caldrail

That's exactly why comparisons should be viewed with caution. It's like a venn diagram. Put our modern world in a bubble and the roman world in another. See where it crosses over onto common ground. Now what have you left out? Quite a lot as it happens. That's a very myopic way of studying history. Sometimes I have to start on that common ground because I don't know any better. But as comfortable as it is, I want to seek out the boudaries of the Roman bubble, not the bit we want to foist onto the Romans from our own time. The idea that the Romans were essentially the same as us and very modern is an idea that's been very common in recent decades. I think it's responsible for huge distortions in the popular understanding of who the Romans were. How good? How do you measure your knowledge of the subject? To my mind, understanding the differences is more important and indeed more indicative of good knowledge.

Not necessarily. This sort of recycling tends to be local in scope, and Constantinople had sources of its own. The question is whether the effort and risk of transporting secondhand masonry and ironwork was worth the price.

Today I spent another three hours on a volunteer stint, manning the reception desk and researching some of the exhibits. Friday mornings are a bit quiet to say the least. Whilst chatting to the boss a young man popped in, sharp suit and dangling camera, for no apparent reason than to find an excuse to show off. It turns out the young man in question, Young D, is something of an entrepeneur. Always starting a business or other, making connections, wheeling and dealing. "This month I made

The trouble is that the greeks had a culture of male familiarity (as did the japanese samurai as it happens, both male dominated warrior cultures), but that only implies homosexuality from our perspective. It's like they had a different form of friendship that allowed intimacy where ordinary relationships wouldn't, and there's no suggestion of any sexual intent between them.

In recent years Swindon has gotten into festivals. A couple of years ago we had a festival of Innovation, which I suspect was not entirely innovative, but since I never attended it I'll have to assume that Swindon was wowed by new and exciting stuff. Last year we had the LEGO-fest. What? You missed it? Shame on you. The museum still has the Mario mosaic crafted lovingly in, yes, you guessed it, LEGO. Proof that Swindon is James May's natural enviroment. Now looming on the horizon is the Swindon Festival of Gaming, which I have the pleasure of helping to organise. You just can't wait, can you? Big ciommunity events take a little time to get together. Last night we visited our intended main venue, our very own Meca, across the road from my favourite haunt, the library. The last time I entered that building was forty years ago as a child, back in the days when it was a cinema. It was a strange experience to see that decorated curved ceiling again. Maybe I'm a bit taller now, or maybe it's because they had to put a new floor in, but the roof felt like a sort of extravagant awning rather than a roof, lower and much closer than I remember it. Actually, it felt a little cosy, an odd sensation for a venue licensed for nearly two thousand people. Oh yes. We have plans. The Festival of Gaming will be big... BIG! ... You have no idea of the havoc we're planning. Comedians can scoff and crack jokes at Swindon all they like, but compared to the good citizens of our ridiculous borough, they're coplete amateurs. Thinking Big Big Society? What's that? Like many people I'm a little perplexed by an ambiguous concept put forward by our government. So perplexed I've been forced to look it up on the internet, the true source of informed opinion and debate, or at least, a good deal more understandable than a politicans waffle. I don't like politicians. Never have. They are by nature a lot less honest than they would like us to believe. Partly that's the nature of people who put themselves forward to rule in our oligarchial democracy, partly because they're persuaded to conform to the wretched system even if they start with good intentions. One of the reasons I despised Tony Blair, besides a bad smile, a wife with a even worse smile, and a bunch of cronies who did nothing but smile when they spent their our money for us, was his use of slogans. Cool Britannia. I mean, what was that all about? Am I paying taxes for that grinning idiot to come out with useless slogans? Now David Cameron has resorted to the slogan too. Big Society. For some reason I don't exactly find myself inspired by that phrase. This is something that annoys me about politics. Whenever things get tough politicians invent a slogan. Churchill did that. He wandered around an area of London demolished by the Luftwaffe and made his trademark vee sign, pronouncing proudly that "Britain can take it!", only to be put straight by an outraged housewife whose home was currently disassembled by a thousand pounder. I once accused David Cameron of being a lightweight. Having become prime Mnister, I decided instead to give him the benefit of the doubt. But resorting to slogans? Sorry, Cameron, you blew it.

What is the significance of his sexual preferences? It seems a bit irrelevant to me.

You can, but with caution. Never assume the Bible is authorative.

