caldrail

Except that high prices were paid for silk in Rome where it was a rare luxury, thus there was a commercial motive to sell westward. Also bear in mind that western ships picking up cargoes were circumventing the chain of markets to reach the same end, thus maximising their profits.

Ah, but you see, to kill a deer and consume it yourself breaks medieval law. Okay, we don't hang poachers from the nearest tree any more, but these days most people have more sophisticated tastes and are generally not hungry enough to consider roadkill anyway.

Not so. The MB5 was obstructed officially and had the project been supported, the aircraft could well have seen service in the later stages of the war - and lets not forget Britains commitment to 'Tiger Force', the britiish contigent due to be sent to the pacific theatre to assist the invasion of the japanese islands. Also bear in mind that there were no technical or aerodynamic difficulties with the MB5 that would have entailed lengthy development.

Those were a bit late to see action in WW2.

That's interesting. Here in blighty we're all wondering who he was. Plus we're distracted by sportsmen dying at the age of 52. Not that we know which sportsman he was, you understand, but there you go.

In england it's okay to destroy the bambi population as long as it was an accident, and make sure you don't carry it off and cook it. The guy following you is allowed to do that however.

Now that the british weather has woken up and realised we were getting too much warmth and sunshine, october has returned with a vengeance. Although it isn't raining the temperature has dropped alarmingly, made worse by a strong wind. One of the regulars at the library rushed to his chosen computer and saw me. "It's a bit chilly out there isn't it?" Yes. Yes it is. Very. Maybe it just feels bad because we've had such a balmy autumn so far. There's barely a brown leaf to be seen anywhere. Still, life goes on, and since I needed some extra computer time I trudged across Swindon to my favourite internet cafe. Once my time ran out it was time to go home. No sooner had I emerged from the stygian depths of technological intercourse than I realised thre weather had changed completely in the hour I had been there. Great swathes of the darkest clouds I've ever seen in Swindon loomed omniously over me, clearly a supernatural message to get back in there and pay for another hour. Smudges of grey hung beneath the clouds, indicators of heavy rainfall. I could feel a drop here and there. Will Lord Caldrail manage to get home without a thorough soaking? Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen. The outcome will be revealed later. Roll On Some of you might know this already thanks to the untiring efforts of stand-up comedians to save the universe from the forces of entropy and primitive life forms, but Swindon is not the centre of the universe. For that reason, we Swindoners only experience a subset of british culture thus getting totally wasted on the weekend is regarded as the only way of forgetting the shame and boredom of living there. I suppose we have little choice really, because there's no more Swindon Foreign Legion, since with recent government cutbacks our fortress in Libya has recently been closed. Imagine my suprise then as I passed the local second hand car dealer. Most of his stock are the same old hand-me-down family cars as everyone sells, but occaisionally he pulls something unique out of the proverbial hat. There, sat beside the entrance to his premises, was a two tone blue Rolls Royce. Heck. You don't see many of those in Swindon. Now usually I lust and drool over italianate supersportscars, but I must admit, my lordly instincts were aroused by a gleaming paint job and acres of polished chrome. Come to think of it, that radiator is an iconic shape. It gives the car an air of authority all of it's own. It was also featured on the credits of puppet series Thunderbirds which I watched avidly as a child, thus that shape has been imprinted on my psyche forever. Curse you Satan! Tempt me not! I shall not be enslaved by massive repair bills and conspicuous consumption! Okay. I feel better now. But a part of me will always regret not having a big autocannon poking through the radiator. Parker? Shoot those plebs blocking our progress. "Now, m'lord?" Now, Parker... Night Of The Living Syrian Watching the news last night I learned that a syrian woman has mysteriously returned from the dead. Previously she was featured as the first woman beheaded in Syria under police custody. Who would have thought she would return as a zombie, hellbent on eating the brains of western journalists? The Outcome No, you were wrong, the clouds parted and soaked Swindon either side of me. I told I looked like Moses these days. Soon I shall be compelled to bring down the stone tablets from the upper storeys of the Job Centre, and tell everyone off for being richer and more orgiastic than me. Can't wait.

