caldrail

There is an anti-christ, and his name is Tiddles.....

I imagine his fate is up to him. He bears dishonour and that will affect what he can achieve thereafter.

I approve of this. A practical solution to almost any problem. I know just what to hit it with.... Oh no.... I'm a disgruntled RAF wannabe..... As regards to what goes on aboard ship, I would like to point out that both sexes go to sea these days with strict intsructions about no hanky panky. Which leaves me wondering if the decks of the modern warships resemble the set of a Carry-On film...

During my last years at school I was a little less than well behaved. Nothing malicious, just totally unable to act in a mature or acceptable manner. It was of course a teenage rebellion. The teachers were not impressed and I remember stern lectures and demands to know what I intended to do when I left school and went out into the big wide world. I chose to join the Royal Air Force. So I popped down the recruiting office and the man in uniform there said "Sorry, Son, no vacancies". Huh? Well that sounded a little odd. So I travelled to a nearby town and applied there. They told me I couldn't hear properly. Now that I'm a lot older, I've come to notice certain trends in people who once served in the armed forces. One of those trends for instance is the delight ex-squaddies take in telling people who ask about their service that it was in a special unit. Usually they weren't, but your average civilian doesn't know that. Ex-RAF men always seem disgruntled. My local locksmith mutters darkly about his lack of promotion. He spent long hours poking a machine gun out of the back of a helicopter and considered that a waste of his talent. At least he had some. A gentleman I used to work with once served in the RAF too. He is prone to fits of anger, and with a complete inability in handicraft (he originally applied as an RAF mechanic), his idea of assembling flat pack furniture is to demolish it with a hammer because screw A does not fit in hole B. As he was so incapable of doing anything else than punching sergeants on the jaw, once released from punishment they had him working on nuclear weapons. Seriously. Unless he's pulling my leg too, but then he's a disgruntled ex-RAF type. So.... Why is it ex-Royal Navy personnel never ever discuss it at all? Or even tell anyone they were sailors? Plea of the Week A cat has adopted my parents. Would the owner please reclaim this animal before it enslaves them totally. Thank you.

We invented people like that generations ago.

This strains credibility a little. Men who volunteered or were coerced to fight in the arena were either slaves or criminals - scumbags socially, although the few succesful ones became celebrities as gladiatorial combat grew in importance. Therefore a soldier in the arena is an ex-soldier. Since legionaries did not leave the service voluntarily (could they buy themselves out? I have no evidence of that) and that soldiers were disciplined internally, it would have to be men who once belonged to a disgraced and disbanded legion - that didn't happen every day. Alternatively, a soldier might have been subject to civil law for criminal activity whilst away from his unit (On leave? In civvies?) and found himself condemno ad gladius. Not a true professional gladiator then, just a participant in a spectacularum. Cannon fodder for the crowds pleasure. I do seem to remember that Caesar had the central barrier of the Circus removed and had soldiers fight a mock battle for the crowds entertainment, elephants and all. I don't know off hand whether they were serving legionaries, and if so, it set an extraordinary precedent that wasn't often repeated.

Camp Prefects were long-timers by and large, as the job was usually given to senior centurions as a reward for long service. Centurions were under no obligation to retire, seeing as they were fundamental to discipline and leadership. The rank and file were a different class. Its true the legions gave them some benefits - important ones for the standards of the time - but legionaries were not molly-coddled at all. Camp life was harsh at times and any man idle in the barracks would soon find himself on fatigues (although I accept things tended to become lax during peacetime). Legionaries were notorious for bad behaviour, and one aspect of this (as soldiers have always done) is to avoid onerous duty. Bribery after all was endemic in the legions. So in fact there is every motivation for a legionary to be somewhere else. There are plenty of records and requests survivng, many from Vindolanda, which demonstrate how often leave was granted to ordinary soldiers.

There wasn't much formality to it. If the lanista agreed (he might think you're too wussy for instance) he'd require you to swear an oath and that was your side of it. The contract would have been recorded for administration and legal niceties, but as a matter of interest I don't know of any requirement to sign a contract or 'make their mark'.

Injury is another reason. To be honest I haven't seen any evidence that legionaries could voluntarily opt out of service. If need be, they could ask an officer for leave. Records from Britain suggest as much as half the legion were at times unavailable to fight for various reasons including absence. There was no ejection from the legion in normal circumstances. Punishment for crime or ill-discipline was harsh and sometimes lethal, but any social exclusion never dictated a permanent absence from the unit. It seems the romans took the attitude that once you signed up (in the professional era at least) you had sworn an oath to serve, so serve you shall.

