caldrail

Scientists are busy discovering why african naked mole rats live so long. Apparently they can live for thirty years, nearly four times the lifespan of their genetic cousins, and don't suffer from cancer. Naturally scientists believe that studying the hairless little mammals might have beneficial consequences for us too. Sometimes I wonder if the answer isn't a bit more obvious and doesn't require intense study of graphs, spreadsheets, slides, and scanner imagery. These little mammals don't sunbathe, drive cars, smoke, or eat too many packets of crisps. They aren't subjected to party political broadcasts or propaganda about global warming. They don't have bureaucratic tyrants like politicians, bank managers, or traffic wardens to ruin their entire day. Am I jealous? No... Not really... Since I've already lived nearly twice as long as your typical naked mole rat. Not sure living in a dark earth tunnel would suit me all that much either. But then I'd never get planning permission for it anyway. Planning Permissions Much Sought After The people who campaigned against the developers who wanted to build new housing estates on the farmland surrounding Coate Water struck a victory in my view. With planning permission refused, the bureaucrats for once made a sensible decision that kept the area as a place of natural beauty. In the newspaper this newspaper today is the warning that the developers are trying again. Round two. Ding ding. Please guys, just build those horrible bland dwellings somewhere else. Oh ye gods. I'm turning into a NIMBY. Results Just In I'd like to thank everyone who voted for me yesterday (you [ii]did[/i] vote, didn't you?) but sadly democracy wasn't powerful enough to prevent me from getting wet. I therefore hid under a tree and continued to get wet. Believing the rain was easing I attempted to dash home, and succeeded in getting wetter. C'est la vie. I have heard though that the government are planning to send millions of pounds worth of aid to those suffering the terrible conditions in the horn of Africa. Sadly, naked mole rats don't qualify unless they sign up for medical experimentation, but the heartbreaking film clips of infants barely breathing isn't easily dismissed despite the blatant message the filmmakers are putting across. It is a bit ironic isn't it? With benefits capped and claimants kneecapped if they don't jump through government sponsored hoops, not to mention cutting the armed forces down to size, the efforts to reduce costs don't appear to be helping our own citizens. Instead, we're helping starving africans or the irish economy.Or rather, the government is. Maybe they're getting some practice at dealing with poverty?

Oh for crying out loud Ghost, the people you're so worried about upsetting are often more racist than you. The reason so few blacks and asians cross your path is because they prefer not to. Not so long ago I was sat in the local library while a young black lady decided to manage her social diary via a mobile phone. As the policy toward mobile phones in there is to avoid annoying other people, I reminded her that using a mobile wasn't alowed on the 2nd floor. She responded angrily as if I had transgressed her human rights. She even suggested that if I had a problem then it should be settled on the street (her words, not mine). When the librarian nervously intervened at my insistence, she said that I had 'spoken to her like a dog'. I wish now I had. That sort of thing isn't unusual. Some people of ethnic origin cling to this idea that they're downtrodden so that they can exploit situations to their advantage. It's a form of aggression, emotional blackmail, bullying even. I have no problem with the colour of peoples skin. I do have a problem with people using it to push others around. My advice is stop worrying about it.

