caldrail

What we have here is another example of trying to fix modern concepts on ancient lives. Villas were the center of rural production - that can't be denied - and we tend to forget that most villas weren't the grand affairs with mosaics and hypocausts we've become used to thinking of. Far from it, in Rioman Britain the majority were modest wooden cottage affairs and therefore fall well within the 'farm' label. The thing is though that as the villa becomes larger and more important, it also becomes more focused as a center of communal life, and sice a wealthy Roman liked nothing better than to be seen as benefactor, spomsor, and patron of his community, he saw the opportunity to provide facilities for them. Religion is a case in point. As a successful business owner, the Roman villa owner might well see his good fortune as the will of the gods, and would therefore be keen to create a temple in their owner to show his gratitude (as well as look good to the locals). So in that respect, we have larger farms (or rural industries) with extra facilities that are encouraging our modern researcher to attempt a different interpretation. There isn't one. The villa was a home, first and foremost, but one whose grounds are used to make a profit, and once a certain size or importance is reached, the extra facilities emerge along with the community that the villa supports. In some respects, it's a similar concept to a lord of the manor. That sort of thing isn't exclusive to the middle ages, it also arose in other cultures, the Roman period being one of them.

All due respect to Phang and Scheidel but I've no reason to accept their argument because they apparently reviewed everything. They seem to be searching for deep inner meanings in something straightforward. Sometimes learned people search for clever and subtle connotations in a field of study. That doesn't make them right. The Romans weren't subtle at all, and in dealing with warfare, had very practical mindset. They knew full well young men without partners are more competitive and aggressive - exactly what they wanted for their legions. People back then weren't fundamentally different from today (apart from some customs and lifestyles) and you don't see any of this inner subtlety in men trained to fight and kill. back then, fighting was even more acceptable and a way of life for many. Even with religion involved, I seriously find it hard to accept the Romans were intellectual about warfare.

It was a really nice day yesterday. The weather was warm, sunny, and although a band of stratus cloud marred the horizon, there was a clear blue sky. It's that time of year when the woods get colourful. The more extrovert trees have sprouted foliage, our more hesitant native oaks and ash trees still sensibly waiting for confirmation before growing leaves. In between, the grass has erupted in a bright green carpet. Yellow, blue, and white woodland flowers make a shortlived appearance before the nettles and ferns arrive to engulf them. It was definitely one of those days to relax, so on the grassy hill south of Croft I lay there watching birds wheel overhead, listerning to the breeze, taking in the sun. You know what? I came home feeling refreshed. Sometimes you just have to leave the modern world behind. Finding The Modern World Again The gas company has worked it's way up the hill and is now digging a moat outside my castle. One grizzled and muddy workman sought my attention and said "You live along here don't ya? Sorry mate, but we're go'in'ta shut the gas off tomorra." Oh? Are you? That's all right, I'm not worried. He looked at me all confused, as if he'd been expecting a tantrum about how hard life is going to be without piped methane. Good grief man, I lost my mobile phone over the weekend. A lack of gas is nothing compared to the biblical significance of losing contact with the outside world. After the frantic search I'd made the day before I decided to reassemble my home into some sort of habitable condition. There was the phone, lying between folds in the duvet, back from it's travels. Please excuse me, this is a private moment. Finding the Local Pub It so happened last evening I was walking home through Injun Country, the hive of edwardian terraces that house the local thieving rascals on the hillside behind my home. A car pulled out from a side turn and a young woman shouted at me "Where's the pub?!" I guess I'm too gentlemanly to remind her to be a little more polite. So instead I pointed and said "Round the corner". Well it is... A vee-shaped building on the end of a downhill terrace. Lots of people drive past without realising where it is. Oh dear. There she goes...

