caldrail

Back in the sixties Gene Roddenberry sold an idea to a film studio for a tv series about 'A wagon train to the stars'. It was one of those simple and cheap concepts that studios loved at that time, and they weren't expecting anything more intellectually challenging than Lost In Space. Instead of Bonanza with ray guns, they got spikey ears, emotionless women, and a plot you actually needed to think about. That was quite a shock for the time. Now of course the original Star Trek is a much loved classic, however excrutiating Captain Kirks love life was or the persistent discovery of american civilisation on every second planet they visited. It still gets shown on tv today. Star Trek Next Generation had a real act to follow, and they all but trumped it. Deep Space Nine was slightly more of a star trek space opera, but by Voyager, things were getting a little tired, with every episode showing Captain Janeway staring in wonder at yet another example of Life as we never thought possible. Which brings me to an important point. This concept of life everywhere in incredibly diverse and unexpected forms is fiction. There's no reason to believe its possible other than optimism. After all, life on Earth evolved through a series of fortuitous circumstances that appear extremely rare in the universe.We have a stable sun, our planet is orbiting at just the right distance, with a moon that prevents our world becoming tidally locked, with an iron core that provides a protective magnetic field around us, and so forth. A typical class M planet then. There's a lot of those in Star Trek. Is Star Trek possible? A world government as the core of a federation of alien worlds, harmonious, progressive, advancing. And totally impossible, for no other reason than nature designed mankind to squabble. Sometimes you meet people you just can't get on with. The same unfortunately would be true of alien technological societies, which in Star Trek are all conveniently humanoid and roughly comparable in capability (apart from the Q, but these all powerful tricksters are little more than embodiements - is that the right word? - of mythological concepts, thus showing that our imaginations haven't really changed since the middle ages). In technological terms we only have a short window to achieve this progress, assuming that there is a way of travelling the vast distances between stars without the restriction of physical laws. We are consuming our planets resources and at some point, it really will become impossible to go anywhere else. On the other hand, Star Trek is all about optimism for the future, so having reduced trekkies around the world to uncontrollable rage or utter despair at the likely failure of their religion, lets all hope it can happen. Or better still, actually try to make it so, rather than squabbling and spending all our efforts in knocking each other down. Somehow, I think we'll still be fighting outside starport cantinas and dropping litter on distant worlds come what may. Star Trek Moment of the Week Wandering about the local beauty spots I passed a pair of single mums pushing their little infant-transporters (which I presume contained their offspring - I dread to look) and they casually gave their opinion of me to each other as I passed. "He's on a different planet" "Yeah" Cool. DS (Remember her?) once described me as Mr Spock, but now I'm actually walking the surface of another world. I could have told them that. I've been calling Swindon an alien world since I started this blog. However, lets not get angry. Remember the Prime Directive of Non-Interference? Go in peace, alien mothers. Please.

I can see the tv ads now....

Until the cost of buying them becomes too high. Thats the whole point. It revolves around the profitability of farms over the course of the empire and whether the large estates of the principate were still economically viable in later times. In fact, the small farmer had originally been effectively forced off his land by being unable to compete profitably with the output of larger estates, which is one reason why Rome had such a large itinerant population dependent on the corn dole. The question also revolves on the use of the Frumentarii, the 'corn collectors', whose influence was increased from the reign of Hadrian until their disbandment by Diocletian.

Fear not. DVD's and book sales to follow... How about a Caldrail Attenborough T-shirt? Or for the man in your life, how about a Planet Alleyway Chest Wig?

This can be true maybe if we include those in mining as rural. Its true without the mining. We tend to see the roman world as essentially urbanised, but the majority of people were still living outside of large towns. It might be useful to point out that the most heavily urbanised part of the empire was north africa, not Italy, and that the private estates of wealthy individuals in the countryside might have employed a great many slaves to work the land. The proportion of mines to farms is very small, and most mine operations weren't exactly using slaves in huge numbers. A typical mine of this period is a shaft with no more than a dozen workers. This would mean a visible change in rural economy from the I C AD but we don't see that. As in other old economies slaves were present but not a decisive factor. Small land owners, colons and other dependant workers, permanent and temporary helpers would have been the great majority of the rural workforce. Egypt it's a great example of that. Not necessarily. Over the course of the empire the supply of slaves was dwindling because foreign people weren't being captured in warfare and enslaved. The populations on estates were maintained to a degree by breeding, as had happened for some time, but this was unlikely to eradicate the need to purchase them too, and since an estate owner can just as easily rent land out to a tenant farmer and profit from it, it was increasingly the case that these tenant farmers were on the rise after the movement toward urban life due to large scale enslavement had run its course. That the economy doesn't seem to materially change is no suprise, since the level produce of the estates being sold was similar. However, its clear that by the late empire estates and communities were opting out of roman government and taxation - something slaves had not been allowed to do since Spartacus - and opting out is not a practical possibility unless a community that can survive independently is present.

