caldrail

Also we have to allow for pre-migration settlers under the aegis of the Roman Empire (the Romans called saxo-britons "good citizens"), and interestingly enough, also the germanic inheritance of the Belgae who had settled in southern England.

You mean Romulus Augustulus? He was only a kid anyway, and quite soon ordered off the throne by Odoacer. Over the course of the empire Caesars were either militaresque campaigners, or stay-at-home politicians, relating to their character and Roman cultural expectation. There was also a matter of practicality - a Caesar couldn't really afford to be far from power unless he was very secure in his position. Some Caesars rather liked being close to the Roman public and showed off shamelessly, people like Caligula, Nero, Commodus, and funnily enough, to a lesser extent Didius Julianus (they all came to grief, all violently). Some Caesars were more amenable to administrative styles, such as the Flavians, or Claudius. The later Caesars were more concerned with displays of power and grandeur (which is why the period is called the 'Dominate'), and to display, one needs an audience to display to.

You're the worst kind of propagandist who thinks he knows better than everyone else Guest private messge (some-1-better-than-u) Wow! Praise indeed. But Im not entirely sure what I'm propagandising. However, lets for the moment ask a serious question - Do I think I know better than everyone else? Of course I do - just like everyone else does, including my crtitic quoted above - it's a fundamental part of human self worth to believe your opinion is as good as anyone elses. Even when it isn't. As it happens I do know who some-1-better-than-u is - he made the mistake of calling me the same thing once before on a forum thread. However, despite his blatant immaturity, I remain calm, cool, and unconcerned that he stuck his virtual finger in my digital face. Mate, seriously, I was in the music business for twelve years, I know what criticisn feels like. But thanks for the compliment anyhow. More Facts And Figures For Non-Propagandists I also know other stuff too. My head is buzzing full of all sorts of stuff. Now before anyone thinks I'm on strange medication or suspicious substances, I can't help all those E numbers they put into food. So, did you know that my co-habitee at home is a rat called "You little monster"? You see, if you read my blog you'd know these things. Did you know how long rats live for? Three to five years in the wild, or until poisoned or caught by the human cohabitee who's getting a mite fed up of little puddles of piss on the kitchen floor. Did you know rats are intelligent creatures? Clearly in this battle of wills I'm outclassed by a small furry mammal, who so far has managed to elude every trap and stratagem I've concocted. Now unless this rat is Julius Caesar reincarnated (like most people are), it represents absolute and demonstratable proof that I don't know how to catch rats. No Hot Debate I had to laugh. There's some idiot on the internet news headlines who's declared that he's going to try and do without domestic utilities for a year to see if it's possible to live cheaply without them. Clearly he hasn't read my blog. It's already tried and tested mate. It's called unemployment. Propaganda Message Of The Week I know better than you. I know this because I have been told so. Now you know too. Knowledge is power! Send

Must be a rainy day. The library is half empty. Oh well, at least the early morning rush for a computer isn't the usual death before dishonour charge up the stairs. I see a certain youngster has been released from prison (he was jailed for drug dealing) and even he isn't bounding up the stairs the way he normally would. Actually most of the familiar characters are somewhere else. The guy who likes to threaten me every time a I say anything, the woman who thinks the library is her personal servant, the lady who doesn't know she hums to herself, the bloke who cannot bear to parted from his mobile phone, the eastern european ladies who chatter incessantly about eastern european things, and the strange guy who always asks at the desk for assistance and cannot make himself understood. All missing. You know, this would be a pleasant session if I didn't have something to moan about. I have been advised by the Swindon Critics Society that my blog is dull - sorry about that, but rest assured there's a blockbuster finale to today's episode. Idiots What is it with the internet just of late? Why do web page designers believe that I want lots of pointless themes and features that really only convert handy internet sites into a jumbled mess. There's nothing worse than software that tells you what you want. Or idiots who create all that stuff for no other reason than to justify their pay packet. More About Idiots Talking about idiots, just of late there's been a crabby old biddy at the library who seems to think I'm interested in listening to her whinging on about what a poor excuse for a person she believes me to be. Heard it all before, dear, and I don't listen to those who speak to my back. The funny thing is she sometimes makes sarcastic comments about how good it is see me searching for work. The reason it's funny is that I've been using the library computers almost daily for the last five years to help me find work. Obviously too busy moaning about my military surplus trousers to notice. More About Whinging As it happens I had reason to moan myself the other day. A new neighbour has moved in and seeing her trying to cut back the jungle the previous residents cultivated in the front yard, I took the opportunity to advise her how little sound proofing there is between our houses. Like there isn't any. With her predecessors it was like living in Albert Square sometimes. Anyway despite my advice next doors radio could be clearly heard all around my flat. Right. That's it. This needs to be sorted. She came to the door and after listening to my complaint asserted that her radio wasn't loud at all, even though it could be heard blaring out behind her from the back of the house. Not exactly quiet, is it? Holy Grail Secret Of The Week By sheer coincidence I discovered last night that I'm very distantly related to Jesus Christ. The maternal side of my tribe is connected to all those stories circulating about Renne-Le-Chateau and the Priory of Sion. After more than a decade of trying to debunk such things it came as a bit of a shock to find out my family is part of it. Now, I have to say I'm not entirely convinced that this revelation is even close to being factual, or even believable, but those of you who swear blind that the 'Blood Royal' legend has real basis now have no choice but to defend me from strange homicidal monks, or if you really want to do me a favour, that crabby old biddy at the library.

