caldrail

Roman legions were much smaller after the reforms of Constantine, and along with the decline of the centurianate at around this time, so the quality also declined. Zosimus in particular provides a colourful description of the capability of Valens army

The Roman style of swordplay changed over time. When the gladius was adopted it had a slightly leaf shaped blade and a very pronounced point. Legionaries were taught to use this gladius in a rigid frontal thrust style, since in republican days a close formation was essential. In this form the gladius was perfect for that style. Over time however the point becomes shorter, and in imperial times, we see a straight bladed type emerge, and as the Romans themselves confirm there was incresingly fluid style of swordplay that involved as much cutting as thrusting, obviously suggesting less reliance on close formation (along with the arrival of the banded breastplate as well). During the mid empire the gladius shrinks in length, evolving in step with gladiatorial swords, until the 4th century when the gladius is dropped from use wholesale and the longer cavalry spatha adopted instead, at the same time the pilum gives way to a number of spear type weapons. The longer sword suggests a failure to train recruits sufficiently for the shorter up-close reach of the older gladius and therefore by that time the standard of fighting in Roman legions isn't likely to be much better than anyone elses - a fact observed by Vegetius and commented on by Zosimus. Be wary of taking these examples as illustrations of the Roman standard. Ordinary legionaries who did that might well be laughed at. Furthermore, a close study of Caesars Gallic War account reveals evidence of poor quality troops too. Caesar himself has to force men back into the fighting line when their courage breaks and he mentions failing to to persuade at least two standard bearers to stay on the field.

Cider is something of a two faced coin here in Britain. There was a brief period in the late eighties when brewers tried to make it trendy (and thus charge four times the amount for my favourite tipple) but whilst 'fine cider' is sold alongside wines from around the world, cheap cider is usually considered the socially accepted drink of the park bench resident. Pot noodles aren't very nice anywhere

Iraq has been returned to sanity. Libya has been returned to sanity. Egypt, Tunisia, and Yemen are undergoing counselling. Afghanistan was always a pretty insane place to begin with and so far has proven difficult to pacify. Now President Assad of Syria has spotted the trend and warns the west that intervention will cause an earthquake that will burn the whole region. Now apart from his complete ignorance of geology, this does sound like the usual arabic vitriol. "Rivers of blood" is another popular warning. You get the idea? One might wonder if Assad is feeling a bit exposed at the moment now that the worlds media have no other middle eastern country creating any news stories worth reporting. I have no idea if the western governments plan to liberate Syria from despotism. They have been keen to aid the overthrow of them just lately, and as for worrying about how Gaddafi died, that would seem to be little more than crocodile tears. That's the problem with regime change - it has lethal ramifications. In democracies you can simply oust your least favourite dictator by marking an X on a ballot paper. In many foreign lands, they don't generally take any notice of other peoples opinions and ultimately if the decision is made that the tyrant has to go, you might need to apply something a little more forceful, like a riot of armed men or a battering from military jets. Well Mr Assad, I can understand your concerns. You might want to reform a little bit quicker. That might impress the west rather better than a shaking fist. Tremors On the news pages I spotted an article telling us chaps how to watch out for mini-strokes. Like the persistent earth tremors that warn of an impending eruption, these mini-strokes are tell tale signs that a major stroke will occur within four weeks. Good grief, I've had those symptoms for twenty years. Not sure whether I should be relieved or worried. The article says phone 999 immediately. Should I warn the doctor that there will be rivers of blood? Decisions... Decisons... Look Left, Look Right This has been a weekend of idiocy on the roads. Drivers are going the wrong way up one way streets, pedestrians are running in front of cars, and bus drivers have lost any sense of safe braking distances. Not to worry. The clocks went back an hour this morning so everyone should be calm and accident free again. Stand Up There's a standing joke at the museum - literally. When I'm sat there on duty at the front desk no-one comes in. The moment I stand up and walk away, crowds rush through the entrance in a mad desperate bid to pay for a ticket. Your first thought might be that I'm frightening people away. Apparently not. Last night I was sat quietly doing boring un-weekend stuff when I heard a voice in the street say "The truth is you're a wuss." Actually the truth is your opinion means nothing. Face it kid, you don't amount to anything. So why should I be worried because you have a big mouth? Oh, and by the way, I couldn't tell if you were a boy or a girl. Sorry about that.

