caldrail

Given the masculine regime of the legions I doubt homosexulaity was tolerated in the legions. The situation you describe above would lead to two possible scenarios - one being a mutiny against the officer concerned (and believe me, the typical legionary was not as loyal or obedient as people usually imagine. It took hard discipline and strong leadership to get them behind you and in fairness, this was often achieved during periods of activity. The worst problem time was peaceful idleness when up to half the legion might be on leave at any time on the frontier). The second possibility is the social isolation of the soldier, either from the instigation of a centurion who wants to curry favour with his seniors, or perhaps among the men, who are harbouring suspicions about their room-brother. In this latter case either a desertion or persistent punishment and menial duties are probable. Does that sound hard? The problem with seperate masculine regimes is the cruel nature of them, as bullying becomes endemic if not institutional, with members of that regime required to conform to the pecking order or suffer the consequence.

For some strange reason the museum sells plastic balls that play voices from Family Guy. Only one on the premises actually works. We know, because we conducted a quality test this morning. I guess you had to be there. Missed Call My mentor at the programme centre is getting a little anxious. She's keen to get me a job before I finish the course and the frequency of her emails has gone up an order of magnitude. What makes it worse is that she doesn't seem to understand I have no internet connection at home, thus she sends an email containing some vacancy specs, followed by an email asking me to contact her, then an email telling me she's applied on my behalf anyway. Anything else? No, that seems to be it. By now she's probably suffering from stress and anxiety attacks in the futile hope that I'll answer my mobile phone too. So this morning I left the programme centre having left a job application untouched for twenty four hours completely unaware. I am going to get soooo slapped next week... In Other News The museum's robot was fired up this morning. It worked too. It was really spooky watching the thing flex its fingers menacingly. After performing what resembled a stiff legged dance it started complaining in a monotone distorted voice. I am not making this up. The destruction of Mankind begins here.

Must be an EU directive then. No-one else would have thought of it.

Just in case you all thought I was going to do something impulsive or inspirational, fear not, for today is just another day in the life of a dedicated jobseeker. So once again it's another fifteen minute stroll to the programme centre and delve into the myriad advertisements on the internet. On the local high street I spotted an articulated lorry parked on the side of the road, with a van parked the wrong way round on a one way street, with goods being transferred from one to the other. I noticed the lorry had german license plates. Nothing unusual these days. We get more foreign lorries than our own what with fuel prices and competition. I regularly see a dutch lorry at the bottom of the hill offloading supplies of foliage to the local flower shop. Quite what happens to the foliage afterward is another matter, because I never see anyone buying any. Then I noticed the van was displaying italian license plates. Eh? Now I've always thought I was a little clued up about logistics, but a german lorry offloading to an italian van on a british high street? How is that profitable? Me no understandee... Record Breaking Burgers I see Burger King have totally ignored the latest health advice and created a product oozing with calories. Currently it's only available in Japan, but if British people decide that consuming curries is old hat, or poisonous, considering one takeaway down the hill from me has been fined for rat infestations, how long will it be before television adverts for burgers show government health warnings? I imagine that soon we'll be banned from eating them in pubs. Like somkers, there'll be small crowds huddling in the cold evenings under street lamps enjoying their distasteful habit. Or worse, will people be banned from eating burgers in public entirely because it's not nice to maltreated cows to be devoured in the sight of the law abiding majority? Death Rehearsal What a horrible headline. Apparently someone has said that the upcoming royal wedding will also be a dress rehearsal for the Queens funeral. She isn't dead yet, you know. Oh well. Practice makes perfect I suppose.

it begs the question of why exactly homosexuality was treated with such diatribes. Was it loathsome to virile macho Romans? Or seen as an effeminancy that weakened Roman virtue? Zosimus clearly demonstrates the latter view. Suetonius smirks and relates gleefully how deviants get treated to Roman decree, but in his case, it's merely an excuse to write more scandalous tales for the delight of his 'conventional' readers. Our image of Roman society often concentrates on their sophistication and achievements, but we mustn't forget the chauvanism inherent in their culture, never mind the callousness and readiness to tolerate violence in their midst. Youths of good family were prone to wandering the streets at night getting up to all sorts of bullying and whoring - it's considered part of growing up rather than a social problem. The Roman attitude toward sex then appears to be somewhat gratuitous. It was freely available after all, either from slaves, cheap prostitutes, or illicit affairs. Since they had such a strong image of masculinity, it probably isn't suprising that not every Roman felt able or willing to meet this ideal, and sought alternative social groupings that involved homosexuality.