That was an accepted risk of the time. The Romans never thought about 'societal stress' until the mob was banging on the doors. Roman soldiers of the Republican period were not allowed to marry. Simple as that. It made for aggressive men willinging to fight. Depends on the period. During the early Republic, the ruling would have been very strict, and given the limited size of consular armies easier to administer. As time went on, this ruling was relaxed somewhat. Still in place, still a traditional expectation, but conveniently ignored if a soldier could get away with it (which pretty well sums up what sort of men they were overall). Of course it doesn't. The Romans already understood why. I can see why the notion arose. Illegitimate sons of serving soldiers were viewed favourably by recruiters. Nonsense. A legionary swore to serve a legion and it's commander in a special ritual. They were already symbolically seperate. Nonsense. Roman soldiers never willingly surrendered to civilian law and shielded each other from it. Juvenal wrote a piece in his satires about 'judges in boots'. No. It had everything to do with preventing distraction of soldiers motives and keeping them angry. Having sex is a known calming factor. Having kids is a known motive tio settle down, thus working against the requirement to be mobile at a moments notice. As for citizens, it's recognised that recruiters thought highly of legionaries sons (a somewhat hypocritical view?) and Augustus wasn't against population increases at all. Far from it. His franchise system required the distribution of populations and the more successful the new town, the more wealth came back to Rome.

This is exactly where people go wrong. The Romans didn't try to assimilate populations and convert them to Romans. What they wanted was populations who obeyed their laws and paid their taxes. If however, their population was amenable to doing things the Roman way, then so much the better,, and they encouraged that. It was never compulsory. I do think that there's a folk memory lurking behind that. The uncertainty and strife following the Roman withdrawal left a feeling that a golden age had been lost, something that survives to the present day. Certainly the Roman occupation had benefits for the Brits (provided they complied of course) but this tends to get linked to cultural achievement when in fact what people actually fondly remembered was the 'order' of daily life at that time. You could argue then that the impact of the Roman occupation is, diluted and hazy in the mind, but still there.

Marius changed the emphasis between Maniple and Cohort. Prior to Marius, the Cohort existed as a formation of covenience - and interestingly, even after the reforms, was never given it's own 'spirit' as other formations had.

There's a lot to consider. What sort of ground are they fighting on? Who has higher ground? Where is the sun? What weather prevails? In general, the phalanx is fairly formidable provided you meet them head on without missile support (I mean ancient missiles ). Thats why the Romans adopted it earlier to your chosen period. The cohort has a lot of tactical flexibility the phalanx doesn't. That's why the Romans dropped the pikes when they realised just how vulnerable the phalanx can be.

I had a year of German, plus five years of French at school, and another year of French at college prior to a foreign visit (France, by strange coincidence). Mon francais est still rubbish (but I have an excuse, it was twenty five years ago!)

For years Swindon has been a byword for Victorian pidgeon nests. Our 19th Century legacy has survived in all sorts of quiet corners around the town. For the most part, these brick edifices were as rundown and abandoned as their inhabitants. Yet as shabby as it was, it leant a certain character to the place. In recent years, I've wandered around the town taking photographs. The interesting patina of urban decay is simply wonderfully photogenic. The industrial archaeology alone is worth two gigabytes of disc space. It's made me such an interesting person they don't dare invite me to parties anymore. Now what do I find? Every time I publish a photo of Grotty Swindon on the World Wide Web, it changes a year later to Demolished Swindon, soon to be replaced by Neat, New, Tidy Swindon. I photograph a property, put it in my 2009 Calendar (see Stuff, bottom right) and it gets demolished. I ask a security guard to photograph an old railway shed, and they pull it down. I photograph an old bus station office and half of it gets stolen. I snap a pic of a nightclub in an old building and someone sets fire to it. Thanks to me, Swindon is becoming a redeveloped beautiful place to live. Even before I've been made Mayor I've made a difference. I hope the Council is taking notes here. I'm going to start taking photographs of people. Before long, I'll be dating a supermodel. Might get a bit messy in between though. Pic of the Day Whoops. Too late. It's been demolished. You need to be quick in Swindon these days. Early Morning of the Week I was woken during the night by an irate person whose opinion of someone was probably heard across Swindon. At any rate, I heard a dull metallic thud which sounded like a lager can being thrown against a car. I'll check my car for dents later today. Once he'd explained to his mates why he didn't like this person and faded into the distance, I dozed off again. The music was loud. Very loud. It sounded like it came from across the yard, the same people who had that outdoors party once before. Surely this is breach of the peace? No point phoning the police though, they tell me they can't do anything, so I suppose I'd have to bludgeon someone to death before they turned up. I was well tempted. Luckily, so was someone else, and the music stopped. Zzzzzzz......

