caldrail

Message? In a religious context possibly, I wouldn't know. Each culture/sciety that has adopted christianity extracts whatever message it sees fit. However, in dealing with history (and this is a history site) the 'message' of christianity is only significant in that the worshippers use it, or in the nature of the message with regard to their actions. The idea that life is 'sacred' is not universal, and in the context of your post, your own religious view, though I do personally have similar leanings if somewhat less floird ways of describing it. However I would point out that 'sacredness' is a very Roman tradition adoopted by christianity in its expansion. Perhaps not unique to the Romans, but remember that the judaeans - whose religions provided the prototype - had no shortage of zealots who were analogies of the modern terrorist. The middle ages were as stongly christian as it was possible to be but that did not prevent anti-semitism, territorial conquest, and outbreaks of cannablism from the crusaders. Now that's the Roman Empire talking. The idea that humanity and and the divine were essentially similar dates from the ancient mediterranean world largely from the association with rule by decree and the accumulation of absolute power by solitary kings/tyrants. In any case the Bible is not an absolute guide to life on Earth. It's a religious document intended to indoctrinate and educate, and even then is open to abuse by thiose with less benign motives of which christianity has always had its fair share.

Looks like this could be a quiet day. Not sure why exactly, though the lack of noise appears to confirm my hypothesis. Only a solitary ring tone interrupted our silent vigil at the library this morning. Everyone turned and looked over their shoulder. Normally you get a ceratin proportion of people who ignore protocol and good manners in a desperate urge to tell someone else loudly where they happen to be right now. Not today. The embarrased owner of the mobile phone didn't even attempt to whisper a reply. What a refreshing change. The Lady Who Objects To My Internet Use seems to be the only person doing much right now. The other day she silenced a naughty young child who ignored the parental demand for silence simply by walking up close. It was almost as if she'd reached for the 'off' button. Today she's striding here and there, clearly on a mission, and I notice she made sure to glance over my shoulder to see which website I was accessing. Except she couldn't because I was typing this in a text editor. Saved by the blog. Horribly Wrong It's all gone horribly wrong for Swindon's roads. Our new junction to replace the Whalebridge Roundabout has caused no end of delays and tailbacks. Just as I predicted. Even better it the news that a new bypass in south Swindon is more or less empty. Nobody uses it. "Please use our bypass" Say concerned councillors. The problem is that the new bypass links two routes in and out of the town centre. There seems to be this idea that in the rush hour drivers wanting to pass through Swindon centre can now avoid the jams, except that at rush hour everyone wants to access Swindon town centre. If you use this road to escape a traffic jam, you simply find yourself in another at the other end. Which brain cell thought of that one? I applied for the job of road planner when it came up a couple of years ago. Obviously I didn't get the post, but let's be honest, the chap who got it isn't making a very good impression, is he?

And you don't find that odd? I seriously don't believe that a man who feeds thousands out of thin air and cures all manner of ailments with a click of his fingers is going to escape notice. Something like that would be talked about. Far from being obscure, his reputation would have skyrocketed. Yet the Romans seem blithely unconcerned? Apparently only when they start thinking he's a bad element do they bring him in for questioning - and according to the official version of events the Romans aren't aware of this man's miracles despite his ticker tape welcome in Jerusalem. Sorry. I don't buy it. I stand by the rather obvious glorification using myths that have a great similarity to those found in India subsequent to events. That's the reason Jesus made a somewhat modest impression on the ancient world - it's because huis personality cult re-invented him after his death. That's not so unusual. Bear in mind his followers were making a living by preaching and the more impressive the story, the more worshippers flocked to their congregations. We also see the same thing happening to real life personalities, such as a certain sub-roman war leader who was subsequently described as a king, given a miraculous background, and comes with a promise that he'll return one day to lead everyone to safety again. Sounds familiar? It should.