And now on Channel UNRV, we go deep into the rainforest as Caldrail Attenborough presents Planet Alleyway... (Cue theme music and titles) Hello. I'm Caldrail Attenborough, and this is a typical back alleyway in the depths of the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire. In the next hour we'll looking at the rich variety of wildlife that exists in this remote corner of England, and hopefully, we'll discover some of the more exotic and reclusive creatures that live in Planet Alleyway. We enter the alleyway at the mouth of a gravel stream bed. The poor drainage means this canyon floods with every rainy season, and the eroded sandy bottom has some treachorous puddles. If you look carefullly under this hedge... yes... the discarded bin bags of the Great Lazy Ape. A nocturnal species who leave the spoil from their nesting sites in the brick terraced houses, probably those on the horizon just over there. Now we'll move upstream, onto the Asphalt Plain.... This wilderness of asphalt is used by creatures inhabiting the brick terraces, and used on their migrations to watering holes every evening. Its a barren featurless waste, and we're going to have to be careful, because this region is home to the rare but carnivorous Garage Gorilla. Yes, there's one, patiently waiting his next meal in his inspection pit. I think we'll move on now, as he's spotted us and he looks a little angry at his privacy being disturbed.... Now we move into the Alley Hinterland. The asphalt is giving way to a mud and grass canyon between the demolition site fence and the neglected back walls. The fence has traces of another species found here, the Grafitti Mouse, a shy and retiring creature that leaves these colourful territorial markers on any vertical surface it can find. These gaudy symbols tell all the young males who is in the area as they struggle for mating rights in their own imagination... Well, as you can see, I've penetrated the deepest region of the alleyway. Here, the detritus of alley life is at its thickest under the jungle canopy of nearby tree growth. The mud and grass is mixed with rubble, rusty metal, and if you look just, a pile of ash from a large fire, lit here by one of the alleyways most dangerous of species, the Firestarter Fox. They're only occaisional visitors to the alleyway, and are highly sought by authorities in this region.... Now we descend the far side of the Alleyway, and the ground next to wall is thick with mud. Oh yes, look there... Now I have to talk in a whisper, because I don't want to startle the pack of schoolkids just around the corner... Wonderful aren't they? These are all young males, in beautiful hoody plumage, and yes, there! Two are preparing to light a cigarette! A natural ritual so rarely seen in the wild these days. We'll leave them in peace... Too late! A nearby Single Mum spots and chases the Schoolkids away, using her screaming voice to intimidate them. She's tending to her young, and protects them fiercely... Now we're at the far end of the Alleyway, a rugged landscape of discarded fridges and domestic furniture. We're going to have to move over now because two bull Bozo's are wandering toward us. These magnificent and obese creatures are easily angered, and have been known to bare their bottoms in threat displays, something I think we'll try to avoid at this close range. This has been just some of the bizarre wildlife that exists in this remote region of Swindon. Join me next week, when we travel to The Park, and investigate the grassy serengetti of our public spaces.... (Fade to black, credits) Fire of the Week The local Firestarter Fox was on form. His impressive blaze blocked off the alley entirely, burning both the demolition site fence and the private gate opposite. Had to call the Fire Brigade on that one in the early hours of the morning. Might have to phone them to save Jeremy Clarkson too. Having conferred sainthood on a Swindon Councillor for switching off speed cameras, the enraged roman catholic church is preparing to burn him at the stake. Apparently the Eleventh Commandment of Tony Blairs Cool Religion is Thou Shalt Not Speed. As if we could afford the petrol to do so.