Common mistakes to watch for - 1 - Wearing helmets on tyhe march. In marching order with all personal goods carried on their shoulders, the legionaries did not wear helmets. That might soubnd odd to modern ears, but realise that the Romans did not assume they were going to be ambushed. After all, they had a cavalry screen performing reconnaisance where-ever possible and relied on intelligence from deserters or local inhabitants to know where the enemy was. It generally worked apart from some obvious cases. 2 - Marching to the sound of drums - The Romans did not use drums at all, never mind in a military capacity. Centurions used 'pace stick' to maintain step although there's some doubt that route marching was conducted in a parade ground fashion. 3 - Attic helmets - Those greek inspired attic style helmets were only employed for ceremonial purposes, thus civilian artists portrayed Roman soldiers on reliefs with them. The odd general or two might have indulged in an attic helmet for show but certainly centurions never wore them on duty.

I am by nature a morning person. Getting the work done first and leaving the rest of the day to relax or take care of life's little obstacles comes very naturally to me, even if I did oversleep a couple of days ago. One little obstacle occured yesterday. The phone rang. Normally all I get is an email telling me how sorry they are that the rest of the known uiniverse is far more suitable for that position than I am. It's a cross I have to bear. A phone call generally means an opportunity exists. So when the guy on the other end started asking questions with relation to a job application I'd made on his website, of course I was enthusiastic. Very quickly he dashed my hopes. My previous education meant nothing. Experience was worthless. Employers were looking for qualifications. No, worse than that. "If you haven't got the right qualifications they don't want to know" He told me, "It's a dog eat dog world out there. You could be unemployed for five, ten years. I 've seen it and it isn't pretty." Does he think I live on a different planet? I'm well aware of how tough the job market is. As it happens I'm also aware of how wothless all those obscure certificates can be. Besides, I have plenty of transferable skills. That's been drummed into me over the last few years by every course I've been on. I do try to be positive about finding work. "Yeah but as it happens we've got courses for people with your attitude." My... attitude?.... Now I'm getting irate. I'm not doing all this jobsearching stuff for nothing and as it happens I do consider myself concientious. He went on about getting a qualification in Typing Entries In Databases. Is there one? I know there's a lot of obscure certificates floating around out there but I seriously doubt another is going to make all the difference. The prospect of spending hundreds of pounds for more toilet paper doesn't appeal to me. More to the point, this chap was trying to persuade me to on the basis that I was in some way a useless ignorant loser doomed to failure. Yeah? Really? And how much commission is this guy going to earn now that I've hung up on him? Another Tough Sale On my way home ysterday I passed the old college car park. You see a variety of cars parked there, and not always the commonplace mobility buggies and school taxi's. Sometimes prestige cars rest their weary pistons there. Or vans bearing advertisements for traders you have absolutely no incentive to trade with. Yesterday however I saw something else. Normally customised vehicles fall into one of a few categories. Usually it's a bog standard car with as much of the options list as the salesman can persuade the driver to part money for. Occaisionally it's a bog standard car with a special paint job, such as that Aston Martin with a naked lady painted along the side, or perhaps even the Porsche 911 deliberately painted in wacky grafitti. Sometimes it's a piece of lovingly created automotive redesign, worked on for years as a labour of love and an excuse for divorce. Or simply just a youngster who thinks a spoiler and shallow tires makes him better than everyone else. But this? This was customisation on a whole new level of bodging. I have no idea what car was underneath all the added fibreglass and matt black paint job, which included red sharks teeth around the grill. It was a real in-the-flesh Mad Max special. I'm sure the owner is chuffed to bits with his ride and cruises around town with a big grin. At least until he tries to sell it.

