caldrail

True, but the Romans seemed to be a little short of the good stuff too. As far as the commanders were concered, the soldiers were there to do as ordered and didn't need to know anything. Perhaps that's overstating the point - I'm sure the more observant soldiers soon started rumours - but bear in mind there was no guarantee the Roman troops were going to obey without question. This is a fundamental difference in attitude that needs to be understood. Legionaries were not automatically obedient Correct, although an enviroment of excellence improves the average. The Romans had high expectations of their amateur leaders (that's the class system for you) but no system of guaranteeing a basic level of performance. We have one classic example of a man trying not to get noticed. When Germanicus sent a letter ahead to the commander of a mutined legion in Germania, he suggested strongly that the commander had better have done something before he arrived. Implicit in this anecdote is that Germanicus is angry at the lack of initiative from commanders, probably made worse by the clumsy and ineffectual efforts Blaesus had made to control the situation in Pannonia. I've already mentioned that Roman commanders were not career officers. In my view, they were more often military managers, a acting more like lords of the manor, but that would have been natural to them because that was the enviroment they had learned command from to any extent. It should be pointed out however that the Augustan system of military tribunes was, in all probabllity, set up to provide a cadre of experienced (not necessarily trained) leaders who would lead legions in later life, since for the Romans political careers invariably called for military credibility. Politicians were commanders also - there was no functional seperation in role. Which is basically the sort of thing I was talking about. All very ad hoc and not to any standard. In any case, simply reading a book doesn't make you proficient at a skill.

There was no sophistication about Roman leadership. The majority were fairly lacklustre and although some did shine, we should remember the senior commanders were not career officers - an important observation which indicates a lack of formal leadership training. They relied on the individuals previous political experience and family upbringing, a system that produced variable results. Whilst there will be some common factors we should also bear in mind that the Roman era was on of death from disease, accident, or violence before the age of twenty for three out of five Romans. Life was often short and brutal, thus we see the popularity of arena combat, boxing, panration, and chariot racing as not only a thrill in itself, but also a means for the audience to be passive and not risk themselves. Also, I would point out that recent pschylogical science is geared toward the enviroment in which these troops operate. In Roman times you expect a claustrophic ennviroment, one of safety in numbers, of large scale effects from small scale emotional state changes. The noise of battle, which wasn't inconsiderable in Roman times despite orders to fight silently, was of a more feral and challenge orientated nature, quite apart of the incidental noise of the gunpowder and explosives era.. Frightening at times certainly, but less otherworldly to experience. Points to be stressed are 1 - the bonds between soldiers in the legion. They call each other 'Brother', and the low level organisation is designed to foster the extended family that we find common in Roman culture. 2 - The lack of individual initiative and creative thought in combat, despite the encouragement of officers to ward their men to show some. Men who inadvertantly rush forward from the ranks are laughed at by their comrades. 3 - Channelled anger, which seems to emerge again and again in descriptions before the late empire. The men are hard-bitten, perhaps even frustrated by their lot if not by the enemy, and readily focus that rage - which I personally believe to be as a result of centurionate leadership (and cajolement) as opposed to senior policy. 4 - The balance of fear, between the possibility of flogging or decimation, as opposed to the facing off of damgerous enemies on the field. 5 - The constant presence of corruption, larceny, and various dodges within the ranks. These are men who are trained to peform a role rather than be disciplined overall. Away from the fight, their discipline is remarkably fragile. 6 - The occaisional emergence of charismatic troublemakers within the ranks and by modern standards the odd inability to harness the p;ositive aspects of that sort of character. 7 - The role of Roman culture as a format for troops behaviour. Men were expected to be within certain personality limits, supposed to exhibit what they regarded as a healthy macho, aggressive character. Although a sense of personal honour is suggested by the Romans, it remained an ideal, one a soldier should strive for, and by that token usually lacking. 8 - The lack of information given to the soldiers, who appear to have been left in the dark as often as not. Troops were not usually told where they were marching for they would react badly. It was considered enough that they knew who they were fighting. In terms of morale, there is very little in the way of propaganda fed to the men, and we see the speech to rouse mens mood as very important in the methodology of Roman leadership.