Then why does Trajan's column show beardless troops? Teenagers? No, sometimes they did shave, not just for military appearance, but their own personal cleanliness and personal preference. A beard can harbour parasites as much as hair. As for wasting water, it does depend on the supply of it. Remember that romans were marching from well to well, and no station could be manned in desert areas without some form of water to sustain it, especially as the concentration of troops meant a good amount was going to be used. The romans did not conquer territory as we do now, they had no need of wilderness. What they did was capture particular places, forts, cities, etc, which all must have had some form of water supply by virtue of their location as a settlement. Are there alternatives to water use? Did they use the ubiquitous olive oil for that too? As regards shaving in spare time on the march, why not? What else were they going to do to keep themselves busy? Read bedtime stories? Song and dance routines? Camp life is full of activity like shaving to keep one busy and the romans were hardly going to be any different there. As regards the bonding rituals, these activities are part and parcel of daily life for humans. They wouldn't have seen the act of shaving as such (unless the commander was particularly astute for roman times) but it would still perform that function, strengthening the social bonds within the Conterbernium - which does mean 'Close Friends'.

I love that Caldrail and may need to pinch it, do you know where it came from by any achance? I was up all night trying to find that quote. I've seen it twice in different places, once mentioning the individual by name. I'll keep looking, because its an important point. Its also true that the majority of slaves were rural labourers (even allowing for Rome's population) and that the numbers of these farm-slaves dwindled during the empire as the fresh slaves from conquest dried up, making the purchase of the available slaves somewhat expensive, and allowing the return of the tenant farmer as an entrepeneurial individiual. Some of the prices I've seen quoted are quite high. A young boy of no particular skill = 500 Denarii. A woman of appreciable comliness = 6000 Denarii. Not cheap, given that the boy costs the equivalent of an entire barrel of fish.

There is a side to this thats occured to me. In the field, its unlikely that a roman legionary would be so effete as to carry a mirror with him, therefore he would require the services of someone else to shave him. Since the availability of civilian barbers or slaves is going to vary or more usually become non-existent on campaign, its easy to see shaving as a bonding ritual between legionaries in the field.

The resources used by romans to keep themselves shaven weren't too demanding. To all intents and purposes all they needed was a sharp iron razor.

My search for gainful employment continues. Here in Britain we have job agencies, people who sell people to companies as employees. I don't know about you, but thats perilously close to slave labour in my view. However, the reality is that if I want a well paid job, then I'll probably have to do business with them. Then again there are job agencies and there are job agencies. Some inhabit plush air-conditioned office, others have small dingy first floor rooms with coffee making equipment that was declared military surplus in 1958. The first will expect you to be a hotshot executive able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, the second doesn't care as long as you can clean thirty toilets an hour. Take your pick. Funnily enough, I chose the former. My previous experience with the agencies in-between the extremes I described has not been outstanding, so perhaps I'll aim a little higher and see if appearances really do make a difference. So I wandered in, and the busy executive office was crammed full of shirts and ties. The lady on the reception politely asked me if she could help, and her professionalism allowed her to keep smiling when I said I wanted a job. "What sort of work are you looking for?" She asked. Well now. Warehousing, but I'm experienced in admin, I.T, and my last job was as a trainee manager. She beamed with delight. I wasn't a scruffy beggar after all, but a real person down on his luck. "Wait there, and I'll fetch someone to see you." Cheers, thanks. I waited for a while. They even asked me if I wanted a coffee. That never happened before. At last a young man, full of confidence and clearly someone used to dealing with Sir Alan Sugar introduced himself. He whisked me upstairs to a quiet meeting room for my interview, where I accentuated the positive. He very slyly asked me if I wanted some manual labour to tide me over. Ahhhh... no... you mentioned that other job that pays three times as much? Turned out the job was too far away, and since the car is immobile, that was that. But he promised to look further. Agencies always make that promise. I have noticed that unless they can fit you in right there and then, you get forgotten. So I went home, carrying the business card he gave me. Two months later, I rang him. Whats happening? Any jobs likely in the near future? "Oh... Yes... We have one. Why not drop by?" Excellent. I turned up for my appointment and was introduced to a young lady who would be conducting the interview. No offer of coffee I see... Having been dropped by the male executive, I was now at the level of a woman wearing leopard skin shoes. I answered the same questions as last time, and made the same replies. I suspect I'll get the same brush-off when they can't sell me, so what happens next? Am I to be interviewed by some blue rinse dragon with a cigarette hanging out her mouth asking if I can clean thirty toilets an hour? We shall see.... Morale Boost of the Week The lady who ran the agency further down the road sighed. She looked me straight in the eye, and suggested I do bar work. In sheer frustration I thumped my forehead on the desk a few times, and she waited impatiently for me to leave. Same time next week? She gave me a brief acidic smile. You know, I do believe she's warming to me....

