caldrail

Losing a battle is circumstantial. Whilst one general might have better command skills, better charisma, better experience & training, and so forth, that might not apply to the men at his command. Further, it's a mistake to assume that ancient armies were as adept at dynamic command on the battlefield as say the napoleonic era. Armies in the ancient world relied heavily on intelligence, because otherwise the enemy commander has the initiative, chooses the battlefield, and prepares a plan ahead of time. So much depended on who had the initiative in ancient times - when does the battle commence? It matters because the sun might blind the enemy or reflect off youir own armies equipment, and so on. Once the battle begins, arm ies rely on prepared ideas. If the army did not have one because it arrived later, was ambuhed, or the leader was careless in finding in foe, then things likely would go bad for them, and evenb talented generals can be caught unawares.

Well... I agree there's bound to be some viking influence and religious commonality (which we know about - the Saxons in dark age England began with similar beliefs), but the question of region al identity interferes with the theory. However, I do think the answer is closely related to the article, in that cultural roots of North Europe have common roots.

Not my position at all. I'm very sorry I disagree with you on many points, but I don't intentionally lie. Whether I'm ignorant is circumstantial. However, I will argue strenuosly points I strongly believe. If that conflicts with your preconceptions, I'm not going to waste time apologising for that. I may not know everything - neither do you.

Oops... I believe I missed a week in my blog entries. No matter. We're still waiting for the Ukraine and their Russian backed rebels to adhere to an agreed ceasefire. We're still waiting for the government to realise that all those changes to benefits payments is only going to produce more beggars on the street. Or for passers by outside my home to finally realise I really couldn't care less what they say. A Quick Night Out "I fancy a pint" My colleague mused out loud as we strode homeward from the bus station. As clues go, it was a strong one. "You fancy a pint?" He asked. Okay, but you'll have to pay for it. This sort of negotiaton I have some experience in. Truth was I was well tired after a hectic week of pallet collection and the usual cut and thrust of driving trucks around a busy warehouse. As much as I wanted to go home, the lure of alcohol in that circumstance is hard to ignore. So we diverted into the local Wetherspoons pub on the high street. A cider for me, as is my preference, some obscure lager for him, then he made straight for the one armed bandit machine. The pub was busy as you'd expect for a Friday night but not heaving with customers. I like that sort of atmosphere. Everybody enjoying a night out and still able hear yourself think. Eventually my colleague got bored of putting coins in the machine, his pint, my company, and the endless texts from his missus demanding to know where he was. He downed what was left of his pint and said "I'm going to have to go. You going to be all right on your own?" What? Finish a drink in a pub full of dark dangerous drinkers all on my own? Yes. Funnily enough I think I will be. I mean, it isn't as if this has never happened before. I quietly finished my cider at my own comfortable pace, then departed in a mellow mood. The security guards outside wished me a good night. Cheerio lads. Mr Cod Kabul I hear that Afghanistan has just opened its first British style fish and chip shop. A bit late now the British troops have all left, but after years of kebab shop domination of the high street, a small victory for democratic consumerism in the face of Taliban conformity. Universal Election The government have declared that Universal Credit is to be rolled out in Job Centres across England. They're claiming that it will work better for those looking for work. No, it won't, I know it won't, because my claims advisor would simply use it as an excuse not to pay me any benefits irrespective of how concientious I was. Despite making more than fifty applications a week, attending interviews when required, and any activity required by the Job Centre, I was still deemed a dole cheat and refused benefit. Being used as a scapegoat isn't something I take kindly to. Not that I'm bitter and twisted about it you underdtand... Either the government are blissfuly unaware of the abuses of the system their administrators use to further their careers, or they're too busy furthering their own by issuing this sort of nonsense on the evening news. Then again, having declared that al benefit payments will be amalgamated ynder one umbrella, now the government have announced a new youth allowance for those school leavers at a loose end. There is, after all, an election on the way. Oscars Of The Week Bafta's, Golden Globes, Oscars.... Yet another round of 'thank you' speeches to wade through to find out who the best actors and films are. Right now film producers are wining and dining, performers crossing their fingers, and the television news is full of speculation. I nominate the claims advisors of Swindon Job Centre Plus for their role in bringing my finances to the point of ruin. Utterly convincing performances obviously.