Today is not a good day. And the subject of my woe? That's an interestng question in itself. It ought to be about my car, the Eunos Cabriolet slowly disintegrating with a little help from a vandal or two. Reason being that it's gone. Vanished. Disappeared. I mean, did someone ctually bother to steal it? You couldn't just drive it away. But gone it most certainly has, snatched away more or less from under my nose yesterday afternoon.I only realised it was gone late into the evening. I doubt it was stolen to be used. Maybe the alloy wheels paid for a snort of suspicious substances? Who knows? One has to wonder at the attitude of the police. Frequently they tell us to report crime and be proactive in preventing it, yet the response I get is baffling. Last night, as I attempted to call the local police station, the officer I spoke suggested I investigate the crime myself. He seriiously said that, though I should point out that policemen are notorious in Britain for taking the mick out of the public in this way when it suits them. "There you are, see?" He prodded me, "You do have lines of enquiry." Oh? Is that so? Can you imagine how successful I'm going to be at solving the Case of the Missing Eunos? All I'll get is mystified looks and shrugs. So why the self-help course from PC Plod? Was he in a bad mood that night? Am I on some list of people to send on wild goose chases? Was it my own sorry fault for purchasing a slightly sporty car in the first place? Or does standard policy in dealing with worthless dole claimants render us ineligible for receiving the benefits of law enforcement? Goood grief, is this some covert attempt by our local sheriff to run me out of town? I should be worried. Instead I'm shaking my head. Tackle The Metal Thieves Not all bad news it seems. Todays local newspaper tells me that police are determined to catch metal thieves. The theft of metals, including lead, copper pipes and cables, remains a concern throughout the county and can have a significant effect on homeowners, businesses, schools,, places of worship, and public buildings. Hmmm... Seems not all policemen have been reading their emails. It'll Get Better the current catchphrase is regeneration. Everything about Swindon is regeneration these days. backers of all these developments are proudly telling us how great it will be in the future. Except... It won't... Because Swindon still has the same thieves in afterward.

As it happens, coinage became so debased in the late empire that it hardly contained any valuable metal at all. Although the empire was able to survive financially confortably, much of its wealth seems to have been squandered on military issues, including factories, supply, and security, besides keeping barbarians at bay. I also suspect a great deal of wealth was squandered on excessive bureacracy as people sought sinecures or status through reward and staff size. In other words, the late empire was struggling to balance the books because the very people supposed to be doing that were exploiting the system, never mind squabbling among themselves.

Oh great. More Confessions Of A Roman.

Occaisionally during my action packed dole seeking lifestyle I catch a bit of television. Mostly because there's so little I want to watch that I normally do something else. I've probably mentioned before how strange it is that with more and more channels available, there's less and less you actually want to sit through. On the plus side, maybe that's a goood thing, because they say television is bad for you. At the risk of becoming a wannabee journalist and reporting on people, I sat down to check out what 's going on in the world. I know there's one out there. Been there a few times. Ireland is back on the news. As I reached for the volume I spotted the sign that said Moneygall and feared for the worst, especially after some idiot threw a dud grenade at a policeman talking to a couple of young kids. No, it was worse. The entire village is throwing aside the emerald isle image in favour of stars and bars. What are they doing? It seems Barack Obama is visiting the village to go back to his roots. Ireland? Shouldn't he be visiting west Africa or something? Blast From The Past Having recovered from my hysterics concerning the presidential visit I came across a rerun of Noggin The Nog.. Haven't seen that since I was a kid. For those unacquainted with prehistoric television Noggin The Nog is a cartoon lord of the manor. In this episode the evil Nogbad attempted to sneak his crows into the castle inside a pie cooked for Noggin's birthday. Nail biting stuff. No wonder life as an adult is so dull. Caldrail's Rabbit Rocket Here we go then. Second in a series of recipes for the discerning supermaket goer. For each plate spread a little rocket (the greenie salad, not the sputnik variety). On top of that spread a little stir fry of - Chopped Red Onion - Chopped Brown Mushroom - Chopped British Radish (much classier than that god awful Horse Radish stuff) On top of that spread beef mince, stir fried in a touch of brown sauce plus a little ginger and curry powder to taste. On top of that spead a few potato gnocchi, oven cooked until lightly browned and smeared with some green pesto. Add a touch of black pepper if you wish. I did. And hey presto, one tasty looking dish to delight a jaded jobseeker. Come to think of it, this is all Jamie Oliver does to earn umpteen millions of pounds every year. Where's my money then?