It appears I am wrong. Branding on the forehead was a Roman practice, if not one that was universal or encouraged. Runaway slaves and thieves were branded on the forehead with a mark, whence they are said to be notati or inscripti (Mart. VIII.75.9). When Sicily, after the Carthaginian collapse, had enjoyed sixty years of good fortune in all respects, the Servile War broke out for the following reason. The Sicilians, having shot up in prosperity and acquired great wealth, began to purchase a vast number of slaves, to whose bodies, as they were brought in droves from the slave markets, they at once applied marks and brands. Diodorus Siculus In like fashion a each of the large landowners bought up whole slave marts to work their lands; . . . to bind some in fetters, to wear out others by the severity of their tasks; and they marked all with their arrogant brands. In consequence, so great a multitude of slaves inundated all Sicily that those who heard tell of the immense number were incredulous. Diodorus Siculus The Italians who were engaged in agriculture purchased great numbers of slaves, all of whom they marked with brands, but failed to provide them sufficient food, and by oppressive toil wore them out .. . their distress. Diodorus Siculus This practice appears to have roots very early on in Roman culture. However, it is, not suprisingly, linked to cruel owners. In fact, Diodorus bnames one as Damophilus of Enna, who he describes as an unpleasant uncouth character. Purchasing a large number of slaves, he treated them outrageously, marking with branding irons the bodies of men who in their own countries had been free, but who through capture in war had come to know the fate of a slave. Some of these he put in fetters and thrust into slave pens; others he designated to act as his herdsmen, but neglected to provide them with suitable clothing or food. Diodorus Siculus The interesting thing is that such branding is mentioned in Roman entertain ment too. Good guys, what scrawny little slaves there were! Their skin was embroidered with purple welts from their many beatings ... All of them, decked out in rags, carried brands on their foreheads, had their heads half-shaved, and wore chains around their ankles ... The Golden Ass (Apuleius Lucius) Curiously the description is given of these slaves by an observer who wouldn't ordinarily see these things - a man magically transformed into an ass. The public must have been aware that branding on the forehead went on, as it did elsewhere on the body, but that it was not done by everyone. It does suggest a certain domination as much as punishment, but clearly not all slaves were so treated, as we know that owners sometimes had genuine friendships with their slaves - Cicero even mentions that aspect of slavery. Therefore we ought to conclude that Constantine had considered branding on the forehead a vile practice and in the light of increasing humanity toward slavery, decided to ban it.

There are opoints to consider: Cruelty to slaves had been notable in Rome's past (it had led to a number of revolts including the Spartacan War) ad reforms had been foisted on the Roman public. Claudius for instance had noticed sick slaves abandoned to their fate and brought in laws to prevent such abuses by their owners, and so on. However, an escaped and subsequently recovered slave was generally treated quite badly. Humanity toward slaves improves over the course of the empire (their lesser numbers improved their value - the lack of conquests had reduced the influx of slaves). That Constantine brought in a law protecting slaves from branding on the forehead is evidence of the humanity, but does not as such indicate indicate common use of this procedure, albeit it was used often enough to cause adverse comment, and I suspect was trend toward harsh treatment that had been highlighted somehow. I will search further on this.