I used England as a regional description, not historical, but your observation is correct. As regards Britannia Prima, bear in mind that although the Roman control over Britain was strongest in the southeast, the political manipulation of british tribes included those in other areas, not forgetting those north of the border Also, in the sub-Roman era, the overall strategy of Roman politics was no longer present, and we have a peculiar situation where a balkanised Britain is divided into petty warlords who still pay lip service to Roman authority even though it collapsed soon after the withdrawal of the legions. The evidence we have is that at least two tribes in the north of england retained latin titles. This practice may well have continued further had the Saxons not ignored it. I note the practice persisted longer on the continent by hundreds of years. Since the Saxons were already resident in the Thames Valley and grabbed much of southeast england for themselves early on, the practice of Roman titles might well have died out in Britannia Prima much quicker than outlying regions. It's hard to figure out exactly what the political balance was in sub-roman Britain. On the one hand, Gildas writes about tyrants and features four of them in his sermon on the decay of Britain. On the other, we keep seeing hints in sources that individuals were assigned Roman governmental positions even after the government has gone and that these people had authority that exceeded, or at least influenced, those very same warlords who by their natire probably weren't inclined to listen to anyone else. Our biggest problem here is the lack of information. The germanic settlers weren't bothered with histories (The Saxons for instance never wrote anything down until they became more sophisticated after the Settlement Period bagins, and seem more content with listing either that they'd been in a battle or had won it), and much of the monastic record kept might have been destroyed by foreign raiders up until the Norman Conquest. Folklore is a persistent source of information, even if somewhat unreliable, but the fantasies of the middle ages have distorted what we know about the era.

It's not entirely the fault of antiquarians. Roman titles had a cachet all of their own in the early medieval period. Roman authority was still still respected in those times even if the empire had long gone. We see Dark Age tribeal leaders in England with Roman ranks. Even if Arthur wasn't actually made Dux Bellorum (Duke of Battles) as one source claims, the idea was valid in that a man could be rewarded with Roman rank for service etc. It also appears this practice was applied to cement treaties between factions, though oddly enough there seems little self aggrandisement involved. Perhaps that was a little too assuming?

I'm reminded of the famous quote that "The Holy Roman Empire wasn't holy, wasn't Roman, and wasn't an empire". The west after 476 might have claimed Roman inheritance but the Holy Roman Empire was a later invention, a realm that based its credibility on association with roman ideals. Charlemagne for instance was crowned Emperor of the Romans not because he was, but because none else was and the title suited his reputation.

All of a sudden my car is desirable. In the last four weeks I've had four people knocking on the door asking if I'm willing to sell it. Not, as you might imagine, young tearaways out to secure the chance of impressing their mates with sporty japanese road-going hardware, but office girls, up and coming managers, and old chaps looking for the project to keep them busy until that final heart attack. But why my car? To look at ithe vehicle askance it's nothing special. Okay, it's got a neat body kit that offsets the effete styling of the original Eunos, but the car is grimy,unloved, missing a steering wheel, lacking the drivers side window, seats that are currently decomposing, and a softtop renovated by Jack the Ripper. Why is everyone interested all of a sudden? Meanwhile, Back At The Park It was a nice day yesterday so after finishing my daily business I decided to enjoy a spot of sunshine in the local park. Other people usually get the same idea by the afternoon so I wasn't suprised to see a bunch of guys lounging around on the row of benches looking out across the lake. As people they were the usual collection of working class, and unremarkable. The two dogs with them however were another matter. Both were, as you might expect, thick set mongrels with short legs and powerful shoulders, broad flattened snouts, and sleek short fur. Rover was a black dog. Fido was white. In fact, Fido was a feisty playful animal that wanted everyone to know what a brilliant wooden branch he'd discovered. Just don't touch, okay? Unless you mean to throw it back in the lake in which case.... There he goes again. Despite the amused owner trying his best to stop his dog retrieving what was a minor tree trunk in its own right from the lake, the dog insisted on mounting a major expedition to haul it back to shore, and having done that, dragged it into the bushes. I could hear snarls and crunching noises as the bushes quivered occaisionally. Rover wanted to join in. Clearly this game looked like fun. Sadly Fido was in no mood to share his treasured branch. Fido snarled, Rover barked, and they both decided to not play any more. Luckily the owners were experienced in the handling of their dogs and called them both away, leaving the branch to rot gently in peace and quiet. A happy ending to todays Story From The Park. Permanently Parked Too Can you believe it? For the last two or three years there's a bloke in an anonymous grey saloon who's been parking at the back of the old college site. he's alway's there, doing nothing but sat at the wheel with his engine running. How does his car never run out of petrol?