Before my time. My Action Man had plastic painted hair. No fuzzy stuff or real gripping hands. The catalogue that came in the box was brilliant. It had all these Korean War uniforms and equipment in them that seemed rare and exclusive, stuff you couldn't get in the shops. The problem was that my Action Man really wanted to mount special forces missions behind enemy greenhouses, but in reality his poor ring-pull voice couldn't make himself understood.

No, it isn't. Very schools have teachers who know what latin is, much less with the ability to teach it. I started school in 1965 and had not one lesson in latin ever. In, fact, only one person I've met had latin lessons at school.

Oh? I thought you Americans froze your heads so you see could see your moggies evolve? Must be pretty dull sat in a freezer without a social life. Still, at least you'd get to see the new episodes eventually

There's been a growing tendency to modernise the Romans, to show how advanced they were, and to draw parallels with our time. Some of this is ok, sort of, because parallels do exist but sometimes this gets a little ambitious. For instance, the Romans are credited with concrete. Ok, they did invent it, but the modern use of such material has nothing to do with the Romans at all. Modern concrete is a modern re-invention. The Roman legions also get the same treatment. people look for similarities and make vague claims of 'equivalence' simply based on numbers without actually looking at the details of organisation and methods. In some respects, this is a misinterpretation of certain sources, but it's also a drawing conclusions from coincidence, rather like claiming the ancient egyptians knew how far away the sun was because the distance happens to be a convenient multiple of the side of a pyramid. I remember seeing a computer reconstruction of the colosseum on tv. Whilst the program was actually quite good and had a lot of interesting things to say about how the Romans creatd a public theatre with the same sort of access as modern stadiums, it blew it completely concerning naval battles staged there. In reality, you could put two galleys side by side in the arena and they couldn't go anywhere because they had no room. In the reconstruction, tiny little galleys the size of rowboats were animated, making the Colosseum six times as large as real life just to illustrate a point. On the plus side, there has been some very clever insight into Roman times but oddly, it doesn't really impact on the public onciousness. I suspect thats because it doesn't meet the sensationalist imagery we've gotten use to. I'm not aware of regional differences, aside from local pride in Roman remains, but in recent years the Romans have indeed become associated with Arthurian myth. The museum at Cirencester (Corinium) had on display the armour worn by Clive Owen in the King Arthur film that illustrated him as a Roman administrator protecting Britain against Saxon incursion.

America has successfully imported a great many things to British Isles. Cola, bubble gum, nylon tights, burgers, and sex. Of course I was too young for most of those as a child so there was only one american import I was allowed. You state-side people know it as G.I. Joe. We knew it as Action Man. It was great. There was a huge selection of uniforms and accessories that transformed the plastic contortionist into everything from the basic Korean War recruit to a NASA astronaut. One of my friends had the Action Man space capsule - I was so jealous. No-one was jealous of my Action-Man. A cricket-player set isn't that impressive, nor, if I were honest, much inspiration for childhood imagination. The biggest problem with Action Man, apart from his suspect anatomy, was that he was essentially a loner. You only had one, so the poor guy never had any mates or even enemies to save the world from. Now, however, kids can give their Action Man leadership. They can now pester their parents for an all-action Obama doll. Better yet, it comes with his wife, so he has someone to play with. Oh... Hang on a minute.... I wonder if it has a ring-pull in it's back to play speeches? Kids these days have no idea how lucky they are. Telescope of the Week The orbital Kepler Telescope has begun searching space for earth-like planets. Apparently this mission will take three and a half weeks and millions of pounds have been spent trying to find planets we can't get to. Don't get me wrong. I think scientific progress is great. It's just that we seem tto spend so much time seeking a paradise. Looking for Eden, Shangri-La, El Dorado, Atlantis, The Kingdom of Prester John. What happens if they find this new earth? Will religions begin slapping labels on it? Will scientists eagerly send sound recordings in the hope the aliens there send it straight to the top of the hit parade? Will estate agents start selling portions of their land? Hundreds of years ago, people would have boarded ships and made their way there to colonise the land and avoid governmental interference in their lives. These new planets are unfortunately somewhat far away, and as yet, we haven't the technology to emulate Star Trek. It also means that earth-bound merchants are frustrated, because they can't sell the Obama doll to unsuspecting aliens.