Every so often I'm summoned to the programme centre for a job searching session. I don't mind doing that, but the hassle is that their network was set up by a company from Ireland. No, really, it was. So consequently nothing works. Is the printer working? The young lady hosting the session confirmed that it was. At last! Useful too because I need to print stuff off and I'd rather not have to find a public facility costing me ten pence a sheet. Open the document... Click on 'Print'... Huh? I knew things were going horribly wrong when the default printer wasn't even a printer. Each and every computer listed on the options did nothing. No-one rushed into the office waving a sheet of paper demanding to know who it belonged to. In other words, the printers didn't work. Eventually the staff realised we jobseekers were becoming disgruntled or distinctly amused, and set about trying to fix everything the irish IT company had fixed over the previous four days. One chap offered to print everything we sent him by email. He was then forced to find envelopes for us, followed by requests to pop down to the post office and fetch stamps. An administrators lot is not a happy one. One person wondered aloud why nothing worked. I announced that the whole thing was a complete eff up, all the while unaware that a senior member of programme centre staff was sweating his sorry little shirt off trying to get a printer connected and working. Ooops. Year Of The Dragon It's soon going to be the chinese new year and completely breaking my new years resolution to stumble through it unaware of astrological warnings, here's my chinese horoscope... It will take longer for long term aims to come about but persevere. Although you prefer to stick with definite ideas and arrangements it would be better to keep plans flexible in 2012. Unexpected changes can cause problems and these will seem more difficult to resolve if you aren't willing to bend. You will be prepared to do whatever is necessary to make money from your job prospects even if it means working longer hours or taking on new commitments. Friends are helpful. Longer? Good grief I've been unemployed for three years. I've been working toward ferrari ownership for more like thirty. How much longer is this going to take? The ferrari salesman is going to have to help me across the forecourt and find enough room in the boot for a zimmer frame. "Now this is a very fast car Lord Caldrail.. You can see without glasses?... Do please be careful... BRAAAAAAKE!" What worries me is this idea that I'll be prepared to anything to earn a living. Worker required. Must have own sleeping bag.

Cold. Wet. Dull. Welcome to a very average Tuesday in Swindon. I'd like to say more but there's only so many times you describe the realities of the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire. The highlight of the last twenty four hours was bumping into the boss of the museum as I dragged my weekly shopping home. We had a nice little chinwag, mostly about recruitment agencies, and we're both agreed that agencies are the curse of western civilisation. As it happens one of my recent job applications was for a personnel department administrative post. Manufacturing experience required? Why? I clicked on 'apply' anyway. So I got a reply saying that the employer required manufacturing experience. Yeah? And? I sent a reply pointing out that I had such experience. I received an answer that said my experience was in distribution, not manufacturing. So I was part of the Honda parts supply chain for nothing? Quality control, material allocation, and liaison with shop floor assemblers? Correct me if I'm wrong but that does constitute manufacturing experience. Not according to the agency minion who categoricvally stated that her twenty five years experience in preventing people from getting a job entitles her to interpret my CV in completely the wrong way. Madam, I don't care how long you've been making phone calls, you're an idiot. Radiation Flare I wondered what all this stuff about the Aurora Borealis on the news was about. Apparently our planet has suffered a terrible solar flare and communications were disrupted by angry radioactive particles seeking to be brought before our leader. I think one or two hit a certain job agency.

Yet Jesus, despite rave reviews in the Bible, never got a gig in Rome? You'd think a miracle worker would attract more attention from the Romans than the local governor.

Yep, you were right. I should have listened. But you know, sometimes to just have to go there and find out for yourself. However to be fair if you look at the early TG series in the Jeremy Clarkson format, the audience was a handful of people whereas now they have crowd control problems. The problem the US team have is that they are trying to find an identity in the wake of their successful british template. I suspect they'll get better at it once they stop playing with everyday pickup trucks and discover the sports car. Especially the speedy red ones. Little tip there.

Top Gear USA? You gotta be kiddin', right? Out of curiosity I watched a few episodes. As part of a franchise there were aspects I found familiar. The stage set, the theme tune, the general format of the show, and having some celebrity race a cheap car around a track. All well and good. But of course this was an american show and so I was struck by cultural differences. Firstly the presenters, who despite their obvious enthusiasm for wrecking telegraph poles, abandoned houses, pulling trains, and generally driving huge pickup trucks where no pickup truck driver was ever meant to go, came across as incredibly bland. Not entirely characterless but there was nothing about them that said 'television personality'. Mind you, they were driving huge pickup trucks. Then they got around to the Rally Fighter, a sort of cross country muscle car, which was an extraordinary vehicle designed for the headcase to go where-ever he wanted faster than anyone else. Not only that, but I can confirm that the presenter driving the thing tackled a sharp bend. Cornering skills? In America? It seems the Top Gear franchise is changing civilisation as we know it. Money Walks, Bullstuff Talks Of all the stupid things a british politician could have said, it had to be that reducing or capping benefit payments doesn't cause any misery. No, he said confidently, it's unemployment that causes misery. What planet does that idiot come from? With people losing their homes because they don't receive the miminal assistance any more? Unemployment you can get used to. Constant price rises and threats from politicians to reduce your means is something else. I challenge him to spend three years as an unemployed person and find out for himself just how important money can get. Think about it. No chauffeurs, gleaming limousines, haute cuisine, big homes in upmarket parts of London, or even all those fair weather friends that surround a fat wallet. Not because you're unemployed sunshine - it's because you won't be able to afford it.

