caldrail

Last night I watched a news report from Gaza, where masked Hamas paramilitaries are busy training and preparing for the end of the ceasefire there. The Hamas spokesman proudly informed the news team on camera that Israel "Will be suprised". You know, I can't help feeling they've let the cat out of the bag there... In any case, the US can now track their activities by satellite. The US Space Agency is to launch an orbital machine that can map carbon dioxide around the world. I can just imagine the conspiracy theories this is going to spark. Now the greatest exhalers of greenhouse gases will be pointed out which is good news, as this means politicians will be hung by their own petards. Surely Osama Bin Laden must be in fear of discovery now. Scent of the Week After years of criticism about the content of food, Burger King have now finally found a way to compensate us for the loss of real cows in our burgers. They've done this with a new fragrance for men... Meat.... I kid you not. So now if you want to attract the cannibal of your dreams you can. Personally, I think postmen should not use this scent.

You know what? I agree. A lot of metal is derivative and mired in sub-cultural expectation. Take this review from Rolling Stone.... In June, these Chicago metalheads had the Number One album in America. It's not hard to see why: With meticulously constructed guitar skronk, serrated verses and cathartic refrains on cuts like "Enough," the album has clear pop appeal in its own dour way. Singer David Draiman says Indestructible is Disturbed's darkest record yet

Possibly. We're exposed to a good deal of american culture from your film and tv however, its familiar to us, even if some of the detail and subtlety escape. Some Brits hate it, I'm not too bothered, but there are two aspects to american culture portrayed on screen that grate somewhat. First is the 'warm family moments' which are a bit too sweet for british sensibilities, the other is that strange obsession with male 'coming of age'. In fact, to our eyes US entertainment seems obsessed with youth, period. In British comedy, youths are usually embarrasing, which is pretty much what they are in real life. I know I was

Warning! Heavy metal music is bad for you! I've heard this all before. I can't remember how many times I've been warned about volume. There was a time when.. (Warning - Imminent Reminiscence).... I was at a practice in a garage rock band when a council official turned up to measure the sound after complaints about us. He asked us to play (that was our first gig man!) and with alarm told us we were too loud. A bit predictable, but then he said our volime was the same as Concorde taking off. I pointed out we'd been practising for six months already and therefore shouldn't be able to hear his advice to quieten down. Actually, we weren't that loud, but in later years Red Jasper were unable to book gigs in Bristol because we were too loud and awful. So it isn't volume thats dangerous. According to the news item I got the pic from, its headbanging that makes you prone to neck and brain injury. Well I've never been much into that particular dance mode, so obviously I'm not prone to injury (apart from bruised and blistered fingers from a hard gig behind the drum kit - those were the days) and if I were honest, I really don't remember many people headbanging at our gigs either, so obviously metal music is not to blame for hospital traction. Whats left? Oh yes.... the insidious spread of satanism and reversed messages on LP's. I mean, did anyone actually take that seriously? Its like a boys club where you make strange gestures to be part of the crowd, rather than any belief that Ozzy is the Prince of Darkness (now contested on World of Warcraft adverts) and that wearing black leather makes you a devel worshipper. Its a rebellion thing. We only do it to upset our christian elders and no-one really believes it. So in what way is Heavy Metal music dangerous? It isn't. I would argue that nightclubs and their moronic metronomes harbouring a culture of drug taking is visibly worse for your health. After all, metal fans go a gig to enjoy their music. Nightclubbers need pills to enjoy theirs. CD of the Week I picked up a live recording of Ronnie James Dio on his Holy Diver tour. Good stuff. I remember what an impact the original album made in the eighties. Fresh, energetic, and a thoroughly good listen. I'm going to have to stop, it's not good for me you know....

Thing is, we get american comedy over here. I've seen programs like Taxi, Happy Days, Seinfeld, Cheers etc and whilst it can be very funny indeed, some of the humour seems very strange (or even excruciating) to our ears, dependent as it is on american culture, and I'm sure some jokes are going straight over our heads. The cartoons (Simpsons, Family Guy, South Park) always seem to hit the spot.

Not as standard practice. Vegetius mentions this in his De Re Miltari and so some people believe archery training was widespread - it wasn't. Vegetius thought it would be a great idea if roman troops were so trained and suggested it as part of his treatise on how to improve training in the late empire legions, which wasn't carried out. In fact, at the end of the fourth century onward in the wake of the Adrianople defeat large scale recruitment of Goths ionto the legions as feoderatii provided all the archers they needed. It is an interesting point that prior to this, without any widespread experience in archery, the romans had become well-practised at skirmishing warfare despite their lack of formal training and unwillingness to fight at all (mentioned by both Zosimus and Marcellinus).

