caldrail

Can you set fire to the board and win the game by playing the lyre and singing a kylie minogue song in latin? Seriously though, the railway stations should be replaced by mansiae on four roman roads. Since jail in roman times was only a temporary residence, that doesn't need changing. Four insulae built on a street and you can build a theatre. Acqeducts, baths, and temples replace electricity and other assets. However, for that truly roman experience, the banker should be replaced by an emperor, and make it possible for other players to humiliate you in failed decrees, or mount rebellions against unfair taxes. I can just see the punch-ups across the dining table now...

You're not wrong. I was watching the extended six o'clock news on Channel 4 as they visited various areas absolutely demolished by flood water, getting hauled away at onbe point by japanese rescue workers because another tsunami warning was in place following aftershocks. I think the saddest sight was a car left abandoned at an odd angle randomly among all the others swept away by the wave. Apparently the occupants had perished because the airbags had inflated and prevented themn getting out of the car when it was immersed. That said, I'm impressed by the stoic resolve of the japanese to get through this. Understated but inspiring nonetheless.

There are two ailments that are so beloved of the British working class. The first is flu, or rather a bad cold, which has to be responsible for more days off than anything else. The second is backache. I know a lot of people pull 'sickies' with this excuse, but honestly putting your back out for real is astonishingly easy to do and excrutiatingly painful when it happens. What makes it worse is that no boss in the whole united kingdom will believe you if you report your suffering. The first time I suffered back problems was when I worked as a picker in a warehouse. I wasn't doing anything strenuous, just bent down to pick up a single paperback and... Ouch!... Three days off work in agony. Not recommended. On rare occaisions the same ailment reappears and this weekend I managed to set it off again. Today I'm walking around without difficulty. An odd twinge or two, but definitely on the mend. A good thing too because it really is embarrasing hobbling around town like an old man. I think I'll go to the library this morning and sit down for a while. Like all the other old people clogging up the seats. More Monday Morning Moans Our local library is upgrading the computors this morning. The upper floors are deserted, the screens all switched off with little notices telling users why. Downstairs a patient security guard deals with enquiries from the public, and even manages to get rid of BFL whose very important business has been interrupted by yet another upgrade. I hung around for a while in the vain hope the system might get booted up. No such luck. So bad was this situation that a pair of policemen wandered round the library. Or perhaps they were looking for books on how to catch car vandals? Instead they consulted books on art. Well it doesn't look like I'll be logging on for a while. Oh well. I'll pop down to the programme centre and look for a job instead. On the way out I handed a book to the librarian stacking the shelves near the door. Bless her, she smiled so happily, finally given something useful to do by a member of the public. Hey, that's my good deed for the day. Meanwhile, Back At The Programme Centre Why isn't this computer booting up? A quick fiddle with tiny buttons located here and there, and a light flickered. I must have done somnething. Hey! This computor still isn't working. I can't access the internet! "Try rebooting it." Suggested the supervisor. Okeedokee... Just wait for Microsoft to work its magic, and... Nope, still not working. "Oh... I see... Well try this instead. I know this one works." Okay, I transfer to the next computer and this one gave me a pretty little message box telling me some obscure software was corrupted or interfered with and could I please tell someone? Hey, Boss! This comnputors not working either. "Strange... Okay, try this one over here." If this doesn't work I'm going home. Anyone got a walking stick I can borrow?