That's possibly overstating the concept. Realise that early christian sects had a bad reputation. They were accused of drowning infants, vampirism, cannabalism, and denying the imperial cult, all of which no doubt evolved from observers totally misunderstanding christian practises. Although small in number, these rumours would make them mysterious and possibly dangerous sects in the midst of Roman society, so they were in fact attracting more attention than their numbers would suggest.

Elephants are naturally panicky as animals - it's one of those features of using elephants in war that the ancients were well aware of. As for being 'raised to fight' - no, they weren't. Trained up to a point but remember that elephants are herbivorous grazers, not dangerous carnivores. Now I'll grabnt you that elephants can be very bad tempered and their size makes them dangerous to confront - that's why the ancients used them in warfare besides being useful beasts of burden - but they were never really suited to violence. You ought to realise that human beings panic in warfare too. It's a feature of social animal behaviour that once an element of fear creeps in, your colleagues can be just as afflicted as you. Once you decide to run away, who's going to stop you? We have Caesar himself relating how he tried to stop standard bearers running from battle during his gaulish campaign, and how ineffective it sometimes was to try. If an elephant decides to run in panic the mahout really can't do much more than hang on tight. Think about it - could you stop a runaway elephant? I wouldn't try it. As for the trumpets, the Carthaginians might well have been taken by suprise by a pre-arranged concerted idea performed by Roman units. It's generally assumed by the casual observer that Roman legions were completely organised with crystalline efficiency - I do think this was far from the case. The impression I get is that once a battle plan was agreed on, Roman centuries fought (with support from their cohort) pretty much by themselves, often at their own initiative which I note centurions were expected to demonstrate. What I'm getting at is that trumpets were not used en masse all the time. They were intended for local transmission of orders with a limited scope. Therefore during a battle you'd hear trumpet calls here and there, but a general synchronous blast? That would require planning beforehand and therefore smacks of a sneaky idea to disrupt elephants which the Romans already knew could be panicked by sudden loud noises. It's not as fantastical as you might think.

So... GhostOfClayton is in fact Professor Coxitup?

Friday morning and a chance to nip down to the local library and do my internetting for a couple of hours. The onlydrawback to friday morning is that the Lady Who Objects To My Internet Use is often on duty then. Deliberately I stroll in after the doors are open to avoid attention. Up the stairs... Oh no. She's there, at the helpdesk. For some reason she thinks I'm up to no good. No idea why, but as you can imagine, having her stare at me all the time and glance over my shoulder on the off chance I'm doing something arrestable gets a bit tiresome. She's looking the other way! That means I can dash across to one of the computoers hidden behind the bookshelves and hopefully she won't notice I'm here. Libraruians do move around sometimes but that's an occupational hazard of accessing the internet here. Darn it.... She picks up the phone and.... "Yes, he's here... In the last five minutes... No he's looking the other way...." Mission compromised chaps. Looks like train related sites are very dangerous to look at this morning. No, I'm going to risk it. Suspicion Rocks Well whaddaya know? The Cold War isn't quite over just yet. Apparently six years ago the FSB, the successor to the ubiquitous KGB, our russian intelligence adversary since Stalin thought we were going to invade the Soviet Union, spotted a suspicious rock which turns out to be a sort of data gathering device. Clever stuff. The spy saunters by, looks around to see if no-one is looking, takes an innocent pee up the nearest tree if they are, then downloads his ill gotten info and wanders off. The rock is retrieved later and the info beamed to M at MI6 so James Bond 007 can be shaken but not stirred one more time. I wonder iif I could adapt that idea for browsing at the library? Now there's a thought. Trouble is She Who Objects To My Internet Use would probably suss out why I pee against a bookshelf every time she glances in my direction. This is not going to go well, is it?