Interesting. I read somewhere that foreigners derided the Romans in the early history of their state as 'porridge eaters'. But then, the poor were more likely to receive 'corn' than handouts of meat, and we know that bread was their staple. Meat for the poor was an optional extra and whether it was welcome and pork-shaped, not as prevalent as bread.

Original principles? Christianity was not a unfied movement in any sense at all. The Council of Nicaea was supposed to address that by establishing what Christian orthodoxy was (and defining heresy) but even that failed to achieve 100%. There were deep divisions on interpreting christian beliefs and which gospels were satisfactory. In fact, early christianity accepted female priests. Once the Romans fully engaged with christianity, women were removed.

Pardon me? Those 'emperors' (a word derived from military power only) that thought so often found out the hard way they could not do as they pleased without upsetting people, and even those that did behave in that way struggled to achieve their desires because the real world wasn't quite so amenable. As for positions/titles/offices granted by the Senate - what on Earth do you imagine the Senate wewre doing by offering them? IF there was no point, the system would not have existed. Truth is the Senate was still the traditional government of the Roman world, the Imperial Hopusehold an alternative support for the 'First Citizens' of Rome who acted as patrons to the Roman client state, and any idea that the 'emperors' were monarchs in any constitutional; sense is as wrong a concept as it is possible to get. That was why there was never any constitutional acknowledgement of the role of 'Emperor' and no system for allotting a new one. I concede they gradually became more monarchiual, given the chaotic state of power politics in the Roman world, but at no time until the late empire were 'emperors' the sort of alkl powerful monarch you imply. Only Julius Caesar ever had that power. The others had to balance their actions against the support they could muster and many got it wrong.

No. Absolutely not. A Roman town was a Roman town, owing loyalty to the political system and provincial allegiance if necessary. The status of individuals is entirely another matter. That's a rather naive outlook. The Romans set stabndards for social inclusion and went to some effort to persude provincial/native leadership to fully engage in the system. Regardless of lifestyle choices, there would have been no doubt who was or wasn't Roman. It sounds to me more like you're trying to establish one because it suits your opinion. Tradition and law did not establish any such dual identity, it merely complicated daily affairs in which the wealthy were tyrying to find ways to profit and lord it over the great unwashed. Irrespective of how they ordered their society, they still regarded themselves as Roman.

It was Domitian who added Purple and Gold teams, but these had little public support against the fanatical following of the regular four, Blue, Green, Red, and White.

No, it was the Gauls who got up to those sort of shenanigans, but Caesar mentions that the Druids oversaw such rites to keep things under control, though as yet no archeoligical evidence for the 'wicker man' has been found.

There was another Numerianus too. Not really to do with this thread, but an interesting tale. It seems this Numerianus was a schoolteacher in Gaul who decided one day that his life was too dull. So he set off for Rome, pretending to be a senator, picking up a small army on the way, and basically began 'liberating' booty claiming to acting for the emperor Severus, who it turns out was completely fooled and very happy with his newly discovered loyal underling. Having surrended 70 million sesterces, Numerianus retired to a quiet and comfortable rereat, happy ever after. Awww... Sweet... Unless of course you were among those whose money was grabbed by force I guess.