As to whether the Great War was unnecessary, I can't argue with you. The problem of course was european rivalry as these nations jostled for status. The extent of industrialisation of the great powers had significantly changed strategic possibilities and I don't believe the generals of the time were aware that modern weapons would change the nature of warfare so much, something they only learned by experience and forgot after the armistice. You've asked what was noble about the Great War. This is a subjective question I think, because the Great War meant different things to different people. I can't speak for other nations, but in Britain the Great War was a chance to display national pride, to do ones duty for the crown, and in a strange way became a cultural rite of manhood despite the horrific loss of life. In a way, it was the 'volunteer' aspect of service recruitment that gave it the element of nobility. People were not actually forced to join up and go to war, they chose to do so because they believed the cause was just. My grandfather, on his return from France, ventured out into Newcastle in civvies only to receive a white feather from a woman who clearly saw him as a coward for not 'doing his bit', which naturally angered him given his war experience at Gallipoli and the Western Front. He has signed up underage like a good many young men, anxious to do his bit and prove himself in the world. There was a different mindset back then, a very strong nationalistic pride common to most european nations based on their success in economical, industrial, and colonial growth. How we see the Great War now is very much with the benefit of hindsight. They saw it differently.

So you could expect to travel something like 120 miles a day by sea? Not too bad, though this would have to be an average given the vagaries of the ocean enviroment.

Considering the spam I get, maybe Homeland Security isn't so bad. What exactly is it? It sounds like an american survivalist anti-CIA group hell-bent on wearing camouflage jackets and denuding the woods of bears, not to mention large wooden barns stuffed full of rations and strange metal doors on the side of grassy mounds in their back yards. Or have I been cruelly misled about America?

Which "tv expert psychiatrist" would that be? Dr. Phil? -- Nephele No, he was an asian guy who regularly appeared on 'Richard & Judy' (now relegated to an obscure cable channel). For the life of me I simply cannot remember his name. He was on the news recently if I remember right, on trial for plagiarism in his latest book.

The size of roman towns is somewhat smaller than today, and since people generally had little else to do but gossip about other peoples business, anyone seeking an adress had only to ask around - someone would know where they lived, and a few directions from a landmark within the town would suffice. Rome was of course much larger but the same principle applies, and since that city contained 'ghettoes' of varying nationalities, its a fair bet there were sub-communities that keptt track of goings-on. Given the level of junk mail they received was nothing like today, I doubt the romans had much problem with street names, since major roads were sometimes named and used as landmarks in themselves.

Good afternoon readers, this is Caldrail, live at the grand opening of Swindons new library. I'm going to take you now inside this wonderful edifice and... "Are you with the children?" Huh? What? Do I look five years old? I've got grey hair for crying out loud. "Sorry Sir, library opens at two..." Two o'clock. Humph. Right. Well its back to the studio for news of Caldrails latest phone call with the police. Phone Call of the Week A message left by a policeman who said they'd got a result from the report of damage to my car. Woohoo. So I phoned them back this morning and the result is.... Well they haven't actually found anything, the crime is listed as unsolved, but they've managed to convince another policeman to look for a villain, believed young and irritating. New Library of the Week Hello again. yes its caldrail live at Swindons New Library. The place is heaving with people, most of whom look bemused, and if I can... just... squeeze through the crowd of camera toting journalists... Yeah same to you mate.... a computer, one of many located in and around the building. We understand this is a state of the art system, so lets log in and try my e-mail's.... Aha. My emails are blocked courtesy of Swindon Borough Council. Internet security so tight you can't communicate. Well its back to the studio whilst we get this little glitch sorted....

Depends who you're with

Really? Hey, if you want some jpegs of dirty steamers just let me know :D

i get a bit irritated by this sort of stereotyping, but then, human beings do pin labels on things, and if I were honest I'd probably do the same unwittingly. A tv expert psychiatrist reckoned its one of our primeval instincts coming to the fore, the reason why so many men become nerds or incredibly anal about specialist subjects. What happens is that male humans (being the hunters, although some women are afflicted by this phenomenon too) are programmed to recognise signs and tracks. Its a survival trait we no longer use, but one that sits there in the background. So in other words, if someone glances at a steam engine and recalls an incredible amount of dull information about it, what he's actually doing is exactly the same as spotting a pawprint in the sand and recalling the creatures known habits and whereabouts. So this sort of thing bubbles over in modern life and our lecturer is simply classifying managers in the same way he would do for animals if he wore furry swimming trunks in ice age europe. The only difference is these animals are tasty to eat and provide furs and stuff for survival. Killing managers is regarded as a serious crime unfortunately, though I suspect I would sympathise with the culprit

Well... I doubt I'm in danger of receiving a funny handshake... I know what you mean about theft. I had a CD lifted from my home by a visitor (I can't prove it) and I suspect due to the title I'd put on it they though it was a porno disk. Oh boy are they going to be disappointed. It was a backup of my US railroad pics.

According to the DVD, the character was inspired by that 1872 Pollice Verso painting from the Pheonix Art Gallery. Anything else is just journalism.

They've made some startling conclusions already but it never hits the headlines. One theory shows primeval man wandering out of africa during a time of intense pressure which almost saw them extinct. I think its the genetic variation that led to that conclusion, so its an assertion rather than a provable theory, which is probably why such things get mentioned and go no further.