As I woke this mornign it was obvious the weather wasn't all too pleasant out there. Another rainy day? This has to be Swindon. The other day I was strolling home along the canal path. The weather was damp rather than rainy, a typical grey day for this part of the world. This being winter, green was in short supply. Most vegetation has withered away leaving pale yellow weeds and brown woody bushes. Allotment gardens, our modern re-invention of the medieval vegetable plot, look little better. A few wood and corrugated iron shanties, some with primitive greehouses, stand forlorn among the bamboo frames and grassy walkways between the featureless rectangles of muddy soil. Further along I expected a similar dreary scene at the abandoned playing field. This had been a sports centre in days gone by. Now the pavilion has gone, the outhouses demolished, tennis courts looking like anglo-saxon relics. However, I notice the field has been mown and the thick bushes and miniature moorland that had conquered the cricket field were visibly missing. The field was a flattened patchwork of green and ivory. Hang on... Was that a horse over there? I stopped and looked closer. Over by the east tennis courts a pair of horses idly grazed in between staring vacantly at anything that moved. I doubt these two steeds had mown the field all by themselves though I'm sure they'll a fine job of keeping the foliage back. It's an odd sight to see horses in a town centre. In this case, it seems unlikely that a responsible owner would leave animals there. Travellers? Of course the canal itself is also long gone. Now it's a long muddy grass strip and an asphalt footpath to one side. I find this a handy route from time to time and so do others, particularly the moslem chap in something of a hurry. Certainly no spring chicken but he was trotting down the path effortlessly. Very impressed with his fitness. Not so impressed with mine. Granted my health isn't what it was but a walk of this length shouldn't have me feeling like this. My medication comes with a warning that one possible side effect is tiredness. They weren't kidding. OnThe Ground Guess what? Word has leaked that despite assurances to the contrary the british had special forces on the ground in Libya during the anti-Gaddafi revolution E Squadron, a mix of SAS and SBS who work closely with MI6. Also unarmed plain clothes army officers helped coordinate rebel deployments. Why would anyone be suprised? If you send in jet fighter-bombers, nine times out of ten someones marking targets for them. Apart from news reports of sensational actions or the dubious descriptions in the popular press, my knowledge of the special forces is, to say the least, factually limited. I have a deep suspicion of anyone who claims to have been a member of the SAS. There are a lot of fakers out there and I'm told that such claims are commonplace among ex-servicemen seeking mercenary... sorry, security work. I've heard such claims myself and not one of them sounded genuine. By coincidence I'd spotted yet another novel by one of those Bravo Two Zero people. Andy McNab or Chris Ryan, I don't remember which one. Authentic? I suppose so. The thing is I was struck by how unlikeable the central character was. He was contemptuous of anyone and everyone, especially his colleagues whom he spent the first two chapters sneering at. It was all about a very opinionated and nasty man. Well, I realise warfare isn't about feather dusters and football in no-man's land, but surely even a military thriller ought to be enjoyable if it deserves the best seller list? Come back Tom Clancy, all is forgiven. Unwanted Visitors I see my home security system detected an attempt by someone to creep in last night while I was snoozing. His identity is already known to me, but he's welcome to provide proof of it if he wants.

It occurs to me that Fukuyama likes a sense of order and to him a an apparently stable pyramid of responsibility and authority is his perfect ideal, thus he looks for societal models that conform to his requirements in terms of long term persistence. That however ignores the sociological aspect of human societies in which a stable, safe, and essentially unchanging situation causes that society to stagnate, to become oberly ritualistic and unable to cope with emergencies. To defend the Roman world then is to point out that despite their traditional leanings, they were a ruthlessly competitive society and as a result, vigorous despite the occaisional chaos resulting from dynastic squabbles. Also, because a society stagnates without change, there's an element of dynamism that emerges from all this political plotting and bloodletting. In order for a Roman leader to survive, not only must he root out the conspirators, but also persuade the majority by one means or another that he's worth keeping on. Not quite democracy, but certainly the politicians weren't the only ones who decided who ran the Roman state. Not a perfect society perhaps, especially since it was run like a gangland state. It was however one that had purpose, embraced change in the face of traditional values, and believed in itself.

