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Also, as I mentioned before, Pilate was not likely to report a minor troublemaker. Who cares? In any case, he wouldn't want his boss thinking he couldn't handle Roman business It was my understanding that Roman interest in Judaea began at least as early as 63BC and they took direct control of the province in ad 6.

There's an advert on television for fruit juice. A man goes to work through San Francisco and announces to his radio audience that 'Today os gonna be a great day'. Well, I won't be buying any fruit juice, but yes, this morning feels very much like that. Except Swindon isn't on the Bay of Angels and there aren't any trams going up and down Victoria Hill any more. To be honest, Swindon really isn't all that exotic. Somehow I think choosing San Francisco for the advert was a better choice. But hey, breathe in that cool spring air. There's a hazy clear sky and a genuibnely good mood. Even BFL has stopped grabbing everyones attention this morning (She's such a hypocrite. When she wants silence, moan moan whinge bicker. When she wants to talk, do you mind? She's talking). No, I won't get sidetracked. Today is gonna be a great day. With or without fruit juice. Last Night It was dark as I ambled home from a last minute dash to th shops to resupply my rations. In the clear night sky, the moon was visible as a dark disc, lit on one side as a glowing arc. Almost in front of it a solitary airliner crossed the sky leaving a contrail, an odd sight in darkness, and the overall effect was surreal, like fifties sci-fi artwork.

Notable christian? Jesus only became notable after his death, when he was eulogised by preachers of the various christian cults spreading into Rome and Asia Minor. Nor for that matter was he notable for his death. In fact, the usual rationale of his deaths significance reads as a little contrived if you aren't a believer. The Romans had no problem with religion. As pagans, they saw no differentiation between their beliefs and those of the Essenes and Jesus's own cult. However, Jesus was a rabble rouser, and in Judaea of that time such a person was liable to bring themselves to the attention of the authorities for security issues, which is exactly what happened. Jesus refused to acknowledge the divinity of the Emperor. I suspect the Romans were being a bit expedient here, forcing him to accept their overlordship, but since Jesus refused in effect to acknowledge Roman rule, he more or less condemned himself. As such, his death was criminally (or politically?), not religiously significant. Let's not forget that Jesus was assuming the role of the mnessiah to gather support. Contrary to some popular misconception, the judaean messiah was a man who would lead the country to victory and freedom, not the 'son of god', which is a Roman attribute given to Jesus in later centuries as christianity took hold.

What a lovely spring day. It really was. Cold or not, the sunshine gave it that sort of comfortable feel. There's a peculiar smell on days like this. I'm sure it's not my socks or the lack of hot baths until my boiler gets fixed. No, instead I mean that spring freshness. Oh no. I sound like an aerosol commercial. Can't help it. The back window was open, the sky was blue, the birds were singing, and it just felt good to be alive. When the boilerman turns up it might feel better still. Changes On The Horizon Over the weekend the plans for the Union Square development were laid out in the library foyer, along with a scale model of the area. This is no facelift - it's a full on 'let's throw away Swindon and start again' sort of thing. I daresay many will be sighing in relief and muttering about how this was not before time. Thing is though you lot don't have to live here. This development, as ambitious as it is, really is changing the centre of Swindon and all the muttering I could hear from the locals swarming about the displays was a dumbfounded critique. Looks good on paper but the natives are restless. Ring.. Ring... Oh, hang on a moment, the phone is ringing... Hello?... Oh yes, the boiler needs fixing... Five minutes?... Great. See you in a moment then. The boilerman turned up, headed straight for the resolutely impotent device hanging off my kitchen wall, pressed a couple of buttons, shrugged, and left inside fifteen seconds. How did he do that? I've been without heating or hot water for two weeks and all I needed to do was reset the effin' thing? Oh.. Hallo.. Life can get a little bizarre sometimes. No sooner had the boilerman left when I decided I still enough time to rush down to the library for my daily fix of internetting. No sooner had I closed the front door when the lady with false eyelashes I met the other day was standing outside. I nearly didn't recognise her without her artifical eyeshades. Oh... Erm... Hi, how are you? Must dash...