Once more unto the Job Centre, dear friends, once more... Apart from my regular signing days I sometimes get called in to attend a more serious interview. I think that's just in case I've charmed the pants off my advisor and get away with all manner of shenanigans. As if. Most of the time I feel one step away from a cancellation of payments and believe me, the Job Centre's do that on purpose. Maybe it's right that they should in that claimants shouldn't get too attached to claiming the dole for a living, but nonetheless it can get a little stressful occaisionally. On this occaision the lady collected me from the waiting area and with a weary detachment went through the usual rigmarole of checking my credentials as a true claimant (yea brother, I have seen the light) and forwarding me onto yet another interminable course to try and assure my ascension to the paradise of the workplace. If there's one thing a bloke likes to see, it's a pretty lady who's bored out of her mind. If only I were younger and not in a an office full of bored people with nothing to do but stare at what's going on around the next desk. Then again, it would help if the government upped my payments so I could afford to wine and dine. That way I could inject the money into the economy where it's needed. You know what I'm saying. Seeing it Differently How wrong can you be? I mean, we all back the wrong horse, buy the wrong DVD player, take pictures at the wrong time, and discover afterwards that you just tried to date an off duty policeperson. What? You haven't? Good grief, get a life. Come to think of it, I used to regularly encounter warehousemen who sauntered past, blithely claiming they never made mistakes. Oh? Like all those pallets of rubber halloween toys that entered the warehouse seven years ago and never got put on the system at all? I think by now many of them regard working in that warehouse as a mistake because the majority have been laid off. The company wanted to get rid of 'all the dead wood' as they saw it. What they actually got rid of was anyone who knew anything about how the stock was productively handled. And, incidentially, everyone who knew better than the amateur managers brought in to run the place. So everyone makes mistakes. That does include me, I have to admit, because I worked for that company too. Also I tend to accept things I've known about for ages. Last night I found out that stone carvings of monsters and demons hanging off the side of medieval monuments are not necessarily called gargoyles. Some of them are merely grotesques. It turns out that a grotesque is a carven image that does nothing except look scary, whilst a gargoyle is a protruding device intended for channeling water. How fascinating. But what, you may ask, is the significance of that interesting item of information? Well for me it's very enlightening, because I now understand that a certain fun part of my anatomy is slowly changing from grotesque to gargoyle as I get older. Can't believe I just typed that out.

In my view (and you will find those who disagree0 the Bible is a disaster as a history book, because it wasn't written to describe events objectively but to promote a certain religion. The bias in the writing is fairly obvious. Not only that, but a great deal of the supposedly 'christian' events are in fact borrowed from asian and middle eastern mythology that existed back then. I am reliably informed that there are cultural details that can be gotten from the work, in terms of behaviour and customs, though even that is coloured by Roman and Medieval thought. The problem is of course that the Bible has not survived in its original form, but now exists as reviosed and censored versions. The Romans decided which of the stories were suitable and junked the rest, inventing heresy at the Council of Nicaea in 325 in order to force the various christian sects to unify and conform (which they didn't, laying the foundation for later religious persecution) Also be wary of taking the dstories out of context. The Book of Revelations is the worst offender by far. As you may well be aware, many christian sects now use this as a modern day prophecy - which interestingly probably isn't too far removed from the style of worship in Roman times other than the overt chauvanism now clutching tightly onto the modern churces. That is of course a convenient interpretation. What I consider more likely is that the book was written as a rally against Rome way back in Nero's reign by disaffected Judaeans, rather like an ancient version of radical moslem propaganda. In that sense, we can determine a possible thread of history in that we see how Roman rule has provoked discontent among a subject people. Now regarding the characters in the book.... Well, it wouldn't suprise me if many of the people described are in fact based on real personalities. I would caution a historian to view the Bible in much the same way as a Hollywood film. It's based on historical events, but uses considerable license and tells its own story for its own ends.

Once again Swindon has returned to it's natural state and raindrops are splattering against the library window. As it happens, the library is very quiet this morning. Partly I suspect because the loudies aren't interested in going there when it rains, but the mood is very subdued anyway. I can't see any reason for that, but it's fine with me. Yesterday Punch & Judy were at their usual shenanigans. In fairness, they weren't as loud as they have been in the past, so it was an intrusive level of noise rather than excessive. Still not comfortable to ive with though. Because peace and quiet is conducive to my work on the computer, I now tend to stay up late into the night working on one thing or another. The only intrusion then is the occaisional male display in the street, which I generally ignore, secure in the knowledge they'll fall over if they stop in one place for too long. A late night is no problem. After all, there's only the odd day when I have to worry about getting up early. Last night, at around half past three, my concentration had ebbed to the point where going to bed was finally necessary. Ah well. it's been a productive night. Can't complain. Unfortunately on my way to the bedroom I stubbed my toe and knocked things over. A great dull thud as something heavy fell onto the landing. Groan. Punch won't like that. Everything I do is some sort of attack on his territorial mastery. That's the problem with him. He's so wound up by hormones and east european machoism he just can't resist treating absolutely everything as a competition in which he has be top dog. It gets a bit depressing to deal with. Sure enough, when he was leaving for work, there was a dull thud on something metallic outside, loud enough to wake me (briefly). The boy is an idiot. Apology refused. Things Beyond My Back Yard Swindon has always had a problem with the outside world. Historically the town was isolated on the north edge of the Marlborough Downs, and only the arrival of canals and railways opened the place up. Avebury was only just down the road and the stone circle there wasn't discovered until 1649, when John Aubrey stumbled across it hunting foxes. That's how wild and remote the region was. It seems the modern descendants of Swindon Man have the same attitude. But enough criticism. let's throw off the yoke of myopic mentality and look at the news concerning the big wide world out there. Be brave, Caldrail. Woman gives birth to own grandson It certainly is a strange forbidding world out there. Woman just eats crisps That might be because she can't afford anything else. Another headline tells us that despite measures the cost of living is rising inexorably in Britain. And I need a news headline to tell me that? Millions of faulty gas meters Well there you go then. Fix her gas meter and she'll be able to afford food again. Fix mine and I'll have hot water and heating the next time we have a cold snap. It does make you think though. I've just endured the worst winter in decades with hardly any heating. No, really. All those television programmes by Ray Mears haven't gone to waste. I'd like to credit Bear Grylls too, but clambering all over the urban landscape the way he does will probably get me arrested if I don't die of exhaustion first.