There it was again - Another flicker of light. What on earth is going on? Curiosity got the better of me and I opened the back window last night to try and see what was causing that phenomenon. It was a pretty ordinary evening. Not too cold, perhaps a bit damp, and apart from the odd swish of a passing car, or the flitter of a bat to and fro, nothing stirred. The local cat was making its way home across the yard, a sign that the foxes were coming out to play. Then I realised what those strange flickers were. Far away to the west a thunderstorm was in progress, too far away for thunder to be heard. Normally our vision is very limited in stormy weather and we only get a more immediate and dramatic experience. It just so happened there wasn't much cloud to impede the firework display, and that's the first time I've ever seen such a distant storm in this country. What a fascinating and surreal sight. Close Quarter Battle Has anyone seen this series about special forces and military tactics? Generally it's quite informative if not exactly gripping, but I had to laugh at the reconstruction of a French Foreign Legion attack on an airfield. They couldn't afford blanks and had to add barrel flashes with some cheesy special effects. Naturally. Tantrum of the Week "What gives him the right to use that title?" screeched some lady at the library earlier today, clearly outraged that her socialist sympathies were being ignored by legal rights and thousands of years of tradition and custom. Off with my head? Not around here lady. There's been a few people muttering darkly just lately. Not that it makes any difference. I'm entitled ,you see, and that's all there is to it.

That's an exaggeration surely? Some slaves were branded, others forced to wear identifying collars, but how could that master ever sell the slave, or for that matter, show what a great guy he was by granting manumission to a slave so branded on the forehead of all places? I really don't believe this.

It's more to do with ritual laziness. If you have slaves to clean up as you go, why bother to be tidy yourself? They would simply extend an empty goblet and expect a slave to refill it with wine there and then. These Romans expect service from their slaves and are going to be very put out if they don't receive it without question. The treatment of slaves varies accoring to the relationship they have with the master but table slaves were definitely menials to most owners.

It's not always a question of knowing people. Remember that travel is inherently more risky in the ancient world thus people of high station, who would be more disposed to finding company among their own class, would sometimes approach or send a slave on their behalf to enquire if an overnight stay was possible, which ordinarily it would be (manners and hospitality would make this usually a formaIlity. The thing is a blunt refusal would not be forgotten. High class Romans socialise for other reasons thatn someone to talk to.

Just to be more precise, the mansiones network had grown over the course of the empire and was at its peak in late 3rd/early fourth century. It was however a restricted network, available as part of the Cursus Publicus system set up by Augustus (it was not a post office, as often described, but a system of forced rental and way stations), whereby a traveller on official business can expect to appropriate temporarily animals or wagons according to an entitlement based on both status and the travel warrant (which set out what the traveller could demand from the public). Owners of the animals/wagons would be compensated from public money at rates set by the governor, though in fairness, compensation had ceased to be effective by the late empire and arrangements were based on loans or barter. Official entitlement varied from ten wagons for an imperial procurator and his son, to one wagon for a centurion. Soldiers were not entitled to wagons but interestingly could demand animals for transport (which is interesting given what I've read in Roman sources about soldiers taking beasts whenever they wanted - people weren't getting compensated and it seems the soldiers often abused the system). Such abises were checked at times - Constantine made it clear that no-one could simply demand property from a nearby peasant, and had to summon assistance from the way station. However, this official travel did not usually include family members (although the warrant might allow it - I have no evidence). Travelling at their own expense is another matter. I suspect that hospitality was largely available for those in need and one wealthy family might be only too happy to allow another to stay a day or two - a chance to socialise and make contacts after all. Incidentially I have no idea if the Cursus Publicus system included boats. I imagine it did although the longer travel distances would inflate the problems associated with demanding citizens goods and vehicles.