I think the concensus here is that early and late Roman armies were more or less identical in their brutality, Christianity only serving to give justification to the slaughter of non-Christian foes. I wonder, though, wether Alaric's Christianity played a part in moderating his sack of Rome? I've suddenly realised the significance of what you're suggesting. Christianity only justifioed violence in its name against heathens during the middle ages, when in 1097 Pope Urban II received a request from Emperor Alexius of Byzantium asking for military assistance against the turks, and gave a speech in which he exorted good christians to take up arms to free the Holy Land and just in case anyone was worried about Thou Shalt Not Kill, he declared it was less sinful to kill heathens and that fighting to free Jerusalem was a penance against their violent acts. In Roman times, there was no official statement to this effect, and indeed, if individual christians were worried about the effect on their soul, they more than likely refused to fight at all. There were executions of those refusing to serve. I don't know of any pre-medieval christian who used his religion as an excuse to inflict harm, at least on a personal basis, though politics is another matter.

The remarkable thing is how passionate some of these people are about thier adopted concepts of unwritten history. In most cases it's based on ignorance and perceptual misinterpretation, partly by the insidious nature of manipulative cultists and authors, partly by a psychological need to find something unique to believe in that sets them apart from the herd, or perhaps gives them some sort of status as a knowlegable person in that they know 'the truth'. By the way, how is Elvis these days?

I feel good about today. Not for any of the usual "Thank God it's Friday" reasons, but simply because it's such a fine day. Outside there's a blue sky without a cloud to be seen, the sunshine taking the edge of the chill I felt earlier this morning. Talking about sunshine, the usual predictions of disaster are coming out now, because the sun reaching another turbulent phase in its eleven year cycle, and worse still, there's a mighty alignment in the galaxy about to occur, an event seen every twenty five thousand years, and with all this poppycock about the Mayan end of the world in december next year, I feel sure that I might as well enjoy what great weather we have right now. Oh come on! You mean you think ancient civilisation knew the world would end next year? How? How could they possibly know that? Oh I get it. Ancient wisdom. Ahem. Well, let me scoff not. Apparently there's going to be a presentation in Swindon shortly about wierd stuff like faces on the surface of other planets, alien visitations, and the terrifying truth about ancient astronauts. No, I tell a lie, I am going to scoff. Ancient astronauts? In a period when lighting fires by rubbing two sticks together was the cutting edge of research into cooking food and staying warm, how did they build interstellar vehicles? Oh yes. I forgot. Aliens showed them how. Of course. How silly of me to forget that. I mean, if you're a paleolithic hunter/gatherer surviving by following herds of hairy beasts across freezing cold grasslands, building a spaceship would be a breeze if someone dropped a manual on How To Build UFO's in your lap. Come on, people, wise up. We live in a technological society and most of us can't understand the instructions on how to use our DVD recorders. Health Test Dummies I see a news report today that doctors are training on new sophisticated dummies. Now that our local sex shop has closed, I imagine there's a lot of them about. That said, I'm glad that dummies are now longer confined to the horrendous and hazardous working conditions of crashing cars. Now that our bookshelves are full of literature aimed at teaching them to become useful members of society, I sense liberation for our educated slaves. Equal rights for Dummies!

I'll state my objection and leave it there. No, the Roman army wasn't modern at all. Sophisticated for its day certainly, and yes, some of the things they got up to were similar to what we're familiar with - but that's the problem. People spot the similarities and automatically fill in all the blanks without checking whether they're right. It simply isn't good history to assume the Romans were exactly like us.

Recently I noticed a news item concerning the increasing level of drug traffic in Britain. Perhaps I shouldn't be suprised. The local newsopaper has regularly reported drug busts by police here and there in Swindon, probably like any other town or city in the country. Not being a drug user myself I don't generally come across the trade. I've had one offer of drugs from a stranger in my entire life, and I've only seen cannabis openly being used once. Persoanlly I never saw the point of them. If you need drugs to enjoy yourself, you're not, are you? Okay, I like a tipple or two. In my younger days I got drunk as we all do and thought nothing of it. After feeling quite ill for three days following one christmas bash, I wised up. A bit. Okay, on rare occaisions I still drink too much, but so few of us regard alcohol as addictive drugs, do we? last night I waited outside the museum for another meeting to discuss community events. A young man sidled up precariously, clearly sozzled, and he began his attempt to converse with me. As he droned hesitantly on, I realised he was talking about alcohol abuse. He's been attending counselling sessions, and despite his difficulties in talking and standing up, declared he was going on the wagon. Except his mate gave him a can of beer and he was honour bound to finish it. Of course. I understand completely. Oi! You! Yesterday I left the house and strolled down the hill. Ahead was a blonde woman in a noisy mood. As I passed by she immediately gave me the benefit of her opinion. "D***head!" She ranted, "You're just a d***head! Have you got a cigarette?" No, I haven't. This lady ought to stop smoking them, or at least, stick to the kind with tobacco in them. "Oi!" She screamed after me. "I want a cigarette, d***head!" Actually you want something else in my opinion. Ecventually she gave up and harangued other people instead. More Oi You! On my way to the library today I heard some muffled singing. Huh? A motorbike rider was singing inside his helmet. That's odd. Bikers remain silent as a rule, unless they think the other road user is a complete plonker determined to obstruct their acceleration. In this case a car was negotiating the corner of a side road, heading for a car park behind the shops. "Oi! You!" yelled the biker, "What'ya doing? What are you doing? Move, you ****!" And so on. I haven't a clue what these people are smoking but cklearly there's a lot of it around.

