caldrail

Swindon as a town always had ambition. Once the railworks closed in the eighties, the town brought in investment and new business and was always pushing to be raised to 'city' status. Back in 1994, I flew over Swindon in a Cessna and was stunned at how much dereliction the town still had, much of it ex-railway land. Since then these brownfield sites have been developed. More developments had been planned. Artists impressions of Swindons Brave New World have been published locally and presented a rosey image of a thriving, clean, happy town, a place of endless shopping malls and strange curving footbridges. Sadly the sites earmarked for these developments remain derelict. The Tented Market still stands and might even reopen as is. The Granville Street site is still a car park. The Old Police Station site is still a fenced off dirt field. The Locarno still looks more like a burned out ruin than the intended italianate piazza. The Old College, where I once studied, is now being demolished on the cheap by the occaisional vandal. Where has all the optimism gone? Alastair Darling, our beleaguered Chancellor (who may soon be replaced according to popular rumour), visited our borough yesterday to speak to Swindon business leaders. That was over quick. What did he say to them? Goodbye? Talking of goodbyes, I notice the artists impression of the renovated Old College site include a cute grove of trees where I currently live. Was that a hint? Scotsman of the Week There is a certain irony about Swindons reversals in fortune. A few years back, I was at a bar and requested a cider from the barmaid. "We ain't got none." She told me sweetly. What? No cider? How's a guy supposed to get drunk around here? All right then, I'll have some cider without the apples. So she poured me a Fosters lager. Having attracted some attention to myself with that display of mock indignation, the scotsman standing next to me proceeded to add me to his best mate list. Before I knew it, he was chatting to me like I'd known him for years. Anyone know who this bloke is? I discovered he was a Scotsman because he told me he'd come from Scotland, despite whatever preconceptions his scottish accent had led me to. Scotland is a great place. Much better than the south. Scottish money buys you more. The scots are much more cosmopot... cosmic... sociable. Hic. No scotsman would ever be rude, never any trouble north of the border. He likes Scotland. Scotland is a great place. Is it? Is it really? Did it improve a lot when you moved to Swindon? I walked away and avoided some trouble south of the border.

So they can clean up the mess after the weekend party probably. And you thought museums were dull...

Yesterday afternoon I was strolling through Lawns in Old Town. There's a stretch of woodland there behind the main road properties which is overgown. There's a marvellous atmosphere in there. Sunlight shaded out in a sort of natural cathedral effect. Where trees have fallen, younger growth has sprouted around the base of old trees making layers of thick foliage. I like to wander in there sometimes. You find all sorts of strange things lurking in that shadowy realm. My curiosity was aroused by a felled tree and gathered firewood. I didn't expect that. It seemed a little odd. The tree trunk was lying there intact, and only that trunk. If this was a thinning operation, why hadn't more trees been felled? I spotted the dirty blue tent first, almost hidden behind the trees near the stone wall. Rubbish strewn at its entrance, leaving me with a bad feeling about this intrusion into quiet woodland. A little further on, and built against the stone wall, was a shanty made of old doors and hardboard. This small community of homeless people had been living quietly the other side of a stone wall from the main entrance to the park. I doubt they'll appreciate my presence, so it was time to move on. Dangerous Moment of the Week Urban life hides many dangers and pitfalls. Sometimes, no matter how streetwise or tough you may be, a situation will develope and you must be ready to meet the challenge. My challenge came yesterday afternoon. I was walking through the park on my way home. The path curves away from the lake and climbs out of sight of the people enjoying the sun by the waters edge. An afro-caribbean couple were sauntering in my direction. He was a muscular guy, tee shirt, baseball cap, striding slowly with his shoulders swaying from side to side, staring at me with supreme confidence. "Ahhh my god my god ahhhhhh!" His partner freaked out. "It's a frog!" "Careful Man." The big guy said to me, ushering me out of the way of the vicious brown frog, a monster at least an inch long from nose to tail. Phew. Thanks people. That was close. Man-eating frogs are rare in Swindon but that one nearly had me there. Look at it... Just staring at me balefully....