What is it with banks these days? If for any reason you approach a teller with a request beyond simply giving them money they can't cope. "Why don't you do this?" They suggest, "Why can't you be the same as everyone else and ask for a service we know how to do?" Because your clever automated system doesn't meet my requirements, that's why not. Why can't banks train their staff any more? What happened to all this wonderful customer service? In the television adverts everyone is happy, efficient, finding new ways to help their customers. Which bank did they film that in? Certainly wasn't in my home town. And now shops are getting into the act. Supermarkets and high street retailers are installing automated tills so that they don't have to provide customer service anymore. Instead of a smile and a brief chat whilst your goods are packed and paid for, now you get hassled by an instructor who suggests we use their new computerised sales-android. Step one. Do not talk to anyone. You will now process your shopping. Step two. Scan your shopping. All of it please. Step three. Enter your payment method Step four. Find help because it's all gone horribly wrong. You know, I've never been one for shopping as a hobby, but it can be a pleasurable exercise. You get to know the assistants and greet them cheerily. Well most of the time. Occaisionally you get an ignorant widow of Saddam Hussein doing her best not to serve you, but at least it's interaction of a sort. All this cost-efficient automation makes shopping like working on a production line. You're late for shopping. Do that again and we'll have to give you an official verbal warning. Scan faster, citizen, there's a queue behind you. Sorry, but that card is not recognised. So what happens when something in this totally conformal brave new world doesn't happen exactly the way the planners intended? Oh no. This milk carton is leaking. There's no button on the screen for exchanging goods. Help! What do I do? The android box is repeatedly asking me if I've finished. I'm not trained for this sort of situation! Question Time The behaviour of newspaper employers is very much in the public eye right now. For those unaware of events in Britain, the mobile phone of a murder victim was hacked into and messages deleted to make space for more attempts to contact the dead person, giving false hope to the families victim. "Will the Prime Minister support the need for an enquiry into the behaviour of newspapers?" Asked the opposition leader. You know, wotisname. "Yes," Replied our Prime Minister with a slight pause as he thought of an answer, "We do support the idea of an enquiry into newspape ethics, but we must enquire into how to do this properly." The leader of the opposition is claiming this enquiry is what the people of Britain want. I'm suprised anyone has managed to find that out. Hurry Up Caldrail "Look at this!" Enthused the television weatherman. He must be one of the customers in that super-happy bank. However the source of his enthusiasm is an assault upon England by rainclouds invading our sies from the southwest. Cornwall and Devon are already conquered. The sky might be blue right now, but we've had two heavy showers today already. Those clouds hanging over west swindon are dark, threatening, and heading my way. Does the Prime Minister support the need for an enquiry into the shocking state of our British weather? Does he not realise that British people want sunshine? Why is the government not taking action on this issue? This is yet another example of how our political system is failing the people of Britain. Hey - I could be an MP. Vote Caldrail. Before I get wet.

It's raining. Who would have thought that was going to happen in rainy old Swindon? Not a downpour I have to say, but a sort of indifferent and patchy damp mist. About time too because the air was very stale yesterday. Those of you who live in places like Miami might laught at my british inability to deal with humid warmth, but hey, try our dampness. At least today is a chance to get some cool air into the house. Oh yes, here in blighty we have air conditioners too. We call them windows. Unfortunately open windows allow noise from the street to enter my little haven of peace and quiet. That intermittent bleeping from the pedestrian crossing for instance. Or the burglar alarm from the empty office across the road. Or the occaisional social gathering in the street. Workmen digging up the road trying to put something right that the last bunch who dug it up got wrong. Or the doppler shifted wail of a police siren flashing past. Talking about the police, did I mention previously that since my efforts to solve the mystery of my missing car has obviously impressed someone? I received a job alert email telling me that I could start a great career with the neighbouring police force. Now to me that seems like a difficult interview. I mean, it's all very well well showing up in a shirt and tie, but they're going to want people who have no sense of humour. I would have to look totally serious. The answer to all my problems is a company in Kent who are importing used american police cars. I too can cruise around in a Ford Crown Victoria with a friendly message on the side telling the public how safe I'm going to make them. In an american car with primeval suspension and no steering? At least I can switch on the lights and siren to warn people I'm driving through their quiet little village. However, despite the V8 lurking under the hood, I will not be allowed to drive fast, siren or not. Let's face it, arriving a little too quickly won't improve my chances in interview at the police headquarters. If Hollywood is anything to go by, I'll also be upside down. They'll really love that. "Excuse me Sir? You can't park that here..." Catspotter Corner Has there been a change of yard ownership? Tabby has vanished and the other day I saw a black and white cat, a larger, more confident member of the species, patrolling his new realm. I'll be posting updates as I get them. A More Serious Territorial Argument I remember being told a tale about a lancaster bomber shot down over Germany in World War Two. The crew managed to bale out. Six of them were picked up by the Wehrmacht, the regular army, and were treated well. Wounds treated at hospital, persons taken to a prisoner of war camp. One of the crew had the misfortune to be picked up by the Waffen SS, the military arm of Hitlers bodyguard. He was hanged from the nearest tree. The recent news that a british soldier went missing in Afghanistan, later to be found shot dead, was for me a sobering thought. Why should this be so in particular? More than a hundred british sldiers have ended their lives in that very dry and ruined corner of Forever England. Some of those were shot, others dismembered by the indiscriminate improvised explosive device. Strictly speaking, any death is regrettable. Each one calls into question the desire to interfere in a poverty stricken desert far far away. Yet this apparent kidnapping was something more spiteful. In a contact situation, the possibility of death or injury is always present. There's a sort of gladiatorial mindset that accepts this. Live by the sword as it were. But when a man is kidnapped and shot dead, it doesn't equate to any sense of an honourable fight. It was, in a very real sense, premeditated murder, inspired by religious zealousness and cultural bigotry. I imagine the Taliban, who claim they did it unashamedly, would sneer at my view. Well it isn't as if I was overly impressed by their announcements to begin with, but those who kill without honour have none. I'm sure a soldier would understand that.

