levy was essentially created from scratch from the available volunteers and there was no standard of training at that time, which was ironically one of the lessons of the Punic Wars that eventually gave birth to the Reforms of Marius.

Evidence? Snapping your fingers and telling everyone to go and read polybius book six isn't really presenting any - it's also rather arrogant to assume that everyone else will see the prose in the same light as yourself. As regards conquering the known world - that wasn't done by military might alone and neither was it done as a blitzkrieg campaign. It was a series of diplomatic moves and little wars (and a few larger conflicts it must be said), and in particular, the defeat of it's largest rival opened the way. Balance of power is an important quality in politics - I would have thought the last century had made that clear. There's plenty of factors involved in their success - but excellence alone? Thats a misconception, albeit a popular and romantic one. They were a society that believed in itself and as history shows, that counts for a great deal.

Dogs are known as Mans Best Friend. I certainly do know what they mean. The companionship of a canine pet is astonishing. Such is the pack instinct of a dog that they assume the role of family member more often or not. But is a dog 'Womans Best Friend'? Yesterday I waited at a main road before popping down to the music store to collect my guitar. Across the road from me a woman waited with her pet, a white and brown dog of some strange breed. It was a curious animal. It stood there with stumpy legs and scruntched up face staring at me as if was saying "I don't know what you are. You wait till I give you a sniff sunshine. Then we'll see what you're made of". The poor woman holding the leash implored her dog to come away from the kerb and walk obediently by her side. As sometimes happens with headstrong dogs, it took no notice. Instead it followed me as I crossed the road, slowly beginning to pace forwards to intercept my course. Having given me a quick smell and deciding I was basically harmless, the dog then lost interest, trying to cross the road the other way in the face of oncoming traffic despite the urgent appeals and muscular strain of pulling it back. The woman actually apologised for her errant beast, but I was merely amused. Two hours later I had reason to walk the same way. There was the woman, on the other side of the road, making futile attempts to persuade her dog to follow her. The dog saw me walk past. It's gaze said "What are you laughing at?" Puppy of the Week On my way to use the internet this morning I spotted a small puppy playing beside two boys. A little thing, a small Jack Russel terrier, which started yapping as soon as it spotted me in optimistic challenges to my right of passage. Instead, I turned toward the puppy. It stopped yapping. It stopped wagging its tail. The mother of the pup saw me and sprinted into view. She was not impressed with me either, and gave me a warning yap to behave myself in the presence of her youngster. Of course, once beside them, they both decided I wasn't dangerous and both said hello in the canine manner, excitedly wagging tails and jumping up. The little one was only nine weeks old. It had such a pleasant personality to it. I hope it retains that friendliness when the school of hard knocks makes it a little warier.