I think it's possibly a requirement of auntiehood. These secret societies among our midst must be identified and studied, so future generations can learn how to keep phone calls down to a sensible minimum.

From where I sit the problem seems to be - as it often is - the modern interpretation of celticness. It is interesting that the Romans regarded germanic tribes as 'true celts' (that's what the word means) and those tribes peripheral to the germans such as the gauls were not all that well regarded, partly because of earlier conflict with Rome, partly because of their eroding warrior virtue. The problem with the Romans of course is their lack of objectivity and insight when describing the barbarian world. They drew associations based almost completely on appearance thus tacitus wonders if the Silures were Spanish in origin. Despite his arrogance and dismissal of people on the fringe of the Roman world, he also shows a lack of any distinct racism, which again appears to be a phomenon of the modern age. Halstatt and La Tene celts may not have been ethically different from many of the tribes in western europe before their grasp of iron working turned them into explorers and conquerors, but there is a distinct cultural difference that definitely impacts on Iron Age Britain when they arrived there between 700 and 500BC. I've long argued that that the white horses carved in chalk uplands of southern england were not just religious symbols, they were also territorial markers. How then do we reconcile the Roman view with our own? They saw tribal divisions that mean very little to us, and we now recategorise celts in a way that would baffle the Romans. What we need to do is establish the differences between ethnic and cultural grouping. Do we regard the celts as a distinct tribe or as a distinct culture?

They were gladiators?

Oh hang a minute, my mobile phone is ringing. That doesn't happen very often these days. Hopefully it'll be an employer begging me to save their company from bankruptcy.... Nope... It's my aunt. You've never met her have you? No, I thought not. You'd know if you had because bless her cotton socks, she cannot stop talking. "I've not used my mobile very often" She explained, "And I found your phone number on it. So I thought I'd give you a ring." You see, this is how my family is. Anyway, it's too late, I've answered the call, so I'd better sit back, put the kettle on, and wait for oxygen starvation to make her pause for breath in fifteen minutes or so. It's like listening to a soap opera update. Somebody has dumped her boyfriend, someone's been trying t contact me, and the major news this time is an up and coming marriage for one of my relations down under. What? Another one? How many relations do I have down there? Good grief, they're breeding like rabbits... My aunt wants to go there and celebrate but in fairness her health is not what it was. She's been asked to report any pain and suffering following a short spell in hospital, so she's not keen to be on the other side of the world when it happens. Maybe it's just me but I was under the impression that healthcare is indeed available in the Antipodes. In any case, all she has to do is tell them she's the aunt of Lord Caldrail. They'll send her home by private jet, surely? I mean, it's the only way they'll avoid a seventy two hour lecture. Low Low Prices On my way to the programme centre (What? Again? Oh yes - The Job Centre like it when you do something about your jobless status) I passed a billboard outside a fast food outlet. A burger for only

Slightly more horses than the Romans used I'm afraid

I suppose there's an atmospheric hint of what it would look like, but as suggested above, the chariots are not replicas of racing vehicles used in the Roman circus. Although I was pleased to see the relatively lightweight wheels, the width of the axle looks excessive. Driving practicality aside, these chariots were stripped out vehicles and the extra weight of a wider axle is significant. Remember that the chariots portrayed are essentially two-man vehicles, not single stand racers. I notice they were constructed with a solid floor. Not the case in historical vehicles, which had interwoven leather strips or planks to stand on, again to save weight. Further, the front shield on the re-enactors chariots is for warfare, being an all-round protective screen facing forward. The racing chariot had a much slimmer screen for one person that didn't wrap around the sides. Strictly speaking, a chariot as shown by the BBC might have only been used for training, not the actual race.