The health service is determined to prove I'm not well. As part of their quest to put me under the micropscope I've been asked to attend some strange scanning session. Apparently it's another excuse for that young lady nurse to daub me in gel. I can't wait. Thing is though I keep hearing complaints that the health service can't deliver this or deliver that. I must be honest, as someone who's never needed much in the way of treatment, I haven't noticed any problem at all. So what's the deal? I'm not asking or getting any preferential treatment. Or have I accidentially signed a release form for medical experiments? I have to admit, I've never heard of these big expensive gizmo's they want to try out me. In my mind I have this image of covert nazi scientists hiding an enclave of laboratories in a remote Swindon hospital. Cue lightning, thunder, and reckless bus drivers winding their way up that lonely dual carriageway... A Bit Of Privacy, Please Just of late I've noticed a lot of news items dealing with privacy matters. It's bad enough hackers getting into all sorts of networks and stealing information about our gameplaying habits, but now that injunctions are not enough, I see talk of super-injunctions against people revealing private info. But if you're a celebrity, surely the whole point of becoming one is to flaunt yourself publicly? I guess the obvious course of action is make yourself as dowdy and boring as posible. Stop doing stuff. Become forgotten. Then again, if you do that, the paychecks will stop coming in. So the fashionable answer to that dilemma is to stop people talking about you so that people will keep talking about you. Or is it more the case the celebrities only want people to say the right things?

We see so much crime, violence, and misry on television. War, accidents, and greedy politicians. Yet only when we actually know someone involved does it mean anything.

All this good weather has been very seductive. It might be something people in other places around the world take for granted, but we British do enjoy our sunny weather when we can get. This weekend the clouds rolled in and as disappointing as it was, we do need the rain. I stopped for a while looking out the back window. The rainfall came in surges, no more than a light drizle one moment, a torrential downpour the next, though I didn't hear any thunder from the storms the weather people told us to expect. So far this year I haven't had a good soaking. Perhaps that's tempting fate, because our variable climate is quite unforgiving for those who aren't prepared. You would think with many years of experience in coping with british weather that I would avoid the worst of it by second nature. Trouble is, we do tend to get complacent. And even with the cool breeze and bulging tufts of cloud drifting past the window today, it's actually quite pleasant out there. I mean, who needs a raincoat today? Do You Knopw That...? This morning I signed on again, my weekly ritual for ensuring I don't end up on the street. My usual claims advisor is on a training course, probably designed to allow him to recover from me, and my second least favourite advisor took over. In fairness he was friendlier than he usually is. having asked me how I was (they all do - it's a standard litany with advisors besides being polite) I replied I was a bit buffeted, hinting at the recent accusation of non-compliance. He of course didn't know anything about that, and instead pointed out I had a black eye. Yes. I know. Thank you. Live Without Money This morning I saw a news item about a chap who decided to live without money. Apparently he barters for everything he needs. There is a ceratin attraction to this idea given that I'm a long term unemployed person, but what claims investigator is going to believe that two cows, three pigs, sacks of potato's, and a shiney new hammer aren't the proceeds of illegal earnings? Interplanetary Billiards The scientists do say that in Earths infancy the solar system was a dodgy place to be, with rocks colliding all over the place. Most have long since collided but there are still lots of mountain sized lumps of stone whizzing around out there. One is due to pass Earth within 2000,000 miles later this year. That's so close in interplanetary terms it has to be counted as a near miss. It's even closer than the orbit of the Moon for crying out loud. If it collided with Earth, YU55, as the asteroid is named, would cause an explosion equal to 65,000 Hiroshima size atom bombs. Why do governments spend billions on high tech weaponry? All we have to do is chuck rocks at each other.