Some evidence would be nice - you haven't provided any. But don't bother. I doubt many of us are interested in a debate over the meanings of the English language. The issue of how you see professional and amateur status isn't supposed to be rigidly defined - it's a loose description based on context and I'm sure if you ask most people understand perfectly well what was meant. But were the Romans paramount military experts? Many people like to think so. The enduring image of a well honed military machine stirs something in our psyche, though I suspect it's little more than a romantic notion. Troops at the time of Cannae were militia. That means citizens called to the field. What does it mean to be a citizen? In our modern view, rights and privileges are the first things that spring to mind. However, the Romans were keen to stress honour and obligation, particularly with regard to military duties. A citizen wasn't merely a member of the population who had a certain status, he was also expected to perform for the defence of those privileges. In the modern world, we see civilians called up for war and and trained as soldiers, some having never even seen military firearms before, let alone handled them (the availability of modern media means the current generation is a little more clued up to begin with). In the Roman world, violence is more prevalent in ordinary life. Swords are commonplace. Since the Romans had no real division between civilian and soldier during the Punic Wars (apart from actually serving) the question of swordplay comes readily to mind. Immediately we think of training. We know the later permanent legions established a persistent standard. That did take time to develop however, as the accounts of Roman attempts to quell a rebellion by escaped gladiators show that at first they were panicked by a suprise night time raid on their camp and simply ran off, or in the second case a legion described as unfit for battle. That was thirty years or so after the Reforms of Marius and Pompey felt obliged to decimate his troops to motivate them sufficiently. We do know that Scipio introduced retraining for his experienced men in 209BC, seven years after Cannae. This has been suggested as evidence of a wider programme, but I suspect not. The argument is simple. Scipio was bringing his veterans up to speed. The description of the training accentuates 'practice', not 'instruction'. Why would veterans need swordplay lessons? They already had expeience of combatand simply needed honing to a fine edge. But what of the hastatii, the front rank of newbies recently called to serve? It is generally assumedthat they received training to make them effective soldiers. Certainly they must have been drilled to a degree or their ability to hold formation would have been lousy. To what extent though would te commander hve attempted to make them capable soldiers? He already had those, the trarii, and it was Roman practice to keep these veterans in the third rank to preserve them as much as possible. Inherent in that idea is the concept that the front rank were considered expendable. These were men called up, with little experience or ability at warfare, and only by survival would they progress to the back ranks. It is well known that the Romans were willing to sustain heavy casualties to achieve their objectives and to some extent the front rank must have been viewed as cannon-fodder. Would a commander invest a great deal of time in training these men to fight well? Our modern hindsight immediately screams yes. Of course. But that ignores a fundamental difference between us and the Romans. We consider an infantryman an equal of another, and experience in units is a useful commodity but individuals are not segregated according to this quality. The Romans did. It was part of their legionary organisation to seperate men who had or hadn't experience of battle, and to use them accordingly. Logically then a Roman commander has littl incentive to teach recruits the finer points of swordplay. Many of them had handled swords before, even if not in battle, and at its heart the act of thrusting a sword is not a matter of skill. Of course, doing so well most definitely is, but since the front rank were destined to bear the brunt of combat, to serve as a buffer between the enemy and the Roman veterans, a high degree of excellence was not required, nor was it realistic to attain without actual experience. This was the way Romans trained their troops in the manipular system - enough tuition to get them started - then hard lessons in the field. They learned by bitter experience. Since their commanders had been politcally appointed there was no guarantee an individual genmeral was any good at all. He had, after all, got the job through popularity at the polls. Now it is true that such individuals would make claims about their military prowess, such was the importance of military achievement right from the earliest days of the Republic, but importantly the Romans believed such capability was inherited. A son would be a chip off the old block s it were, and to have famous war heroes in their ancestory guaranteed a certain level of respect even if the actual talent of the individual amounted to zero. Were the Romans of c.200BC the paramount military experts of their era? Of course not. They weren't sufficiently coherent or persistent as a military force to achieve that accolade. Hannibal knew full well how lousy they could be, and his operational tactics revolved around exploiting the Roman weaknesses which he did effectively on four occaisions. What the Romans did have however was a communal spirit - one reason whytheir militia system persisted - and a large enough empire to replace casualties however strained that capacity became. Further, they were lucky enough to find a commander, or rather, have a commander who found his voice and demanded the Senate maintain action against Carthage. Would the Romans have survived had not Scipio taken the war to Africa, motivating his troops with leadership and a sense of readiness?

British weather is notorious. We have a long standing tradition of beginning conversations on that topic. Today will be no exception. Hurricane Bill (or what was left of it) certainly made an impression. It didn't rain throughout the week but we had some heavy showers and yet more amber triangles on our television screens every hour. Today is sunny and bright, a hazy vista of pale blue sky and silver edged cumulus on the horizon. It's also distinctly cold. Hang on, isn't this August? What happened to Global Warming? I thought we were all going to die of heat stroke? Seven Year Service It's no good, my old guitar has served well but it needs a fettle. So off I went down to the local music store and asked for a seven year service (my description, not theirs). The resident guitar guru asked to see my guitar and promptly rattled off an annoyingly good solo on it, declaring it was fine. Yes... But the intonation might be off? He shrugged and told me he couldn't complete the work before October anyway because he's getting married and won't be in the workshop until then. What? You mean to tell me you're having sex and not fixing my guitar? Researcher of the Week Recently I've been bumping into an old mate of mine. I used to play in bands with H during my days as a local wannabee drum hero, and none too suprisingly, he still plays bass guitar even after twenty five years. He does sessions in London now and good for him. However, he also now haunts the library as I do but his intention is to research medals, and every time I see him he's buried in family tree and military websites collating information. I asked him curiosity how many medals he'd researched. About six hundred, he tells me. All that work and you just know H won't do anything with it. What is it with people in this town? There's another guy I know who's an expert on the American Civil War, and someone who's given lectures over there on that very subject. Some people might be able to tell you which units fought at the Battle of Anyoldburg, but he can tell you who their commander was, what he had for breakfast that day, and the name of the dog he fed the scraps to. But he won't write a book on the subject. I know the gentleman concerned is strongly anti-war in his thinking (perhaps that's no bad thing considering) and considers the glorification and entertainment aspects of military study as undesirable. For that reason, he always concentrates on peripheral issues dealing with his favourite conflict and dislikes discussing the actual confrontations themselves, despite being supremely knowledgable about them. All that research and it will die with him. Surely the study of history is to perpetuate knowledge and understanding?