Wow... Proof positive that the persistence of cultural feuds can last thousands of years even after the combatants themselves are long gone. Irrespective of my personal opinions on such behaviour, it does seem that the prevalence toward homosexuality occurs when a society is comfortable. In times of strife, struggle, and survival there's a great deal less tolerance toward it, though in fairness cultural traditions can persist for a very long time. Did homosexuals destroy Rome? Erm... No... Politics, economy, health, enviromental issues, and lots of hairy foreigners wanting their share of the good times had more to do with it. But we all know don't we? Seems the italians have other ideas.

Weathermen do love it when things get interesting. Our current spell of fine weather is about to end, and as always, the man on tv grinned mightily as he warned of impending wind and rain. Okay, okay, I heard you the first time, change the cript, please... Today is still sunny. A bit cooler though, and actually the breeze is quite chilly. I was strolling along the local high street on my to the programme centre. A young woman in a red car swerved across in front me, mounting the pavement like it was her own driveway. Excuse me? You're blocking the pavement? "Pardon?" She asked whilst doing more important things like retrieving her handbag from the car's interior. "You're going to have to move the car." I suggested. "Sorry but I can't park there." She answered, pointing at a dayglo yellow traffic cone as she nipped into the nearby office. What? Is that supposed to be an excuse for breaking the Highway Code? Block the pavement and obstruct pedestrians because someone obstructed her desired parking spot? I pity her partner. I really do. Coat Of Arms Occaisionally I pass a newsagent and more often than not a billboard with the newspaper headline is displayed outside to attract punters. If only they wouldn't use headlines months.. One headline I spotted this morning, which is probably old news to anyone who actually bought a copy of the newspaper, is that Penhill wants its own coat of arms. For those that don't know, that's a heraldic crest. Not content with housing most of the drug dealing layabout vandals in Swindon, or forcing taxi drivers to ban fares into that area, or have delivery drivers refuse to enter the downtrodden streets, they want independence. I don't know why they need to ask. Their residents have been marking walls with any number of heraldic crests for years.

What is Roman? From a philosophical point of view that's an interesting question, but ultimately whether something is 'Roman' depends on preconception and education - Rome is in the eyes of the observer. Historians will of course immediately disagree, but beware, because human beings do love to categorise and file information into convenient sections. It's part of our nature apparently. The need to store information that could help our prehistoric ancestors hunt and forage means that we draw associations, meanings, and categories all too easily. In assigning names to periods of history we do exactly that. It's widely accepted that Rome ended in 476, yet if you look at events it's only the western part of Rome that loses the caesars finally and forever. One wonders how things were perceived at the time. Given the state of the empire and the loss of a class of leader for the first time in nearly five hundred years, it's probable that many Romans themselves saw that as the end, though in fairness I haven't seen any such contemporary mention in classical sources. By the end of the 5th century Rome was a divided world. Strictly speaking, the division was only a political necessity to maintain adequate stability, and both east and west saw themselves as inherently Roman, both part of the same empire if ruled seperately. After Theodosius the empire was never again ruled by one man. Was that seen at the time as significant? Probably not, because the Romans didn't have the benefit of hindsight and in any case, leadership was always up for grabs and had changed format more than once in the past. In other words, the idea that the Byzantines were Roman came very naturally to them - because they were Roman - culturally at least. The Byzantine Empire didn't suddenly appear out of nowhere - it already existed in a fledgling state for a century or two, developing independence politically and culturally. To argue that it was a child of the west is a difficult analogy for me to accept. After all, the emergence of eastern power was at the expense of the west - quite literally - and represents a change of focus and power base. Constantine wanted to take Roman power from the eternal city and take to a new capital, Constantinople, and that was eventually the case. Not a child then. More like a heart transplant, in which the donor gradually bled to death.