Another day, another job agency. Part of the ritual of finding work is submitting to the high street slave traders. A very necessary evil. The days when some old woman with horn rim glasses, blue rinse, and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth handed you a card with a vacancy written on it are long gone. Now they're all plush offices with ettiquette and protocol droids ruling the roost with an iron hand. In fairness the young lady who handled my case was pleasant enough despite her misgivings over my appearance. Her dreams of a Nigel Havers' clone having been crushed, she put me through the usual psychological and data input testing. I notice she didn't tell me how I did. While I was waiting one of the other ladies in the office was busy on the phone using one of those swish new headphones. All of a sudden she started singing loudly. All the other odffice driods didn't react at all. Must be the sort of person she is, I guess. Finally one of her colleagues came over to pick up the phone and the jovial woman handed over with "There you go. That's your 'hold' music." Way to go Lady. Be Afraid! Occaisionally I see adverts on television showing some strange machine designed to carry passengers through all sorts of wierd and wonderful gyrations. Gone are the days when a ride on a metal horse rotating on a carousel were the in-thing. There's a loss of innocence these days. Good harmless fun has been replaced by these outlandish shock-a-minute rides Fairground rides these days must subject the customers to levels of accelerated gravity known only to fighter pilots as they're whisked around a death defying elevated railway from hell. Places like Alton Towers and Thorp Park are renowned for these fairground rides. Unfortunately the companies that run these attractions are complaining that too many britons are 'scaredie cats'. Well there you go. Rides so frightening no-one wants to go on them. However, I suspect that ticketpricephobia and longboringwaitophobia are suffered by a great deal of people these days. Not Again! We being warned that Britain is on the verge of another recession. Pardon? I wasn't aware we were out of the last one yet.

Another quiet day at the library. It might seem a bit strange that I've opted for a tranquil afternoon, especially since I had a clear business diary, and that my television service has been magically restored. Thing is though I made the mistake of not listening to ta weather report too carefully. So I expected strong winds and heavy rain which of course never turned up. And as for the Box, daytime television is designed to reduce viewers to a mindless stupor. Preparation for Christian Slater's interesting voice-over's on Dinosaur Planet in the evening. Instead I sit down and log on. Mr Fidget makes a rare appearance and gesticulates randomly. Scratching here, rubbing there, poking this, patting that. I wonder what he does on the internet? I only ask because he can't possibly find time to move the mouse at all. Much more annoying is a youngster who spends his time organising his friend collection on a social network site. It isn't that he only comunicates with the outside world via a continual stream of spelling mistakes, but rather that he can't bear silence, so he plays music over his headphones. Hisses and clicks at a frantic rate are audible across the floor. Weee-ooo weee-ooo... This is a fire alarm. Please leave by the nearest exit... Weee-ooo weee-ooo... Eh? What? A fire alarm? Is this for real? Everyone looked up from their computors and tried to find someone who knew if we should ignore another drill or perhaps run around screaming in terror. Eventually Dragon Lady started donning her yellow high-vis vest. So it's serious then? "Everybody out please." She ordered. Everybody confirms they understand with a communal groan. The funny thing is that when the all clear was received ten minutes later we all rushed in far faster than we left. It's a risky business going to the library. Make It Alone? The Euro Rebellion? I said a long time ago that putting everyones financial eggs in one basket was asking for trouble. Now politicians are desperately trying to fend off calls for a british referendum on membership of the EU. Never mind the commentators debating whether this is because the European Union really needs that sort of uncertainty. What that's really about is leading politicians working to avoid the demands of the british public rather than their own initiatives. That said it hasn't done the rebels any favours. I hear some of them have lost their jobs. That's always a risk in politics especially when you stand up and be counted for a matter of principle. From the public I hear people calling for the British to rule themselves again. That's the trouble with artificial empires consructed by under-the-table deals. You cannot extinguish national identities so easily. Hasn't anyone learned anything from the troubles of Eastern Europe? Make It Safe? With recent accidents in motor sport claiming the lives of star drivers, once more there are calls for safer competition. If that's the way things are going, how long will it be before the final straight is limited to 20mph and subject to speed camera surveillance? Guaranteed no accidents or deaths. Just ask our wonderful road safety experts. What I can guarantee that if racing is reduced to a sterile orderly procession - the sport is as good as dead. The fact is that while no-one actually wants a driver to suffer death or injury in a horrific collision, it's that very risk that gives racing the drama that attracts audiences. To a greater or lesser extent we all get a rush from adrenalin - that's human biology and mindset - so while most of us cannot race because of cost or lack of any talent, we're still drawn to the sport by the demonstration of danger, risk, reflexes, and yes, that very adrenalin rush that these drivers are paid to display for us. Some years ago I visited a Goodwod Festival of Speed (the one when a driver crashed into a wall and died, as it happens, though I didn't see the accident). Wandering around the paddock I took the opportunity to inspect a 1930's racing car. Open cockpit. No carbon fibre safety cell, no safety straps, no bulkhead, no floor. Just an engine, four wheels, a modest example of bodywork, and enough space to squeeze some daring young chap thirsting for glory. It certainly made me think. My own personal risk level was definitely challenged by the prospect of taking that car out for a hell for leather drive. The thing is we need risk. We need conflict. That's a strange and perhaps terrible thing to say but without the constant need to respond to threat or danger, our species will stagnate. In the wild, species that don't face predators or starvation became placid, stupid, and incapable of meeting challenges. One disaster (usually the arrival of human beings) and they quickly go extinct. Yesterday the Lesser Spotted Racing Driver, a colourful creature, moves another step toward becoming an endangered species. What hope is there for the rest of us? Damned if we do and doomed if we don't.