There are indeed differences in opinion regarding the relative strengths of Goths and Romans. The broad picture from the sources is that the majority of Roman troops had declined through idleness and poor leadership. The veterans are described in very poor terms. However, it is made clear that Sebastianus chose an 'elite' corps of younger recruits who were keen to get stuck in, as opposed to the goldbricking senior troops (whom I note required a lot of persuasion from Valens to actually march toward Adrianople). This advance corps was responsible for the more impressive results against the Goths, which backs your contention about leadership. Jordanes does say that after Adrianople efforts were made to improve the legions. I don't know what level of capability they achieved, but Jordanes specifically says that from that point Fritigern and the Visigoths were afraid of them. In any event, Fritigern died two years after Adrianople having fought the Romans whom he no doubt had personal issues with. Notably the older king, Athanaric, re-assumes command and makes a deal with the Romans. Now as to the thorny question of gothic competence - some people assume that because Adrianople was such a walkover that they were that much better than the Roman troop. Not so, as the previous events indicate, though clearly the goths were able to take advantage of the chaos and disorder of Valens army. I personally think that Goldsworthy is right. The Goths did not fight in any really sophisticated manner, relying on personal courage and circumstance, but I'm not discounting Heather's contention because the Goths had previous experience of fighting Romans and indeed had Roman deserters among their number. It would be more accurate, I think, to say that the Goths 'knew' the Romans to some extent and thus were well aware of their strengths and weaknesses. In fact, heathers contention wobbles when you consider the cause of the Gothic Rebellion - that the Roman commanders, Lupicinus and Maximus, had encouraged the savage exploitation of their new immigrants and might even had in mind to enslave the lot for personal profit. There is a certain innocence when reading about the goths who arrived on the south bank of the Danube.

Police incident report? All I got was a letter telling me they were sorry I was a victim of crime and that the case was closed.

I passed a small advertisment the other. "Life After Death". Apparently if I pop down and attend the lecture I can learn all about what happens when biology stops working. They also claim I can discover the Meaning of Life. I doubt they have a gargantuan supercomputer that's been calculating the answer to life, universe, and everything for the last seven million years, so I kind of wonder where they get all this information from, but hey, who knows? Perhaps I was Julius Caesar after all. At this point I usually get all philosophical and start dissecting various dead theories. Today though, I will point out two interesting coincidences. Coincidence No1 The advert was posted on the plywood fence surrounding the Old College Site. Now you didn't exppect hat shocker, did you? It is quite appropriate. The building is disused apart from a few vandals, beggars, urban mammalian scavengers, and a wandering secuirty guard whose purpose on site appears to be not to notice anything. This building is dead. It has ceased to be. Except the concrete corpse with broken windows and grafitti still stands. I saw a program about what would happen if humanity simply ceased to be. Our cities and towns would apparently crumble and vanish within two hundred years. So if the owners are so reluctant to redevelop the site, perhaps they should just stick around? Nature will demolish it for them. Oh yes. The coincidence. Well, as we all know by now, the site is due for redevelopment into Swindons latest tourist attraction, a real live working shopping mall. Not many of those left these days, what with the credit crunch, economic downturns, and carnivorous traffic wardens that fine you for the slightest hint of wanting to stay. An old site with new life. There. I told you it was a coincidence. Coincidence No2 Today is the day when I begin my new two year course designed to turn me from a shabby listless scrounger into a energetic, dynamic go-getter with career prospects, smart clothes, and business compatible saloon car. I mean, is that life after death, or what? If anyone has images of dole claiming zombies rising from the grave and dragging their dead limbs to the nearest workplace where they will toil in undead servitude for their new masters, I wonder if you're right. Is this initiative truly a form of life after death, or merely some shiney new chains in the same old dungeon? At the moment I don't know. Very soon I shall be summoned to that dark citadel where the employment service provider sits upon his throne, plotting and scheming to create a new race of super slaves to boost government statistics... The government want to breath life back into the economy. They want to put all unemployed people back to work. That includes me of course. I'm not exempt from this government sponsored reincarnation, and if I were honest, I won't mind going back to work at all. At least that way I'll have some chance of paying my energy bills. Also the local burglar declared his intention to "tax" me last night, probably more to impress his friends than actually earn money from stealing my property. Coincidence No3 This brings up an unrelated coincidence, as it happens, because in the light of the recent forced entry into a home by four villains, one of whom got himself stabbed by a member of the household and abandoned to die down the road by his friends, has led to a Commons debate about the rights of citizens to defend themselves and their property. As the law stands you can only use 'appropriate' levels of violence, but it makes no difference if you do carefully calcultate the correct force to apply in confrontations because inevitably the burglars rights have been infringed and the police like news headlines. So you get arrested as well as burgled. Like what the government does but without being voted into office. Now there's a coincidence.