There is a great deal of fortune and circumstance involved. I doubt Hannibal had in mind to resort to sieges in the first place. I suspect he was well aware of how the Roman reacted to such situations, but his overall strategy probably had more to do with feeding his men. Stuck in one place, he had no logistical setup to keep his men fed and watered thus in order to forage from the local area, he needed to move around. Regarding the crucial metal bits, that sounds more like modern thinking to me, though I can't discount the point. There wasn't an industrial base to produce standard fittings thus having hinges and brackets would mean odd bits and pieces rather than an Acme Catapult Kit. They never bolted things together as we do now. Everything dovetailed or slotted together, thus the iron bits weren't as necessary as we might imagine, being more of a useful convenience than a requirement. Ancient artisans were probably well capable of producing whatever bits they needed if they had the raw materials, given enough time, which I note sieges do allow you, Nowhere have I seen any evidence of catapult parts, either literary or archaeologically, and given the lack of preparation that Hannibals initiative entailed, it would be unlikely that such parts existed anyway. I also doubt that siege weaponry was as well made or sophisticated as might be believed. Sturdy, certainly, for practical reasons you can probably think of yourself. When discussing larger siege items we are talking about about weapons made for one purpiose, to attack the fortification, and thus the need to transport them afterward is not a consideration. A useful factor when realising how heavy these artillery pieces were. Having said all of that, once the process of siege warfare begins, scavenging and re-using metal parts might well have been an accepted practice. It's just that I don't read anywhere of such things taking place. Rome seems peculiarly unprepared, although I confess that's an impression rather than a studious appraisal. It was almost as if they realised with horror that they really were in danger of being sacked. Unthinkable! In theory there was a great deal the Romans could have done in the three days it would have taken Hannibal to arrive. That however requires organisation and control, which for a city in panic was unlikely even with Roman skills in such areas. Furthermore, a certain proportion would have fled the area surely? There's only so much you can carry. I accept what you say about the limitations of forced marches. Nonetheless, before the days of military equipment as we expect today, soldiers tended to travel lighter (armour and weapons aside), and we do see some remarkable examples of how quickly entire armies were able to march long distances. That probably glosses over the difficulties they encountered along the way.

Just building the tension. Sorry about that.

I woke this morning to discover that bruises have a life of their own. Sounds strange? Well, the bruise obtained in my argument with a door the day before has now migrated from a large lump over my eye to a black ring around it. Oh no. I have a black eye. I look like like I've done ten rounds with Mike Tyson, though in all fairness, experts would probably note I only have one bruise thus did not last beyond one punch. Doors are tough opponents. What bothers me though is that I nearly achieved a fifty year unroken record for not getting a black eye. Now look. I'm the same as everyone else, except that I wasn't drunk when it happened. Will They Or Won't They? The tension was mounting. Would the department store ring me or not? Would I be offered a fast paced and rewarding career in furniture removals, or be cast aside as a worthless loser by high street consumerism? This is nailbiting stuff. A failure brings a risk of further humiliation from the Job Centre, who have already sent me another accusation that I didn't apply for an offered vacancy. They don't ask whether you applied or not. The office have no record of it, so you haven't. Please grovel, apologise, and make some useless explanation before they decide to stop your money. They've done this sort of thing before. No matter. The form is sent off, along with evidence of application and one of ny trademark 'irate citizen' letters. Actually, humour aside, this sort of things bothers me immensely. English law is supposed to based on the principle that you're innocent until proven guilty. Apparently no-one told the Department of Work & Pensions about that. tThe Finale To Caldrails Big Interview The votes are in, the phone lines are closed, and now the golden envelope is passed to be read out in front of the audience... Todays winner of Department Store Recruit of the Year 2011 is.... Not me. Not invited to the induction. Do not pass Go, do not collect