Seriously - we were living the Spinal Tap dream. Everything you see in the film mirrors the sort of nonsense we went through.

British weather is responsible for more conversations than hot dinners. Poems have been inspired by it. Well, I haven't exactly been that inspired over the last two days, now that our early spring sunshine has gone. Two days ago the rot set in. There was a cold wind and the sky was claggy, humid, almost misty, and the sun was losing it's battle to burn this murk away. It was a quiet, reflective day. I wandered around Lawns (a park that was once the grounds of the local manor house) and people were fishing, walking their dogs, or just sitting there meditating. Kind of an odd day. Only Milo, a dog that adopted me as a friend just lately much to the chagrin of it's ever-patient owner, showed any energy. Yesterday we had the storm. It's rare for just cloudbursts to arrive over Swindon at this time of year, normally you'd expect more drizzly rainfall. I looked up from my computer screen as the sky went dark, a sure sign of heavy cloud. I looked out the back of the house and a slate gray fog hung over Swindon whilst sunshine was visible to the south, almost obscured by the buildings further up the hill. The rain came down in heavy torrential droplets. A small river flowed down the gravel alleyway that runs beside the car park. Secure in my warm and dry premises, I watched the rainfall and not suprisingly, noticed the sudden lack of activity on Swindon streets. Today is the more typical dreary wet weather that we Brits love to ignore. Even when the drizzle subsides, people still walk quickly from place to place with umbrellas. Experience in British weather soon teaches you that it can change from one extreme to another. Rain? Don't talk to me about rain... Reminisence of the Week Some years ago, I turned up to the airfield hoping to get a flight in before the expected bad weather reached England. The day was lovely and sunny. Clumps of towering cumulus hung in the sky here and there, but it was definitely flyable. The weather report in the control tower suggested that the incoming front was a bad one, low cloud and heavy rain. I decided not to fly far from the field, just get another hour in the logbook and enjoy what sunshine there was. The little Cessna 150 isn't exactly an inspiring aeroplane to fly, but it was cheap to rent, so off I took, the aeroplane lifting eagerly into the sky like it always did. There wasn't much turbulence either, and I flew here and there northeast of the field as the sun warmed the cockpit. I did, howebver, keep a careful eye on the distant wall of cloud. A baleful white and grey herald of bad things. It was obviously getting closer, and I decided it was time to fly home and land in safety. Arriving at the airfield and joining the circuit overhead, it was clearly none too soon to bring the aeroplane home. The weather was very close now. I could see the rain under the encroaching clouds, thick blurry shafts of it looking strangely like teeth. I flew round the circuit and it was obvious the cloud was moving faster than I 'd reckoned on. It dawned on me I'd done something dumb. I hadn't planned for diverting elsewhere, and that meant my landing was going to have to be a good one. In theory, I should have called over the radio and got myself vectored to another field. In reality, I thought I had enough time to land before the rain closed in. It was on the final approach I saw that the runway was being swallowed up. The airfield was vanishing before my eyes. There was no way I was going to 'go around' into that! So, I made a decision to press on, to make that landing. I actually thought I still had time to slip in. Over the boundary of the field, something like ten feet above the tarmac, my world dissappeared into a light grey void. The rain came down onto the little Cessna like nothing else. For one moment there I thought I'd blown it. Caldrail, this is where you don't walk away... Then something peculiar happened. Although the world was nothing but a solid grey nothingness, the tarmac ahead of me was visible as a dark trapezoid. I was flying in a monochrome world, alone, just above this dark shape that was the only object outside my little aeroplane. It was, in actual fact, a perfect visual guide to land by. I touched down lightly - by strange irony it was one of my smoother landings - and I wondered how wet I was going to get after I found the parking area. Not even slightly. Seconds after touching down the Cessna rolled out of the rain into bright sunshine the other side of the squall. The expected bad weather was still distant, way ahead of me. I parked the aeroplane and made my way back to the club, aware of those air traffic controllers glaring at me from inside the tower at that idiot who'd nearly killed himself. Caldrail, this is what you don't get away with...