Or a night in with the girls... I've been so naughty... Oh. Ahem. Sorry I forgot where I was just there.

You do seem to have a fascination for alternative interpretation! that's fine as far it goes, but realise that learned men often place a high value on their accrued expertise for obvious reasons. Have you ever watched Adrian Goldsworthy in a television interview? When he finishes his point, he raises his chin, and gives the most incredible "Doubt me if you dare" glance down his nose. Fantastic stuff. Historical interpretation can be seen as something of a bell curve, with traditional accepted versions being the central bulge. That doesn't mean the interpretation is right, but if you choose to flout convention, you need be sure you're on solid ground, which actually tends to lead people back toward the centre because the better interpretations are based on historical and archaeological evidence shared by amateur and expert alike. Where the expert sometimes has an advantage over the amaeur is access to detailed information restricted from common view.

Wealthy teenage daughters

There are a lot of interesting aspects to history that get ignored, misinterpreted, or forgotten. There was the dutch takeover of Britain in 1688 by William III of Orange for instance. French as spoken in medieval england was essentially the norman dialect having been brought across by the invasion of 1066 and set up as the language of the upper class. Marlborough French is is an oddity, inherited from the language spoken by the ferench occupiers of 1216, and who knows? Maybe some frenchmen settled there when the war ended? It is true that from our modern view the Normans are seen as Frenchmen. I agree they were viking descendants who had adopted cultural influences of the region (including language), but such is the traditional 'competitiveness' between France and Britain, it tends to overlook details when dealing with invasions across the Channel.

I thought married men were enslaved by default?

Here we see elements of late empire soldiering that accentuate the gothic success. Vegetius tells that the strength and substance of the legions had gone. Indeed, Jordanes confirms that only after Adrianople was the standard of soldiering in the legions improved. Zoosimus is rather more scathing, and infers that the legionaries of that time were... well... poofs. Marcellinus doesn't hand out these kind of opinions, but nonetheless there's clearly a large majority of legionaries who have little intention of actually fighting and are ill prepared to do so. The rapid mobilisation of the troops was rendered necessary because the goths had gotten a little upset about the poor deal there were getting and a confrontation had taken place. Using this civil disorder as an excuse, Lupicinus and Maximus decided to assassinate the gothic leaders and their guards. The attempt was only partially successful and Fritigern escaped with a swordfight that comes straight out of an Errol Flynn movie, but apparently one that did take place. Naturally escalation in disorder resulted in what was essentially a rebellion by tribesmen who had not been properly settled after being allowed to do so. The Goths obviously felt aggrieved having been forced to sell everything, wives and children too, for provisions that can only be described as below an acceptable standard. With such a large force of rioting and raiding goths at large, the governors of the area (Lupicinus and Maximus) had little choice but to call out the troops. As was typical for that time, they were less than ready and with the hasty deployment helping them not at all, it was easy for the Goths to sieze the initiative and prevail. Clealry the Goths had every motive to fight. For them, it was becoming a matter of survival, and in any case they were a people known for their readiness to bear arms. Indeed, it was said the Goths would take anyone with them if they were willing to fight. We shouldn't be suprised then that the local Roman troops were overwhelmed. That doesn't mean the Goths were especially capable, rather that they were better motivated by necessity and in a position to take the initiative, which they did. In terms of campaigning however the Goths were less able to fend off Roman raids, a method of warfare that was increasingly prevalent in the wider scope of late empiree hostilities. There is a parallel between this initial fight and the later battle of Adrianople in that when the Roman troops attempted to conduct formal confrontations, they were disorganised and ineffectual. This is one major change since the pre-constantine era. The ability of legions to mount formal battles had withered by disuse.