Siege equipment was not essential. Lacking such things, and let's be honest, most ancient armies built siege equipment in situ and as required if they knew how, then simply waiting for the city to starve was still a viable tacttic. Rome was after all in state of panic already (something Hannibal might not have known). Strategically the city of Rome was a tempting target but Hannibal chose to stick with his game plan. For a man with a known hatred of Rome and one who basically set of the war as an excuse to get at them, it must be said that not wanting to hurt his enemy by sacking a vulnerable capital does look odd.

They say that the fish rots from the head. Usually this is pinned on the caesars (and not without reason), but I do think we have to consider the upper class of Rome as a whole guilty party in this. The thing is, during the principate the patrician class were deeply involved in politics and from a distance, trade. They were a sort of manorial manager class in effect and kept things under control. However, as time passes, the old order dies out for various reasons leaving behind 'new money' un their place, and it was said that most of those later patricians were the descendants of former slaves rather than inheritors of noble blood. That doesn't necessarily mean a drop in expertise, but I'm inclined to believe that in this case, that's more or less what happened. Patricians of the later empire seem far less concerned with duty and career, more with feathering their nest. It's as if they saw what the old guard got up to on the quiet and made that their primary objective once they were in charge. Certainly the factional rivalry was worse than in previous times. Therefore the older control of trade was gradually eroding and Diocletian saw a need to bolster the oversight of trading in the empire, which as I said before was not well regulated in any case unless tax revenues were affected. Roman traders were too opportunistic to be swayed by rules and since success in the Roman Empire was all about risk, it perhaps comes as no suprise that traders weren't too observant of the rules.

Time for another health check this morning. The slightly confused nurse asked me what my appointment was for. I told her it was for another blood test. "Who put you forward for that?" She enquired. You did, three months ago. At least my memory isn't failing. Then again, it never pays to upset a nurse. She brought out her needle and loomed menacingly over me as she strapped my arm down. This won't hurt a bit.... Oh To Heck With It The burned out shell of the Locarno, most recently a nightclub in a victorian merchant house, was touted as part of an italianate development to improve the Old Town enviroment. Trouble is, no-one can think of what to use the Locarno for. So they're thinking of demolishing it. Use it or lose it. That's Swindon. Hot Tip of the Week If anyone is tempted to find a new and inventive method of using a door, you might like to know that I attrempted the "Whoops I've tripped and headbutted the door" method this morning. So using the door handle is still the most efficient and pain free means of access. If anyone wants visual confirmation of my results, I have a big bruise over my left eye and no, the nurse didn't do it.

With the benefit of hindsight I would call him overcautious. He did not capitalise on his battlefield success. However, as an armchair general, I have to consider that I have information that Hannibal didn't. What he desperately wanted was to avoid getting bogged down with a siege, because that tie his troops to one place and introduce supply and threat problems. Hannibals overall strategy was to pummel and intimidate the Romans into surrender. Whilst an attack on Rome would have conceivably ended the war in his favour, he was also well aware of the Roman capacity for reinforcement. So was he stupid? No, not really, but his gut instinct and lack of information about Roman dispositions and situation led him to hedge his bets.