For no apparent reason I came over all philosophical last night. The big question however was not life, the universe, & everything. Professor Brian Cox has cornered that market. Instead I had humbler questions to ask of myself. Like what is it that I look forward too? Before anyone thinks I was getting depressed and feeling sorry for myself, that really isn't the case, so all you missionaries out there trying to make me believe I'm cursed, haunted, almost an alcoholic, or nearly a drug addict are wasting your time. I don't listen to wierdo's, messages from Jesus, or the occaisional taunt from idiots who think I listen.. Glad we got that settled. But I digress. The question! Some years ago I was chatting to GH, a work colleague, and as is probably inevitable with me the subject got around to ferrari's. I don't remember what I said exactly, but GH replied "Never mind - you can always dream." Well... Yes... I supose so, but dreaming doesn't make things happen. It was almost as if he was trying to persuade me not to strive for success and I'd always put that down to his desire to be important in the office. He was grooming me to come second. After all, his ability to achieve results by sitting down with a cup of coffee all day had less to do with talent and hard work than some naughty editing of the computer files. He actually thought I was going to listen to him and stop working at a pace that suited me. Admittedly the ownership of a gleaming red supercar is somewhat ambitious given my circumstances. In actual fact that isn't my immediate objective anyway. My world, as an unemployed dole claimant, is too small for those lofty fantasies even if the locals could be persuaded not to dismantle it during the night. The government want me to view finding that job as my goal in life. That's understandable if somewhat patronising and shortsighted. The Job Centre want me to view conformity as my goal in life. They see that as a necessary qualification for employment. I see conformity as an impediment to it. I mean, with twenty people chasing each vacancy, being the same as everyone else isn't going to make an impression is it? Last night I realised just how short term my objectives were becoming. A dream is only worthwhile if there's some hope of it becoming reality. Plans for the future are only worthwhile if you have a future to plan for. I've gotten used to the slow crawl of existing on the dole. Now it seems the only inevitability is that tomorrow is another day. I wonder what I'll do tomorrow? Pie & chips? Or a chicken burger down the road? Decisions, decsions.... Decisions, Decisions... Sometimes I have no choice but to put my fingers in my wallet and fork out cash for something I'd rather not have to buy. That happened this morning. With a need to purchase another surge protector I poppped down to PC World and stood aghast at the emptiness of the large premises. A decade ago this shop was filled with goodies like an technological aladdins cave, gizmo's to delight the senses, and plastic boxes in every colour of the rainbow. Not any more. There's barely anything to choose from. Want a surge protector Sir? We sell that one... Groan. Oh well. As it happened there was a choice of three that suited my purposes and naturally i chose the cheapest. Imagine my suprise then when the girl at the till announced it was going to cost me almost twice as much. You what? But fear not. All was settled asmicably and I got the product for the price I believed it to be. Seriously though - PC World aren't doing themselves any favours by such a withdrawal of range. What's the point of walking all the way down there when I could have picked up a similar product closer to home? Choice matters.

The problem is that christianity in the earlier half of the empire was not a united movement. it consisted of small sects in the same manner as syrian cults, with typically one bishop making a fortune out of his worshippers good faith. One Roman in later times even said "Make me a bishop of Rome today and I'll become a christian tomorrow". One might argue that the situation has been allowed to return to that state in some respects. If then tertullian refers to christianity as God's kingdom on Earth, it was only due to some sense of fellowship rather than being part of one movement, and the political aspirations of christianity (perfectly natural for the Roman mindset) only sprouted when they realised that influence beyond ownership of property (and perhaps belief) was now possible. Marcellinus for instance describes the roads of the early 4th century as being "full of galloping bishops". That said, christianity emerges partly from the beliefs of a conquered and disgruntled people. A part of me wonders if the expansion of christianity into the empire had some ulterior motives. It wasn;'t for nothing that Nero blamed the christians for the Great Fire of Rome in ad64. Some researchers have come to the conclusion that zealots or christian activists were indeed at work in the eternal city though clearly many pagans took advantage of the fire for their own reasons.