For the first time this year the museum left the front door open. That proves how nice the weather is getting. In fact, the museum likes to keep the door open because it persuades people to wander in. A closed door is very intimidating for the average member of the public. And they poured in. Four visitors this morning. Rushed off my feet I was. Taking money at the till, providing assitance to vistiors, answering enquiries from the public at the reception desk, preventing displays being nicked, and generally standing helplessly whilst visitors tell me their life story. Young L was a bit late in this morning. Another sign of a bright sunny day? Never mind, he bounded in through the door and proceeded to create his very own brand of audiovisual havoc which only he is skilled in providing. Ooooh look, it's the end of my shift. See ya! Sunny In The City Too So nice and warm is the weather that the pound has surged against the dollar. Not entirely sure what the significance is or whether it impacts on my own particular poverty, but hey, forewarned is forearmed. Too Sunny I've just spotted a news item that tells the public not to waste money in garages but instead do some basic maintenance yourselves. Good advice given the sort of rates garages charge these days. I would be only too happy to while away an hour or two preparing my car for the next mad dash here and there except there isn't any point. It seems too many people have been maintaining my car to suit themselves in the wee small hours. In fact, most softop cars are whizzing around town with the top down. Must be something to do with the weather. I've noticed a definite correlation between sunny days and wind in the hair. Most drive past taking no notice of me. However, one young lady stuck her finger up at me as she drove past. Charming. Haven't a clue who she is, so I presume she's jealous of my fashion sense, or is she upset that I'm not insanely jealous of her expensive silver BMW? There's been a lot of police cars parked around town just of late. Looks like they're enjoying the good weather too. Nice to see them getting out and about. Must be a dreary life filling in forms in an office. "Hiyah!" Came the call from across the road. It had to be Mr J. He's a colleague at the museum, a man for whom life is one long party from start to finish. Always here, always there, always yelling greetings across the street before rollerblading to work or meeting hordes of in-crowders for a lazy afternoon in the park for that all important business meeting. This is all getting out of control. Where's the damp grey days we know and love? I can't cope with this level of sunshine...

Hence the desire to call it the 'Early Medieval Period' instead. Personally I'm not bothered by the terminology at all. Dark Age is fine with me - it's just a convenient label.

For some strange reason I woke bright and early this morning. For a reason probably easier to understand I wobbled dangerously as I overconfidently got out of bed. Oh well, start as you mean to continue. As usual I made a brief glance out the window to check what sort of weather awaits me today. The horizon was buried under thick grey clag, a sort of dark fog, and at first sight it looked as if I was expecting a very damp morning. By the time i was washed, dressed, and ready to take on the world outside my front door, the sky was an almost clear blue. Is this the same day? You'd hardly know. Meanwhile, Back At The Library My first stop today was another interwebbing session on the library computers. Nothing much to report except the presence of Mr Fidget, who seems to have an uncanny ability to find a vacant computer next to mine. Normally he's the most irrating person to be sat next to, but when the town hall clock struck eleven, he clasped his hands to his ears and remained motionless for nearly a whole minute. That gives me a great idea. Who do I see to have the bells ring out every minute? I know, I'll look it up on the internet.... Darn. Can't find anything except everyone elses town hall bells and a great many local pubs. Obviously Swindon's bells are covered by the Official Secrets Act. Maybe I could apply to be Swindons bell-ringer? All I need is to develop a hunched back and sweep Esmerelda off her feet. How hard can that be? Meanwhile, Back At The programme Centre My advisor at the programme centre asked me how I was getting on with my job search. Not too bad as it happens, although today I had to wade through an online application form and they're never quick. Whatever hapened to lightning fast information technology? Typing answers into boxes that contain enough space for six keypresses is not my idea of fun. You have to reformat the whole thing as you go, and as the orignal email tells me, I have to do this today or fail to meet the dealine. How about that for working under pressure? "Have you had any accidents today?" He asked me some anticipation. No, sorry, I've taken the day off regarding accidents. "I imagine so," He agreed, "Since I so cruelly mocked your efforts at negotiating the pavement". Yeah you did, didn't you! I suppose that was some psychological technique aimed at developing my sense of self-worth and creating a robust personality ready to take on the disappointments of seeking employment in a cut-throat enviroment, but in all honesty, it didn't work. He laughed nonetheless.

One aspect of the lack of territorial retention is the lack of urban centrs in Scotland. Unlike today, when just about every inch of land is defined and valued, back then it was settlements, facilities, and resources that made territory valuable. Simply occupying an area had no intrinsic value to the Romans. For instance, Hadrian returned territory conquered by Trajan such as Mesopotamia and Dacia. Whilst he had political reasons for doing so, note that he kept the parts of Dacia that had gold mines. But the important point, which Melvadius has underlined, is that without an urban centre, without the basis for civic organisation, they would have to build a Roman franchise from scratch. They tried that in Germania the previous century and were well aware of the hazards of trying to urbanise (and tax) hostile, disgruntled populations of aggressive barbarians.