Back when I was very young, I remember a particularly vivid dream. I was wandering along a beach, in bright sunshine. My companion was a girl though I don't know what the relationship was supposed to be. Anyway, there was a rushing noise and the sea went out, like a low tide but much more dramatic and far reaching. It seemed as if the sea had vanished in the blink of an eye. My companion, entranced and excited by this amazing sight, ran here and there, jumping in puddles of seawater among the stranded fish and piles of seawater. I was more circumspect. This was wrong. Very wrong. I didn't understand why but I knew no good would come of it. Although I made an attempt to pull my companion away from this apparent threat, she was too bound up by it. Then I saw the horizon lift up. The sea was coming back. I vaguely have a memory of clutching my ears at a sudden noise of terrific volume, but I'm not sure if that recollection was originally part of the dream. A great wave was approaching. That dream has stuck in my mind ever since. Some years ago, I dreamt the final part. Where the wave reaches us. It was simply stunning. A wall of seawater that towered over me. All I could do was stand there slack-jawed at the terrible sight of it. Then the foam at the base of the wave hit me like a brick and remember nothing more. What on earth was I seeing? A past life experience, a prophecy, clairvoyance, or simply no more than a figment of my imagination, no more than a dream like any other? I shall never know. What I do recall is the terrifying majesty of a massive tsunami. With the recent disaster that wreaked havoc in Japan, how could I write an entry about anything else? Like everyone else I saw the images of an unstoppable wall of water crashing into the shore and pushing inland, sweeping everything before it? The video footage is in a way surreal. I can sit at home, safe and sound, and realise how terrible it was. What I can't imagine is what the sensations of standing in the way of a real tsunami must be like. Or in a strange way, maybe I can, though arguably there's no comparison. I know I should be expressing regret and sympathy for the suffering of the japanese. Frankly I don't know what to say, other than to repeat the sentiments expressed by everyone else. Without wishing to be too allegorical or politically incorrect, Japan has never really been the safest place in the world to live. Occaisionally nature reminds us who's in charge. Too Young To Understand As part of the Science and Technology Week the museum has hosted some activities for kids, namely communication. We had morse code tappers, semaphore flags, teletypes, yoghurt pot telephones, all ready to give the children a fun hands-on experience, and of course to learn something at the same time. Maybe I was being naive. What we got was a chimps tea party. The kids seemed completely unable to retain any interest for more than ten seconds, always getting impatient and fed up if something wasn't perfect or worked instantly, and lacking in any sort of discipline whatsoever. This afternoon I am a broken man. Physically and emotionally. What is it with kids these days? I was shocked by how difficult it was to engage their atention. When I was a kid, you sat up straight and paid attention, or you risked well aimed chalk missiles, loud public humiliations, or in the worst cases, a lonely trip to the headmasters office for a more painful lesson on how to behave. Certainly not like the good old days anymore. No wonder modern kids wander off and paint random heiroglyphs on the nearest available wall.

The 'hinged' pila shouldn't have too much difficulty with penetrating shields as opposed to any other shafted weapon. The initial impact is along the axis and only after the impact is the pin broken allowing the pilum to beciome an encumbrance for the enemy soldier. Heavy cavalry are a novelty on the ancient battlefield. Also, don't get caught by believing they charged like medieval knights. We know the weight of gear made the cavalrymen mindful of how easily their horses would become tired. Consequently, it was unusual for heavy cavalry to gallop, perferring to retain some energy in their mounts for tackling opposing cavalry, thus we might infer that cavavlry tactics hadn't changed much regardless of protection. In fact, in some of the instances where we know heavy cavalry did charge, they came unstuck badly. The infantry opened their ranks, allowed them in, unhorsed them, and slaughtered the hapless riders with ease. I cannot stress this enough. The cavalry charge is not a collision - it's a game of chicken. Will the infantry realise it's a good idea to back off rapidly and perhaps flee, or will the horsemen realise they're about to be unseated by reluctant horses (or lots of sharp pointy things) and swerve away? Horses thundering toward you create an impression of size and weight that's difficult to confront. That's one reason why infantry bunch up close together, for mutual support, with the added bonus the horses will interpret the mass of men as something solid and painful to collide with. During the ancient period it was the light cavalry the predominated. You needed mobile troops to secure the wings and perhapsm open the flanks and rear of the enemy to attack. Sources tell us that cavalry fought very fliud and fast changing battles between themselves. Speed was everything. A horseman at speed has more options.

Pancration was never a formal part of Roman 'martial art'. It's wrong to think that the Romans were all performing training in exactly the same way. Whilst they did elvolve manuals (we know the departing legions gave some to the Britons to help defend themselves at the start of the 5th century) the training of Roman legionaries was very much at the whim of the senior commabnder. Now in fairness there was an accepted 'Roman way', but this left considerable license. Vegetius muddies the water by decribing how the legions ought to be trained by recounting all the things he'd found in the records that seemed like a good idea. Not all legions at any given timne did all those things. 'Martial Arts' is a fashionable phrase these days. Personaly I would be wary about using it in connection with the Roman legions because they were not taught a martial art, rather a martial style. Much of their training was by rote and employed standard moves. Whereas 'martial art' suggests expertise and instinctive moves, the Romans were more concerned with optimising a particular method of fighting, one that meshed with their tactical doctrines. After all, 'martial art' is the expertise of the singular fighter. Legionaries were taught to fight as part of a formation. Did the Romans employ the pancration for off-duty relaxation? Possibly, but bear in mind the brutal nature of the contests did not lend itself to legionary fitness for duty afterward.