Yes PM was very much a child of its time and played on british behaviour that was viewed as bureaucratic and anachronistic. I agree - its hard to see how americans would get the jokes. What fascinates me though is how some of the more folksy comedy like Vicar of Dibley translates to californian sense of humour. I mean its so english!

But the romans didn't generally train them in archery. They employed people who already knew how to as auxillaries. I know Vegetius makes a reference to training in the use of bow and arrow, but you need to realise that that doesn't mean the legions actually did that as a matter of course. What he was writing was a manual for new raised standards in the armies of his time, which the commentators of that period all remarkably agree that training was very poor overall.

Last of the Summer Wine has conquered the Colonies? Unbelievable. It really does suprise seeing as the program is so ridiculously genteel and survives on self-parody. For us Brits, its embarrasing, especially those of us getting older and looking forward to emulating their exploits...

The romans encountered lots of cultures with expert bowmen, and employed them for that very purpose. The early romans romans fought in close formation for protection, although the the period where they used phalanxes dictated that they should. Hence the development of the gladius, a short stabbing sword. The late empire had evolved a looser style of warfare and the troops employed longer swords in the same hack and slash style as their opponents, thus the need for tight formations was lessened - but even then, against cavalry they gathered together. Battles like Adrianople show that being pushed together too closely can reduce fighting potential considerably. A fallacy. The stirrup makes horse riding more comfrotable, not more effective. The roman cataphracts were hampered because the horsemen were too worried about tiring their mounts with all the extra weight, hence they were none too keen to gallop unless necessary.

Enjoy it? I got sent to Hades in four pages! Oh well, at least its warm down here....

Honey. Works a treat for colds and sore throats. But just a little tip - apparently fluffy bears like honey too and bees get quite upset if you nick their handiwork. Beware of spring loaded tigers.

Back in my childhood, I used to watch Dick Dastardly's elite German squadron attempting to Catch That Pidgeon. Like an aerial roadrunner, it always got away. Muttley, Dastardly's less than faithful dog, always got his medal. Herr Dastardly always got his comeuppance. Ever since their brave service as message carriers in the Great War, Pidgeons have developed a nasty streak. They instinctively know when you're in your best clothes or you've just washed your car, and know exactly how to deflate your pride. Why are pidgeons so vindictive? Is it because Captain Blackadder shot Speckled Jim, General Melchetts beloved carrier pidgeon, and ate him? Is it because we now use mobile phones to contact one another thus have rendered Pidgeonkind redundant? Is it because I used to laugh when pidgeons thought their reflection in the window were rival birds? Is it because I never fed them? For whatever reason it now appears that I'm a legitimate target for pidgeon insurgents intent on world domination. Here's my proof.... Pic of the Day The pidgeon paratroops descended on me at Coate Water and advanced remorselessly on my position. Its a terrifying experience, alone, unarmed, facing pidgeons with orders to peck to kill. I searched for breadcrumbs in a desperate bid to distract them while I made my getaway but to no avail. Then I realised that evolution is happening right here in Swindon. Pidgeons, facing a perpetual struggle for the stale crusts thrown by old women, have cottoned on that we humans are tastier and even now practice their hunting skills in the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire. We all laughed at Alfred Hitchcocks predictions, but now we see how right he was. You have been warned. Keep watching the skies! Obituary of the Week Kathy Staff has died. For foreigners thats probably a bit meaningless, but she played the infamous old battleaxe Nora Batty in the everlasting tv series Last of the Summer Wine. She had become an icon for wannabe dragons everywhere. What can Mankind do to protect itself against the pidgeon threat now that our foremost warrior has passed on?