An interesting possibility. But since Nero had already played the slave (as charioteer), or the animal (in the arena), would he lament his apparent status or his own 'ability' as traditionally thought? Granted he had fallen from power at that point but why didn't he simply order his slave to dig the grave? Nero may have preferred a life of obscene luxury - he did rush back from Antium to oversee relief efforts in AD64, and given the situation, I doubt he had much access to luxury then. Further, Nero appears to gone to some effort to improve his musicianship. Training with lead weights to improve the lungs and so forth. He could have just slipped the judges a few sestercii or perhaps a nasty glance. Chariot racing wasn't without risk and controlling a ten horse buggy (Suetonius records he did this once at least) couldn't have been an easy task at all. Nero was without doubt an egotist - he was also used to working hard to achieve his ends even if he did have little talent for his endeavours. Please let us see your finished work. I am curious to read it.

Or the religious, given Nero's identification with Apollo.

The Sphinx is something of a mysterious relic. A lion with the head of a man, on guard outside the pyramids. As I understand it, the human head is a later addition, carved from the original to represent the Pharoah Chephren. There's been some debate over its age in recent years as one archaeologist pointed at what seemed to be water erosion on the sides, a sign of rainfall in an area now condemned to dry desert. Certainly the Sahara as a whole is drier than it was in the past, as the discarded millstones dating from the neolithic era suggest, and potentially, the location may not have been arid at all when the Sphinx was ostensibly carved out of the rock. Nowhere are there as many rock paintings in the world as found in the Sahara Desert. I'm going to discount the more fanciful rumours about the Sphinx. Tales of secret chambers and hidden treasure are easily dismissed in a region that once once had a thriving industry in tomb-robbing, and arguably, still does. The wilder assertions I won't even bother to mention. Something has gotten me thinking however. I see from a documentary series on tv that human beings were spreading into Europe 45,000 years ago. Thats based on archaeological finds, and it also seems certain that some form of society existed in Turkey in that era. Indeed, modern wheat descends from that found growing naturally in modern Anatolia. Found there is a religious site of that time, with extraordinary reliefs of aninals and such carved into stone plinths. Evidence then, of an organised society at work and prayer. The interesting thing is that the humans wandering into southeast Europe brought with them some form of religion signified by figurines of lion headed men. An animistic faith of some sort, but a part of me wonders if this isn't related in some way to the Sphinx. Perhaps not chronogically - the Sphinx was carved later - but perhaps a 'cult of the lion' was the inspiration for it? I've always said there may well have been older civilisations we're not aware of. Forget Atlantis, before anyone mentions it, because that is based purely on a story and whatever origin the tale had, there's no evidence. What I'm talking about is an early civilisation, something we would see as quite primitive in many respects but without doubt a precursor to what we usually picture as civilisation. Even as long ago as 8,000 years a small city was built at Catal Huyuk in Turkey, with temples dedicated to animal gods. In this case, the bull is prevalent, a potent symbol that survived into Roman times and beyond if you include modern bull-fighting. Early animistic beliefs revolve around the idea that spirits of these creatures should be respected. This was of course to do with hunting. If the animal spirit was willing, the hunter would be successful, and the sacrifice of an animal for the good of the community was something to be observed with some reverence. Once these people had evolved toward a more settled existence, with less emphasis on hunting, what would they naturally worship? The old animal spirits would remain part of folklore persistently, but perhaps the animals they worshipped would then tend to be those they either admired (as in the bull), or for it's ever present danger (as in the lion, which existed in Europe until Roman times) At any rate, the lion figurines are widely found in southeast Europe during the period of the migrations of Homo Sapiens out of Africa. You can't help but wonder if their religion spread with them.

It's that uncomfortable feeling that you've been used isn't it? Well I can't claim moral superiority. In my younger days I treated some women the same, but then again, some women have treated me that way too. Unfortunately it's how human beings are. That probably won't help you feel any better. Perhaps this might. Smile. Always smile. There's nothing an ex-partner hates more than to see you're happy. There's more to life than sex anyway (good grief, what am I saying?) so you may as well enjoy it. Take pleasure in small things, because the bigger treats are always worth the wait.