Distance and security. China and Rome don't seem toom faraway to us. We could travel between either destination in a day without any problem whatsoever. In Roman times, that was one heck of an exopedition. Especially since there was no record of what lay between, nor any clear indication of the respionse you would get from the locals when you arrived. Certainly it would be unlikely that you could carry enough to survive on during the journey so there really was an element of expedition involved. However, the explorers seem to be chinese. More than once they travelled west and touched the boundaries of the Roman middle east. On one occaision in ad96 an army was sent to conquer Rome though it never actually reached Roman territory. It is nonetheless extraordinary that an army could march that far in ancient times. But goods? I wouldn't say it was travelling from kingdom to kingdom - that's a more conbtemporary way of looking at it. Rather it was travelling from market to market, passed on by traders purely for business rather than any intent to send the stuff all the way around the european-asian landmass. Although the chinese did open negotiations for trade with the Romans, this was never a feature of commercial life to any extent and the short life of the Silk Road mitigated against it, and since sea travel was by far better for long distance trade we see goods crossing the Indian ocean each way, with greek ships reaching India, Sri Lanka, and possibly even Cambodia. The odd thing though is that whilst the chinese were known to be adventurous sailors (they explored the pacific and may well have landed on the american continent) I have never come across any information about how far chinese vessels ventured westward. Certainly they came overland, but whwere's the accounts of visits in africa, egypt, or arabia? We now need to discuss security. The problem with the Silk Road was that it crossed harsh and barbaric lands in both Roman and Chinese estimations. The insecurity of the Tarim Basin was the reason the road closed, and relations between the factions between China and Rome were not entirely stable at that time. Part of the difficulty of travelling such distances is the possibility of violence, theft, disease, or accident. Even today we can guess at the difficulties travellers must have faced by considering such a journey ourselves, though in fairness bureaucracy and regulation were not such a large feature of life in ancient times. That people lived in the territories between Rome and China isn't contested, although we must recognise that the density of populations in the wilderness areas was very sparse indeed, and that few trade centres have been identified. Further we must recognise that the culture of peoples varied and the potential for encountering nomads was more due to circumstance than expectation.

The MB5 scored on many levels. besides being an agile performer it was also designed for ease of maintenance, an important consideration in operational circumstances. Regarding the torque of pwerful engines, this was indeed a matter of skill. With the spitfire the pilot notes indicate a pilot must apply full rudder on running his engine up on take off, because the rudder area is too small to be effective at low speed. There's a story about a 1950's Farnborough Air Show in which a race was staged between two spitfires from a standing start. Both pilots were competitive RAF chaps and once the signal was given, both immediately opened throttles to the max. Also immediately both spitfires swung wildly and taxiied at high speed toward the audience enclosure causing a panic among the assembled top brass and their wives. That was of course a relatively easy aeroplane to handle. The 109 was well known for capricious behaviour on take off and landing, and something like half the airframes lost were due to accidents, not combat losses, with the quaint german phrase bumslandung used to describe a heavy landing and undercarriage collapse. In fact, when the 109G was collected by pilots from Finland for ferrying to their homeland, the germans were very keen to stress the difficulty of flying them and were expecting disasters from the novice finnish pilots, who, as it turned out, were well up to the job and regularly flew from strips much shorter than the germans considered vital for that aeroplane. With any powerful aeroplane of that period torque introduces dangers. As a Cessna pilot, if there was a problem at low altitude I could get out of danger simply by opening the throttle and climbing away. A sudden application of throttle in WW2 fighter can easily cause uncontrollable roll, something that contributed to the death of Mark Hanna ( a warbird display pilot of great skill and experience) when his Hispano Buchon (a spanish license built 109G with a merlin engine) encountered turbulence on landing. Obviously a contra-prop was a means of alleviating or eliminating some of these characteristics, but I note that despite several attempts to field aeroplanes with propellors of this kind, not one design of any nation made it to active service. Weight, complexity, and vulnerability to damage are all contributing factors.