I know the foreigners reading this will find it hard to believe, but by midday yesterday the rain stopped. No, really, it did. Taking advantage of the sudden spell of damp conditions, I decided to wander down to Mouldon Hill and see if the cew from the Swindon & Cricklade Railway had laid tracks as far as the park yet. You might have realised by now that I don't get out much at nights. Fear not, I'm just setting the scene. There will be no further mention of matters relating to trains, railways, number plates, axle configurations, or cigar-smoking engineers in top hats. Anyhow, since by now the ground had been promoted from muddy mess to impassable quagmire, and since my experience of british weather has taught me to be a little circumspect on days like this, I donned my action-man hiking gear and set forth. You might have realised at this point that I don't get many invites to parties. Fear not, I'm just describing my typical attention to detail concerning survival in the wilderness. Swindon can be such a wild place. Now the route goes over a small river bridge, the water being about ten feet across and about deep enough for a mouse to drown in. But not yesterday. With the heavy rains filling every babbling brook in the area, the water was almost level with the bridge and had flooded the fields on one side. That was a clue to what was coming later. Behind the Mannington Trading Estate I decided to take a photo of the flooded woodland next to the path. It looked a little like this... Pic of the Day Having successfully avoided getting wet, I climbed back out of the bushes where a few curious shoppers had spotted me creeping through the undergrowth and were curious as to what I was doing. I nodded a greeting as I strode away, the bemused onlookers pointing into the trees as if they knew what it was I had taken a picture of. Talk about not seeing the wood for the trees. Flood of the Week In all seriousness, some places were treachorous, not to mention downright dangerous, with rivers concealed under inundated fields. Finally I got to Mouldon Hill Park. Despite it's name, its a large pond with a path around it. A quiet and secluded place where people walk dogs and feed ducks. Except the pond had been replaced by a lake that had hidden the path. So I joined a crowd of bemused dog walkers and duck feeders. We all agreed that we hadn't expected this. There you go. Proof that communities can act co-operatively after all. Apart from Lucy the dog, who decided that chasing ducks was more fun than obeying her master and.. well.. yes, I got wet after all.

They gave a weather warning last night. Heavy rain expected. They weren't kidding. I was woken by the cascade of water on the roof during the early hours. This morning I had to don waterproofs to walk down the road to the library and thats after the rain had eased somewhat. What a difference from yesterday when I was out on my hike. Here's a sample of the weather... Pic of the Day This ones a view of Coate Water in the cold December sunshine. Notice the ice on the surface. Coate Water is a reservoir built in the 18th century to supply the canals built through Swindon and is now a local beauty spot. Job Losses of the Week My prediction about Woolworths appears to be coming true. After 500 already made redundant, another 700 job losses in the supply chain were announced yesterday. Chin up guys, I know exactly how you're feeling.

No. Jasper fans would be too drunk to drive

So it's true then? I really don't have one? Well would you believe it... Brains are extinct...

What is going on? Usually I get pretty well ignored by passing motorists, heckled by one or two, but today? All day long I've had people beeping their horns and giving me a cheery wave. Haven't a clue who they are. Haven't a clue why they're waving. Well if you want my autograph I'm not running after you.... Todays Country Hike Not too far, just down the track that runs round the south side of the local golf course. You never see anyone use it, but typically for Britain, it was a mass of wintery puddles and muddy ruts, that dark grey sludge you get from leaf mould. I think I spent as much time on todays hike walking sideways and slipping back as I did going forward. Just in time for.... Dog owner of the Week Goes to the woman I met on the Polo Ground, whose dogs seemed to derive great pleasure from charging at me. When I joked about their aggressive play she told me that dogs left to their own devices go wild in twelve hours. What? Who exactly is going to train these dogs to survive in the wild? All their life they've gotten sustenance from small metal tins pulled from a kitchen cupboard and even then they need a human being to open them. Ok, dogs are good scavengers (some even scavenge from the kitchen) but they can only susbsist that way when there's a surplus to be scavenging from, and nature being what it is the local wildlfie will soon cotton on that there's food lying around. Most emancipated canines would starve very quickly I think. But what do you expect from old wives?

Woolworths are closing. After nearly a century of trading on the High Street the grand old name is to vanish, unless someone pulls a rescue package together. London and Rochdale sites have already laid off staff, and it won't be long before the Swindon site does too. Somehow I doubt I'll get a job there anyway - I know of manager of old and she doesn't want me working there - but with hundreds of warehouse personnel on the market my job search isn't getting any easier. Weather Report Our first snow fall this year. It caught me by suprise, because whenever we get a decent layer of snow I always wake up to a sort of pink glow through the curtains. Not so this time, because the snow amounted to several snowflakes less. hey, its a start. Put Down of the Week Our revered Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, was lambasted in the House of Commons a day or two ago for telling politicians that he was 'saving the world'. Ho ho ho. Now his financial policies have been lambasted by the Germans who agree with me, that while everyone else is recovering from the recession Britain will be weighed down by debt. I've been saying that for years. Curriculum of the Week I do hear that the government is planning to change the school curriculum. History and geography are out, computers are in. Maybe it's just me, but isn't that because the teachers don't know anything about history or geography? What is the point of teaching kids to use computers? They're not actually going to learn anything, it's just a way of keeping their attention, which indicates yet another failure of modern teachers. In other words, we're about to create a generation of brainless mouse-clickers who don't know anything about their own country, don't know about anyone elses, and who think the internet is a reliable soure of information. It's a triumph of ignorance.