Hi Cinzia8. Mansio's are not wayside inns but a network of hostels for official business of the state. Couriers, diplomats, representatives, soldiers, or perhaps even those with enough clout to get permission to use them might be found. Wayside inns would be in most cases a very downbeat experience. Sometravellers hired prostitutes and left grafitti, amnd the rooms would not generally make many concessions to luxury. This might help you better - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mansio As for eating in a room alone, I suspect that might attract some comment. A womans place is by her husbands side as it were, and if the husband is busy with business, the ladies would temnd to congregate for socialising. I wouldn't have thought meals were taken to a room.

Times may be a'changin', but Swindon carries on going its own way. Or is it? Just recently I notied our local HMV store has re-opened after falling victim to the terrible economic Black Death that stalked the towns and cities of England not so long ago. Not only that, but just the other afternoon I spotted the first white metal frames at the Old College site. As if I could miss them. They tower above the surroundings and make the assurances of the developers that the buildings wouldn't be any higher than the yard look like promises made by megalomaniac German dictators not to invade neighbouring countries. Yes, the Old College is a'changin'. They've stopped shuffling piles of mud, sand, and gravel around and everywhere I see machines and building materials in a chaotic life or death struggle for space. You mean... They're actually going to build it? Oh Joy Not everything changes. The male population of this town still seems to have trouble with orsinary social contact. These days I only have to be caught glancing at some people and I get accused of being a pervert. I had no idea rolling cigarettes was such a private and intimate experience. Perhaps if the gentleman concerned might care to do that in private no-one would notice him. On the other hand, I if walk past minding my own business, I get sarky comments for not being sociable. It seems the only way to avoid such social difficulties is to walk with your head down looking at a mobile phone. Half the population seem to be dowing that now. Is it just me or am I living in some kind of fifties scifi B movie? Any moment now and I'm going to hear a Tardis appearing with some extrovert idiot waving a sonic screwdriver around. The good Doctor had better watch it though. We have plenty of joy riders in this area... Foggy Start It was foggy this morning. Just thought I'd mention it. Stain Of The Week Every so often I make a vain attempt to take a decent night-time photograph. The results are always blurry and unsatisafying no matter what setting I use, but I try, nonetheless. Anyway with that new frame on the building site and a somewhat misty night, the scene was atmospheric, full of shadow and soft light in amber and pale green. Having made the effort I stopped to take in the scene properly. The night air had a bite to it, yet without a breath of wind to make it uncomfortable. For a moment I I took it all in then noticed an odd shadow in the yard below me. Is that a fox? It was. Staring up at me as if transfixed by the activities of some idiot human being who really ought to be doing something useful like catching mice or digging nice warm holes. Once the young fox had realised the show was over it got on with being a fox, and incidentially, if you're the owner of a silver hatchback with some mysterious stains on the left hand side, I know who did it.

Haven't had much time for music of late but I must admit to a few repeqated listens of Rumours (Fleetwood Mac). Classic album, not usually the sort of thing I listen to, but an album of contrasts that is deeply attractive, hence the success of it. Although the actual events of the album (the breaking relationships within the band) don't necessarily come across if you don't know about them, you do pick up the emotion and a sense that the artists wer trying to say something besides sell albums. Everyone should listen to this album at least once in their lives.