I notice the word 'discipline' gets mentioned a lot. I think this needs to be clarified. Most of the time people assume the legions were well disciplined because we like to think they were - it appeals to part of our psyche that wants a sense of order, plus the romantic image of the perfect army is hard to quosh. However, stdying the sources reveals that discipline was not universally applied. Firstly, in peacetime, discipline tended to weaken, sometimes a lot, and we know the legions often suffered from internal disputes to a greater or lesser degree. The Romans only stress the major mutinies but if you look carefully you will find hints of persistent problems. What tended to happen in imperial times was that if hostilities started (and the Romans were equally guilty as their opponents) they were likely to get a bloody nose. We like to stress training and discipline but apparently the Romans found this hard to maintain to a fine edge. Instead what happened was the emperor/senate realised something bad was about to happen and rushed a senior politician they thought was capable to take charge. There are plenty of mentions of appointed leaders getting their men into shape. Now I agree that discipline was harsh when applied - it needed to be, because the soldiers were not well behaved and prone to surliness, not to mention an entire catalogue of dodges and scams - but also because the Romans employed a much more basic system of command than people generally realise. Because they needed all the members of a centurytogether for mutual strength and protection, subdivision of command was impractical and also niot preferable to the Roman mindset, which was far more in favour of direct control, thus the centurion, whilst he did have junior men with some limited authority with him, was running the century very much as the boss. Our sources indicate that it was the centurion you bribed to get off menial labour, not his subordinate officials. As to whether the legions were any good, the fact is the quality varied enormously. Some of the legions sent into battle were not, in modern terms, combat ready. Others were experienced hardened men. However, the important thing was who commanded the legion. A good commander would ensure the loyalty of his men (and even Julius Caesar had to face off a mutiny or two) whereas a poor commander, such as Junius Blaesus, all but inspired one. Note the clumsy reaction of legionary commanders in Germania during the mutiny after Augustus's death. When told by letter that Drusus was shortly to arrive and expected the legate to have done something before he got there, the legate concerned panicked and arranged for a mass slaughter of mutineers.

With a train magazine in hand I sat in the waiting room at the local surgery. Sooner or later I was going to be called and rather ominously the editorial of this months issue was about dead trains, locomotives lying idle, rusting away. Great. I needed that. Actually there a certain poignancy. As a child I used to wander along a disused railway, and in the wide open plain of ash beyond the iron railings, row upon row of obselete diesels waited for the cutting torch, reduced to shells or pitiable reminders of the sparkling new motive power units they once were. "Mister Lord?" The nurse called loudly and somewhat incorrectly. Gah! Why can't people get it right? Well, in fairness she realised her mistake. Having called my correct name out, I was summoned to the consultation room to be turned into a cyborg. Seriously. I have a gizmo attached to me with rubber pipes and so forth. One chap passed me in the street giving me a strange look, clearly unable to decide what I was. Personally, I feel like a borg from Star Trek. I have been assimilated. Ooops of the Week I didn't have much to eat yesterday and a bit late in the day I could bear hunger no more. let's see... What has he got in his cupboardses... Oh yes... The precious Pot Noodle. My precious... The trouble with these cheap snacks is they are to all intents and purposes devoid of taste, so my usual practice is to add a little flavour and spice. That bottle of pepper sauce will add a nice touch. Just pour in a couple of drops... You just know what I'm going to say, don't you? Well, you're right. A thick dollop of fiery liquid plopped into the plastic carttn irretrievably. No... No... This can't be happening... But it was. Gingerly I attempted to taste the polluted pot noodle, unsure whether I would still be alive to be assimilated at the surgery tomorrow. That's spicy. That's spicy. Very spicy... Face crunchingly head shakingly eyes closed spicy. Why do I not feel so huingry all of a sudden? There's a sudden urge to use the last of my bread on a peanut butter sandwich. My last meal for the condemned...