Another glorious morning. On my way to the Job Centre I stopped in the park for twenty minutes, watching the various waterfowl doing fowl things on the lake. The black headed geese stayed by the shore, pecking each other for something to do before the breadcrumb crowd arrive. Pidgeons in all shades of grey didn't wait, flapping around and searching the pavement, mystified as to why breadcrumbs hadn't magically appeared. There were no swans today. Those graceful birds are a common sight here usually. A solitary gull circled the lake and periodically snapped something out of the water. Ducks swam about aimlessly. Coots and moorhens sniffed out the opposition. We sometimes get an occaisional crane, but that's a rareity. All this was pretty much what I expected. Then I spotted a single bird out on the water. A grebe. The sloping crest was unmistakable and almost as soon as I saw it, it vanished. That bird is a feathered submarine. Nonetheless, it was a pleasure to see one. Sooner or later, that old woman with the plastic bag will be along, and the birds will be there, each competing to get that last breadcrumb before the other. Apart from the gull that is, serenely disinterested in such lowly food, much preferring the quick dip of a beak into the water and a swift getaway with whatever morsel it caught. If anyone thinks I'm becoming something of an ornithologist, please don't panic. I have noticed lately that nature is all the more interesting when you have time to take an interest in it. You start spotting little details, the individual characters, the daily drama of survival on the lake. Guess I haven't much else to do before the library opens. Ah well. Time to wander down the Job Centre and scramble for that last remaining vacancy. Vacancy of the Week The Job Centre changes every time I go in there now. Each fortnight I sit in the assigned area awaiting the call for a thirty second interview, only to be approached by one of their advisors who tells me politely that I'm sat in the wrong office and could I go across the building. Sigh. Today, and somewhat unusually, the woman across the desk handed me a list of the latest vacancies and asked which would I apply for. This has to be joke. Temporary tradesmen, cleaners, carers, and van drivers. After a grimace I try to be positive and tell her I wasn't entirely interested in any, but if need be, I'll apply for the van driver job. Ah, she says, that's a self employed position (which renders it unclean as far as the government guidelines are concerned) so no joy there. Was that a test? Please don't tell me I'm going to bombarded by offers of driving jobs. I worked for a courier firm once. Thirteen hour shifts, addresses that Marco Polo couldn't find, and endless hours sifting through piles of badly labelled packages in the back of a grimey van. Joy. The things I have to do to earn my daily bread...

A few nights ago, I was astonished at how cold it felt. The night sky was devoid of cloud and the chill very evident. Since then, the high pressure over England has brought hot sunshine with it, just as the weather people predicted. As I write, the open window next to me is letting in a cool draught. Given how hot the sun is this morning, it really does illustrate how powerful sunshine can be. I should actually know this anyway. As a young teenager I went on a school skiing holiday to Austria. Of course we had a great time, but although the air was very cold at altitude and the time of year for snowfall, the sun was always baking hot. I remember seeing young women sunbathing in their bikinis despite the wintery surroundings. So strong was the reflection of sunlight from the snow, that after my return my parents didn't recognise the suntanned me when I got off the coach. Once, as I walked our dog along the old railway line running round the south of Swindon, I became a bit hot in the sun, and although the temperature was below freezing, I felt fully comfortable in a tee shirt. A woman passed me in a fur coat, hands wrapped in a muffler, astonished that I wasn't suffering from hypothermia. I should have remembered all of this. I should have remembered the news about ozone layers and deadly ultraviolet. It's my own fault. It was such a nice day that yesterday I wandered down to the grassy hill south of Croft and indulged in a spot of sunbathing. Only for an hour. Don't want to get sunburnt or anything. Help. I have been lightly toasted, both sides. Playtime of the Week Walking through Croft Wood on the way home I passed a tree that I hadn't noticed before. At first glance it seemed eminently climbable, and since no-one was about... Well, I discovered I'm not as young as I was. Going up wasn't too hard, the almost dead trunk had a convenient ladder of boughs to scale, but I found coing down a little awkward. I just wasn't as sure-footed as I had been as a child (there is of course an easier way to get down, but that's generally painful). Having descended, I suddenly realised there was an audience. Converging pairs of dog walkers looked at me like I was a mental case. A man of his age? Climbing trees? Tut tut tut. All part of growing old disgracefully. After all, that bloke from the Rolling Stones fell off a tree didn't he? At least I can still climb. Just.