No, they didn't. Sebastianus had pushed for Valens to recognise that a less formal style of warfare was going to get the better of the Goths. He did actually prove his point. Zosimus informs us that during the initial raiding phase of the camp;aign gothic heads were being sent to Constantinople every day. Also, we know the goths suffered a significant defeat at the River maritza days before Adrianople, which was one reason why gothic cavalry was not initally present, having been sent en masse for foraging to prevent being overwhelmed by Roman forces. Also bear in mind that although the previous war with the goths a few years earlier was inconlusive, the goths surrendered despite being able to maintain some measure of initiative.

Not quite, but formal formations weren't part of the style. As it happens, a looser style of combat (which incidentially I have to admit Hannibals gauls were probably guilty of) doesn't set aside the human instinct for safety in numbers. the usual analogy I draw here is rioters. They tend to surge back and forth as a group with braver souls daring to rush forward here and there, possibly inspiring a larger attack when the individual is successful. This is not unusual behaviour for warrior peoples who value individual heroism in battle. Sometimes this is more than simple bravado however. We have indications from dark age Britain, as well as Adriannople, that warriors seeking to throw a missile will tend to rush forward from the group in order to propel it, rather like a modern javelin thrower. There are practicle reasons for doing this, such as adding to the energy and range of the attack, as well as finding enough space to complete the throw without interference from your adjacent colleagues. You could argue that it wasn't necessary in that the Romans were known to have loosed volleys of pila without the need for chaotic 'fire at will'. In spirit I have to agree, but bear in mind we don't know the exact drill they employed. It is reasonable to assume they made allowances for obstruction in some way during a co-ordinated mabnnoever. As regards battle plans, please realise that ancient armies lacked any formal means of communicating on the battlefield. The dedicated couriers of later eras were not used. Trumpets had a limited range of commands, and in Roman organisation, focused on 'local' comntrol. Flags or other signals were not used in battle. On the face of it, it might seem strange that an organised Roman legion did not develop runners and riders as a communication network. They were used sometimes, on an ad hoc basis where considered necessary, but it must be borne in mind that Roman soldiers were not sophisticated people. The extent of training is sometimes exaggerated and in any case was more likely focused on performance in the field rather than expanding their repetoire. Furthermore, we don't know of any military manuals until the late empire and sadly none have survived. Whereas a commander of an ancient army may have a plan conceived beforehand, irrespective of which faction he was commanding, the ancient battlefield is more akin to a straight fight than a game of chess. Move and countermove belong to periods where group co-ordination has become a routine and essential facet of battlefield behaviour. When dealing with the ancients, we ought to notice that all of them were doing pretty much the same things when it came to the actual fight. Sword and shield. Horse and spear. Missiles and mobility. The style in which these actions took place may have varied, but at the point of contact, there was little functional difference except perhaps for the coherence of it, and even then, that was often circumstantial rather a matter of disciplined civilisation versus chaotic barbarians. Anceitnt commanders required one essential thing before it became possible to control the actions of an army during a battle. Time. Without it, the pressure to keep fighting and rally against enemy action overcomes any motive toward intelligent planning. If the day drags on, with much waiting, then it's possible for plans to be thought, communicated, and enacted, which indeed we see the wiley Goths doing at Adrianople (actually the Romans tried to as well, but their scheme was based on different expectations of behaviour and basically made no difference whatsoever) Other than that, tactics amount to very localised initiative and action. The Romans themselves recognised the necessity for this. Each century was required to react to enemy moves in such a way as to optimise their chances, something that was done without external command, and as we know, at Cannae Hannibal exploited this feature of Roman doctrine mercilessly.

yeah, vehicle licensing is kind of strange. I had a SORN'd vehicle that's been recently stolen. The police told me to investigate it myself. The DVLA seemed completely unconcerned when I phoned them to report it stolen, so I now have an off-road declaration for a non-insured non-operational invisible Eunos cabriolet that is nonetheless legally owned by me. I wonder if I'll get a letter asking me if I want to continue my SORN declaration later next year? At least that way they can't prosecute or fine me for incorrect vehicle registration.