A couple of times now staff at the Job Centre have frowned at my paperwork and asked me why I haven't had many interviews of late. Truth of the matter is that I never did catch the attention of employers all that often, and with the job market so cutthroat these days, my interview rate is no less than expected. Perhaps then I shouldn't have been suprised that I was given a vacancy offered by a retail chain, who describe themselves as a multinational company in England. Ahem. Anyway, I had no choice but to make repeated attempts to phone the listed contact. The Job Centre had flgged the vacancy so they meant to check I had done my duty. So be it. At the last minute I got through. The woman asked to phone me back, and a simple telephone interview ensued. What are my strengths? Weaknesses? What is the secret of commercial life, universe, and everything? I passed all the screening questions. So, the lady informed me, I was due to attend an interview in three hours time. No pressure then. It turned out to be a group interview session. A hundred nervous and socially inhibited applicants all sat in a department store cafeteria. I noticed a queue forming at one end, and as a member of the staff sauntered by, I asked her if we all had to queue up. "Oh, I suppose so" She shrugged, "But don't worry, just wait until the queue winds down." Okay. This was beginning to feel like some mystical ceremony in which us initiates must realise that employment salvation was getting up and joining the end of the queue. Nonetheless, as the staff eventually introduced themselves and brought the meeting to some kind of coherence, they told us to go away if we wereb't serious about getting a job. Politely, of course, in a slightly wishy-washy way. I ended up being called for my ten minute interview with the lady I originally spoke to, who turned out to be the boss. And now you must be asking - How did it go? Am I still a Great Unwashed Scrounging Layabout Wastrel, or am I a Thrusting And Dynamic Team Player With Good Career Prospects? Find out in the next episode of Caldrails Big Interview! The Apprentice - Again Once more unto the board room, dear friends, once more... Lord Sugar has scoured the land for the worst entrepeneurs possible. I saw a comment that shaving seems to be a forgotten art. Well, this is entertainment, not business, so three days growth is charcterful and visually seperates one suit from another - something you don't usually see in the real world of business. Another comment was that The Apprentice is getting a bit tired as a television show. No suprise there. Given that these people are apparently running businesses out there in the high street, no wonder I can't get a job.

How? I thouhgt that roman culture in republican and early imperial times was very trade oriented. The extent and importance of trade is not disputed, but rather the nature of it. The Romans overall practised a free economy and the phrase caveat emptor "Let the buyer beware" is rather telling. The rapacious behaviour of merchants toward gothic refugees after they crossed the Rhine is a prime example of how Roman commerce functioned. In fact, we shouldn't overlook the influence of the patrician class in trade, for they often underwrote commercial enterprises and certainly had a hand in making commercial decisions even if they weren't supposed to muddy their hands with trading. Diolcetian can be be seen in this case as attempting to regulate practises already in effect. It would seem his measures weren't entirely succesful, not because they failed in principle, but because no-one really took much notice. This is what I mean. Traditionally sons had practised their fathers trade in any case. We know this to be the case because of legionary recruitment practises dating back to the Marian Reforms. Diocletian is apparently making that association a legal necessity to promote traditional values an, in all likeliehood, to restore what might have been a perceived trend toward selfish or anti-social vocations. It is an interesting thing though. How did that affect volunteering for the legions? Or perhaps even the arena, which in Diocletians time was still a thriving industry (if somewhat moribund and increasingly prone to dramatic 'wounding' fights as opposed to 'honourable duels')

Actually it can't, under those criteria, because it too relied allies and auxillaries, and it's worth pointing out that although the legions, each a fundamentally seperate military force in its own right, were functionally loyal to their commander rather than the state. The feudal nature of the legions is often overlooked.