A little while ago you couldn't watch television without seeing an advert for Shiela's Wheels, a company offering cheap car insurance for women drivers. Three ladies sat on a pink cadillac having a sing-song. To be honest, it was hard to ignore the blonde in the middle. She genuinely had some screen presence and the eye naturally falls on her. Now it seems the television campiagn is so successful that the European Court of Justice have ruled that women cannot have cheaper car insurance because of their gender. Oh no. Does that mean I'm prevented from having my fix of an australian blonde? How can life get any worse? I had to laugh though. The news program brought on some talking head to discuss these far reaching changes in car insurance equality. He said that whilst men and women pass their tests at more or less the the same rate, men are 25 times as likely to fall foul of the law or have an accident in the first two years of driving. He said "There must be something in their driving that's causing that." Please excuse me whilst I rebandage my ribs. Of course there's something in it. Young men are more aggressive, competitive, and think nothing of the risks they take. Surely that's obvious to everyone. Why we do need to listen to an industry expert to ponder whether the problem exists? So... No more bonzer deals for the girls. Soon there might be fewer BMW Z's and Porsche Boxsters cruising up and down the hill outside my home soon. Do I sound like I'm gloating? Safer Sex? The statistics are often used to demonstrate that women are better drivers. That isn't strictly true. Women apparently have more accidents than men, but when men prang a car, we do it properly. Before I get screamed at, I would like to point out that women are not always so innocent as drivers. I remember a near collision with a young woman in her brand new Golf who clearly didn't know what 'one way street' meant, and either didn't see or had no experience of white arrows painted on the road surface to remind her that she was not driving in the right direction. She even had the cheek to toot her horn at me for getting in her way. My favourite example happened one morning on a rooftop carpark at a warehouse I used to work in. The standard practice was for people to come up the ramp, drive in a big wide circle, and find the empty space that would allow them the quickest and most convenient getaway when their shift was done. I was sat listening to the car radio before I went indoors, when a green Fiat made it's appearance. The woman who drove it was already notorious for being completely unable to park properly. Instead of parking between white lines, she always parked using a white line as a centreline to guide her in. Anyhow this particular morning she drove in a big wide circle, looking across to where she might find a white line to straddle, and promptly hit a lampost. The car lifted the rear wheels off the ground momentarily, and once she regained her composure, the woman stood staring at the damage, unable to believe that a lampost ran out in front of her like that. I know, men are no better, but boy do I feel better now. Especially after seeing those ridiculous false eyelashes displayed by a young lady in an office I visited earlier today. I swear, if she fluttered her eyelids, she would take off. Spooky Have you ever walked down a pavement, minding your own business, not harming a fly, when all of a sudden someone near spooks you? I mean really, really spooks you? Yes, you've guessed it, that happened to me. There I was, happily strolling down to the library for another session of internetting when I noticed this guy behind me, a few paces back. He was old, long faced, dressed like a hitman for the amish. He stopped when I stopped, stepped across the road when I stepped across the road, and generally set off my wierdo alarm. I stepped aside and he brushed past without a word. Maybe I was in his way? Who knows? Good News of the Week Having lost my daily three hour dose of Star Trek, I've discovered that... Holy Heck!... One television channel is showing an hour of Batman. That's brilliant. Adam West was my guru. I base my life on his teachings. Not the other one, of course, he's a bit dodgy. Now where can I buy one of those batmobile replicas? After all, those young ladies can't afford to drive their own cars anymore. They might need a lift to that very important business meeting.