The romans never kept any records of slaves as such, and since they were not regarded as human beings, it was unlikely that they would do so. However, your comment about the high number of slaves, as reinforced above, is disputed. All we're left with is estimates, and whilst its true that after conquest a great many people were carried off into slavery, they didn't always survive long. One way of disposing of large numbers of prisoners-of-war (who were effectively slaves rather than prisoners as we know them because the romans never did like keeping people idle and incarcerated for long periods) was to have them fight in the arena. Josephus records the numbers of people dragged away from Jerusalem for this purpose across the roman provinces to be slaughtered for entertainment. Perhaps the most telling statement by the romans themselves is when one individual suggested to the senate that all slaves should be identified by clothing or marker. His peers weren't keen on that that idea, on the basis that "Then they would realise how many of them there are".

I tremble in paranoia....

I think we tend to see the roman legions in the same light as modern armies and therefore assume that conforming to a particuklar standard of appearance was required. As far as I'm aware, there's no evidence of a requirement to be clean shaven other than cultural mores, and since the legions were often from foreign cultures, perhaps the wearing of beards had more to do with personal inclination, especially since it was likely the officers of that period may well be bearded (as important and fshionable citizens doing their bit for Rome and Career) its not so unlikely that individual soldiers aped that style for predictable reasons. It may have simply been they're home culture was bearded, or that as you suggest, it was easier in the field to simply let it grow. Which brings us to ceremonial parades and the appearance of legionaries looking dishevelled. It doesn't fit does it? Given the degree of esprit-de-corps achieved in legionary life of that period, that most men would tidy any facial hair to make a favourable impression, since a centurion would undoubtedly pounce on scruffy individuals and make them perform fatigues as examples regardless of any offical ruling on it.

Cool. Can't wait to hear it. Especially if it has something to do with trained animals. Those cows keep looking at me as I walk past. They're up to something you know...

Well now you come to mention it, they have placed a tin roof over it and it is rather discrete in there.... and I haven't seen anyone working... Business as usual? Oh no... You mean... I can't blame America for the weather? But surely the CIA has weather-inducing satellites that are making my life a misery? Please don't crush my happy little world by saying it isn't so.... I so want a conspiracy that can't be utterly destroyed by reasonable and rational argument... Oh lets just blame the Chinese. They keep firing crystals into clouds.

The last week has been a miserable procession of rainy days. Not those romantic downpours so beloved of Tina Turner, its those claggy dull grey squalls that we British like to call weather. But now I think about it, what happened to August? We hardly had any sunshine at all, and the indian summer we sometimes get in September looks like being a washout. Its hardly Global Warming is it? But then it occurs to me that since we get most of our weather second-hand from America, and that they get full on hurricanes, I can hardly complain if I get a little damp. At least I have a roof on my home. Roof of the Week This accolade goes to the school around the corner from where I live. It looks as if they decided to re-tile the whole building. Its an old building of course, a christian school next door to a church. On this occaision though they didn't just rip off the tiles and have tea-breaks, they built a huge scaffold over the top of the building and draped plastic sheeting over it. Can't think why.

They'd have probably tried to feed it sugar-lumps....

