caldrail

So far astronomers have found seven thousand asteroids orbiting close to Earth, of which nine hundred are at least one kilometre in diameter. That's like a mountain floating around up there at tens of thousands of miles an hour. Some of you are probably predicting this is going to be a paragraph or two about the frightening hazards whizzing silently over our heads. Correct. It is. The worrying thing - and the television documentary deliberately portrayed it in a manner designed to raise hair on the back of your neck - is that smaller asteroids are almost impossible to detect until it's too late, and their destructive power is pretty impressive. The evidence was a recent asteroid that fell in North Africa, prompting very important phone calls to the President and satellite photographs showing an impact point glowing as hot as the sun. Apparently one particular rock band cancelled a gig in New York because the lead singer was convinced an asteroid was headed there. With a bit of luck he also saw the documentary last night and has done the right thing by deciding not to sing in public any more. As it happens the solar system has mellowed after its incredibly violent youth when rocks were colliding like rush hour traffic in Mumbai. The known asteroids are in benign orbits that are not going to cause us any concern for at least the next century. Good news for us because insurers can't use astronomcal phenomena as an excuse for raising premiums. Unfortunately for Iran it's very bad news indeed. Partly because divine retribution against Israel appears unlikely, but also because using asteroid deterrence as an excuse for building nuclear warheads is not going to wash. Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch... Talking about imminent disasters the weathermen have downgraded the risk of snow to Defcon 4. You may now sleep safe in your bed,. Even better it means that very important transatlantic phone calls to the President are unnecessary so you can save on your phone bill too.

This sort of thing isn't that unusual in military procurement. Had India been at war, they would have grabbed the best if they could possibly get it. In peacetime, it's all deals under the table and who lays on the most lap dancing clubs.

Nature programs often fail to satisfy. David Attenborough is of course an old hand at it (no pun intended) and knows the score, which is one reason why his programs are worth a glance or two even if he does get a litle messianic occaisionally. Last night though he was nowhere to be seen. Instead we had a guy from India relating the tale of a tigress released into a nature reserve to repopulate an area cleared by poachers. Like many people I find big cats absolutely irresistible. Powerful, dangerous, charismatic. You just can't help but admire these hunters - it's a feral thing, something deep in our psyche, and the sheer majesty of a tiger moving stealthily through the undergrowth is hard to deny. Tiger tiger burning bright In the shadows of the night Fascinating details emerge. How they serenade their potential mates with muted roars. How two tigers introduce themselves (carefully) and start dating, seeking the company of another tiger as much as wanting sex. How leopards are rivals for territory and prefer not to mess with the bigger tiger, stealing food very much at their own risk. How tigers eat grass to aid digestion of meat and study the movements of potential prey to figure out where the best ambushes can be laid. I can see why this indian photographer has such a passion for his subject. Whether the storyline was genuine or cobbled together as nature programs often are, I found myself entranced by this tigress and her struggles with a new enviroment. The lady has class. And big teeth. Cool For Cats? Weather fit for siberian tigers is threatening our merry little island. It's hard to escape the news that eastern europe is having a hard time of it as temperatures plunge to nearly minus thirty degrees centrigrade. It is considerably colder outside today after that clear night. Not quite the siberian conditions of eastern europe that have caused frostbite and hypothermic deaths in tragically large numbers, but it's below zero for the first time this winter here in Blighty. Boy are those weathermen having fun for three minutes on the hour, every hour, as they gleefully plot the freezing of western civilisation. Cold Spot Of The Week The Oasis, Swindon's crumbling leisure centre complete with artificial tropical lagoon for people who have holiday withdrawal symptoms or simply can't handle air travel, is to get a makeover. Better yet, our town will get a snow dome. For the first time, Swindonians will be able to stay cold all year round. Great news.