Health issues are very much in my mind right now. As if the dust at work wasn't provoking enough coughing, I seem unable to completely shake off symptoms of a bad cold. The lads I work with now expect me to break out the Lemsip. Hard Hat, my Jamaican colleague, sometimes offers a can of energy drink when I look especially tired. That weary demeanour hasn't escaped the attention of other colleagues either. But, if I don't stay, I get no pay, so to quote from an old Red Jasper song, I'll carry on "Crawling into work". Cough splutter. One chap on another shift might not be working there much longer. Carelessly he left a packet of cigarettes in the toilet. Worse still, a small supply of drugs was secreted within it. There's been quite a flurry of activity over that mistake and no shortage of gossip. I say bring in Sherlock Holmes to work the Case of the Discarded Fag Packet. But of course, we all know it was Colonel Mustard with a lead pipe. Max Power Time to go home, so I tramp tired and weary up the road to the bus stop. Sometimes you see the same old regulars waiting in the cold for bus rides somewhere close to home, sometimes you get occaisional adventurers out for a double decker thrill. As we mere mortals wait, those blessed with vehicles demonstrate their superior social status by blasting past at high revs, sort of like beating their chests but faster. Naturally that stirs discussion among the young lads, and once fast cars become the topic of the night, everyone taks about their own machines, always chipped, tuned, and stage three everything. They boast earnestly about how their car's capabilities allow them to ignore common sense and the laws of physics. Come on guys, I was young once. Who are you trying to kid? On the money we get paid affording hyped up cars really isn't realistic. Sure, I've done my fair share of speedy driving - we human beings have a strange fascination with going faster than anyone else unless it's do to with working for a living - but at least I showed some restraint if conditions weren't suitable. I was, after all, only ever caught speeding once. But those modified and lowered shopping trolleys roaring past the bus stop are probably no faster than the version their granny bought from the dealer, although I will concede, the idea of an eighty year old woman hurtling down the road, aggressively using her horn to persuade those youngsters to stop obstructing the road, and challenging their Women's Institute colleages to traffic light drag races is just bizarre. Max Canyon Thee's been a series of adverts on television for a breakfast cereal in which the fictional survival expert 'Max Canyon', is about to demonstrate a source of protein, if only you had the guts the try it, only to hesistate when his camera crew tuck in to a healthy bowl of something more palatable. Exotic game meat has become available at my local supermarket. At least that saves me the bother of travelling to faraway places to find something different to eat. I must admit to a vicarious interest in consuming animals simply because I haven't consumed them before. Wild boar sausages were quite good, ostrich burgers perhaps a bit bland but they never taste quite as you expect, or at least, until you try crocodile. A pair of crocodile burgers looked suspiciously like gammon and funnily enough didn't taste much different. However, I didn't take to it and I now understand why they're survivors of a lost era. They're just not pleasant to eat. Having seen the first series of The Mighty Boosh, the prosect of consuming kangaroo meatballs are challenging my determination. Breakfast cereal it is then. Philosophy of the Week The site manager at work has been spending time on the shop floor and needless to say has left havoc in his wake. Especially for me, as it happens, because his expert eye has detected that our rubbish exraction system isn't making enough profit. Now I'm told off if I try to obtain some means of dropping off the rubbish I collect, and told off if I leave it lying. Never have I seen a warehouse that generates such amounts of rubbish. Cardboard, shrinkwrap, paper, cans, bottles, packets, shards of wood, it's all out there, until we wave a magic wand and make it all disappear like the site manager wants. Naturally the presence of senior management is intimidating for some. He is, after all, a pretty decisive guy. He doesn't have much time for practicality or any input from me about the realities of warehouse waste management when profit margins are too small. Hard Hat has other ideas. "A man is just a man" He says in terms of true equality. Yes, I agree, but we can't sack people. He can. On the plus side we can only hope that he accidentially left a cigratte packet in the toilet and we can go back to making the warehouse look respectfully tidy.

Sorry it took so long for me to get onto this, but the answer is rather simple. His son NUMERIANUS, too, whom he had taken with him to Persia, a young man of very great ability, while, from being affected with a disease in his eyes, he was carried in a litter, was cut off by a plot of which Aper, his father-in-law, was the promoter; and his death, though attempted craftily to be concealed until Aper could seize the throne, was made known by the odour of his dead body; for the soldiers, who attended him, being struck by the smell, and opening the curtains of his litter, discovered his death some days after it had taken place. Historiae Romanae Breviarium (Eutropius) Although the disease in the eyes is mentioned, there is no actual conclusion that the disease killed him - it reads more like a man who was quietly bumped off while he was weak. He had two sons, Numerianus a very promising youth, from whom the state might have expected all possible happiness and good, had he not been murdered by Aper; and Carinus, a person abandoned to all kinds of vice, who was killed by Diocletian New History )Zosimus) And so it appears that it happened that way. Beware of jumping to conclusions when reading Roman sources I would suggest, but this was an intersting point. Peter Heather has chosen what appears to him to be the most logical and supportable conclusion in this case.