The Romans (by the first century AD) believed themselves to be rulers of the wold, given an empire without boundary for all time by the will of the gods, and indeed, masters over nature. Their superiority was celebrated in the arena, with venatorii hunting animals for the edification and delight of the public, but an event often staged with myhtological trappings. A female hunter was portrayed as Diana, and since she would 'triumph' against the beasts, the supernatural world is demonstrated to the crowd. Quite what happened when she failed and got mauled I don't know. Such things would deeply embarass the games editor/sponsor. A fourth century writer (I don't know his name unfortunately) lamented the lack of wild animals. There were 'no more lions in Thessalay'. What he lamented wasn't the ecological loss, but the unavailability of these animals to prove the Roman mastery by ritual combat in the arena. The Bible itself records the attitude of the Romans. "Man and woman are created to be God's regents over this new creation." as Wikipedia puts it. Arguably this is an element of judaic mythos rather than Roman, but we have a latinised Bible to work from, not the judaean. Did Roman emperors see themselves as regents over their new creation? Some did. Nero wanted to recreate Rome as Neropolis. Commodus renamed Rome as Colonia Lucia Annia Commodiana.. The majority were more worldly of course with personal motives. Some wanted no more than to be in charge, some because they wanted to be powerful and wealthy, some because legionaries persuaded them it was a good idea. However, the concept of a Roman emperor as a beneficent guardian of his peoples welfare is something closer to Roman propaganda as practised by various individuals. It certainly has little to do with becoming top dog in a dangerous and cutthroat political arena.

Most egyptian tombs (not all were pyramids) were rifled by robbers soon after they were sealed. Regarding ancient historians - some were good, some weren't. Suetonius is often sneered at as recording gossip and rumour, but that in itself has value. What has to remembered is that these ancient historians were storytellers first and historians second. They wanted their work read so often enlivened the text. Jordanes for instance wrote a history of the Goths, his own ancestors, in AD551. It's actually a summary of another larger work that no longer survives, and Jordanes had only three days to complete it. Whilst the latter half relied on stories existing in his time, the first half is somewhat fanciful. For an extreme example, check out Geoffery of Monmouths Historia Regum Britanniae. I challenge you to keep a straight face.

It's depressing news. South Swindon has seen a 50% increase in unemployment over the last year. It seems then that my search for a job isn't getting any easier. But let's be positive. I did get a letter the other day telling me that my application has been actioned and I'll be hearing from the agency shortly. Huh? My jaw fell into my cornflakes. All my applications for warehousing jobs (such as those I've done for twenty years) have been discarded, and instead they think I'm suitable for working as a Tree Surveyor. I can see the interview now.... - "Ahh. Mr Caldrail, please take a seat... Now, I understand you want to work for us?" Erm... Yes. I have applied for the job. - "Why do want to work for our company?" Oh no.. Tough question... Think of an answer Caldrail... Oh, you know, the girls, the machismo. Doh! - "I see. You do understand that we're looking for someone who knows about trees? I've been looking at your CV. I can't see any mention of anything remotely resembling forestry work." Ahh. Yes. Now... You see, forestry is a lot like warehousing. - "Pardon me? In what way?" Well... A warehouse is dark, full of stuff, and has lots of animals in it.... Help. He's looking at me like I'm an idiot... Latest Trend of the Week Firebombing is the growth industry in Swindon right now. There's been two attacks on houses over the last week. Those molotov cocktails must be coming off the production lines like nothing else. Or maybe not. It seems three blokes just got jail sentences for this sort of thing. Now they're unemployed too.

Just admit it Doc, knobbly tires make your tongue hang out

Or you could say that History is theoretical, archaeology is practical, or other comparisons. In fact, they are both branches of the same coin - study of the past. We human beings like to classify and label, so we do that with fields of study and it's no coincidence that our modern definitions of study emerge from the Victorian period.