Two different periods and two different armies. Hannibal did have sizeable numbers of gaulish volunteers spoiling for a fight among his mercenaries, many of whom were experienced troops, but Fritigern was commanding a tribal gathering rather than a formal army in the sense Hannibal fielded. I accept that the Goths were only too happy to bring anyone in who was willing to fight for them, including numbers of alans and Roman deserters. On the one hand the Carthaginian force was an army gathered deliberately to conduct war against Rome. On the other, the Goths were a tribal rebellion after what they considered treachery had occured. Further, Adrianople was the site of the gothic camp and thus wives, familieis, and slaves (if they still owned any) were present. The variety of equipment varied between era's too. Goths were renowned for carrying a considerable surplus of weapons and made far more use of thrown missiles per man. Unlike the more disciplined veterans of the hannabalic army, Goths were very much individualistic and opportunistic fighters.

Isn't this true also for modern armies? It's true of every army ever put together more or less. However, the Roman legions attract a lot of 'military machine' and 'utterly disciplined' descriptions which are based on a romantic, if somewhat modern, vision of what the legions were. Roman writers are less prone to this glorification, but then, they experienced legionaries in everyday life. In fact, the Romans do praise the successes of their soldiers. It's just that they weren't blind to their faults. Josephus presents an interesting insight into the legions of his day. On the one hand he's responsible for the famous quote "Drills were bloody battles, and battles were bloody drills". Don't get carried away by the apparent glorification because elsewhere he highlights his impressions of 1st century legions with anecdotes that show a military force that is far from the perfection we sometimes want the Romans to have been.

"You're a crap guitarist!" Yelled the young lady next door through the wall. Yeah? Really? You mean I am a guitarist? At last! After countless years of practice, sore fingers, grinning salesmen and a rapidly emptying wallet, I have finally achieved the heady status of guitarist! Not bad for a drummer. So am I shocked, dismayed, discouraged by her overt and unexpected critique of my guitar playing? What does she know? I mean, she's only a next door neighbour. It's not as if she's paying to hear me play, and for that matter, I'm practising rather than performing. Not quite the same thing. It's like watching an athlete do push-ups and complaining that he's not winning races. One could, if one were mean, nasty, and prone to drumming loudly enough to get banned from venues up and down the country, point out that her expertise as a music critic might be called into question by virtue of the lack of guitar playing I hear from her side of the brick wall. Let me guess. She can't play a note. Everyone's a critic. Time and again I've stumbled into a bar in some place or other and stumbled across a guitar player who really can play. I've worked with one or two talented players and without exception, they are incredibly difficult people to work with. Not necessarily arogant, just unreliable and mecurial. That worries me a bit because if I'm turning into an unreliable mecurial personality, my claims advisor won't like it. Somehow I doubt they'll be swayed by the revelation that I've become a guitar player. I think they may have heard that excuse before. Well that's enough practice for tonight. I wouldn't want to upset the neighbours. Everyones A Critic I left the library the other day after my daily dose of internetting, and began to trudge home along the busy road junction outside. Ahead of me was a towering bulk of a man, shaven haired, spotless black shirt and trousers, clutching enough cigarette smoking apparatus to cause cancer at five hundred paces. Sometimes you just know that the other person is looking for trouble. This off-duty nazi was moody and within a comment or two of violence. His overt masculinity might appeal to some people, but in all honesty I found him an uncomfortable fellow to share a pavement with, and despite his attempt to warn me off, my complete lack of homosexuality meant that his arse was actually a lot safer than he imagined. But of course that was all an excuse. He was suffering that kind of slightly sozzled frustration that leads some men to throw punches for fun. I'll leave him to it. Everyone else is too. In any case, he doesn't come across as a particularly great guy. I do hope he finds a friend one day. Another like minded individual for whom life is all about beating chests and innocent passers by. Perhaps though his lonelieness is heightened by the fact that the law frowns on that form of social interaction. He tried to attract my attention as I crossed the lanes of traffic. Maybe he needed help to cross the road, being a little unsteady on his feet? Maybe he just wanted an audience, to practice his taunts and insults, or satisfy his inner drive to ascend the pecking order of Swindon streets? Or maybe he's just jealous of my guitar playing? It might be an idea if he took up a more productive hobby, like guitar playing for instance. I mean, seeing as he's likely to smash his instrument to pieces at the first hint of rage, one would have to say he's very mercurial and therefore the best potential guitar player in the world. Since this is not a likely scenario, it means there's one less talented guitarist to compete with.

Don't forget the towel. And a plastic box that says "Don't Panic" on the cover in big bright letters.