Can anyone be perfect? Some of us believe so, usually the type of person that wears a black polo neck sweater, a gold medallion, and earns millions by telling everyone else how they can be too. I wonder how we see ourselves? The obvious answer is to use a mirror or a photograph, but what I actually mean is our own perception of ourselves. Those lads in the street this last weekend no doubt regard themselves as good-for-a-laugh salt-of-the-earth characters. What? A bunch of drunken louts? Heaven knows they try to communicate those sentiments often enough. None of us are perfect, including me. No, really, I admit it. I've no doubt whatsoever that people see me differently than I see myself. A young lady friend many years ago once implied my hair was grey. Didn't that bother me? No, not really, you see my hair started going grey in my teens. I don't really see it when I look in the mirror. She was very amused at my blindness though in truth she totally got the wrong idea. I guess she wasn't the perfect gitlfriend then. Nonetheless it is remarkably easy to give people the wrong impression. I can forgive the lady I passed the other day for being nervous. She didn't know me, I looked a little shabby, and there was no-one else around. Or perhaps it was my grey hair that worried her? I understand that. But what happens if you've known someone for years informally and they start acting oddly? There's another lady I bump into on a regular basis. She's polite and pleasant, as far as her profession requires her to be, but that behaviour turns out to be something of a mask. For some reason I've spooked her. She's taken to hiding in a toilet to avoid bumping into me. Why? Has she noticed my grey hair? For the record, most of the time I avoid her. Also Worth Avoiding Also worth avoiding was a fair haired chap who passed me by last week. He pointed past me at a shop window and said "Plenty of trains there" for no apparent reason whatsoever. No kidding. I'll just keep on walking by. No Trains For Me I received the shock news that I've been stopped from accessing a railways website because in the opinion of Swindon Council it ranked along with sex, violence, bigotry, racism, and inflammatory content. Didn't Swindon used to be a railway town? Anyone would think I was selling illegal photo's of steam engines in nightclubs, reducing innocent drunken louts to train-spotters. How criminal is that? Speculation of the Week With everyone getting promoted at the museum in front of me, they're running out of staff to give important jobs to. There's only Young S left to compete for that last final "You're now in charge of something". Could be a tight contest - He wears military surplus trousers too. So which of us is perfect for the job? I just hope the boss doesn't see my grey hair.

That about wraps it up for the warmest October on record. Still humid, still sweaty, and a damp drizzly day. "That's a right ol' rain that is." Commented some old guy as I left the library this morning. He was right. It was like being sprayed by a fine hose. Clearly a gentleman with much experience in the ways of Wiltshire weather. Yesterday was of course a good deal sunnier and I wandered around Croft Wood, taking in the solitude between dog walking shifts. It's never going to be as quiet as it once was with new housing developments sprouting nearby but for now you can still wander among the trees and spot the occaisional wildlife doing wild things in the wilderness. Except I didn't see anything. As we endure the end of the warm season and go straight into winter giving autumn a miss, I see a report on the internet news about the possible causes of an apocalyptic end of the world. Among the reasons we might cease to be was a lack of sunshine. Forget aliens, people - Keep watching the weather report! You Heard It Here First Having observed that Swindon was not a priority for the Conservative Party Conference in Manchester, I was thrilled to bits to see a slighty dampened news reporter on television pointing at a pamphlet about housing and telling us that Swindon didn't want all those new houses and reduced planning restrictions. There you go. You heard it here first. Having Mentioned It Also on the news was a report that wiltshire police are changing their strategy and ensuring that more police are on hand to deal with anti-social behaviour, especially that caused by drunkeness. That certainly worked over the weekend. Unfortunately the police weren't on hand when a bad tempered guy wandered into the job club area of the library and attempted to bully his way onto one of the computers set aside for claimants. As it happens you don't normally see bad behaviour like that in the library. Occaisionally some youth doesn't understand that a library is not a social club and insists on telling everyone at the top of his voice what his facebook mates are up to, but the ladies soon rip youngsters like him to pieces. Once I did see a tall black guy sneak onto a computer while the geeky user was looking for a book on the shelves and used his code for his own purposes, clearly grinning at his ability to intimidate the geek into letting him read emails on someone elses time. We claimants stopped what we were doing and looked over our shoulders with a disapproving scowl. Realising he was about to be ganged up on, the interloper decided to go bully someone else. He's still in the library now, wandering up and down in the forlorn hope of finding one that's free.