It might be sunny out there, but what a chilly morning. A brief stroll through the park today was a bitter briefer than I anticipated. More like a brisk stroll. I notice the lake is lower than usual. That gravel beach is exposed again. of course the birds love it, it allows them to get in and out of the water easily and somewhere to sleep on dry land away from the footpath inhabited by loud drunken human beings. Except for a solitary canadian goose who seemed very keen to find someone with breadcrumbs on offer. Too early in the morning matey. Sorry. The old ladies aren't out of bed yet. But sadly my superior human communicative capability doesn't include making this clear to the deluded animal. Ooops! Animals are brilliant. They really are. Gibbons and their frantic split second accurate gymnastic chases. Orang-utangs and their lazy acrobatic skill. Human beings and their alcoholic meanderings. Or birds, with grace and style in conquering the skies. Except... There was this one crow this morning. It swooped past me toward a willow tree overhanging the lake and when it tried to alight upon a branch, it didn't, basically. The clumsy bird vanished into the foliage in a sudden flurry of feathers and disturbed vegetation. Ooops. Let the side down there, a little bit. Even I made better landings than that in my flying days. Then again, I generally avoided the trees. Now... About Your Shotgun... It never pays to make a flippant jest in front of a claims advisor. Trust me, they have no sense of humour whatsoever, and will interpret everything you say as a declaration of intent. So at my latest job searching interview the lady glanced up from her hotes and asked "So you want an ADR for your Shotgun License?" Erm... Pardon? I don't have a shotgun license. I don't need a shotgun license. I have no legal purpose to buy and keep a weapon on my premises. Weapon ownership is specifically excluded by my letting agreement. I would then be interviewed by police officers seeking to assure themselves that I was a responsible mature sane individual with correct secure storage for legal weaponry. "I see Sir, and why do you require a shotgun license?" My claims advisor thought I wanted one. it's tough getting a job out there you know... Wow. That's going to impress them. ADR for Shotgun License cancelled. Must remember to keep a straight face next time I sign on... Meanwhile, Back At The Programme Centre At last I'm back in a warm office with all day to get on with my jobsearch. As it turns out, a chap is sat next to me and since his english isn't too good, he's latched on to me as his assistant in wading through the rituals of using computers. "I am ver sorry to get in your way" He apologised very politelly. Don't worry mate, I have to wait for a phone call anyhow. "But I need to upload my CV. I have been told to make CV. Now I must upload it to this company" Yeah, I sort of know what you want. Okay, finish your CV... Done it?... No, finish it off... Yes... Now you need to save it.... No, the other one... That's right... Now type in the filename... "They what? Filename?" Yes. Filename. So you can recognise your file, like 'My Name CV' or something. So he typed mynamecv and saved it. Oh well. At least he listened to me.

There is a certain sense of justice in that a man who lived by the sword has been well and truly killed by it. I do understand the public jubilation I saw on the news as americans react to the story that their bogeyman was done for. Was this celebration exaggerated by the nnews? There's a part of my british character that sits uneasily with this sort of indulgence especially when it does nothing to stem the need for islamic revenge. I also note the choice of navy SEALS to enact the mission. After the Deltas accidentially killed a british woman they intended to rescue, one wonders if they shouldn't have been allowed to ressurect their reputation. Then again, with Bin Laden in their sights, I also understand the need for no unnecessary risks, hence the lack of reports to pakistan authorities. It was said a few years ago that the SAS had Bin Laden in their sights but were refused permission to fire. I have no idea how true that story is, but no matter, the bad guy is down. We shall to wait and see how significant that event was.

Aha! This is a favourite bugbear of mine. The problem is that whilst the Romans evolved a professional legion in terms of men recruited for pay rather than patriotism, our definition of professionalism also includes elements of behaviour that aren't appropriate for their era. I'm not sure that the Romans were the the first nation state to raise standing armies for renumerative reward, although they were undoubtedly among the better organised, but bear in mind the average pay for a legionary wasn't brilliant and the soldiers were often 'bribed' with donatives from newly created Caesars. More to the point, they expected to be allowed to pillage for booty should conflict break out, a major source of renumeration for risking their lives. In josephus's account of the Jewish War he includes a description of what happened when the Romans finally broke in. Titus, never a man to suffer fools, simply let his troops off the leash for three days by which time most of the soldiers had grown sick and tired of the bloodletting themselves. Although much is said about Roman discipline, close study of the imperial legion reveals they weren't as 'professionaly' behaved as we might expect. The harsh discipline was imposed on them to keep them in line and it only barely kept them there sometimes.