Part of my everyday routine is the search for suitable paid employment. Not everyone realises that of course. Many assume I'm a lazy layabout who wants to lay in bed all morning, lay in the sun all afternoon, and lay comatosed on a park bench all night. Not for me. Lazing about is more or less as boring as owning a cheap japanese hatchback and spending my free time wearing a grey suit just for fun. To be honest searching for a job isn't really any more enjoyable. It's just that I know you're allowed to have fun after you do your daily chores. Better still, they pay you do it. So browse the endless list of employment opportunities and find that perfect job! Right, I'm finished. Time to go back to the real world. I stopped in the programme centre foyer to sign myself out and escape the clutches of employment training. All of a sudden, a conversation erupted at the reception desk. Some grey bloke in a grey suit made a loud comment about global warming. It sounded a bit daft. You what, mate? He was looking at me. Straight at me. Then he turned away and continued talking to a bemused receptionist about mink farming. Meanwhile, he pointedly ignored me, before he stomped off leaving the receptionist as bewildered as I was. My initial thought was that wearing a grey suit does not disguise a wierdo. Then I thought he rude he was. Finally, some time around half past seven last night, during a boring bit in an old Top Gear episode (Sorry guys, but hatchbacks are boring, by definition, much like grey suits), I realised it was supposed to be a lesson. Apparently the greyer you are the more likely people in grey suits will think you're one of them and include you in their strange prayer meetings on global warming. Lesson learned. But then, he was rude. I hope he has some military surplus or leather jackets in his wardrobe, otherwise I'll have to exclude him from my spiritually pure discourses on the cultural significance of eighties heavy metal the next time we meet. Good Deed For The Day If you lost your gloves in a Swindon supermarket yesterday, fret no more because I found them, and handed them to the lady on the tills. See? You don't need a grey suit to be a nice person. Psychic Television Almost everyday I get a message popping up on my television when I switch it on. Sometimes it's about the mandatory switchover to digital transmissions due in September. More usually it's that I have a new channel ready for my edification and delight. All I have to do is press a certain button on my remote control unit and the channel will be mine. Well whaddya know? Psychic TV. Is that a pointless channel or what? I mean, if you're actually psychic, why would you need television to know everything about world events or the latest fashion in grey suits? As it happens the presenter was asking the audience to phone in with questions. Nothing potentially contentious or even relevant allowed. All they want is pointless tittle tattle. I wonder if I should ask whether buying a gey suit will aid me in my quest for world domination? "We've only got ten minutes left." She said to the camera urgently. How did she know that? How did she know? Incredible.

For a short while the huns had a capital city of their own. We can say they were not completely undisciplined tribesmen, and for a large hunnish empire to have been founded required a level of organisation, niot to mention territorial conquest. However we shouldn't blind ourselves to the evident 'barbaric' nature of the huns. For all their sophistication, they were also a people who mounted deep raids into Roman lands that certainly made an impression on them. To see them as organised as european civilisation is therefore wrong - they developed a feudal society that was controlled by strong leadership. Without the firm hand of Attila, the huns broke up into factions.

Nearly lunchtime and I nearly forgot I was supposed to be at the programme centre for a one to one session on how to apply for vacancies. You'd think that after three years of job searching I'd have learned some employment skills, but the government assume you're a dunce and teach you anyway. Oh well, here goes. As it happens I now have a mentor. A bit like Yoda, but taller, female, and not quite as green. A 'Yodess' in other words. I like they way she stares silently in disapproval whenever I type something she doesn't like.... You don't like it, do you?.... Okay, I'll change it... Mans Best Friend On my way to the programme centre I stopped for a moment to check out the magazines at one our foremost high street retailers. An old black labrador had been tied up to a bench on the pedestrianised street outside, but somehow slipped its moorings. The dog slowly padded toward the shop and stood in the entrance, patiently waiting for his master to reappear, staring up at pasers-by to see if he recognised them, twitching his nose to check the scent. For some reason the staff didn't shoo the dog away. It was still there when I left, waiting patiently for master. Awww.... Mans Best Film What do I hear on the media grapevine? Not only is Arnold Schwarzenneger going back to making action movies, he's possibly planning on remaking some of his older hit films. Isn't that a little bizarre? I know Hollywood likes to recycle the same old plot over and over, but the same old film? What's he going to fight the Predator with this time? A zimmer frame? At the other end of the scale, I was enthralled earlier today to see a photograph of San Francsico taken the year after the aerthquake in 1906. In colour. Apparently the photographer, who was better known for inventing the half-tone printing process, was experimenting with colour 3D imaging way back before the Great War. The image I saw was therefore a composite, but what a sight! I almost thought olden days were in grim old black-n-white! What a shock to see genuine colour rather than the clever but possibly suspect modern recolourings.