My boiler still isn't fixed. Okay, I know it's the end of february and the onset of spring promises warmer times, but right now Britain is under the sway of a damp chill. Maybe I'm getting used to cold temperatures? I have no choice. The Job Centre want me to come in this morning for more of their statutory rehabilitation sessions. On the way I wanderd through the local park. The stonework around the edge of the lake has been well and truly fixed, restored, and now the lake looks full again. Not suprising I suppose, given the amount of rain we've been having this last week. Across the other side, where the old railway tunnel once plunged underneath Swindon Hill, I see the undergrowth has been partially cleared and the first vestige of a path laid. Oh well, time to go, I've things to do, places to be. The Significance of Sevenly Things Funny how certain numbers seem more important than others. The Druids used to believe '3' was all important. So do competitors in sports, though in fairness, the lower the number the better. '10' gets used a lot. How many times have you seen lists of the 'Best of'? It's almost cliche in its own right. But '7'? Now there's a number. In the library foyer I spotted a couple of self help books. Each gave seven steps to getting your desired result. Not that I took much notice. Instead I dived into a sci-fi novel while I was waiting for the doors to open and enjoyed the tale of gratuitous sex and violence. Who needs self help if you're packing a pulse pullet railgun and a self-aware intelligent sniper sight? Oh yes, seven. Why is it I wonder that the seventh son of a seventh son was supposed to be special somehow? The Big Question I caught the end of a program on sunday discussing a big question. Have we been here before? Not the tv channel, or the condition of Briotains economy, but the hugely vital question of whether reincarnation is a reality. The arguments were predictable. On the one hand, believers waffled on about karma and earning another chance to learn how to drive a car, how to get off with the opposite sex, and pay another lifetime of taxes to the government of your current life. On the other hand, the realists simply grunted and denounced the whole thing as rubbish. Face it chaps, the grim reaper might not be real, but he gets you in the end nonetheless. I confess the issue has crossed my mind more than once. As a spiritualist I have little choice but to ponder the significance of it all. Are we living again and again? Some would say that's wishful thinking, yet so many religions try to assuage our fear of death with the promise of some sort of eternity elsewhere. My own view is that 'life after death' is a stupid concept. Of course there isn't any. Life is what happens here, on this Earth, and to imagine a disembodied you in an ambiguous paradise (or dare I suggest it, a sulphurous pandemonium of torment?) is stretching credibility a little. 'Life after death' no. 'Existence after death' p[erhaps, but my own suspicions are that the experience isn't what we're expecting. The point is that our ideas about the afterworld are hopelessly mired in our own image. Christianity, along with certain other faiths, shamelessly tell us to behave or suffer. Good people go to paradise. Bad people go to Hell. It's a little contrived, don't you think? Organised religion isn't about spiritual welfare, but exists to organise your behaviour. It's there to tell youy what to believe, and in many cases, what to do. It is, like so many human social structures, designed to impose the will of the few upon the obedient masses. The universe is like a jigsaw puzzle in terms of understanding. We have some pieces, disjointed bits of colour on awkward shapes, but no picture on the box lid to guide us in putting the bits in place. What organised religion does is shove a pretty picture under your nose and tells you that's how the jigsaw looks. Some of us, myself included, realise the bits of jigsaw in our hand don't exactly fit the picture we've been given. So do I believe in reincarnation? Well, I admit that I can't help feeling that is does exist. As to how it all works or why it exists, I can't say, and I won't insult your intelligence by suggesting some framework that makes even less sense than governemnt fiscal policy. Funny thing is, why do we worry about it?

Some interesting points, and ones I would like to add to. Firstly, the Romans were well aware of the impending approach of hunnish raids and built a wall in eastern europe which was intended to impede them (though it obviously failed). Although the huns are usually quoted as the major villain of migratory pressure on the empire, bear in mind this was compounded and directly affected by the gothic migration southeastward from their hypothetical scandinavian homeland, which leaves an intriguing possibility of a third party pushing them out. it is also worth pointing out that the Romans were keen to defuse these migratory pressures, and it was more a case of the overt exploitation of them immediately after admittion into the empire that provoked a rebellion. In that sense, the Romans incited the goths to turn against them. Secondly, whilst the harsh winter did indeed facilitate the crossing the Rhine, it must be remembered the Romans had done themselves no favours on the Geraanic border prior to that. Although the German tribes weren't entirely innocent, Roman soldiers had raided them just as easily. In any case, intermittent warfare was an ongoing feature of the various german tribes and sooner or later they werte going to make inroads. The fact the Rhine froze over and let them cross was not an overly significant event. What was more significant was the increasing cooperation between German tribes. No doubt many of the germans employed in the Roman legions brought ideas on organisation and strategy back with them but notice this was not an immediate effect, but rather a growing development and sophistication of a more primitive people (a term I use advisably) in contact with a more developed civilisation, a situation we sometimes see elsewhere where the less developed people are not conquered and instead learn to compete with their neighbours.