The problem with reliefs and sculptures is that they weren't made by soldiers, so the artist often depicted things with some measure of license and then again, deliberately left off details for composition or simply to allow painters to fill in the necessary detail later. The image above is fairly typical in that it 'suggests' a scene rather than records one like a photograph. It should therefore be understood that the depictions of salutes are not necessarily military ones but might actually be civilian in origin. Also, we have little or no idea whether the salute was a formal institution or simply a gesture carried out according to prevailing social trends - did salutes remain the same for hundreds of years? Possibly, but given the relative lack of detailed information on Roman drills can we be sure of that?

No, you're all completely wrong. The best ever british fighter of WW2 was the Martin Baker MB5, which sadly did not arrive quickly enough to see service and was obstructed politicially from doing so because the Ministry of Supply wanted Martin Baker to contract for other companies production. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin-Baker_MB_5 One test pilot recommended that the cockpit layout should be made stabndard for single engined fighters - albeit a little late in the day. In the words of Aeroplane Monthly "It remains a minor mystery why this fighter was never put into production". After the relative disappointment of the MB3 project the '5' was a much better aeroplane, which attracted no major criticism from test pilots at all. Please inform Mr Clarkson that he ought to learn a bit of aviation history first. Sorry. Couldn't resist that.

Nonsense, Marco Polo rode a horse to China and back. He travelled there and back certainly but his exact route is not recorded. Roman Legionnaires appear to have ended up in China after their capture at the battle of Carrhae. When the Mongols reached eastern Europe they were asking for the location of Rome. Rome was aware of China and China was aware of Rome. Those Romans reached China as slaves, though this has yet to be proven. As such they wouldn't necessarily have been taken there directly but traded eastward by a number of routes. Certainly sea routes were preferable they were much quicker but people will still have used the land routes. We know that greek ships were trading in the Idian Ocean and it's thought some of them reached Cambodia. There's no confirmation that western vessels of that era actually reached Chinese shores. As for the land routes, these were a series of short journeys by local merchants, not caravans setting out to reach the east. However, the Roman Empire was reached by chinese travellers more than once and note that in the campaign of the late nineties, the chinese expeditionary forces under Pan Ch'ao were persuaded by the PArthians not to confront or parley with Trajans legions who had reached the Caspian Sea at the same time. Both armies were as close as two days march from each other and the last thing the Parthians wanted was east and west coming to some agreement - it would spell the end of the lucrative tolls imposed on land trade across their territory. During the american gold rush most people sensibly came by ship. Either crossing overland at Panama or across Nicaragua up river by ship and crossing overland a distance of 10 miles on the Vanderbildt route. Or circumnavigating South America by sail ship. None the less many people came overland some pushing their belongings in wheel barrows. These people were no more advanced than the people of the old world in ancient times. Not entirely true. We are talking about 19th century adventurers and settlers here. the spice route had many thousands of years to develop. No, it didn't. China was attracted to idea of trade with Rome by way of rumour of a mighty empire in the west (Indeed, the objective of Pan Ch'ao's expedition was to conquer Rome before he was recalled to deal with security closer to home). Therefore only with the existence of Rome's power did the chinese seriously consider travelling that far. That doesn't discount chains of local trade existing anyway of course but the 'road' to China was only open for 100-150 years before warfare closed it forever, making se travel far more desirable.