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Now that we've all written our reports, it's time to test you all on whether you've read it! So, here are some questions to test your knowledge of the UNRV 2008 UK Meet... 1 - What did Charles become after losing a game of 'Shut The Box' a - Bitter and twisted b - A newt, but he got better c - Hopelessly demoralised d - Didn't play anymore 2 - What did Caldrail say to the man at the door at Vindolanda? a - Get a move on mate... b - I want to go through that door. c - No thank you, I'm British. d - Do you take Visa? 3 - Who did we discover the medieval inhabitants of Newcastle to be? a - Chinese b - Seriously untidy c - Football supporters d - Two foot tall 4 - What interrupted Caldrails talk on Hadrians foreign policy repeatedly? a - His audience b - His brain c - The Denmark Ferry d - Museum officials in a desperate attempt to preserve history as we know it. 5 - Why did we start late on Sunday? a - So the Augusta could finish her coke bottle b - So Caldrail could visit the beach c - So Augustus Caesar could find something to show us d - So everyone could recover from Caldrail 6 - How many burgers did Caldrail eat without anyone knowing? a - His secret fetish was satisfied but once b - An all out attack upon burger bars across Newcastle c - His slaves returned from their forage with none d - He was on a diet. 7 - How many times did the Augusta fall asleep on the bus? a - Once b - Never c - We lost count d - Spent the whole weekend semi-comatosed 8 - How many taxi drivers were harmed in the making of this weekend? a - No recorded injuries or fatalities b - One went without breakfast c - Two collided after a woman attempted a moon in a burger bar d - Several suffered ribcage injuries after observing us wander starry-eyed through Newcastle 9 - Who had the most seashells of the weekend? a - Caligula b - The Roman Legion Re-enactment Society c - Neptune d - Caldrail 10 - Who was the Bestiarius who attempted to stop the cat from eating a mouse at Arbeia? a - Caldrail b - Augusta c - Charles d - Augustus Caesar Answers 1a, 2b, 3d, 4c, 5a, 6a, 7a, 8b, 9d, 10c. +1 point for every succesful attempt to gain Newcastle Metro tickets +1 point for believing Caldrail scored five in 'Shut The Box' +1 point for still being able to sit cross-legged like Charles +1 point for every breath you observed Augustus Caesar make during his after-dinner story -1 point for every correct answer to the Augusta's crossword puzzle -1 point for every mention of Caldrails obesity -1 for not making it up the south face of Mt Housesteads If your score was.... 10 or more Hercules himself could not achieve such scholarly distinction. You shal be feted, cheered, and quite probably stabbed in the back at some point. 7-9 Exceptional. A glittering senatorial career awaits you, but alas, the throne will be forever out of reach.. 4-6 An able score. Limp to the senate house and dribble quietly please. 1-3 Hmmm... Better stick to orgies I think. Quizzes are a bad career move for you. Zero or less Oh dear. Looks like the arena for you. I want a good clean fight, no cuts above the eyebrows, and don't come back to the changing rooms before you've expired in dramatic fashion. Oh hang on, the Augusta hasn't finished yet....

Hermaphrodite? Makes me wonder what 'going on a summer holiday' on a double decker bus to Greece was really about off-camera. No wonder they were all smiling. Well... fame is fleeting.... Now that my career as a celebrity is over, I can relax safe in the knowledge that Ant and Dec won't be asking me to do strange things in a jungle. I'm certainly not telling them I'm scared of Cliff Richard

The street where I live isn't quiet. It's a major route from Old Town on the hill to Swindon town centre. Consequently I hear cars going by. Ordinary cars, cars with loud exhausts, and occaisionally cars bumping into each other. Sometimes a heavy lorry thunders by and the house literally shakes. Motorbikes scream up the hill and make it sound like Silverstone on race day. At night it changes. Women scream up the hill and youths chant football songs. I have to be honest, I've kind of gotten used to this background noise. Occaisionally though, I hear something original, and that happened last night. "Your blog is rubbish!" Yelled some woman outside. Now that warmed the cockles of my heart. After all those years of gigging the length and breadth of England and pushing through glass ceilings in the workplace, I finally get recognition for blogging over a hot keyboard. It just goes to show you don't need Simon Cowell to become famous. Well, now I'm qualified to appear on game shows and supermarket opening ceremonies, hurry up with the offers, this is only going to last five minutes... Sex Secret of the Week Since I have a boring blog (100% result in a recent poll of one person), I think it needs a little more pace and controversy. So lets start with the most outrageous expose of all, that Cliff Richard has declared himself 'a sexual enigma'. Oh get real Cliff. Look the words up in a dictionary first.