There i8s bound to be some retention of religion - people generally need a good reason to convert and the Romans were always tolerant of local faiths. However, an auxillary unit raised in Gaul will have other aspects of religion to observe, such the Imperial Cult and unit spirit. As soldiers tended to marry covertly in the deployed regions it's a fair bet that family pressure insisted observation of the local faiths, whatever they may be.

Rome worked on two levels, open commerce in which you simply bid a better price than your competitors (and hoped you weren't being ripped off) or deals under the table. Commercial agreements sometimes got arranged via the client/patron system, though the patron was not supposed to muddy his hands with grubby business, so normally his agent, freedman, or slave handled that. At Ostia there were specialist traders whose wares were advertised by images on the pavement. Regarding exports/imports, for the most part traders would be working to a plan, either obtaining goods where they knew they were plentiful and could get a good deal, or selling them on to where-ever they knew a market and demand for those goods existed. OFten this was done via business contacts rather than simply going it alone. I imagine some captains speculated themselves with cargoes, or simply charged a price for transport, as required. We know that vessels headed to India and back annually with the trade winds so such speculation was profitable.

Don't you just love conspiracy theory? Despite everyones manifest inability to control their own destiny and Mankind's penchant for getting it wrong, people believe their lives are being controlled by some strange unseen group of elite conspirators. Personally I find it a bit hard to imagine that the typical career politician reaches the top of his political tree and becomes top dog in his own country only to be told what to do with it by Men In Grey. The whole genre is nothing more than religion by another name - the very same sense of our lives being buffetted by forces we don't understand gave rise to ideas of gods, devils, and things that go bump in the night. Now we invent secret cabals of influential people that somehow control every aspect of our existence. I met a convert the other day. A young Romanian worker who was adamant that our dearly beloved BBC news was 'controlled'. I pointed out that the news team make editorial decisions about which stories it runs with, allowing for authenticity or public interest. "No no no" He urgently interupted in wide eyed piousy, "The news is controlled. I see on internet video of three thousand people being shot in back of head by ISIS terrorist with AK47. But BBC does not show it.". Oh. I get it. The internet is the source of all uncontrolled and real news is it? As much as I believe ISIS is liable to inflict such violence, even they have to obey the laws of terrorist practicality. In order to watch a terrorist shoot three thousand people taking an average of ten seconds overall for each, in order to aim, move, fire, and reload, would require a video eight hours long. I seriously doubt the BBC would contemplate showing that. Not even excerpts either - most people don't want to watch snuff movies. It's also worth pointing that something like a hundred AK47 magazines would be required for the task at the very least. That's a lot of ammunition to carry around. "No no no" He replied to my explanations, "I give you link to website that shows these things." No, don't bother... Under A Pass Walking back and forth through a pedestrian underpass near the bus station there's three things you an be sure of. Firstly it's going to be packed with people walking back and forth, secondly there's going to be some unfortunate soul who did not survive the encounter with their claims advisor sat under a duvet, and thirdly, someone will be busking. For some time we've been subjected to some old guy with a guitar, performing endless and half hearted blues music. This last time was a little less palatable. A youngster was banging the heck out of upturned pots and pans to an amplified drum track. Quite badly too. Of course it's easy to criticise. I learned that lesson in the music business. It did occur to ne though that back in the days when I was a teenager attracted to playing a drumkit and unable to own one, that I'd gone through a process of starting my experience of percussion with a mattress annoying everyone who could hear my efforts. Will this youngster go on to see his face on Drummer Monthly? A house in the country? Audiences of thousands around the world? Don't laugh - I used to think that was where I was headed. Okay, I did achieve a few big audiences and my stick skills ended up somewhat better than his. These days I keep a warehouse tidy. Maybe I ought to warrn him that no matter what his ambitions are, his life will be controlled by Men In Grey who will frustrate his efforts for the betterment of Mankind? Heck, I need to startb using the internet more... Training Of The Week Proof that my life in the workplace is controlled by management, I was offered an opportunity to get trained up on a pallet truck the other week. Not that big a deal in some respects - I've driven such vehicles in warehouses for years - but the fact the company was willing to invest in my training is a good sign. So I watched the non-violent videos, listened to the advice, took the truck out into the warehouse and guided it through an obstacle course, and finally passed a theory test. All passed. All smiles and handshakes. Once let loose my colleagues took the opportunity to poke fun, though some did congratulate me on my achievement. Eventually I came across Hard Hat in the racks who was most amused at my new mode of transport. I also got a phone call asking me what I wanted to do with those qualifications I'd gotten whilst unemployed. You mean the ones I asked you to tear up? Don't bother me with trvialities lady, I've got a pallet truck to drive...