I'm not that suprised. Many years ago I pondered the question of Darwin's evolution theory and whilst I couldn't disagree with it, there was something missing. As elegant a theory as it was, it didn't explain the pattern of evolution that the fossil record displays. Why was there such diversity of life if the process is so visibly slow? And why are we so easily able to discern between species if they're slowly changing all the time? Then it occured to me that looking at Darwins theory in isolation was the error. Once you realise how it fits in with the ecology of the world it makes more sense. What I mean is that as things normally are, life is more or less stable and species well defined. They know what to eat, where to find the food, and how to behave in polite society. That's fine. Now the process of evolution kicks in. Occaisionally, if a number of creatures are physically isolated, they diverge from the others as the smal mutations that suit their seperate enviroment prove better suited. Occaisionally though you must get mutant adaptions or behaviour that are part of the stable regime. That makes these individual creatures anomalies, non-conformists, and potential troublemakers. These non-comformal individuals might try to eke out a living in a different enviroment - but unfortunately, in the stable world, this alternative neighbourhood is already full of species who sorted out who eats what a long time before, so our non-conformal animal struggles and very likely dies before his new found talent is passed on. But what happens after an event that clears a territory? All of a sudden, there are new frontiers, new possibilities, and these non-conformal animals can pick and choose whatever food and housing they like. So we get a sudden meteoric diversity of species to populate this new territory until populations rise and the enviroment stabilises so everyone understands where the fences are. Humans are animals too. Some people don't like that idea, either because their priest bangs on about human ascendancy or simply in some victorian-esque outrage that they're no better than monkeys. But be honest - how did you get here? Basically because mom and dad bonked each other. That's a pretty primeval act as it happens, whatever Ovid said in the days of the Roman Empire. So although we have sophisticated nests and breeding sites, we are essentially doing little more than our primitive ancestors, and as such, our species follows the same rules as life everywhere else. Eat, drink, and get laid. Life goes on. So if, in the distant past, our primitive ancestors found new enviroments open to them, you would expect diversity of species, especially if these groups become isolated for long periods of time. It seems then in the light of recent evidence that the African Diaspora of 50,000 years ago had the unusual property of re-uniting species, where the weaker lot basically merged with the stronger. Who knows? Maybe the chinese are right and they are a seperate species of human being? After all, they're the only population of human beings on the planet who know how to make sweet and sour pork.

No... This can't be happening... Three phone calls in the same day. Those of you with social lives might not understand this but communication on this scale is beyond my experience as an older unemployed person. Not only that, but the phone calls were all from an employment agency who've almost ignored me for three years. Normally they email me a rejection the same day I apply for vacancies so imagine my suprise that my existence has finally been recognised. Not Any More For the first time since Antony Blunt was revealed as an artificial soviet rock placed on a London pavement, the Forfeiture Committee have acted. A little belatedly perhaps but then this was a committee decision. Not treachery against the state this time but behaviour unbecoming following our recent financial wobbles. In the wake of Fred Goodwin's dishonour (his knighthood was 'cancelled and anulled' yesterday) can you imagine what's going through the heads of those communists in the Job Centre who have tried to have me shot at dawn for assuming a title? Right now they'll be muttering darkly, making promises of dire retribution, and trying to figure out how to have me hauled in front of a magistrate. Probably much like they have for the last two years. Fighters For India Oh no, not again... Those pesky frenchmen have persuaded India to buy thier Dassault Rafale (whatever that is) instead of our shiney new Eurofighter Typhoons. I share David Cameron's disappointment on that decision but hey, look on the bright side, if Britain ever chooses to recolonise their former empire at least air superiority will be a little bit easier. Unless of course, those pesky frenchmen have occupied the Taj Mahal and are taunting us about hamsters, elderberries, and gaseouis discharges in our general direction. The secret of their success must be their outrageously silly accent. Store Of The Week I would like to take this iopportunity to congratulate Maplins for their first class customer service. I had a slight problem with a recent purchase and they not only exchanged the goods without complaint or attempt to fob me off, but took the time to prove the replacements worked as expected. Well done that store.

Sorry I missed this one. Still hungover from the new year I guess Must be great to be 21 again.