Without a doubt there is something iconic about Hadrians Wall. The Romans have left us so many relics of their empire across Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, many in far better condition, yet if you ask the average person to name a roman ruin - its a fair bet Hadrians Wall will be on the list..I last visited Hadrians Wall when I was a small child. Those memories of windswept moorland and a mossy line of stones across the hills have faded somewhat. Back then I doubt I had any real understanding of the Wall, nor just how old it was. To me it was a curiosity, a pile of stones left behind, and.a place whose ghosts I couldn't hear. Now I'm somewhat older, hopefully wiser too, and the opportunity to revisit Hadrians Wall with my friends at UNRV was too good to resist. In all honesty I wasn't expecting a great deal, I simply assumed that I was better able to appreciate what the Wall was and what it meant for the legionaries who were taken from their homelands and sent to the very edge of a huge empire. There's no doubt in my mind the location of Hadrians Wall was chosen for practical reasons, given the escarpment that cuts across the north of England there, yet its also hard to accept that it wasn't an instinctive choice. The escarpment marks what is left of a collision in distant prehistory between the landmasses of what is now England and Scotland. It really is an ancient frontier indeed. Since then the lanscape has changed. The hills have been weathered down considerably, the forests that once covered them cleared away. Its that empty bleakness of the border that gives a false impression of loneliness to the modern eye. At Houseteads, the ruins of the fort there are perched on the ridge, overlooking open grassland, with little sign of human habitation beyond the needs of isolated sheep farmers. In roman times it would have been so different. That fort would have a been stout defensive retreat, a home to roman soldiers, and beside it the settlement of Vericovicium housed their civilian neighbours. As far as the eye could see an endless expanse of forest, punctuated by farms, and an aerial photograph of Housteads plainly shows the field boundaries in the valley below, the last remnant of a settlement now long gone. It wasn't just a ruin in the wilderness as it is today, it was a place where people lived and worked. The stonework however does not reveal those lives to you. It doesn't bring the Romans back to life. It merely marks their passing. To hear the ghosts of our forebears, you need something more. At Corbridge the first sight of excavated walls as I turned the corner left me astonished. Laid out before me was the roman town of Corielsopitum. I could see the walls of homes, shops, forums, temples, granaries. A small aqueduct leading to a roadside cistern. This was a cramped, busy place, travellers jostling with traders for space on the road, narrow alleyways and compact architecture, and I felt drawn to it. You could amost here the conversations, the carts, the arguments, all the noise of urban life. But there was still something missing, and that of course was the inhabitants themselves, the Romans and Britons who once lived there. We can never really bring them back to life but perhaps you can glimpse what their lives must have been like. For that, you need the personal touch. You need the ordinary objects and bric-a-brac they used or the evidence of their own words either in letters or commeroative works. At Vindolanda, it was all on display. Fragments of textiles demonstrated the subdued natural colours of their clothing, the elegant simplicity of their leather footwear, the variety of pottery they once handled on a daily basis. Even the rubbish they threw away left us a message about their day to day business. The museum had built dioramas suggesting the rural coarseness of their lives together with the tools they earned their living with. Almost uniquely there are the recovered letters the romans had written to each other,the records of daily administration, little voices trapped on slivers of wood. It was all becoming clear in my mind. I could see the Romano-British way of life. It lacked the comfort we associate with wealthy romans, but then isn't that decadent image a little misleading? Even with the privations of frontier life it was possible to sense a spirit of community, both in the towns and the barracks. I think it was fitting that we visited the reconstructed barracks at South Shields last of all. Here the weathered foundations were made solid, made real, and at last I could hear the ghosts. We wandered into the dining hall and saw the limits of the opulence the frontier was capable of. We stopped at the spartan quarters of the commanders wife, and marvelled at her patience. We saw the communal bunks of the soldiers and felt the weary irritation of being forced to sleep four or eight to a bed. The smokey atmosphere, the gloomy interiors, the pungent smells, even the sight of a modern cat trying to catch a mouse between the buildings lent a reality to it all. We began the weekend by tracing out markings in the pavements in Newcastle. We finished by waving goodbye to the Roman commander of Arbeia and his family.

Okeedokee