But weren't the senatorial classes opposed to foreign cults? Female mystery cults had been banned by the senate in 186BC and 64BC, and would be banned again by Augustus. Weeping and mourning was indeed part of the Praeficae, but this activity was done according to strict tradition. As far as I'm aware, the interaction with a dead relative was to call his name as a last chance for the person to return, and the famous insertion of a coin in the deceased's mouth to 'pay the ferryman'. Doing strange things with breasts is a very un-roman activity.

Never really liked U2. Some songs aren't bad.

"Hello" Said the guy next to me as I waited for the library to open. Receiving a friendly greeting is an unusual experience for me and I sort of did a double take. "You are.. Caldrail?" He enquired, looking a bit mystified as to why I was looking mystified. Erm... Yes. yes, that's me. "Remember me?. College, OND days?" Good grief. I remember him now! There was an Iranian chap who was part of our year back in 1982. The year before we'd worked together on an embarrasing project to build a wind tunnel, and like the tutors predicted, we failed utterly to progress beyond a fibreglass monstrosity that we never built in the first place. In fact, so embarrased was I about having worked with this guy on the wind tunnel that for my exam project I worked alone on a computor program for spark ersion machining, which I have to say worked a whole lot better for me. What an extraordinary memory this man has for faces. I mean, I don't even look the same. How did he recognise this straggly haired old codger from the dashing young would-be rock star he worked with twenty years ago? Well it's great to see you, mate. How'yer been? The Great Switch Off For a few years now the government have been warning us that the old analogue television signals would be switched off this year. Everyone must buy digital equipment or else. So like every disgruntled citizen I put my hand in my pocket and purchased a freeview box. As the instructions said, I retuned the receiver and.... Well it worked for a few weeks. Now I have no television signal. Aww poo....

Everything wine shaped is too expensive for me. Sometimes I grimace, sigh, and pick up a bottle of cider for 99p. Life really is that bad