There was a change in the air after my traumatic visit to the job centre. The library was way emptier than usual, clearly indicating most of the regulars had frozen to death overnight. I was almost pleased to see Mr Fidget arrive. He began his daily ritual of slapping pockets and searching bags before he even sat down, with a whiole morning of uninterrupted fidgeting to look forward too. Even the Lady Who Hisses At Me was in a friendly mood. She is now officially the Lady Who Whispers Objections To My Internet Use. But there's somebody missing. Among the casualties of our freezing weather was.... Nope. I was wrong. BFL had indeed survived the night and instead of bringing a sense of order and direction to everyones lives at the library, had decided to colonise the supermarket where I encountered her a couple of hours later. I think that's the first time I've ever seen her there, which is a bit worrying because someone might blame me for having led her there in the first place. Sure enough the till queue ground to a halt as BFL was served. Nothing to do but wait until the supermarket staff have been browbeaten into surrender then. Favourite Spot "This is my favourite computer" Mentioned a lady as she waited for the assistant to log her on with the job club PC's. She's right. We all have favourite computers. I joked about them being reserved individually. How we would throw a tantrum if someone else nipped in ahead of us. Joking aside, we do tend to be creatures of habit. Therefore today I have broken with tradition and increased the number of applications I've made by a third. Someone, somewhere, is probably cursing my name right now. Yes, I have applied for that vacancy once before. Serves you right for advertising it again. Shared Homes Big on the local newsletter is the issue of shared homes. Apparently some home owners and landlords are attempting to cash in on the high cost of property by sub-dividing their property into smaller and smaler units. By now it's probably possible to rent a toilet cubicle at sensible low low rates. Worse still these pesky landlords have discovered a loophole in planning regulations which means they can effectively expand the size of their properties by making new homes out of them. I can see why the local councillors are up in arms. Before long there's going to be skyscraping towers of brick tenement with staircases requiring oxygen masks. Even that new house across the alleyway has finally been completed in a mad rush after laying there disguised as a ruin for several years. "We've got enough shared houses!" The complainers say. I agree. After all, the rotten scoundrel who's been pilfering my goods hasn't paid a penny in rent.

Rome was a very traditionally minded civilisation. Even long after becoming an urban society, they retained the idyllic idea of rural bliss, although that dream actually had very little to do with the somewhat sharper edged truth. The idea of a 'golden age' in the past is a common theme in human psychology. We do that today, ourselves, and you can view the evidence on television or film. With each change in society there are those that prosper and those who don't. In general terms, the poverty stricken masses (of which there were many in Roman times) regarded the past as something they had lost, whereas the prosperous manipulated the idea that the golden age was recoverable. Again, this sort of behaviour might sound familiar to you. The problem with your question is that you appear to assume judaeo-christian religious structures are unique and in some way a pure if variable bloodline. Some of it is, but remember that christianity is a judaism/mithraism cocktail repackaged to create a personality cult. Later the Romans repackaged it again, established what heresy was, and essentially created the foundations of christian fervour in later times. For that reason then, not only was early christianity based on something old and established in the human psyche, but had also borrowed many ideas such as Jesus's miracles from external faiths with the same credibility. I think it's important to realise why people were influenced by this religious melting pot. Life for the ancient Romans was usually short and unhealthy. Around three out of every five Romans had died before adulthood. Disease, violence, accidents, all were potential killers and in many cases there was little the Romans understood about the causes of these untimely deaths. Therefore we see the idea of 'fate' in Roman circles. If a man died before his time or perhaps went on to political glory, it was 'fate' that had decided it. That idea runs in parallel with appeals to the gods for assistance. The personal greeting and request of a worshipper before his divine patron was a fundamental part of their superstitious lives, done in more or less the same way as visiting the local patrician for a favour or benefice, yet unlike the devious manipulative patrician the gods were cold, remote, almost unwilling to listen. On this angle christianity offered a different deal. Yes, life is pretty tough sometimes. But put up with it and remember that loyal worshippers go to paradise. Not you, sinner. Your fate will be eternal damnation. In that contract with God the believer has hope for the future. In order for that contract to have credibility, it must rely on a record of achievement, thus the judaic tales we find in the Bible become proof and indeed moral lessons learned from the past. Of course judaeo-christian beliefs were not the only alternatives to graeco-roman. In the early empire particularly many exotic cults arose, probably for the same reason that christianity emerged, to find new adherents among the networks of Roman settlements. There is an aspect to this that we can't ignore however. There were many people in the empire with axes to grind - researchers now believe that the infamous Book Of Revelations was not a long term prophetic work, but a politically inspired call to arms for those who wanted Rome to burn, rather like the middle eastern propaganda against America in modern times. Again similar thought patterns are evident. This also applies to the end-timers, those christians who believe the end of the world is imminent. The past is bound to be seen as a good thing if tomorrow we die horribly, and let's not forget, for all the mythologising that surrounds judaeo-christian beliefs, Jesus himself has been identified as very much an end-timer.