There were three legions initially involved in the Jewish War. Two had gone home by the time Masada was besieged because the war had effectively been won, and Masada no more than a desperate last stand by a group of zealots who couldn't accept it.

The doorbell rang early in the morning, or at least, it was early for me. In true jobless fashion I muttered a few curses and rolled over back to sleep. About an hour or two later I got up, and got ready for a hike in the local area. Down the stairs, pack on my back, out the door, down the alleyway and.... I stopped short when I spotted the door to my car left wide open. The soft top had been cut with knife in three places, not as random vandalism, but with every intention of obtaining access to the vehicle. It was evident the thief had gone through every possible cubbyhole. In actual fact, I wasn't hugely upset by it. The real damage had already been done to my car some time ago. Thats why it was off the road permanently and contained nothing worth stealing. Given what happened with the police the last time, I wondered if it was really worth notifying them this time, but I suppose whoever did this might do the same to someone else, so I guess it was time to take a deep breath and phone them. They arranged to send a forensic investigator. She drove in from Marlborough and looked askance at my somewhat grimy corpse of a car. She sniffed around, shone a torch into dark corners, then told me it was hopeless. The car was wet after the soft-top was cut open, never mind the doors being left open in the rain, and she explained that her powders would only make a mess in the conditions, and that there little likeliehood of obtaining prints from cloth or textured plastic. Is it just me, or have I been cruelly misled by crime thrillers? Had there been a dead body involved, would the car have been hauled away and exposed to every possible scientific test to obtain evidence of the guilty party? Maybe, maybe not, but I guess a dead car doesn't qualify as time well spent. It turns out this time I'm not alone. On her way down into the car park, a garage mechanic stopped her to point out the six other cars that had been broken into equally carelessly recently. My neighbour stepped out of his back gate and sympathetically enquired if I'd lost anything. It was him knocking on my door earlier, and his car - unbeknown to me - had been broken into the week before. A lot of people are having their cars damaged in this area. Irs probably a solitary kid, too high on the excitment of becoming a crook to figure out which cars are actually worth breaking into. I ought to thank my neighbour for trying to let me know it had happened. Perhaps I should have gotten out of bed for all the difference it would have made. I can't help wondering if the police feel the same way. First Impressions of the Week He was a well built guy, in black casual clothes, with a subtle display of gold chains around his neck. I had no reason to talk to him other than I wanted a drink and he was standing in the way of the bar. This guy seemed sociable enough and I cracked some lame joke about nightclub bouncers. "I know bad people" He said. Oh? Really? Is this some sort of gangsta thing? He realised quite quickly I wasn't terrified. Normally with people who know bad people you have a bullet hole inserted somewhere on your person by now, so I figured I wasn't in any danger of that. "See this? know what this means?" He shoved a black and gold ring in my face. "Dis is da Freemasons. You know what the Freemasons are?" Yeah... Yeah I do.... But I totally missed the point of his gesture. He wandered away with his mobile phone. So I guess either he's a fake gangsta trying it on, or there's a contract out on my life. I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed.

Recently I bumped into a lady I've known distantly for a long time. To be honest, I've never really spoken to her much, but on this occaision we got talking. She began by enquiring about my historical research, something she'd noticed me doing at the library. The reason for her interest had nothing to do with my natural charm, physical assets, or bank balance, but rather my soul. It turns out she's a keen member of one of those odd christian sects that you see from time to time. Hers is a door leading to a church over the top of a popular pub in town, in an old refurbished cinema. Seems an ironic place to hold prayer meetings doesn't it? I was politely invited to attend a meeting. No thanks. Especially after she innocently told me that a 'Great change was afoot'. She tried to stop me in mid-guffaw and explain why all these miracles were coming to pass. Sorry, but I still guffawed. Then we got down to business and spent an hour engaged in a religious debate that certainly made a change from the usual football and nightclub scores. I don't she realised we had an audience! Like most of these cults, hers has filled her head with talk of miracles and typical end-timer prophecies. Hers is a world filled with miracles. Unfortunately, I think it would take one to get me through her door. Nightclubber of the Week Walking home through a side street at night, I spotted a young black woman waiting for someone. Usually this sort of encounter is with a woman of the night, something I don't bother with and couldn't afford even if I was interested. This lady was different. Her clothes were way upmarket to what I usually see in Swindon, more like the sort of thing you see in expensive london clubs. She noticed me looking as I passed by and stopped swigging champagne from the bottle. Oh, sorry dear, do carry on. She did.

Arabic? You mean you might want to stop and ask someone the way? I know what you mean, but I do happen to know a little more about this job than the advert suggests. Drivers were travelling along main roads from site to site in convoys, and some did get shot at. Talking to the locals was not encouraged. To be honest, the only benefit to work like this is the amount you get paid.