Who remembers Newsround? It's a daily news program for kids that's been around since I was old enough to understand what a news program was. Back in those days the stalwart John Craven, now more usually associated with Countryfile, was the anchorman and roving reporter. I met him once at a school near Bristol where some community thing was going on. The RAF had brought in a rescue helicopter to show off to visitors, and the Duke of Edinburgh was scheduled to visit that afternoon. We spoke to Mr Craven briefly, as I remember he asked us what the helicopter was called. If anyone should know, it's a bunch of teenagers in uniform. Later we discovered the extraordinary truth that the Duke of Edinburgh not only had a sense of humour, but also watched television. Never again will I see the royal family the same way. Today I bumped into Newsround again. I was called into the museum early because a camera crew were dropping in to report on the release of the new Nintendo 3DS. Yes, children, it's real. Quite astonishing what the company have achieved but I'll leave it to you and your strapped-for-cash parents to discover the pro's and con's of it all. It was interesting to see how they conducted the filming. A bunch of kids were roped in to try the new gizmo out - though I'm afraid you will have to watch the report on television because Auntie Beeb will have me publicly flogged if I say too much. In fact, the kids were complete and utter stars. They remained patient and coped with the excitement of this new experience like they were born to it. Who says you should never work with kids? Confessions of a Grown Up Kid I tried a Wii today also. Never before have I enjoyed a game of golf. In fact, I've played golf around the world. No, really, I once did nine holes in New Zealand. Eventually. By The Way... Our boss at the museum likes his game consoles. He was, probably, the man most qualified to be interviewed.. Oh hang on... I see him smiling in front of the camera as he tries out the new ground-breaking never-before-seen multidimensional Nintendo wotsit. Quiet please, everyone... Let's go for another take...

Some of you might be enjoying Neil Olivers touchingly human investigation of our prehistoric ancestors. Not only are the BBC making interesting television, they're also supporting it with a 'Hands On History' campaign throughout the country. Last night the campaign reached my neck of the woods. At Swindon Central Library we welcomed Bob Trubshaw, a researcher and author on prehistoric monuments. He presented a talk on The Origin of Sacred Places, demonstrating himself to be an accomplished speaker who delivers lectures with a sincere passion for his subject. The subject matter turned out to be a little misleading, not for any dishonesty on his part, but because his audience sees things from a modern perspective and not through the eyes of people who lived in prehistoric times. Our idealism of the countryside is a concept unknown in ancient times. It's a phonemonon that has developed from increasingly sophisticated art and a desire to recreate idyllic renditions of it. We see the countryside as a cultural asset, a facility to be enjoyed, which I admit I'm all too guilty of. A few generations ago, it was no more than a workplace where people earned a living by farming it. If you go back far enough, when the prehistoric monuments were being built, the countryside was a wild and dangerous place. There's been a great deal said about our ancient monuments. The ubiquitous stone circle, typified by Avebury and Stonehenge, carry with them endless explanations of their astronomical alignment, purpose, even connections to mysterious ley lines or alien visitors. Bob Trubshaw has a more grounded vision of sacred places from the most distant antiquity.What he stresses is that stone circles are not built on the landscape by themselves. Surrounding sites like stone circles are other kinds of monument connected with them. If the time is taken to study the relationship between these forgotten places of worship and the situation, their placement is clearly no accident. We find it difficult to set aside the notion that the stone circles were built at places intrinsically important. Perhaps there's an element of that, as Mr Trubshaw admits, given some sites have signs of earlier use. However, there is every reason to believe that sites were planned deliberately to create a sense of awe. That may seem an obvious point. Yet we should realise that these places were not necessarily used as sacred sites all year round, but where sacred rituals were performed on specific days. Have we then spotted an element of how our distant ancestors worshipped? Unlike the modern day, when we attach value to places without a second thought, it appears that prehistoric communities attached more value to what you did.

Would you believe it? A damp and dreary day in Rainy Old Swindon. The rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire never let you down. Luckily the wetter stuff happened in the night. I am told it absolutely poured with rain during the night. I wouldn't know, I was deep in snooze mode and even my neighbours door slamming in the early hours barely raised my eyelids. But, damp or not, today was another day on the farm, so I headed out to the programme centre for another great day of learning how to apply for jobs. Did you know I've been unemployed for nearly three years? You'd think I would know how to fill in application forms by now. Funnily enough, I sort of get it more or less right. Most of the time. I did laugh at the role play session. Before anyone wonders, no, it wasn't about warriors or wizards battling gealtinous cubes in dark tunnels, but a pair of instructors demonstrating How Not To Be Interviewed. "So," The lead instructor asked, "What do you think the first guy got wrong?" He had to ask. That was a red rag to a bull. So I whipped out the piece of paper and read off line after line of hopeless errors and mistakes in interview technique, sounding like a policeman booking in a criminal. The instructor fell over laughing, completely unable to keep up with the pace as he scrawlled on a paper board all the points I rattled off. "So," The lead instructor asked, "What do you think the second guy got right?" Dunno, really. I wouldn't hire him either. A Strange Kind Of Dog I passed a dog on my way to the programme centre. Odd sort of beastie. Sort of like a bulky lurcher with a massive shag pile carpet glued on. I asked the owner what it was. A crossbreed, so he told me, bought from a rescue centre. Part border collie, part something else. He said his gog was unusual. I watched it circle, then prepare to do his business. Looks the same as other dogs to me.