You have to wonder at the motives of North Korea. They push their atomic program in directions that raise suspicions of the outside world, fire missiles into the pacific and call it a satellite launch, and now throw away the truce agreed with South Korea after their own cold war that lasted since the 50's. How do you deal with a country that has this mindset? They seem so wrapped up in their own propaganda. Then again, I think the North Korean leadership found out that staying in power during peacetime was too difficult. Much easier to strut around with long ranks of AK's and missile trucks, waving flags and singing "There'll Be Bluebirds Over, The White Cliffs of Pyongyang". I can't help feeling that there's an element of Big Brother here. In true George Orwellian style, North Korea is inventing a tense political situation to frighten and bind its citizens to motivate patriotic sentiment of its citizens in the face of appalling poverty. It's all a big gamble isn't it? Sabre Rattle of the Week Behind me a young man coughed and hid a derisive comment behind his hand. Wow. What a man. Making nasty comments under cover of splutters behind their targets back. Definitely a man to frightened of? Erm... Nope. Go away you silly little boy.

What is it with women and little 4x4's? We blokes go to great lengths to purchase full on supercars and the ladies sneer at our outward display of testosterone. Show them a cute little box on four chunky tires and they melt. I just don't get it. What's the attraction of a faux cross country vehicle that can't corner properly, doesn't seat more than anyone elses, isn't equiipped for arctic tundra, won't be driven on anything remotely muddy, and uses more fuel to go slower?

Regarding the swords - these were carried as weapons once the pikes had become useless for any reason. Pikes after all are somewhat unwieldy because of their length and weight, and the phalanx was designed to make the best use of those attributes. Since a phalanx relies on coherence for tactical advantage (in that you cannot penetrate a wall of sharp objects) it seems a bit ridiculous that a phalanx-man would simply drop his pike and wield a sword. Phalaxes were used on a broad front wherever possible. Literally to bulldoze the opponents aside. Roman maniples were more mobile but if they couldn't outflank the opposing phalanx - they had a big problem. The cavalry on the ancient battlefield was always at a premium because horses were rare and expensive. They weren't used in the same way as later periods (for close-in charges) but as skirmishers or melee fighters. To harass, outflank, or pursue. Where possible, the early ancient cavalryman uses missile weapons and wheels away. He doesn't want to get bogged down in a fight like the armoured crustaceans of the middle ages on heavy warhorses. The mobility of the cavalry was therefore best applied on the wings, to decide who had control of the flanks and quite possibly the battle. The Battle of Leuctra in 371BC demonstrates this. The Thebans advanced on the Spartan lines right flank refused (diagonal holding back on the right). They did this to allow their cavalry to escape at the last moment whilst the Spartan cavalry, lined in front of the phlanxes, found themselves trapped between the enemy pikes and their own. Swords were not considered until after the pikes had done their work.

There is a great deal of difference between balls and bolts. I'm sure the archaeologist at the site knew that. The Maiden Castle find is something spectacular but there's no mention in the report that such an incident occured - the bolt was simply there along with other burial goods. It seems the Saxons have an interesting attitude toward burying their dead. Although a superstitious people (we know that - they found a neolithic barrow on the Ridgeway and named it Waylands Smithy, the residence of one of their own gods) they also have little regard for spiritual beliefs other than their own, be it pagan or christian. Barrows are known to have been re-used by Saxons as burial sites, and with the Devizes find, there remains a possibility that the gentleman was buried in such a way to enforce Saxon authority over their Romano-Celtic subjects. Unfortunately no date is given for the find. Unless it represents a mercenary (unlikely in that region) or an early settler (even less likely in the central uplands of Southern England), then we're looking at a burial something post AD550.

This morning was wet. Not heavy rain, but that persistent drizzle that dampens everything. Quite a change from the cloudless sky I saw last night. Most of us star gaze once in a while, and that's exactly what I did from the back window of my home. Sadly, the atmospheric conditions and the glow of street lighting meant you could only see the brighter stars. The night sky is sometimes so much more vivid in the countryside. But there was the Big Dipper, probably the only constellation I recognise. I find it hard to take in what those tiny points of light actually are. Each a massive nuclear furnace that dwarfs the earth, and the nearest a whopping twenty five triillion miles away. At a steady pace, it would take me something like nine hundred and sixty million years to walk there. Even if I drive in a Ferrari flat out, it would still take sixteen million years. A transatlantic jumbo jet takes four million years. The fastest car ever, Thrust SSC, won't be there any sooner than two million years from now. An Saturn V moon rocket at full throttle will still need more than eighty thousand years to cover that distance. You know what? Douglas Adams was right. Space really is mind-boggingly big. This means of course that if space aliens really are visiting earth on a regular basis as is often claimed, they're certainly paying less fuel tax than we are. Big Car of the Week Is it my imagination or are 4x4's getting bigger? One enormous black vehicle turned a corner in front of me today. I can see why americans class them as trucks, this one surely required a heavy goods vehicle license to be legally driven. Vehicles like that might be okay on the american highway, but in the British west countrys somewhat restricted lanes, it looked ridiculous. Still, you can't argue with sales. Bigger is better in many peoples minds. If it carries on like this, we'll need to drop a mountain-sized meteorite off the coast of Mexico to render them extinct.