You'll have to excuse me. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Not only have I had a full day of doing this or seeing to that, not only a frantic effort to complete enough jobsearch activity to please the frigid hearts of my government paymasters, but I need to get home real quick because today is the End Of The World! Again. Hopefully I'll survive this one as I did the last. With the biggie End Of The World due in little over a years time one can only hope I'll survive the entire trilogy. As for the Rapture, the great disappearance of every approved Jesus fan, please, just get on with it. It isn't just me and my sheer loathing of christianity, but my colleague Young L is working in a christian enterprise and the poor lad is being driven insane by constant appeals to his consience. Unfortunately Young L is a confirmed football worshipper, so perhaps all they're doing is getting up his nose. They certainly manage to get up mine. Apart from the odd guffaw at idiotic predictions that never stood a chance of coming true. Bang - You're Dead Sadly Gaddafi won't be joining us during our post-apocalyptic struggles as he managed to get himself shot dead yesterday. Most of you probably already know that. Bit I'm curious.... What did his inevitable death mean to you? Was it...? a - At last. The little rascal has gotten away with it for too long. b - Oh no. There goes my investment. c - Brilliant. Time to fly to Libya and negotiate a new contracts so I can expand my business and offer Caldrail a job. d - No time. I have to prepare for the End Of The World and panic appropriately. e - Eh? What? Done Also in the news I see the basque seperatist group Eta have decided to stop hurting people. That's great guys. Now you face the final hours of the world tonight with clear consiences. However I also note that the 'Real IRA' are still at it, or would be if MI5 hadn't foiled their latest dastardly plot. I can understand a communal need for self-determination. I can understand anger. What I fail to understand is why blowing up random individuals is going to create a safe and respected nation state. Terrorism strikes me as something of a tantrum. Throwing toys out of the pram when you can't get your own way, except doing it with a little more noise and damage in the process. More to the point, you might also describe terrorism as a particularly nasty form of vandalism. Like the more lurid version plastered on our vertical surfaces, or the fragments of glass littering the pavement the next day, it's a destructive expression by people who really have no talent for helping themselves or others. Politics or religion are no excuse. Just ask Saddam Hussein. Gaddafi. Or even Jesus. Face it people. There's no such thing as a world in which terrorists will be happy. Or any chance that the devout will vanish into paradise at the flick of holy fingers. The Answer is... What did Gaddafi's inevitable death mean to you? The answer was of course f - I said they'd get him. What's for tea, luv?

Actually I meant he would be crashing through my front door in a pickup truck stolen for the purpose, in a blind obsession driven by his inhuman programming to seek out his objective, and he will never, ever, stop. Or have I been watching too much Hollywood? Certainly haven't been emptying your wineries of late. Far too expensive

Expensive certainly. Wars always are. The question of effectiveness is more difficult because security operations like this do not easily result in identifiable gains. Also the British don't seem to be too sharp on propaganda whereas the Taliban trumpet every single act they perform. When was the last time we heard anything positive? Most of the time we get a scrolling message at the bottom of the tv screen during newscasts telling us another solder has been killed in Helmand. I can only think of one report ever, the successful installation of a dam under army escort, that rated any mention. other than that we're left with occaisional documentaries also aimed at developing a sense of sympathy with our lads over there. I don't doubt for a moment that the work they do is dangerous or that it involves considerable hardship. What we lack, as civilian observers of the news, is any sense that anything is being achieved. That's the trouble with security operations - they don't necessarily generate identifiable results, although in this case the presence of NATO troops provides a focus for Taliban effort in their own back yard rather than ours, but as it happens I think preventing the spread of radical islamic power from that region does appear to be a worthwhile exercise.

Noooooooooo!!!!! All my dreams of taxing youths for using copyrighted words is crashing around my ears! But look on the bright side. I've thwarted the plans for Californian world domination. I guess it isn't over yet. Arnie will be back...

So basically we have an experienced warrior who had the fortune of getting a top job with the Carthaginians. other than that, Xanthippus doesn't appear to be a remarkable chcracter in any way - the classical sources don't say much about him because there probably wasn't much to say. It's rather like the modern day where british officers train foreign armies but never do anything to merit a news report.

An army is simply a gathering of warriors. Although the modern meaning stresses organisation, the word also covers more casual forces used in concert. In any case, guerilla campaigns are only successfull against an organised army if organised themselves. Otherwise it's a pain the enemies butt and sooner or later they start picking off the various groups doing the guerillaring. The Romans themselves were quite adept at forcing resistance into small pockets where it could be elinated in one hard strike. The BAttle of Mona against the Druids. Pompey's victory over Spartacus. Or the attempted but ultimately disastrous campaign that led to the defeat at Adrianople.

What? That London march? There's always a percentage of the population that don't like wars and think the world would be a better place if we all stayed at home. Personally I think war is a terrible thing. Unfortunately, that's how human beings do business and settle arguments.

oh good grief. The Mexican space agency sent a killer whale to the moon for $200. I know, I saw it on South Park last night. Hilarious.