Of course there is. In strict terms, you try to tempt the romans into an defile. If they cannot outflank you, the phalanx is at it's most effective. Firstly I would not rely on the phalanx, but instead, try to create a situation where it would function to advantage. My own feeelings would be harry them in the march, launch night raids and so forth, purely as a nuisance factor or perhaps even damage their assets, so that they become tired and despondent. it's a false assumption that the Roman legions were always efficient and deadly. We have sources that describe legions in a poor state of readiness. We know how surly the Roman legionaries could be, how readily their troops could desert if they thought their leader was a fool, or that the gods were against them. Could I assassinate their leader? Bribe their junior commanders?Could I play on their superstitions? Could I use a river to sweep away a portion of their troops before the battle is joined? Could I give them false information and force them to march further over harsher terrain? Could I poison the wells on their route, or introduce sickness? Ensure they could not forage food on the march? Roman legions were good at logistics but only between fixed points. During a march they relied on foraging like everyone else. How about arranging for the Romans to be caught in a phalanx sandwich? Make no mistake, the Romans were sometimes very effective when they dictated how the battle was to be fought. Catch them by suprise and they fold remarkably easily. Changing weapons is not usually a practible solution. Firstly, where do you get them? How much will it cost? How long will it take? Can your men handle such arms? Are they familiar with the fighting methods and skills a particular weapon involves? Will they feel confident changing weaponry? Formations are often part and parcel of using a style of weaponr and fighting. The two must function together or there's an inherent weakness in your army. Under no circumstances should you just give up. What was the point of going to war if you just give up? If that's the case, then surrender and try to seek terms form the Roman victors.

Okay, time to complete my account of a great day. Let's see... I got out of bed and went to the library. Nothing unusual there. Nothing unusual happening. This doesn't look good. A blog entry with nothing to complain, whinge, or poke fun at? Good grief, it's the end of civilisation as we know it! The End Of Civilisation As We Know It To confirm my misgivings I discover a news item that tells me chickens are capable of empathy. Researchers tell us they know when another chicken is feeling pain and probably feel sorry for it. Now people are claiming there are implications for farming. Good grief people, don't you know that a supermarket is full of dead chickens? Don't you know that eating their eggs is cooking and consuming their children? Is it just me or is political correctness getting a tad out of control? If a lion hunts and kills an antelope on the african savanna, are we to hold it guilty of murder? Now soom will already be screaming and gnashing their teeth, claiming that human beings are meant to eat nuts, berries, and all sorts of green stuff. Well, we can, if we so choose, but human beings are omnivores (especially the Chinese, who seem to eat anything for the fun of it) and the only reason our dim distant ancestors didn't rely on nuts and berries is because McMammoth's also provided lots of interesting stuff to utilise. But of course fur coats are no longer permissible, because it's a sign of conspicuous consumption.. ooops... sorry, I meant cruelty to animals. No, let's be fair, I'm no expert on animal farming and for all I know there is a certain amount of cruelty involved. Why does that suprise us? Humans have always been a cruel species and still are. That brings us to 'Animal Rights'. It's a peculiar attitude that we've seen in modern times, where every person or other species is supposed have inalienable rights. Actually we don't. Our rights are those our society has decided upon and made mandatory by agreement or decree. In any case, the people who shout loudest about rights are always those who insist on more than those society has provided. What I'm getting at is there's a sort of woolly headed thinking over this issue. I don't personally believe harming an animal deliberately is in any way a good thing, but then I don't believe the issue is as black and white as some people regard it. After all, exploitation of resources is an essential survival strategy for human beings. It colours our attitudes toward food, fuel, comfortable living, all sorts of things. But surely, I hear you cry, we now have a choice? We can choose to consume foodstuffs that don't involve physical harm. Quite so, but there's a reason why this will never change society. Instinct. If a creature is hungry, it looks for food. If it restricts that choice, either by biological specialisation or inclination, it reduces the options available for survival. The fact that we now live in a modern world is irrelevant - we're still the same species as we always were, and those primeval instincts are still there. Civilisation Is Saved BFL is moaning again. If you haven't heard her whinge, I stand in awe of your deafness. But at least I now know life goes on as always.

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.