The report didn't mention that possibility.

Ebay? One crafty so and so sold a pound coin for

Devizes isn't mentioned in the Domesday Book and the earliest origin is from a castle built there in 1080 (a motte and bailey that burned down in 1113, rebuilt in stone thirty years later). Whatever settlement existed there before the Normans was essentially rural in character abd apparently unimportant in Saxon terms.

Last night I watched Justin Lee Collins trying to gather the cast of the original series for a reunion bash. Walter Koenig proving to be a good sport, Leonard Nimoy displaying a fine sense of humour, George Takei taking a back seat, Nichelle Nicolls still the sexiest communications officer you could possibly hope to talk to, and William Shatner still the self important star who wouldn't be seen dead on a non-profit gig. I've watched the old Star Trek so many times. Also the wonderfully pompous Star Trek:New Generation. Deep Space Nine was more of a soap opera (though it had some of the best stories in between the Ferengi comedy) and Voyager a ghastly attempt to extract whatever Star Trek had left to say. Enterprise? On first sight I didn't like it. I must admit though, it has grown on me a little as it developed, and I like the portrayal of Archer as a determined gritty captain. At the end of the day though these shows are entertainment. I'm not really into coventions and rubber foreheads, but to me this business of learning Klingon to while the time away seems very odd. Personally I think the problem isn't about Star Trek being silly, but silly people taking it seriously in the first place.

I was browsing the news on the web when I stumbled on a story about an asian couple who ran a petrol station in Rotorua, New Zealand. Apparently Westpac Bank had deposited ten million NZ Dollars into their bank account by accident. The couple are now on the run and some of the money has been recovered. A few times there's been stories of ATM's going haywire and spewing out money like no tomorrow. I remember one news story going back a few years where people were queueing up to fill their pockets at a Hole In The Wall. It seems banks like handing out money. If their machines don't give it away by accident, their employees will. But there's other examples of financial silliness. Once again we return to New Zealand (by coincidence) where a three year old toddler bought a large earth mover/digger on an online auction at the low low price of

The find from a dig in the 90's was identified as a ballista bolt. I have no reason to doubt it. The idea that it might be a symbolic possession has occured to me. The thing is, Saxons were not known for having any skill in siegecraft. Only Aella in 477/478 had tackled a Roman fort, and that was probably not in the best condition or with motivated defenders. The other Saxons were challenged by ditches and palisades which the Roman-celtic people of southern England made frequent use of. So is there any likeliehood that the Saxons imported artillery? Remotely possible, but these Saxons were of a piratical sort and not the types to buy Roman siege weapons . Did the Romano-Britiish defenders have ballista's? Possibly. The knowledge to build and use them may well have survived two or three hundred years but such things must have been rare in post Roman Britain with the legions called away to Gaul. Once the Saxons had conquered the Wessex area and announced the kingdom in 560, any such weapons still survivng would have fallen into their hands anyway. There is one interesting possibility. To the Saxons, the Roman towns were something exotic and mysterious, which indicates they hadn't much experience of Roman settlement. They regarded these towns as places built by giants - and given the disease that is thought to have emptied them at the beginning of the dark ages, very little reason to control them, and since they wouldn't have bothered with sieges, attacks weren't likely. Now, if a ballista bolt had happened to be hanging around, it may have been mistaken for an arrow of these city-building giants, and would become something of a token to these superstitious warriors. That doesn't mean I thing that to be the case, I just forward that as a possibility. My own personal feeling is that a few ballistas were in use during the conquest of Wessex and that fell out of use with the disinterested Saxons coming into control of the area. The thing is, for a ballista bolt to be buried in a Saxon grave meant that he was to use it in the afterlife. As a mere momento, it had no value.