I would assume so. Hollywood preserves many film traditions but typically doesn't like the restrictions of historical reality, which in this case we don't appear to have much information about. That's not to say the hollywood slaute is wrong, rather that it would be correct by a stroke of good fortune.

Swindon is a place of opposites. A place that is comfortable with its future but not with its past. A place that aspires to be a city but cannot free itself of a small town attitude. A place that is ribbed by comedians and... well... deserves to be. This paragraph alone probably puts me on a council ninja hit-list but I shall not be silenced. I saw a letter in the local newspaper written by a concerned visitor. His Swindon experience was marred by the number of rats running round the old place. If you're not used to our jungle enviroment I imagine that was pretty shocking, but hey, at least he hasn't caught bubonic plague or something. Some people are so fussy. It seems peculiar to me that for a town that is constantly being chopped and changed, the citizens repeatedly say they like it how it is. What? Rats and all? They say that hot weather can bring changes in behaviour and not for the better. Over this october weekend (the hottest ever recorded) we had a street party outside my home. You know, the sort I'm not invited to? It was a gathering of lads, a feature of Swindons non-gay nightlife, where they were free to bellow, yell, and advertise their butchness to attract the females in the early house of friday and saturday night. So what makes them worthy of heroic status? Alcohol? Numbers? Volume? They really have no idea. But that's Swindon for you. Incidentially that was also verbal abuse the other night lads. I don't suppose you care too much (being all tough and macho) but I wonder how it would take take you to burst into tears if you got arrested for it? Ask any policeman. Hey... That reminds me... Where did you lads all get to last night? For The Better In other news I see the Conservative Party are holding their annual conference. I suppose I should say something about that. Not sure what though... Think of a word... Any word... Anyhow, I doubt the politicians gathered in Manchester will be discussing Swindon's rat problem. If it comes to that, I doubt they'll be discussing Swindon. More likely they'll be plotting to make the world a better place. Trust me guys, you're on a loser, Swindon's been trying to do that for ages. Trouble is we're stuck with the same people in it. And For The Worse Nothing lasts forever, and in englands wet and windy land, good weather soon gives way to something less desirable. The street party season is to close soon as the remnants of hurricane Ophelia are set to dampen our british spirits. So I'll be able to get some sleep then?

You've tried them? You have no idea how true that is of Swindons fairer sex. Most are temperamental, bullying, foul mouthed, usually plump-esque and really not that attractive. Our town is way above average for under age sex and single parentage (I'm not responsible for that mind you - trust me, I haven't got the patience or body armour to cope) But all the same there is such a thing as tradition. We english persons like our traditions. Especially the sexier ones.

The islamic expertise in medicine and other areas of knowledge is widley accepted. They had even evolved a system for mental health care in the early medieval period, employing musicians to calm their patients. To what extent this was influenced by classical texts is hard to say, because such information was rare to begin with, and the idea that the classical texts formed the basis of health care in the west is wrong, since we know that tradional remedies were used into medieval times rather than those preserved in literature which were not widely available, nor officially promulgated. Only with the establishment of a medical profession were classical texts re-evaluated and made a basis for understanding, since there was little else for them to rely on before the widespread acceptance of dissection and the industry of grave-robbing it inspired. In other words, medical care in earlier times is more closely based on direct study than reading of classical texts.

The modern salute of a hand raised to eye level evolves from the middle ages where knights raised visors to reveal their faces as a matter of courtesy toward each other - Note that in the British Army it is incorrect to salute without wearing headress. The 'nazi' style of salute of a raised arm is a form of acknowledgement apparently used by politicians and emperors and preserved in statues, though I don't know whether this was a standard social custom or merely an instinctive one. In any case the posture is never depicted as rigid. It's unlikely that Roman soldiers used the same salute toward their officers. Clearly the Romans employed a salute as a mark of respect toward authority but I haven't seen any evidence for what form it took. Notice however that the salute could vary according to the rank of the person being honoured. There is no recorded system of gestures for this so we could reasonably assume that a verbal component is part of the ritual, so in other words, a soldier salutes and confirms his recognition of the persons rank by stating it.