All armies are either 'professional' or 'amateur', their ability might be implied but is more often to do with leadership, motivation, and more importantly, experience. Some amateur formations are highly motivated and capable, others derisably hopeless. The same is true of otherwise professional groups. Professional is this context simply means a permanent career establishment, not necessarily the standard they worked to. If you want to discuss facts, the essential point is this - Roman generals were political appointees, not career officers. Now whilst many had previous experience of command in junior roles, that merely ensured they had some idea of procedure. Generals were not chosen for military ability, but because their face fitted, or because they had no choice left but to select a certain individual however disagreeable it was to senatorial sensibilities. Secondly, during the Punic Wars, the Romans were a militia. They had no standing professional army as they did later and inevitably that means that many of the procedural matters that we take for granted in the modern day such as training were not consistent or indeed evident. A man with a sword was a man with a sword, and the attitude that a man fighting for his home was a better man than a barbarian seeking to capture it isn't necessarily true and typical of leadership methods of the time. I'm curious to know where your evidence is. If it's Vegetius, we can dismiss that as a catalogue of anecdotes. If it's Polybius, surely a supremacist would proudly exaggerate his nations legions? More to the point, Polybius wrote his account of the legions of his day around 150BC, shortly before Carthage was finished off. At that time, the experience gathered in the previous conflicts was current and available. So in a sense, even if Polybius is accurate in his estimations, he was describing the legions during a period when they were benefitting from the experience of campaigning. One essential point of warfare which is true of all periods is that armies often march to war assuming they'll be back within a short time (these days the phrase is 'Home by Christmas'), reflecting a naivety about what they're undertaking. Hannibals mercenaries were under no such illusions. Many were veterans of the Spanish campaigns, others blooded warriors seeking another war to fight (even in the modern day, experienced soldiers often prefer to continue their trade after leaving the services), and noticeably the majority stayed with HAnnibal during the privations of the crossing of the Alps. Not during the Punic Wars Scylla. The army went home after the fight and citizens wouldn't ordinarily expect to serve for twenty years. Then again, if it took twenty years to impart training, one suspects it was rubbish to begin with. It's a fallacy to see the Roman legions of this era as a superbly trained elite corps. They simply weren't. Your evidence says very much the reverse. They were often lax, poorly trained, badly motivated, and hurriedly raised. Indeed, the reputation of later legions is exaggerated too. Sure they had successes and some legions were better than others, but really all you're trying to is perpetuate the myth of Roman invincibility. You like the legend. In theory. However, a closed shop like the Senate weren't likely to back any old bod for the job. It was all about who you knew and a great deal of backscratching. In general, the outstanding new men were excluded at first because their potential ability was threatening to the old order of things. The Romans didn't want self made men returning with ideas in their head. Firstly, the Romans had no national army at this time. Secondly, a legion, or levy of troops, was never intended to be permanent at all. The whole point was to fight whatever battle was needed and go home. The Romans didn't want a permanent army because they knew full well it was politically dangerous and contrary to their societal model constructed after Tarquinus was ousted, but it was the changing political situation on the larger scale that encouraged Marius to create legions as permanent military corps fifty years after Carthage had gone, not to mention a good deal of expedience and personal experience.