Just one of those days I guess. All of a sudden everyone wants to talk to me, everything has to happen as soon as possible, and poor little me has to rush around like an overstressed gibbon trying to get through it all. I have to point out of course that most of you do this all day every day. I don't. Being unemployed for a long time rather reduces your pace of life. For me popping down to the shops is an event. A phone call? For me? I didn't know this thing actually worked. Anyway, I was at the library and having finished reading important emails, sending urgent replies, and recording that all important online information my claims advisor doesn't read, I had one last phone call to make concerning a job opportunity. So log off and down to the foyer where I can use my mobile. A librarian followed me down the stairs. Going about her business rather than actually following me, you have to understand, but hey, I live in hope. Funnily enough though she was watching me descend. I know this because as I stumbled and risked a much quicker and painful descent, she made a helpful comment that I had nearly fallen ass over tit. I wish to extend my appreciation for her helpful observation on the matter. Could save my life one day. Under Observation On the subject of being at the library, and having previously written about my own personal conspiracy theory, I notice that there's a young gentleman who seems to be taking an interest in my going to and fro. Normally that would worry me somewhat. Blonde female librarians are more than welcome, big burly blokes are not. The reason I mention this is that after I stride past he mutters "He's on his way back to the house". A paranoid individual might assume that some super secret intelligence agency is putting me under surveillance. Pfah! Yeah right. Since when did a 'tail' make himself obvious by passing information within earshot of the subject? Now as it happens, I learned about surveillance techniques courtesy of Wiltshire Polce many moons ago. So, matey boy, where are the other eleven personnel needed for a minimum close surveillance team? Don't tell me, they're on Facebook like all the rest of your fantasy friends. Hey, I've just realised - I am my own wikileaks! Forget Julian Lozenge and Edwin Snowed-under, check out the reality of conspiracy theory right here on this very blog. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some red laser dots to avoid. Can't wait for the car chase. Observation of the Week The other day I bumped into a mate of mine. We worked at the same warehouse over last christmas. I got laid off for the same old reasons; being too good at my job, being too scruffy, and being too friendly with female managers. The usual. He still works there in between getting blind steaming drunk, but I guess he can afford the booze. That's the advantage of a steady job. Anyhow every time we bump into each other he's always got an anecdote about his latest inebriated night out. I so look forward to his tales of derring do and falling over. Mostly the story ends with him waking up in some ridiculous situation. This last episode culminated in him waking up beside a female shop mannequin. Trust me, the British Board of Censors won't like the climax of this tale. Maybe it's just me, but I prefer blonde female librarians. As I know from my own experience they make useful life saving comments.

Changing the official record of previous Caesars in this way is something of a Roman habit. One would have to suspect that in many cases it had little to do with personal preferences but rather courting popularity of majorities whose opinions favour such views. Of course, when dealing with individuals so powerful, there's also the potential for "you will praise these former Caesars from now on. Because I said so. Any problems with that, gentlemen?"

Seriously mate, do have a problem with spacial relationships? Those two diagrams are exactly the same! Hilarious. Well, despite living and breathing aviation as a child, flight theory and tests as a teenage air cadet, practical experience with motor gliders and military trainers, continued interest in aviation literature both historical and instructional, training as a private pilot successfully in both Great Britain and New Zealand, not until this ridiculous thread have I ever heard anyone use the phrase "forward slip" in connection with flight. Of the pilots I had dealings with over the years from various countries, many were far better qualified and experienced than me. One of my instructors was a second world war veteran. I had the privilege of flying with a gentleman who had flown warbirds for the film industry, and with another who was the chief test pilot for light aircraft for the CAA. I often had conversations with a gentleman who flew business jets. None of them ever mentioned "forward slip". I've done my time at the controls of real aircraft as pilot in command. Like everyone else who handles aeroplanes in the real world, I've had to conduct flights which challenged my skills either because of my own mistakes or because weather, circumstance, or technical issues made things difficult. In one case, a pilot I had conversed with a few times at the hangar met all those challanges at once and died in a tragic accident along with his passengers. That's reality. Flying is an activity that takes place in a very unforgiving enviroment. That's why I don't place much faith in self professed internet experts or the wannabee crowd on flight sim forums. Since you haven't taken any notice of what I've said so far it's a safe bet you haven't any intention of doing so. I'll make sure I don't fly with you. But in the meantime, please don't bother trying to lecture me on sideslip. You haven't the slightest idea what it means nor the people you're getting this rubbish from. So I guess I won't be taking any notice of this thread any more.

Poor old badgers. They do seem to be getting in the neck right now, with a government authorised cull in progress. As it happens badgers have always had a difficult existence what with rural baiters and the like. A couple of years ago I headed out into the countryside for a hike and by the roadside was a dead badger impaled on a stick, clearly left for someone to see. I wonder who? I must be honest, at the time that gory sight left me unmoved. Hard to understand why. Witnessing the natural world, especially those moments when something unexpected happens, can be a wonderful experience. The inanimate corpse seemed a little unreal. Deprived of life the badger had become an ordinary object in some way. That's the trouble with nature. A tiger is a magnificent creature, full of colour and character. It's also a very powerful and dangerous carnivore. I watched documentary footage of a mother tiger leaving an unconcious deer to one of her cubs so it had the opportunity to discover how to kill it. Life goes on. Personally I don't want to see large numbers of badgers slaughtered. However, I'm also aware that the countryside is not a public park even though, like most townies, I tend to treat it as such. It's a working enviroment, a place to cultivate and produce food, and if the threat of badgers spreading tuberculosis to agricultural herds is real and will affect my own ability to eat and drink, then survival kicks in and I must reluctantly allow those who know better to get on with it. Is it any wonder that badgers and foxes see towns as a better bet? Giving Generously Every so often you see adverts on television asking for donations for charity. They usually show children, because our natural instinct is to help the helpless. Background music gives an emotional edge, accentuating the tragedy of their situation, appealing to us to right wrongs with a smal gesture of what is curently a fashionable