Religion was less strictly organised during Hadrians time being primarily a pagan era, and Mithraism was not at that time entrenched in military life (though it was known and beginning to expand). Pagan Roman soldiers were hugely superstitious, sometimes refusing to board ships for fear of angering gods, or even crossing rivers, seen as the domain of local gods who would extract terrible punishment for those that risked wading across, as if they were trespassing. There was a sort of "unit spiritualism" too, where centuries and legions were supposed to have a martial spirit that could be called upon for favour like any other deity. Of course the Imperial Cult was in place and had been ever since Augustus, although the figurehead was not necessarily fixed - soldiers would put images of their popular ruler ahead of a column as easily as the Caesar they were supposed to be loyal to. Remember that in Imperial times the post of Imperator ("victorious general") had ceased to be an honour installed by the men themselves, becoming a political office agreed by Senate and Caesar, yet by tradition the soldiers were as willing as ever to dedicate those senior men who were clearly blessed with divine favour (and the ability to bring victory and booty to the men).

The canal was presumably easier to navigate than the Tiber or there wouldn't have been any point, and it allowed a convenient one-way system to supply Rome. As to motive power, I confess I don't know. The canal was intended to facilitate supply of Rome from Portus, where sea going vessels were unloaded, to traders and warehouses in Rome, and I imagine wheat would have been important traffic. Goods heading out of Rome headed back to Portus for export along the Tiber. Evidence from other parts of the empire suggests to me that incoming goods were subject to speculation and sellong on, with some extorionate mark-ups if the middle men could get away with it.

To assist cargo barges and small vessels from having to move against the Tiber's current, and with a straighter path, to ease the difficulty further.

I am. It was more focused on settlement patterns in the Roman mindset. Germania, despite its indigenous population, was still a wilderness because it had little infrastructure or development compared to Rome. SPQR was the official abbreviation for the Republic/Empire, much the same way as USA is for America. In a sense you're right, in another you're wrong. Rome was the centre of the empire and all provinces, whether conquered or reorganised territory, owed feality to it. Sol whilst the province had its indigenous leadership, it was plugged in to the Roman system, and in terms of allegiance it definitely was SPQR. Officially and by tradition they should have worn togas. In fact, Augustus got quite worked up about the laziness of senatorsa and insisted they wore the toga on public duty. The toga was the same as a formal suit today - it did not in itself delineate who was Roman, and yes, being Roman was extremely important for senmatorial careers - Trajan could laughed at during his first speech in the senate house because he had a provincial accent the senators found hilarious.

Strictly speaking the correct latin for the Roman Empire (historically) was Senatus Populous Que Romanus

Interesting. There's been some other revelations concerning Roman hydro-engineering and clearly there was more water management than traditionally thought. Channels have been found that provide evidence for flooding and draining the older sunken basin of the Colosseum (later filled in with cells and such to form the hypogeum under the arena), and from satellite data, a canal linking Rome to the sea, parallel to the river Tiber.