The ruler might be bad, but the legionaries would still be forced to cut up their comrades who probably had absolutely no say in the politics of the time. That probably was not a pleasant experience. Roman legionaries ('legionaires' is a modern french word) were loyal to their legion. They had their own religious cults, as the legion and the centuries within it had a 'spirit' that was venerated. Furthermmore, since the legionary commander was their patron, the soldiers were usually loyal to him, although I have to concede that modern standards of discipline don't apply to Roman legionaries, who were very quick to rebel and and mutiny if faced with poor leadership. This all means that when facing Roman legions in battle, they were simply facing another enemy. There's an account of two Roman formations fighting each other during a civil war. They simply went head to head with no quarter given. The others were fighting against their cause and therefore as an enemy received no emotional affiliation amongst the troops ordered into battle against them. They were the enemy, not comrades. The concept of a 'just war' didn't arrive until the late empire under Christian influence. Before that, a war was simply necessary. I've no doubt that commanders would make speeches justifying their cause and denigrating the enemies - that is after all required to motivate your trrops - but the fact that the opposing commander was a 'bad man' wasn't the primary justification. Remember that troops stood to gain if they followed their own leader into battle and won. It was therefore up to the commander to prove he was a worthier man than his enemy, someone worth fighting for, someone you could believe in. The three victories listed in the original question are all significant victories, but I would imagine that for the men who fought and won, a certain pride in the victory of any battle was something they would feel pride in.

A good tip everyone. Always send your elephant through the 'Nothing To Declare' channel.

I like the internal combustion engine. It might only be a collection of moving metal parts, but it has a life of its own. I just love the way a well-tuned engine sings when pulling hard. Some people might say the sound is merely a harsh droning noise - for me, it's a concerto for pistons. We all know that fossil fuels will eventually run out. Before that happens, petroleum will become too expensive. Before that happens, petrol cars will become uneconomic. Before that happens, an alternative must be found. Toyota has given us the Prius. I would prefer if they'd take it away again, and not foist rubbish like that on unsuspecting celebrities who only want to do their bit for climate change. Tesla reworked a Lotus to create an electric sports car, powered by thousands of laptop batteries. A good idea, but a sports car that needs a sixteen hour recharge after two laps isn't likely to thrill anyone. Now Chevrolet have unveiled the Volt. Billions of dollars have been spent on this ordinary family car. Having seen it, I'm not sure I'd want to spend anything on it. All I want to know is... Does it go faster? Does it corner better? Does it look like it does both better? Nope. Not yet. Government Assistance of the Week Now our government is planning to help people choose electric cars by offering a

Cats will be cats I guess. I think you just need to be patient. Your moggy will evolve into the perfect mosquito hunter in a few hundred thousand years or so.