Now here I disagree. Not because I think the Romans were brilliant dioctors (which I don't - as you point out, they had limits on their skills and knowledge) but because we're thinking in terms of standards. That's a modern attribute. I do recognise that the Romans did evolve some standards such as basic measurements and plumbing (They used fittings of lead and bronze of set sizes) yet the medical profession in Roman times did not have colleges for training nor was there a hippocratic oath. Any idiot could call himself a physician and set up business. It would be my contention that the 'standard' of health care varied enormously.

Yes it did. Definitely a good omen, fit to be ignored by Job Centre bureaucrats on orders from upstanding pillars of the community outraged at my outrageous attempt at DIY lording. But thanks for the offer of a prezzie. You really ought to have sent a serf to deliver it. You do need to think this way if you want to impress. Call it.. management training.

This morning I sat through another shift at the museum. Come on people, why not pop in and learn something? What about you madam? Fancy a trip through history? No? What about you sir? Yes you. Why not save on your mobile phone charges by spending an hour on our premises? No? Hang on madam. That child of yours needs an education. Bring your little barbarian in here and put him off to a good start toward civilisation. No? And who is that woman who keeps walking past the museum in the same direction? Is she going around in circles for fun or is she hopelessly lost? Just at the point when depression and boredom was bringing me to the point of despair, Young L turned up. At last. He might not be the brainiest guy in the world but after hours of isolation on the front desk, start talking mate. You will talk. We have ways of making you talk. "Me Sir? No Sir" He replied in a silly voice. Erm... What? It turns out that was a quote from Jar jar Binks, a character from the Star Wars films who was probably an agent of the dark side only no-one noticed because of his silly accent and idiot behaviour. I reminded Young L that I was holding a pencil. It could get painful if he doesn't stop reminding me of the mental trauma that character imposed upon me. Sadly I was unable to act on my threat of physical violence when I discovered that Young L has been made the Front Desk Boss. Passed over for a football player? What is the world coming to? Naturally when discussing Star Wars the discussion inevitably arrives at Yoda, the loveable old muppet that trained the Jedi Knights to feel the force and find out who their fathers were. Ben Kenobi? Don't make me laugh. He didn't last the first film. On the other hand, Yoda reached a respectable 900 years of age. "But he's only one foot tall" Mentioned Young S, one of the Front Desk Knights defending the museum. Yes, well, you see people shrink with age, S. Yoda was probably eight feet tall at your age. I wonder how tall I'll be in 850 years time? Minus six feet I waould guess, though Young S assures me the russian wonder pill that makes people live for eight hundred years is almost ready for sale in the west. So could I be a frazzled green goblin wielding light sabres in mortal combat when I get old? Might need some fitness training. Wrong Button Years ago I took a young lady friend for a joyride in a cessna 150. Those aeroplanes are very compact, let me tell you, and snuggling up to an attractive woman is probably one of the best reasons for wanting to be a flying instructor. However, on this occaision she was wowed by the array of dials, levers, and switches on the panel in front of her. Well... This does that... And that does this... I have no idea what that button does so I never use it. Safety first. I see on the news that an airline pilot did use that button and immediately lost 6000 feet of altitude, almost flipping upside down in the process. Good grief. Am I glad I didn't mess with the wrong buttons. I remember that at the end of one such joyride I reminded the woman that the step on the landing leg was very small and if you miss it, you'll fall off the aeroplane, which was exactly what I did. There you go. That was a demonstration of what can happen if you climb out of an aeroplane in a clumsy fashion. I hope you were paying attention because I won't be repeating it. She looked at me with new found dismay. On Parade That was a hot day, especially at this time of year. Even late at night I was still sweating profusely. There I was, minding my own business, walking along the pavement without a care in the world, when up ahead a line of men all dressed identically in black jumpsuits and large chrome zips approached in a line, shoulder to shoulder, like a parade of the Special Hair Service. It was the strangest thing I've seen in quite a while, I can tell you. No idea who they were. Don't really want to know. Do have fun, chaps. Somewhere else though, okay?