I was walking through Lydiard Park on my home from a hike in the country the other day. The weather was officially sunshine and showers, though as it hadn't rained, the ground was pasable and there were some excellent cloudy skies, full of mood and drama. I'd write a poem but lets be honest, I'm not poetic in the slightest, and since a picture tells a thousand words, I took some photo's instead. None of which were any good. C'est la vie. Anyway, I came round the corner of the house (Open to the public but in thirty years I've never bothered to go in) and sat munching on its latest victim was this enormous great dane, looking absolutely elegant and the very epitome of englishness in the georgian setting of mansion and landscaped grounds. I asked the lady owner if I could take a photo. She looked a bit suprised, also a bit like she was expecting some sort of chat-up line, but she was happy enoug to let me do so. I made a quip about getting a photo before the dog ate me. I knelt down, set the camera, and the dog got curious. "No no no, stay there!" To no avail. The great dane trotted across and stared me in the face as only a dog the size of a siberian bear can do. It wasn't wagging its tail, just smelling my face, and I had the curious preminition of losing whatever facial features I had in this animals quest for sustenance. The owner, bless her, came to my rescue and the dog obediently sat back down where it had been. I got the photo. In actual fact the great dane wasn't being aggressive at all, it was merely curious and none too impressed with me. I'll try to do better next time Fido. Encounter of the Week During my hike through the wilderness of Wiltshire earlier, I passed by two women of mature age who were a little worried about passing a cow stood astride the footpath. "Its a cow" I told them, "She's more more scared of you." "Oh" They said, "We thought it might be like a bull" Groan. Anatomy obviously wasn't taught in their day. As it happened I met them again going the other way later on. I said hello and one of them mentioned it was an amusing coincidence that we were passing again. "Well I had to," I said, "I was worried the cow might have eaten you."

Naah... I'm too good looking....

Poetry? You can't be serious. Wine , Women, and Mud Wrestling please. But if you insist, give me a sword, and clear the floor.... I care not who or what I slay save that my master is pleased. As for sharing a couch, the courtesan will do nicely. I wonder if she's into mud wrestling? Hot wine and cold water please. I think I'll not bother with the 'Food of the Gods'... Has a bad reputation.... Flower petals or balloons? Can't we have vegetables in rude and amusing shapes? Certainly don't want to visit a private library, and slices of roasted ba... Well, you know my preferences. Now... the momento... I'll take the courtesan thank you. Make sure that cheetah grows big and strong, I shall slay it in front of an admiring crowd one day, I have no need of another gladius, and... by Jupiter... This tankards silver.... dum-dee-dum....

Oh yes, forgot that Saab ad. Trying to make eveyone believe they're driving a jet fighter. As if they didn't already, which is why the advert failed I think. Then again, I remember one ad where a jet fighter pilot flies inverted above a car to ogle a drivers girlfriend. Not that it explains how he was able to fly upside down below his stalling speed, or how his jet blast didn't force the car off the road when he powered up to escape the bridge. Little things like that don't matter in advertising obviously. But hey, I'm nit-picking. Nice aeroplane.

There's a car advert thats been shown on tv for some time now and it still bugs me. A stylish young man in his dayglo green Mazda hatchback does handbrake turns around the studio with beautiful female dancers trying to stop him from drving away. It never did look right. Firstly, the hatchback is the same as the car his granny would drive. Without the body kit, spoilers, rubber-band tires, and a twelve pounder cannon sticking out under the back it just wasn't the sort of car he would be seen dead in, dayglo green or not. For that matter, young female dancers have never tried to stop me driving away. Mostly they just gestured rudely. Perhaps I was never that stylish. After all, my car was never dayglo green. A few years back Peugeot ran a tv ad where a driver of a luxury saloon drove gently down one of those torturous european mountain roads whilst making tire squeal noises verbally. Maybe its just me, but if you drive whilst making such noises yourself, you're either very, very sad, or driving a completely boring car. Given it was a Peugeot luxury saloon, the answer is probably both. But what luxury saloon could cut it? Mercedes thought they had the answer, and showed one gentleman on a quest for presence ("If you have to search for it, you probably never had it in the first place" - obvious, but true). He sits staring aimlessly out of cafe windows or stands in the middle of road junctions in the pouring rain, leaving me wondering why the local police haven't asked him to move along please. Sadly, he never did find his charismatic Mercedes, and perhaps thats where the advert went wrong. I do hope that gentleman gets some counselling, or even better, a social life. Thats the trick with car adverts. They sell images. Vauxhall show Hitman 47 in his Omega, staring balefully at the camera to convince all those would be assassins that an Omega is the car of choice. Kia shows a man daydreaming about one of their sporty hatchbacks as if driving under big signs saying 'Desirable' will make you think the car actually is. Vauxhall suggest you should fall in love with motoring again, but how many of us have open desert roads handy? Sometimes you get silly ads, like the one from Ford where a passing new-model Mondeo entices people to put balloons on their cars and make them float away. Which begs the question - If they don't sell their current car, how can they afford a new Mondeo? How do they escape arrest for endangering aircraft? Do the public know they are being brainwashed by subliminal messages from the Mondeo-in-Grey? I must admit, when a Mondeo passes me, I probably don't notice. Then again, Vauxhall broke the mould by advertising how practical their cars are, a brave move, suggesting men really can be men without discussing football or notches on the bedpost. The advert showied eight year-old 'adults' admiring each others people-carriers and demonstrating the features of such cars. Just a small point... but.... Do their wives know how young their husbands are? How did these kids get driving licenses? Or is it a subtle suggestion that the child inside you desperately wanrts a pint-sized bus? All of this leaves those car manufacturers that don't advertise. Some can't afford to, others are so exclusive there's no point because no-one can afford them. Which leaves me staring out the window of cafes at rainy road junctions in my quest for money. If you have to search for it, you probably never had it in the first place. Obvious, but true. Probably the most obvious thing is that in some way or other we guys all want cars to advertise ourselves. Police Driver of the Week Walking home through West Swindon, I prepared to cross a road that interesects a housing estate. A police car crept forward menacingly nearby. I hesitated, wondering if he was going to accelerate past me, turn right down the side road, or simply leave me guessing. Then, at the last moment, without signalling his intentions, he swerved hard right and continued creeping along down the side road. I know police drivers have had some stick for crashing their cars whilst chasing joyriders at high speed, but that was ridiculous, like watching The Bill in slow motion. Still, the fight against snails with intent to commit crime must continue.