The noise level has gone up considerably. Roadworks have started at the bottom of the hill and crossing the road is now something like traversing No Mans Land in 1917. Libraries are supposed to be quiet aren't they? Not Swindon. Our library is buzzing with lively action. At first, the library was silent as you'd expect, then a conversation broke out behind me. One of those "Allo mate, where ya been? Seen the footie? Hows the missus?" type of exchanges at the top of their voices. So loud in fact the gentleman opposite me strode over and enquired whether they knew they were loud or not. He then went back and had a conversation with his mate next to him. Luke Floorwalker is busy practising his moves. Jedi Knights start young these days I guess, and he's certainly taking on the universe. His mum tells him to stop. Thank you. So instead he tries to see how rapidly he can revolve on his seat. Once those two had gone another mother and child turned up. She doesn't know anything at all about computers and of course dragged her son along because he knows everything. I should know, I heard his lecture on Computers For Dummies. The other side of a pillar a father and daughter turn up. This time the situation is reversed. He's an IT expert (or at least makes a pretence at being one) and she sat there while father guided every single move of her mouse. Poor girl was bored out of her mind. She'll grow up with a phobia about logging on. AM is busy with his emails on the next PC. Now he's normall the worst offender of all, but even he's starting to lose his patience as two woman discuss some subject or other of huge domestic importance. Of course, while all this noise takes place, the level of conversation builds and before long, the library sounds like an early evening in a busy pub. Except they don't serve alcohol. Shame. Insect Infestation of the Week One peculiarity of my home is that I get flies out the front. Open the window for four seconds and you see a miniature dogfight as squadrons of flies circle each other over the carpets of England. Eventually these dumb creatures realise they're not in Kansas any more and migrate toward the kitchen so I have urge them to continue on into the bathroom, where I can open the rear window and persuade them to complete the last stage of their migration. Except... This one. This fly is determined to annoy me. It refuses to follow the squadron and persists in exploring the flat. Right, I've had enough. I reach for the bug-spray and go into armageddon mode. I thought this stuff was supposed to kill flies? It seems unpeturbed by the noxious chemical that's surely doing me no good at all. Eventually my superior brain size prevails and I trap the insect in the bathroom. He's in there... Plotting his victorious conquest of my home.... Good grief, he's head butting the door! Has this fly got something against me? Sorry, Mr Bluebottle, but an Englishmans home is his castle and I shake the bug-spray can for another offensive. He won't be buzzing for much longer...

The resulting system was the same that had existed in the Republic, albeit dominated by autocratic individuals from the Principate onward. What political changes actually took place? All the institutions in Rome remained active as they had before. What had happened however was that they were either manipulated or pushed aside by these powerful and influential men, who relied on the popularity of the masses to underpin their authority instead of the privileged oligarchies of old. This wasn't a master plan for a successful state, it was simply autocrats jostling for power and wealth, who in many cases failed completely. Rome went through more than one finacial crisis as well. Further, and make no mistake, don't dismiss the senate of the principate. Augustus may have ruled successfully following the end of the civil wars, he was also taking great care not to upset the powerful men in the same way Caesar had done. It's recorded that Augustus left the senate more than once with his tail between his legs. The prosperity of the Principate is also somewhat illusory. The Julio-Claudians were wealthy as a result of their status and acquisitions at the beginning - Augustus boasts in his will of his achievements (in Roman terms) - but Nero was strapped for cash during his reign. The money spent by wealthy Romans certainly made the economy bouyant for some time, but this money would also evaporate. The decline of the western Roman Empire went hand in hand with financial strength. Also, the governmental system developed over time. Claudius was the first to make use of freedmen in positions of responsibility and the Equites became a class of bureaucrats in later times. The change in style went from Augustus's 'First Citizen' to what amounted to oriental style kings.

The lorica segmentata had fallen into disuse and chainmail was back in fashion. Helmets had become more 'saxon' in appearance, or a little oriental like the spangenhelm type. Although the late empire had developed into multi-legion armies by this stage, uniformity was less prevalent. The legionaries of this time were funded by the state which wasn't getting any wealthier. Also bear in mind the large scale use of foreign formations used to make up numbers who would have fought with native weapons and clothing. I recommend the Osprey series for illustrations of this period. [url="http://www.ospreypublishing.com/store/Late-Roman-Infantryman-AD-236

Always keen to improve international relations. Make sure you put your safety belt on

Given how much money the somal's have earned from ransoms, I daresay you could translate their recent conversations into something similar. The problem with these Somali pirates are that they're not organised or in one place, thus in modern terms are difficult to target by conventional action. Since any bozo could sail out, board a vessel, point an easily obtained AK47 and say "Gimme a million dollars ha-ha-harrr", there's precious little disctinction between ordinary citizens and those willing to conduct these crimes. Occupying Somalia en masse in order to impose martial law and prevent such piracy is something I expect the US military dreads - it's a daunting prospect as the anarchistic somali's live in a very big area and weaponry is available for the asking. The only viable long term solution is to police the sea and thats got risks attacjhed to it too as the US military already know and something we shall soon see illustrated before long. It's a question of how extreme the allied peace-keepers want to get over this. The US want to protect their own (naturally) but they don't want another Mogadishu.