The real problem with pancration, or even boxing, was that it was the preserve of the slave athlete, and no self respecting soldier was going to lower himself to take part. Seems a bit odd at first considering how ready a typical legionary might be to engage in roughhouse, but a drunken brawl in the vicus outside a fort was a different matter. Boxing was quite a craze. It lasted throughout the length of the empire and changed along with Roman tastes for hard edged violence. Originally the cestus, the boxing glove, was no more than a means to protect the fist when punching your opponent (the hand is quite vulnerable to damage), and the infamous metal glove was a later development along with the nastyier side of gladiatorial style. As far as i'm aware, there are no records of soldiers engaging in either boxing or pancration as an activity though I'm sure they enjoyed watching two slave smah each other to bloody pulp.

Earlier this morning I opened the back window and looked out across the Old College site. It's looking very shabby now. The lead lining on the cafetria and hall roof has been stripped off, and without the verdigrised grey cladding, it now looks oddly naked in flesh coloured wood panels. the tower block at the end clearly shows sign of temporary visits by vandals and homeless people. Smashed glass and boarded up windows. A couple of days ago I spotted a hydraulic lift up the side of the tower block. At first I wondered what was going on, but I could see a firemans helmet from that distance though there was no sign of any smoke or flame. A practice? Possibly, though I noticed they were recovering material from inside the fifth or sixth floor. After a few witty comments from their loudhailer, the firemen disappeared from view as the lift retracted. I wonder what that was all about? The thing is, this abandonment has a bright side. The vegetation has sprouted in luxurious green over the last few weeks, turning a dismal yard into a fine display of tree growth. Along the white fence that surrounds the site, the trees have now grown higher and overhang the barrier, and it genuinely looks nice. When the site gets demolished in the near future all that will go, and if I were honest, I'll miss the old place. As It Was Before I logged on this morning I was leafing through a book of old photographs from Swindon, my home town. Most of it is unrecognisable. The gothic victorian shops and houses have largely disappeared along with all the major town landmarks, not least the railway works, of which only a couple of office blocks and workshops survive. There was a time when I was young that I walked along the Midland & South West Junction Railway that went past the west end of British Rail Swindon Works that I could see the end of that massive A shop, once the biggest industrial complex under one roof in Europe, with row upon row of forlorn rusting diesels waiting for the cutting torch. Drove Road as country lane. The old market building, now long gone, and I recall that strong vegetable smell and and constant haranguing from traders urgently seeking our cash. A police station at the top of Eastcott Hill, once next door to the tram depot, replaced by anonymous housing apartments. This isn't the first time I've had a fit of nostalgia for the Olde Worlde Swindon, a sooty brick town proud of its railway heritage, but with so many sweeping changes on the way in grandiose developments, I wonder how long these flagship constructions will last?

Friday was a quiet unassuming sort of day. Not really suprising since the bulk of the population were either glued to their television sets or heading for the hills in a desperate attempt to avoid watching yet another wedding video. So we had a sort of hazy murky day that never quite made up its mind what it wanted to do about Britains latest extravanganza. Ricky Is At It Again I see Ricky gervais has been giving us all the benefit of his well paid opinion. I shouldn't really criticise, I do exactly the same on this blog (although I get paid somewhat less). Still, at least he gets his picture in the news again. That way we won't forget who he is. I wonder if Mr Gervais will televise his wedding and get tons of people to line London streets waiting for him to roll past on an expensive carriage to generous applause? No? Perhaps his weeding video wasn't all that impressive then? At The Supermarket The lady paying for her shopping at the local supermarket noted that it was all over. The royal couple were hitched already. Sigh of relief. Is it safe to back to the television screen now? "Oh no" She advised me, "You'll be getting that all day." Aaargh! This computer is slow. I mean, archaeologically slow. Every screen update comes with a birthday greeting. Why is the internet so slow? Let me guess. People are sharing wedding videos.