Now this is more like winter. A sharp frosty morning, gloves required, my trainers crunching on thin ice and feeling very insecure. As if it wasn't cold enough inside, at the job centre was Big R himself. Yes, Big R, the yorkshire brawler who gave me the benefit of his opinions somewhat strongly not that long ago. Try as hard as I might, I could not help snarling inside. There's something feral about human beings, or at least the male half of them, that doesn't sit easily with humiliation and scorn. On the face of it I might seem a bit childish but I could not hand my paperwork to him first. Instinct, you see. he blew my respect away and no matter how sharp his suit, to me he will always be a pompous scumbag. What was that he just just called me? Mate? Who's he trying to kid? Saturday What happened to Saturday morning? Something is definitely wrong with Saturdays. I know this because I innocently turned on the television for something to occupy my attention while I got on with boring stuff. As a rule Iwouldn't normally bother with television at that time of the day and I think the world has changed since I last bothered. I remember Tom & Jerry cartoons, the Pink Panther Show, low budget family films, and lots of presenters coping badly with exotic animals. None of that happened. Adverts for dating websites? On every channel there were queues of semi-famous ladies telling us how to make your face to look like Hollywood intended, rather than the hideous reality your magic mirror reveals at dawn. What is going on? Why has the world changed like this? Why is saturday morning devoted to cosmetics? I have to say I have pretty much zero interest in cosmetics. There are products intended for the unfairer sex so I'm told. Body sprays? Fragrance for men? Ugh. I don't think so. After being fooled by aftershave adverts in the seventies (Remember Hai-Karate and the terrified user fleeing from hordes of aroused nymphomaniacs?. Trust me on this - that does not happen), I don't think smelling like a flower bed is going to improve my chances of being chased by hundreds of blonde female television extras. Sunday Sunday rescued my little world. One tv channel showed back to back episodes of Fred Dibnah, the high priest of cloth cap engineering from a bygone age. Time to sit down and be dazzled as plump Fred in his blue boiler suit invited us into his natural enviroment of the railway siding. Fred - This 'ere is a Nigel two six four wi'double flange frame 'n shovel injected firebox. Ah used to dream o' driving these when I wur young. Used t'see 'em running past me dad's coal shed. This one 'ere is restored t' workin' order. It wur made just as steam finished on British Railways, so it's almost new, this. With a bit o'luck, driver will let me on footplate... Allo thur.... Can ah come up? Driver - Like you arranged previously, you mean? Fred - Ahhh yes. Nice this, int it? Bit more complex than steam engine at 'ome. You get a fine idea o'what it wur like in olden days, steaming down track. Can we give it a go? Driver - Hang on - I wasn't told that we were.... Fred - Reverser... Regulator... Mind owt thur... Brakes off.... (WOOOOOH!... Woooh WOOOH! pffffshhhh clank chuff chuff chuff). Heh heh heh... Sorry 'bout that. Bit jerky on take off int it? Driver - Ten miles an hour along here Fed. Fred - Eh? Oh aye. Picks up speed nicely, dunt it? Ah remember good old days when trains like these wur all the rage. Driver - Mind the speed Fred. We're approaching the buffer stops. Fred - Nice smooth ride this. Must have been a thrill back when these engines ran on British Rail main lines, 'cos back then see engine drivers had no cab for protection. Driver - Fred, you want to start slowing down! Fred - Exposed to elements they were.... Driver - FRED! BRAAAAAAKE! Fred - Oh aye... That'll be that lever thur... (Clunk Squeeeeeeeeeeal hisssss). There we go. Enjoyed that ah did... You all right thur? Gone all pale like... Grand engine.is this. Bless the old chap, he's no longer with us, but what that man could do with a nine and five sixteenths wrench, a box of dynamite, and a few lumps of coal demonsrates how the British Empire was forged and ultimately rusted away. Singlehanded he almost made brass bands fashionable. Sadly missed. Stargazing - Live! A program devoted to standing out in the freezing cold staring up at the night sky? I nearly fell off my seat laughing. Surely if you want to stargaze you switch the tellly off and walk outside? Still, at least couch potatoes can now study the heavens too.