As I sat down to type this entry, I was distracted by the sound of rain against the window. A heavy downpour from a grey sky. Yet earlier this morning it was such a fine morning. Chilly, for sure, but you'd expect that with open skies at this time of year and it was a noticeably colder night before. Almost as soon as it arrived the squall subsides, leaving only overflowing gutters to drip water in long thin streams. In a whie it might be safe to go outdoors again. During the sunshine this morning I bumped into DW, our intrepid online journalist. You never have to make any arrangement to meet him, ever, because sooner or later he's there, somewhere ahead of you, popping out of thin air like a Star Trek Away Team. Only without the silly nioses and special effects. So we had a little chat. Business, you understand, nothing for the world to know about, but just for you lot we discussed sex with young ladies. A good, healthy pursuit for all ages. Most of the time anyway. Even earlier than that I was back at the Programme Centre being interviewed by one of the attractive young ladies. If ever there was a reason to stay unemployed, that was it. However despite my middle age randyness (some might say optimism) it was of course business. So it's bye for now and I wander off to lower my pulse rate. Sometimes we need to relax. A sort of deep breath and clearing of the mind. Sometimes we have to chill out. Like relaxation, except you need to lounge in a much lazier fashion and wear dark sunglasses. Sometimes you need to be somewhere between. I would have called that cool, but DW, for whom relaxation is an alien concept, struggled with the idea and mangled his words, telling me he needed to "Chillax". I have to say, I'm in a kind of chillaxed mood today. A new word in the english language has been created. Designed by DW, marketed by Caldrail. Go ahead. Stop what you're doing and chillax. You know you want to as well. Chillax Man I do not believe my eyes. Space Invaders? You mean that eighties arcade game is still out there? Even more astounding is that a guy in america has scored twice the previous high score made in 2003. Now there's a guy who serious likes playing computer games. Even the older boring ones. I hate to ask this, but is Mr Knucklez an older boring person too? At least in my case a social life is too expensive. Jeez, Mr Knucklez, chillax. Or get a girlfriend. If you've forgotten how or never learned the appropriate social skills. I'm sure DW can give you a few pointers. And Now? The clouds have drifted by. The sun is shining again in a blue sky. Time for me to go about my lawful business and just chillax.

Further to that we have to stress that the Romans taught combat skills of a particular style. This was true in all walks of life as certain behaviour was acceptable and others not so. There is a great deal of traditional thought in Roman minds, a cultural confirmity and adherence to set standards that we don't experience in anything like the same intensity today. Modern western culture has the luxury of enjoying many diverse forms of martial art. The Romans did things their way (though sometimes they did learn from their enemies and adopt methods out of sheer expedience, or perhaps even fashion in some cases) Roman writers for instance talk about gladiatorial training as composed of standard moves. Notice however that a fighter who does nothing more than 'fight by the numbers' (something the Romans themselves said) results in a dull and uninspiring fighter. Although these men performed within strict guidelines, audiences looked for something other than a mere swordfight. They wanted courage, aggression, drama, and a very real flair for combat in the arena. In other words, whereas we might like look at fighting in a generic overview, the Romans looked for those all-important details, those qualities that set one contestant above another in a blood sport fought to rules and governed by referees. The problem with the pankration is that it was too all or nothing, besides being considered greek or essentially low level sport. It was a no-holds-barred style of wrestling. Only biting and gouging of eyes was forbidden, though classical sources tell us that occured anyway. One contestant won his fight by breaking the fingers of his opponent. According to sources, one greek contestant killed his opponent by forcing a fatal abdominal wound with his bare hands. Clearly that wasn't good for legionaries. What's the point of having men volunteer for military service if they all end up disabled in the hospital? In any case, legionaries were given a measure of pride and esprit-de-corps in imperial times. That meant they generally considered ceratin fighting styles or contest types as beneath them. Don't forget that wrestling, as a formal and less harmful physical contest, was considered a manly pursuit. So was the practice of swordplay, the essential weapon of the warrior, a sort of phallic symbol of manhood as it always tends to be in some way or other. The male pride of Romans is not generally realised but they were a very macho lot. Besides, injuring your opponent beyond capability in a ruthless and merciless fashion was a bit barbaric, surely? Civilisation demands rules and standards of behaviour, even among the roughnecks in armour that swaggered around the empire and beyond.