Interesting thread, especially since lately there's a been a number of television programmes investigating early human societies. Our expansion from Africa, the Ice Ages, and the various stone ages. Our pagan ancestors evolved in perspective. We know that the paleolithic tribespeople saw themselves not as seperate from nature (as is common in christian thinking, partially descended from inheriting Roman attitudes, partly by our modern success as a species, especially technologically), but instead, as intrinsically part of it. The adoption of farming in neolithic times brought about a change, where humans realised they could manipulate the world around them for their own advantage, and a connection with the land they live own emerges. Not just for territorial instinct, but because they invest time and effort in one particular place for survival. Also, with the extra free time and need to co-operate, social instincts are heightened, thus introducing a concept of ritual beyond that of communicating personally with whatever spiritual entities supposedly existed. Of course, the need to protect territory also emerges, and sadly, the social and religious changes in outlook evolve along with aggression and eventually organised warfare. It's an irony, I think, that becoming succesful has made us prone to managing violence, and that the Romans, who saw themselves in imperial times as the most succesful of all, that they ctreated an industry concerned with that end alone.

A couple of days ago I walked through the town centre. A street preacher was haranguing passers by with a disjointed sermon, triplets of words bellowed at the top of his voice as he sought someones attention, anyones attention. "It's your choice!" He proclaimed, "You can choose!" We certainly can, mate. We certainly can. We exercised our right and carried on about our lawful business. Except there are some people who are not permitted the same rights. They are not allowed to choose. There is of course a certain gentleman whose choice has been denied. He knows full well his hair is being cut against his wishes, by people who prefer not to reveal themselves. If this man cannot choose his own style and length of hair, what is he? I have no doubt the perpetrators feel good about themselves for what they've done. Human beings enjoy inflicting harm or their will upon others - they always have - and any excuse will do. Envy? Hatred? Or do they claim a matter of honour? Or do they lurk in the shadow of wealth? Or do they hide their own decisions behind the supposed will of god? And if they do achieve their goals, will they stop there? Or will they feel deprived of pleasure and find another excuse to continue their persecution? This gentleman acknowledges the Christian offer of free will. Provided, of course, they recognise that he does indeed have that right to choose even when that choice disagrees with their sensibilities. That is respectful, is it not? In any event, it doesn't matter, because the laws of England guarantee freedom of choice. It guarantees freedom from the imposition of someone elses will by force, or the physical harm inflicted to achieve it. They have no excuse. None at all. Don't say he didn't warn you.

Oh great. A miserable start to the day with a typical grey rainy day. Better still, the Job Centre have decided to put me on yet another course to fill my increasingly busy schedule, and guess what? Someone forgot I was already on a course elsewhere. Now I must attend two courses this week and if I fail to attend "it may affect your benefits". As it happens I met a guy from Eritrea of all places. He came here to earn a living and avoid the troubles in his home country. It's been two years since he's seen his wife and family. A little reminder that, even though it's raining out there, maybe things ain't so bad. Or Are They? A new course today? Well I definitely need to make sure I don't look like I've been dragged off a scrapheap even though it feels that way sometimes. So I ran the bath. That's a bit of a luxury these days given the price of gas. Not to worry, this is going to feel soooo good... Cold! What the..? My boiler isn't working. Why is my boiler not working? Sher-rail Holmes immediately went downstairs and deduced from the available evidence that the gas had been turned off by some idiot in the night. Thanks for that. The gas company assures me the supply is still valid. The letting agent assures me they'll inform the maintenance people. Back to my primitive manual methods of wiping dirt off then. I can just imagine a Roman smirking at my barbarous lifestyle!