The bells... The bells... Ten o'clock and all is well. I know the time because the bells are tolling. You see, the library is built as an annexe to the old town hall, now used as a dance studio, and the clock tower is clearly audible. With victorian engineering to rely on, how could I possibly be unsure of the time? There was a time of course when the Great Western Works sounded that old steam horn at regular intervals. It was to mark the start and ends of shifts in our local dark satanic mill of course, but the whole town lived by it. I even used it as a child to warn me my lunch break was over and that school awaited my studious presence (or else). Nonetheless, all is well. The library is quiet, and even BFL thought better of attempting to engage me in conversation. So she started talking to someone else, and lo and behold, she's having problems with her Open University Social Sciences course because she's lost the email address to send her homework too. You see, that's the trouble with modern technology, you just can't depend on it in the same way as great chunks of mobile cast iron. On a slighter lighter note, I bumped into Sideshow J again. This time he was walking his bicycle up the hill. Despite the introduction of moder materials and manufacturing, bicycles haven't greatly changed since the days of flat caps and coal sacks. So far, at least as far as I'm aware, bicycles don't come with flappy paddle gear changes, crumple zones, or crash protection airbags. Anyway, we exchanged our usual jovial greetings. So... You're not in a hurry today? "No" He chuckled, "Buit you could have stopped me the other day." Pardon? At the speed you were cycling uphill? I'd still be laid there spreadeagled on the pavement with tire marks along my chest. Again he chuckled and enquired how things were going. You know, the usual. "Have you been on a course lately?" He asked. A course? Oh gawd no, not another class for people who never attended one in the first place. No thanks. "No no no," He insisted, "There's lots of courses. You could do one on business management. Get a certificate." A certificate? Wow. Imagine what I could with that! Alan Sugar, you're fired. So there you have it. Buy a victorianesque cast iron machine, make sure you have a certificate, and success will be yours. Good grief, I'm starting to sound like my claims advisor. That reminds me... I need to send him my job search record. What was his email address again? If I'm not careful my claims advisor will end up with a report on the significance of adolescent divergence from traditional and cultural conformance, whilst BFL gets a list of vacancies applied for, which I have no doubt will be advertised loudly at her next library appearance. Not All Certificates Are Gold I see in the news that a driver who bought a personalised number plate from the Driver & Vehicle Licensing Agency for

What? Like we're not?

More to the point, we have in recent times evolved a more mechanistic view of armed forces. We also make the mistake of foisting that view upon other era's when dealing with armies that show the slightest form of efficient organisation. Even this website describes the legions as a 'military machine' on the article pages. Technology is only partly to blame. The main reason is the difference in scale. When dealing with vast armies spread across hundreds if not thousands of miles, high command is remote and anonymous, while battlefield command is fromvarying locations and levels such that the effect of personality appears to average out. It doesn't actually do that of course. Whether a particular commander is bold, cautious, talented, or a complete klutz who got promoted for his fifth birthday makes all the difference. In the ancient world, the effect of personality is pronounced because we have one army in one place led more often than not by one man. Even the consular Roman armies, who fielded more than one commander for political insurance, shared sole command on a rota basis. We also run into an odd paradox. On the one hand, the Romans traditionally encouraged inidividual initiative, recognising that a mans courage, foresight, and heroic deed could in theory turn a battle to their favour. They had examples of such things, such as Hortius Cocles fending off an entire army on the sole bridge into Rome. Yet despite this, the desire for order and discipline eroded the Roman capacity for individual action. We find anecdotes that a legionary who rushed forward alone was laughed at by his mates. This was always true of the Roman legions to a greater or lesser degree. We also run into an almost tribal identity among the citizen levies of Rome during the Hannabalic War. At Cannae, legionaries refuse the orders of centurions who command other units. Worse still, we see a general who apparently failes to adapt to Hannibals trap. in fairness, once the advance had been ordered, the lack of communication structures within the legions made that difficult if not impossible to halt. Armies generally operated on previously agreed plans anyway. In so many cases, a battle was effectively sealed the night before. If that does not encapsulate the personality of the commander in an operational plan, what else could?

I see your point, but it removes the personality from the equation entirely. When dealing deasling with analyses of individuals leading armies as opposed to the character of the armies thenselves, personality is a fundamental consideration. As it happens, military command is very much at the mercy of personality since it colours the decisions of commanders irrespective of any received intelligence, factional behaviour, and military or social expectations.

What a choice. Burn alive inside or get zapped bu 13,000 volts outside. just life in the big city I guess.... Oh, I see, it was a false alarm... Now I get it.