Let's see... According to this instruction manual, this lead plugs into that socxket there... And this other one goes there... and that bit of plastic needs to removed.... Now I just need to switch on and... phuttt!. Huh? Early yesterday evening I switched the device on and the power went off. Oh great. I checked the lights and none of those worked. I fumbled for a torch and found the batteries had long since gone flat. Nothing electrical in the house worked. Did I do that? Despite my fears everything sort of checked out. After a stubbed toe and a bruised shoulder I managed to find my mobile phone in the gloom. Please please please work. Yes! Hello? Is that the electric company? I don't seem to have any power at all. "I see Sir. Where are you?" At home. In the dark. "No Sir, I meant whereabouts in England." Oh right. Swindon. "Are you anywhere near Arthur Street?" I don't know an Arthur Street. Could be around here, I dunno, I mean I've only lived here nine years. Am I expected to know every side road in the entire area? "I see. Are you anywhere near the High Street?" Not really. That's a quarter of a mile away. "Not to worry Sir. We're getting reports all over the entire area." Oh brilliant. Singlehandedly I've plunged North Wiltshire into the middle ages. All with the flick of a switch. But of course it wasn't me, though I note my neighbour seemed strangely amused by the lack of electricity coursing through his ring main. The company said it might be three hours before resumption of service. It took only twenty minutes. Glad to see my money is being well used. Thieves Of The Week This prestigious award has to go to those baboons at the Zimbabwe border. Having plunged his country into economic meltdown, Mugabe's monkeys are now resorting to outright theft with menaces from vehicles, especially those laden with maize. Apparently the guards are getting a bit frustrated because these baboons, being clever little primates as well as violent kleptomaniacs, are accomplished tricksters and have learned how to get into vehicles. Before long they'll be stealing entire trucks and selling property on e-bay. Or at least they would be if anyone in Zimbabwe still had a computer.

In one of the science magazines lately they devoted an issue to Time. What is it? How much does it cost? What could you do with it if you could afford it? It's a remarkable thing that we experience one moment after another but that causes us to assume we know what time is. So helpless are scientists to explain exactly what Time is that instead of turning to Professor Cox, they're asking philosophers to explain it. Proof therefore that Time is an illusion. Unfortunately for everyone knowing that Time isn't real doesn't prevent monday mornings from happening on a regular basis. I should know - I've suffered at least fifty in the last year alone. So for those of you who now think that the passage of Time is something you can safely ignore, please be advised that your boss will not accept sensory phenomena as this weeks fun excuse for being late for work. Trust me on that. That Time OF Year The end of january is upon us and with it the inevitable chill of february.As if to confirm that observation the weather typically grey and cold. Not the sharp chill we associate with snow and ice, but that dreary dampness that causes old fogeys like me to complain about how our poor old bones are suffering. You know what I mean. If not, ask your grandad. I'm sure he'll tell you.. Truth is this winter has been remarkably mild. So far we've hardly had a frost at all. Only now are the weathermen beginning to warn us that some areas might see a light snowfall. Certainly not enough to convince the boss that you're being honest about struggling with blizzard conditions. Another little tip there. About Time Too Just this morning on Russia Today is the astonishing revelation that US and Taliban representatives are meeting in Qatar for talks on building trust. A few less IED's might help. It is however a very interesting development. We all know that the west is tired of the continual sniping and sweeping that wars like that in Afghanistan entail, yey the doggedness of allied presence in the middel east seems to have finally persuaded the Taliban that the only way to get rid of the Great Statn is to persuade it not to hit them anymore. Not On Time? Recently the removal of the Whalebridge roundabout has caused considerable traffic delays for those avoiding the South Swindon Bypass at Wichelstowe. Now I see traffic is avoiding the former Whalebridge site altogether and instead using a rat run through the nearby residential area. Lo and behold there's a long queue of cars every morning in what used to be a quiet street all utterly convinced they're getting around the delays on what is now an empty dual carriageway. Sheesh. Build a road and no-one wants to use it... What is the world coming to? I must therefore conclude that todays best chances of persuading the boss that you can't make it into work is that your car is currently trapped in a wintery time-space anomaly caused by Taliban insurgents on the Princes Street Carriageway.

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.