Thanks chaps - I knew you guys wouln't let me down What's fifty like? Well... Sort of like forty nine but with the bonus of eing relatively popular for a day or two. On the negative side, I have so far filed utterly to achieve a birthday kiss from a young lady. Just one of the hazards of growing old I guess

The equite was the wealthiest class of citizen and because he could afford a horse, he was also the cavalry contingent, thus the derivation of the name, preserved in gladiatorial combat with a class of mounted fighter. later the equites became a sort of Roman middle class (though some commentators dislike that phrase) with increasing influence in government departments dating back to the reign of Claudius.

Take a deep breath Caldrail. Today you are fifty years of age. Funny thing is I don't feel like I'm fifty, apart from the usual disintegration of the male body in middle age. They say you're as young as you feel and coincidentially I keep getting people telling me that I'm still young. It seems the average person has a very poor understanding of human biology. Fifty is one of those milestones in your life. Quite why the number fifty is significant is a matter of curiosity to me. There's no legal or cultural change at that age. I don't look any different. I don't feel any different. All I did was wake up this morning, study the crags in the bathroom mirror, and plodded off about my business as usual. Heaven forbid that I should take the day off from my jobsearch. Since they don't respect my title in any way whatsoever, I seriously doubt my birthday will impress them. That brings me to an interesting point. By now a typical reader might be speculating the orgy of festivites I'll be facing tonight. It's expected that I endure some large party to celebrate my fiftieth. I suppose in better circumstances I would. It is after all expected. There's almost a competitive element involved in which I must stage some spectacular celebration or be considered a loser, fit only be spurned and scorned. Let's be honest - it isn't going to happen. Fifty? Not this year. Does that make me miserable and upset? No. It doesn't. During the last weekend I attended a group discussion on how an individual can make a positive contribution to society. One young chap spoke up, a sufferer of Aspergers Syndrome, and he said that his life was being dragged down by those around him until he made a concious decision that happiness was his to command. That might seem a tiny or irrelevant thing to say but it wasn't. The fact that my fiftieth won't be marked by some massive party in which six hundred drunkards will fight to the death, several thousand chickens slaughtered in a mindless buffet, or teams of hot hatches racing around the local area in a daring attempt to win the honour of being crowned champion, is neither here nor there - though I suspect the police will be relieved. Okay, my world is not as wondeful as it might be. But who cares? Awww what the heck. I am going to take the day off. Don't care. It's my birthday and I'll enjoy it if I want to. Ding! What's that? Someones ringing my doorbell? Probably someone's got the wrong door, which is usually what happens, but you never know. It might be a birthday present sent to me by some kind person that needs signing for. Nope. It wasn't. Instead I was greeted by two plain clothes policemen. You mean... No... Surely not?... My stolen Eunos Cabriolet has been found? My hopes were cruelly dashed. Cast your mind back if you will but long time readers might remember that the Job Centre once began the rigmarole required to get me a shotgun license. All I ever did was make a sarcastic remark when I was in a bad mood and asked by a claims advisor if there was anything I needed. I never expected anyone to take that request seriously. One might have hoped they'd wish happy birthday but there you go. Anyhow, the policeman politely explained that someone had reported an attempt to obtain a firearm and they needed to eliminate me from their enquiries. Luckily they didn't seem to be armed. Aren't our policemen wonderful? That's what you get for having an argument with a jumped up arrogant busybody at the Job Centre I guess. No problem. I merely explained the circumstance and that the event had happened ages ago. The policemen left happy knowing I wasn't about to commit crime or violent rampage. I went back inside grieving for my poor lost Eunos, youth, and any sign of birthday present deliveries. By The Way Ye gods this is a warm day. Glad I took the day off. Maybe I did get a birthday gift after all? Always look the bright side.