Sometimes I encounter opinion regarding my blog. Well, it is there to be read, and I'd rather people formed an opinion good or bad than simply shrug and go back a *or* video. Mostly I hear how rubbish it is. Funny how the loudest people are those who want dismiss or abuse. No matter, but I do understand that not everyone wants to hear the latest whinge or moan from me. So before I whinge and moan some more, here's the fun bit. There I was, bored and miserable, sat on a bus bumping and swaying in unison with all the other passengers, when this old chap sat down next to me and started whinging about how bad the world was today. I agreed with him. The thing is he turned out to be an old railwayman, an engine driver, a man who had stepped onto the footplate of Castle class locomotives for the Great Western Railway in those good old days when coal was king and everyone employed when they were fourteen. He was one of those drivers who deserted the railways en masse when steam finally gave way to diesel. No way was he going to drive one of those 'tin cans'. Funny how much attachment people have toward steam engibnes. I do. The blessed things almost have a life of their own, like big animals that need constant fettling and feeding. "I'd like to get some of those yobboes on the footplate" He growled, clearly full of despair at our nations youths, "That'd teach 'em a few things". Sadly it wouldn't. I agree that working on a steam engine footplate, the control cabin if you will, is no easy option where steam engines concerned. I remember hitching a ride on a preserved line in New Zealand, and even for a little locomotive, the physical effort was impressive. never mind a much larger express locomotive gulping down several tons of coal per trip. Buit the sad truth is it would only be another job to avoid. Bad backs, migraines, too many interesting tunes on their I-pod, or perhaps just a strange tendency to shrug their shoulders would result. Aside of course from injuries inflicted by a coal shovel wielded by an irate driver I suspect. But I admit the conversation was fascinating. He told me about an accident on the railway. A train driver had misread a semaphore signal thinking he was cleared for mainline operation. The fireman realised that he'd made the mistake but by then the locomtive had accelerated to 25mph and derailed on the points, taking with it six wagons from Wills Tobacco factory. "Cigarettes everywhere" He said. "Absolutely everywhere..." I also discovered the sad tale of a canadian flight sergeant in World War Two, who was flying near the Vickers-Supermarine factory that used to be at South Marston. At low altitude he turned and a wing fell off. No chance of survivng that. Apparently his family still cross the Atlantic regularly and visit a small memorial to him. Gone but not forgotten. Not Again... I happened to catch Prime Ministers Questions before I went to work this week. There was Cameron, happily pulling the arms and legs off Mr Milliband, who sat there shaking his head. They've almost become a comedy duo. What I didn't find funny was Cameron crowing about how unemployment figures are down. Of course they are. People are being forced off Jobseekers Allowance by any means fair or foul and forced onto a hardship grant which the figures don't count. That's what they did to me. I went from trusted and hard working jobseeker to petty fraud and dishonesty in one fell swoop. An entire months dole money refused. Suddenly no-one believed my submissions. My evidence was unacceptable or 'not realistic'. For thre love of God, Cameron. Go. Your plan is only working because not enough people have cottoned on why you're able to claim it is. Beggar Of The Week Finally I'd gotten to the bus station and shivered as I strode through an empty town centre on my way home. It was perishing cold, and after sitting on a bus for half an hour, I really felt it despite wrapping up warm. "Hey mate, you got a cigarette?" Said the down-and-out in a shop doorway. Sorry , no. "Eff off then". He replied. One wionders how he expects any sympathy with that attitude. Suit yourself buddy, but stay under that cardboard, it's a cold night. By the way, does David Cameron know you're not earning a living?

Isn't this all a bit arbitrary and nothing more than an exercise in categorisation that has no useful value?

You too? I get envious lads asking me what's in the sachets when I prepare my lemsip at breaks. Just Lemsip. "Oh, are you ill?" they ask. I suffer in silence you know...