Quite some time ago I suggested that the british government of the day wanted a return to victorian england. Mostly, I suspect, because they rather liked the idea of masses of hard working citizens doffing their caps as they trundle past in expensive limousines. That's always been a feature of human society - the desire of the wealthy to accumulate even more wealth, status, influence, and comfort. Another feature of human society is the inevitable backlash as the downtrodden rise and.... Good grief, I sound like a bolshevist. That will never do. Prices are steadily going up and like me, many britons are finding life isn't so comfortable any more. Ten years ago a weeks food and drink could be had for as little as

Yeah? And I thought it was just a means of manipulating emotional responses from the public to accept casualties in a foreign war that does not visibly result in territorial gains, or any apparent objective at all. It is therefore a means of offsetting a public reaction against what could become an unpopular and ineffective and expensive campaign.

I hear the news that one of the local pubs has reopened for business. Not, as you might imagine, because of a swarm of drunkards making an appearance after midnight, but because it was reported in our local newspaper. These days it isn't enough to simply paint a silly sign and open the doors to the general public. Commerce demands that the pub is able to attract customers. In this case the pub has decided to sell 'historic food'. Again this isn't what you might suspect. By 'historic' they mean reproductions of menus dating back to the 1600's, not what was left in the freezer from last year. That is nonetheless a fascinating idea. How much has food changed since 1600? They certainly didn't eat cornflakes for breakfast back then. Not so long ago I stumbled across a menu from the 1700's that was served by a pub in Marlborough. That made interesting reading. Most of the stuff listed was more or less what you can buy today although cooked in a much more straightforward manner without foreign vegetables or spices. The prices betrayed a certain trend toward serving the gentry passing through the town. Servants meals were considerably cheaper. I wonder what the difference was? Did the servants actually get lower quality food, or yesterdays left-overs, or was this simply a means of extracting cash from a gentleman's purse? What Do We Do With Them? Swindon's love affair with crumbling old buildings continues. Our local newsletter continues to moan about the continued existence of the abandoned Old College. Scandalous, they call it. Typical more like. What about the Mechanics Institute? If anything qualifies as a historic building, surely that does? Half the roof is missing to foestall a collapse and nobody seems able to to do anything with the site. Now the same situation is developing with the Locarno, a building dating back to 1852 which suffered a fire some years ago. Not quite the same eyesore as the other two buildings perhaps, but apparently there's been a number of planning requests made to the council, none of which result in anything being done. What is going on in this town? As much as we'll probably hate the result of action being taken on these sites and despairing of the commercial motives to changing the buildings use, but why can't anything be agreed between developrs and council officials? Do they want Swindon to look ruined? What Does Wootton Bassett Do Now? In the news is the imminent royal visit to Wootton Bassett. Also turning up is David Cameron apparently. With the change in arrival point of repatriated dead from foreign wars away from Lyneham airbase, Wooton Bassett will no longer get all the media attention and today the impending celebration of the towns significance is local news. I'm not blind and deadf to the sacrifice of those who served in the British Armed Forces, but there's a part of me that remains suspicious about the way the return of these dead men is being exploited. Soldiers have been killed in little wars or security operations for as long as I can remember, and I'm sure they suffered casualties before I was born. So in that respect, what has changed? It seems to me that whilst the good people of Wootton Bassett turned out to pay respect to the fallen regularly, this idea that the town is somehow worthy is simply a matter of circumstance. The town just happened to be on the route between the airbase where the transport landed and where the bodies were being taken. I don't remember anywhere being used in this fashion before. Using military virtue for political ends isn't a new idea at all. As much as I commend our lads for the work they do, I cannot help feel that so much of this circus in Wootton Bassett has been deliberately stage managed. Frankly I don't care which town the bodies travel through, or that royals and politicians will be there to celebrate the lines of mourners. I'm sure any town in England would respond similarly to the arrival of the fallen.. I do care that people are dying out there in some dusty hellhole. If the war is meant to achieve anything, surely we should be celebrating success where the operation is going on? It does beg the question - What will the town of Wootton Bassett do now their part in the war is over? Apparently it's going to be a stage for media events. I'm sure those respectful citizens of a small wiltshire town will be thrilled to know they've made a politician look good.