Now this is a much warmer day. After a thirty minute walk to the programme centre I was sweating. "Lovely day isn't it?" Said the young lady on the front desk. How she noticed that buried inside her air conditioned laminated trench is a mystery to me. Oh look, now I'm getting sweat all over the floor... My mentor popped into the foyer to collect me with her usual polite cheeriness. She also mentioned what a nice day it was, and obviously concerned at my sweaty face enquired whether I had walked. Oh yes, I replied, I always walk. I can't afford a helicopter. That raised some chuckles from the unemployed lads waiting in the office. Sadly I couldn't entertain them further because their tutor was about to give them a lecture on choosing what to do with their lives. Pointing at the bit on the application form where I wrote about how experienced I was my mentor said "You should put 'sarcasm' as one of your skills." Touch?. I have mastered the lowest form of skill. Learn To Enjoy Haircuts The gentleman who has had his hair cut without his consent has made it clear to the job centre how he feels about it. So they offered to put him in front of a psychiatrist so he could learn to like it. I wonder if the politicians who enacted todays changes in benefits rules know exactly what goes on in job centres? Gag of the Week Most of the jokes you get on the internet are pretty terrible. Like mine for instance. But one of the shaven heads at the programme centre found this one while he searched the world wide web for a job. What do you call a donkey with three legs? A Wonkey.

It is true that Roman conquest was often inspired by natural resources or the potential booty and tax revenue. Obviously with such low population densities and extensive wilderness the Romans had little reason to consider territory as valuable in its own right. That's a good point about the problems in Dacia but wouldn't it make more sense to move troops closer to the trouble area? After all, even with the much vaunted roads, the Romans did not have access to modern logistics thus strategic redeployment was not extactly rapid. The costs of building military forts and castles isn't what you imagine. Unlike the later medieval castles, the legions were not paying civil artisans to build it, nor were they paying land owners for the right to erect fortificartions. I'm not saying it didn't involve expense, but the legions were kept busy as labourers during such construction work. Labour costs have always been the worst expense of any construction project So for instance wood was obtainable locally without anything more than soldiers pay and tools, most of which were already paid for.

If you ask around I don't doubt for a moment that you'll find those who think I'm wnot quite right. Partly that's down to my Londonian genes, which grate irritably on the Swindon herd. Partly it's down to my individualism, something else the Swindon herd doesn't comprehend easily. On the other hand, I have a strange exotic ailment normally only reserved for celebrities trying to get out of the jungle. What is this strange ailment, you might ask? Some of you will be muttering various causes of my discomfort already, but no, you're wrong. It's just simple klutziness. And how did this ailment affect me? Well, I was on my way back to the programme centre for another days internetting when I spotted my advisor leaving for his lunchbreak. Oh no, he's not going out for doughnuts without including me on his list of grateful consumers. I was about to regale him with my demands when I spotted a car approaching and keen not to get run over, I concentrated my efforts on reaching the other side of the road first. However, with one foot on the pavement I turned and mentioned to him that 'plain' was perfectly acceptable for my lunchtime doughnut. He laughed. He actually laughed! Is that cruel or what? But sadly I was not concentrating on walking anymore, so my other foot tripped on the kerbstone. Worse still, my rucksack slid off my shoulder due to the impact and pulled me forwards. It was one of those moments where you know what's going to happen but you're helpless to avoid it. I fell over. My advisor laughed even more. Life can so cruel. Life Gets Crueller Still Another road to cross on my merry way. I've had a bit of practice at this over the years and pride myself that I can do this dangerous task unassisted. Sadly I was being so expert and careful I forgot how close I was to a roadsign in my way.... Hey! Which idiot put this sign here? The drivers of cars passing by were most amused. Life Gets Incredibly Cruel For the most disastrous of all my clumsy escapades, we now go back a decade to the glory years of my flying activities. I had taken a young lady friend for a joyride in a two seat Cessna and believe me, those cockpits are snug. The flight had gone well and I parked the aeroplane on the grass apron, shutting down the fuel and electrics as the propellor clattered to a halt. There's an odd silence after an aero-engine is switched off. The noise inside the cockpit is a loud roar and you sort of get used to it after an hour. I turned to my companion and advised her to be careful on getting out of the aeroplane. The step is quite small. Miss it and you'll fall over. She waited and listened dutifully as I unstrapped and got out. I missed the step completely. Yes. I fell over.