As it happens discipline was harsh, but often lax. It appears that unless there was a pressing need, such as a current conflict, it was easier for commanders to simply let their men go on leave. What might suprise some people are records that show up to half a legion were away on leave at any moment in peacetime. The big disadvantage of a standing army is giving them something to do. Much depended on the legionary commander. A few were very good and notice that the best were usually only involved in running a legion when hostilities were in progress. Otherwise, a better bet was to stay in politics. There are clues that legates could be quite lazy, indifferent, and more concerned with their own lifestyles than running a military unit, which I suspect the centurions were only too pleased about. As for learning tactics, the Romans weren't so willing to adapt foreign ideas. Sometimes they tried things, but in most cases they maintained good traditional roman soldiering, because they knew better than anyone else (get the point) and being a conservative people, new ideas were not encouraged (dare I say it - discipline relies on maintaining standards?). The thing,is, no army ever invents things and adopts practises because they're clever or worthwhile. They adopt things out of necessity. If you're the victor, if you have all the military strength you need, what possible need is there to change anything?

The answer to the original question results from two things. Firstly, the Romans were proud of their legions and thought they were naturally the best, and tell us in their writings, so we adopt the same view without hesitation. Secondly, the legions are somewhat mythologised and the image of a miltary machine marching remorselessly against all who stand uselessly against it is a icon of strength and power that resonates with the human psyche. In other words, the superiority of the legion is greatly exaggerated by reputation and image. Most commonly you'll see the legions described in glowing terms and in comparison with modern armies. A luittle idd, don't you think? In fact, the Romans themselves admit there were serious deficiencies in their armed forces. Tacitus for instance gives the game away. When the the legions in Germania and Pannonia mutiny upon hearing the death of Augustus, he simply dismisses the causes as being essentially the same as usual. The legions were a two edged weapon. On the one hand, they were recruited from people regarded as fit, healthy, virile, and inherently aggressive. They wanted men who would thrust swords into men, women, and children if so ordered. But of course, men like that are hard to constrain, so the Romans tolerated a higher level of bad behaviour than we would today. Any idea that the Roman legionaries were professionally behaved is not consistent with our sources. We know how willing they were to con their own colleagues, how often they tried to get off hard labour by any excuse, or obtain leave. We know how often legion supplies 'fell off the back of a cart', or how readily they 'requisitioned' civilian property. We know how easily they mutinied, retreated, deserted, and chose the wrong boss. They were, in no uncertain terms, a necessary evil. But the essential truth is that glory was one means by which the Romans kept them more or less loyal. And that message survives to the modern day.

That's a little worrying. We usually get your secondhand weather imported soon afterward. And we've already had a cold snap already. I didn't have it too bad, albeit reduced to living in a duvet, but it got a bit rough for some and we Brits simply have no idea how to handle winter.

Hi Doc. Glad to see you've un-topsied your private life. As to letting people down, some people do find that easy. It's about their selfishness or respect for for others. Then again, sometimes our own expectations are unrealistic. We sometimes assume things are going great, only to discover how wrong we were. That's the risk you take. Good grief, I'm getting all serious and philosophical. Talking about commitment is all very well, but the lesson, I think, is to enjoy things for what they are. Our self worth should based on self-respect and personal goals, not the comfort of a carefully constructed world around you. Castles built on sand? Plenty of people do that. Right, that's enough seriousness. Somewhere, in this wild and woolly town, someone is doing something incredibly stupid and I want to be there to report on it. I lead such a simple life

The convulsions rippling through the moslem world recently seem a litle strange to me. Maybe I'm used to fundamentalist uprisings in the wake of Iran's revolution and the anti-western stance of their factions ever since, but I do note the popular unrest in Tunisia, Egypt, Bahrain, and now Lybia, where dissent is spreading among common folk. I must admit, it's a little baffling to me why there's a sudden change. Democratic movements in islamic countries? We're not used to hearing that. For now, the idea that common people can overturn what they consider as autocratic and selfish regimes is spreading. In some cases, the regime has changed as a result. I have the luxury of not needing to worry about the political and strategic implications upon the worlds stage since I am only a bystander to events dislayed on my television. My worry is that these democratic regimes have, in the long term, merely swapped one major problem for another one already existing among them. Fundamentalists don't like democracy. They want their own autocracies instead. How long will it be before freedom and fundamentalism turn on each other in the moslem world? There And Back Last night I stumbled across a film on tv. It's a spanish film called Timecrimes, a sort of psychological thriller in which a man inadvertantly finds himself in a loop in time and no matter how desperately he tries to control events, he can't, and the only escape from his dilemma is to see it all through to the bitter end. I like the way each iteration of the lead character is visually identifiable. Good emphasis on props as plot markers, tightly scripted, pitched almost to the point of maddening inscrutability, and even with subtitles an oddly watchable film, even if it does delve into human ugliness at times.