Stop ujsing the phrase "forward slip". It isn't stabndard nomenclature.

Don't be ridoculous. According to your recent definition of "forward slip", it's just crabbing. That's a basic terchnique taught to every pilot during his initial training. Nothing obscure about it at all, although I should point out that the 'wing down' method is just as effective and in many cases better idea, since crabbing has the unfortunate aspect of sidweways travel along the ground which has to reduced befiore touchdown to avoid landing accidents, which will - as I soon found myself in real life - re-introduces the very same drift you're trying to avoid, the caveat with the 'wing-down' method being that wing tip strikes must be avoided and that the initial stress of touchdown is on one undercarriage member only, and then at an angle. Anyone who comes in at dangerously hgih or fast is flying dangerously (and badly) thus has no just cause for doing so. Such an approach is indicative of poor planning on the approach, poor decision making, and poor flying. Do get some education on principles of flight. Do it properly, not this internet rubbish.

When landing an aerplane you need to fly at the lowest speed possible commensurate with safety. The faster you approach the more likely you will 'float' on landing and risk an overrun or worse. Aircraft are suprising cpable to staying airborne when in ground effect. Parachutal mode? Not the slightest idea what that is although it does sund like another of your blind alleys. Actually it was ground loops that were the greatest bugbear in operating Mosquito's. After a series of accidents a very irate squadron leader addressed his men and told them in no uncertain terms that the Mosquito does not veer - "It's you stupid b******s that make the aeroplane swing!". Funnily enough the accident rate improved no end. Go and learn some principles of flight. You clearly don't understand it - that paragraph contains some of the worst misconceptions about flying I've ever seen.

Flapless landings are always performed at a slightly higher speed to compensate for the lack of extra lift/drag and by necessity require a longer landing run. That's a standard part of ab-initio flight training. maybe "forward slip" is the incorrect term? I certainly believe that to be the case and so should you. A sideslip is a sideslip. Period.Since an aeroplane is moving relative to the medium of air, wind makes no difference unless it relates to movement compared to the ground. Further, using full rudder on a slip is potentially hazardous because it leaves you no further control input in the event of air fluctuations. Other than that this "forward slip" business is nonsense invented by people who don't know anything about flying and want to sound clever.

And also the privilege, also the burden of of official pay for all these messengers.

You keep trying to invent "forward slips". Bottom line - slips are lateral movements of an aeroplane in flight, also called skids when slipping outward in a turn. Whether caused by imbalance of lift and gravity, poor flying, or by intentional control input, the effect is the same. Crabbing or slipping is irrespective of the wind - it's the direction of travel that's important. A conventional aeroplane will try to weathercock out of a slip because the rear fuselage area is greater than the forward, although some aeroplanes (The Handley page Hampden was one) do not easily recover from slips. Swept wing designs are not well suited to slipping for the reasons I've already given. You will not find anyrthing called 'forward slip' in a british flight training manual.

Right hand with the trident and net with the left. Shoulder guard on the left. Both the net and shoulder guard substitute for the shield. Right handedness was the norm for gladiatorial training/combat However, left handed gladiators were considered unusual and in some cases special. The emperor Commodus was very proud of his left handed fighting for instance. The British Museum in London has funerary art showing a retiarius with trident in the right hand, shoudler guard on the left, and a dagger in the left hand - the Retiarius was allowed a dagger as a reserve weapon - sometimes the net isn't depicted, and in some of the small figures of retiarii the fighter is shown leading with his left side, shoulder guard foward, holding the trident with both hands.