Moment and music do often connect in the memory. Not Dock of the Bay in my case, but other songs certainly. Not always nostalgiac and fond either. As I've learned some songs remind me of times I'd rather forget. Like most of the Red Japser back catalogue

Many years ago I wanderd into a pub, expecting genial conversation and relaxing with the other hustlers around the pool tables. On that particular afternoon, the pub was almost empty, and since I was the only person walking in, the scotsman drinking at the bar immediately engaged me in a chat. Before long the conversation got to how brilliant Scotland was. Best country in the UK, best country in Europe, best country in the world. There was no stopping the man. As Scotlands first unofficial Minister For Propaganda he was doing a grand job. Finally I could stand no more. I retreated and sought other people to talk to, people with interesting news or funny jokes, people who understood that a scottish accent does not legally demand attention from passers-by. Finally he realised he had failed to convert me to scottishism. He got quite annoyed. Mind you, if Scotland was such a great place, why did I keep hearing the scots complain about it? If it comes to that, you had to ask yourself what this solitary scotsman was doing in a Swindon bar if his homeland was quite that good, but there you go. So now Scotland wants independence? Some of the scots do, especially the politicians who seek to glorify their names for having achieved it. The funny thing is though that the United Kingdom came into being not because Scotland was conquered, but because a scottish king inherited England, Wales, and Ireland after Good Queen Bess popped her clogs without provision for an heir. Okay, I know James II did a runner and the dutch were invited in, but all the same the irony of this situation is that Scotland effectively wants to be independent of the realm it set up. This should also serve as an illustration of what the European Union can expect if they attempt to go further with integration - which they inevitably will, because as we see from history, those who want to rule rather like ruling as much as they can get. My point is that however many boundaries they change, however much they hand out euro-compatible names, nationalism will never go away. People identify with cultural roots no matter how divorced they are from their heritage. Look what happened in the balkans after Yugoslavia finally fell apart. On a more serious note, I hope these scottish politicians don't expect the UK to pay their bills? If they want their own chequebook, they don't need ours.. Oh yeah. If that scotsman is reading this, please stop talking. Pooh In one of those colourful community newsletters that sometimes pass my way I noticed a paragraph concerning the lamentable state of our pavements. Nothing to do with potholes or drainage, but the amount of dog pooh left lying on them. Maybe that was why the scotsman I encountered was so unimpressed with english prosperity? That makes me a bit curious. The amount of pooh I see today is nothing compared to how it was in the less responsible seventies. Back then you needed to watch where you put your feet. Nowadays you might be unlucky. Not just where you put your feet either. Toddlers in the last few years have adopted the idea that throwing pooh is funny. That disgusting habit hasn't gone away since it emerged and I discovered I'd been targeted a couple of weeks ago. Nine times out of ten you don't know until you spot strange stains appearing around the house. What bothers me though is the attitude of their parents, invariably young themselves, who seem to do absolutely nothing to correct their little darlings, and on one or two occaisions I've even wondered if those parents spurred their kids on to do it. Chances are it's only one or two individuals who would dream of doing that. In the local newsaper the police have taken the unusual step of naming and shaming four scoundrels who have, in a town in excess of 60,000 people, committed more than half of the burglaries reported in the last year. Thing is though, as bad as this all sounds, what ought to be remembered is why individuals are allowed to continue making peoples lives hell. Community spirit does appear to somewhat fickle, doesn't it?

The Ostrogoths lost the war against the Byzantine Empire (and its allies). The gothic leader, Theodahad was executed on the order of his more popular armour bearer Vitiges, proclaimed King on the Barbarian Plains, who made one last ditch effort to expel Belisarius from Italy in a fourteen month campaign before surrendering willingly in 555. He was subsequently allowed to live as a patrician in Constantinople though he only lived two more years. Some settlements remained loyal to the goths but the last, Verona, surrendered in 561. See Belisarius - Ian Hughes And now we have recited the origin of the Goths, the noble line of the Amali and the deeds of brave men. This glorious race yielded to a more glorious prince and surrendered to a more valiant leader, whose fame shall be silenced by no ages or cycles of years; for the victorious and triumphant Emperor Justinian and his consul Belisarius shall be named and known as Vandalicus, Africanus and Geticus. Res Getica - Jordanes

Fair comment as long as we remember that Roman democracy was limited in scope.

I've seen some these issues discussed in the train magazines (we even get american ones too). Some of these issues apply to Britain as well, but in our case a major obstruction is ownership of land and the enviroment in our crowded island.