Those lads have done a grand job painting the outside of the house. For me the best thing is that they've run out of Perry Como songs, but at least the paint looks fresh. They did carefully lay out dayglo 'wet paint' tape everywhere to stop people getting paint all over their clothes, which sort of made the place look like a crime scene. And since it was necessary to leave the outer door open last night (to avoid the wet paint gluing the door and keeping me trapped inside) some wag decided to ring my doorbell at four o'clock this morning. Cheers mate. If its the same idiot who once asked me if I was available, the answer is still no, I'm still as likely to turn violent, and you can dream on. Advert of the Week This has to go to the promotional email I received... Waveform Festival features 2 live stages, 3 dance tents and an amazing chill out on a beautiful rolling hillside, with over 130 of the best live acts and DJs in all genres of dance music. Plus the solar & wind powered green village, great organic food, sauna, hot tubs and much more! You can just see it can't you? A mass of drunken partygoers jumping up and down to a twenty megawatt metronome whilst laser blasts that would see off Darth Vader spin round frenetically. Power generated by the Solar Green Village no less. So what happens at night? Is the PA powered by greenhouse gases given off by the great organic food? I certainly don't need to walk several miles to a muddy field to hear loud thudding music, nor having watched the evening news do I feel I will learn anything meaningful from the woolly hat wonders and their anti-everything nonsense. I'll curl up with a good book and enjoy the peace....

What a morning - it's all go at the Caldrail residence. This morning, at the ungodly hour of half past eight, I was dragged from my bed by a knock on the door. Before me were two suspicious characters who cheerfully said "All right mate? We're just gonna paint the house..." Well thats very kind of you. Just wait there will you?.... I'd not received a letter about this so I proceed to phone the letting agent who phoned the landlord who phoned the property maintenance firm who phoned the landlord who phoned the letting agent who phoned me but I was too slow picking up the phone so I phoned them to find out everything was ok. Right lads, you can paint the house. They cheerfully nodded and proceeded to give a very original vocal-only rendition of Perry Como's back catalogue of hit singles. Think I might be tempted to make another phone call... When the phone rang. It's the electrician who was supposed to inspect the flat on Sunday but couldn't so he came today instead. In order to acess my premises he discovered that I was in fact upstairs, so another problem resolved. The art of communication is not yet dead. Now of course I have to do all that domestic stuff like the shopping (I wonder if I should phone ahead... Maybe not) and asking the government to find me another job vacancy - which will require another phone call. Except I can't because the battery has run flat. So will mine if this pace carries on. Name of the Week The electrician, in a somewhat mischievious mood, showed me the name of one of my neighbours. How could anyone be cursed with a name that describes the function of an orifice in the lower abdomen used to deposit bodily waste. I kid you not.