Misconception? No, actually, I don't think it is. The Romans were very literal about naming ranks and formations and the term 'First Spear' to them was a very meaningful phrase. To believe the Romans used a modern rank system is merely foisting our culture on top of theirs. Theirs was more direct, more feral, and the phrase 'First Spear' very appropriate in my view.

No, I'm not. I'm suggesting that Marius had particular motives appropriate to his day. The Roman Empire of his time wasn't so large and back then, Rome relied on a militia levied according to need. Given the very traditional mindset of the Romans it's unlikely they would have considered a standing army as necessary, since they desperately wanted to avoid having to do that for it would turn against them - the entire rationale behind sharing command of the consular armies of old. Marius had more immediate concerns. He had struggled to raise units against Carthage because he couldn't find enough veterans to fill his rear ranks. His reforms were designed to avoid that circumstance in case of emergency. Since when were the Roman legions modern? That's a ridiculous anthropomorphic argument. Of course the Romans weren't a modern army. They lived two thousand years ago in a different socio-political and military world. The idea that the Romans clicked their fingers and invented modern armies is a fallacy. They never invented anything unless they had to, and in fact, the Romans had no permanent army structure until the late empire.when increasing size, troop diversity, and security issues made it impossible to do without them. Who ran the legions? It wasn't career military officers. The legions of the Marius Reforms were not regiments in an army, but strategic mini-armies themselves, with a sentatorial overseer to enforce the authority of the Roman state. In fact, the legions had represented a military cross section of Roman society (as indeed you might expect a citizen levy to do), but post-Marian Reforms were designed as a convenience for the state to defend, or prosecute wars if they so chose, by applying a measure of commonsense and practicality to the system. It is true that Marius adopted measures that were in existence already, but in fairness, his decision to create legions based on one class of swordsman is his alone, since before that, it was an emergency measure only and one he had personal experience of.

It's monday. Again. Worse than that, it also happens to be Valentines Day, so it's a bit like Friday the 13th but without all that walking under ladders stuff. Tonight is the annual pilgrammage of single males into the pubs and clubs around town, hoping that some girl will catch their eye. It's all a lost cause of course, and I won't bother. What's the point? I'm not going to be able to get to the bar. All right, I admit it, I was sent a valentine message by a certain lady of my aquaintance. It was a little unexpected, if I were honest, and since the concept of sending little teasers is supposed to be anonymous, I have the perfect excuse to avoid having to name her to all those people for whom other peoples private lives are the main focus of their entertainment. Am I embarrased? No, of course not. there are those who claim I wouldn't be because I sleep with anything, but there are those who claim I'm too fussy. One taxi driver regards me as 'stuck up', but that's really because I think he's a jerk. So... What is the truth about Caldrails love life? The Sex Life of Caldrail Okay, here we go. It all began ...(Deleted by the Britsh Board of Boring People)... with a white mouse. Oh no, wait, that didn't come out right. I mean.. Erm... Is It True? The trouble with us human beings is that we like to present a public image to the world, sometimes even to ourselves. In most cases all we do is embarass ourselves, but boasting about sexual prowess is one aspect of british culture. They're all at it, you know. Like those two lads last night, having a very loud arguement concerning notches on the bedpost. And also who was going to get their head kicked in. Sex and violence. never fails to draw an audience, even with impromptu street performances. Then again, I have Punch & Judy, my turbulent neighbours, whose daily comings, goings, tantrum and giggles, and horrendous singing are impossible to avoid. Despite our exchange of threats and warning letters last year, I still don't think they realise I can hear everything they do. I mean, literally, everything. It's a nightmare. It really is. Oh no... They're doing it again... Please stop... I can't handle it any more... And Finally... Having survived the trauma of the weekend, I can now go about my daily business. So far I haven't been swamped with marital offers, but it's not midday yet, so there's always hope. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. You thought this was romance? More the fool you.

I seem to recall that the Goths were supposed to have migrated out of Sweden.

Bear in mind that the Romans had lived through hundreds of years of bitter struggles for survival. At one point they had even considered giving up and starting a new city elsewhere. After the defeat of Carthage in the Second Punic War, they realised there were no more great empires to threaten them. They had, effectively, realised they were about to win that power struggle in the mediterranean. That was why they sought any excuse to finsh Carthage off once and for all, and why ambitious politicians with access to armed forces at their beck and call began to seek glory, wealth, and senatorial pats on the back, by extending Roman control at their own behest rather than the interests of the state.

I would of thought it hugely unlikely that this piece was passed down generations of a family for two thousand years. More likely it was there, buried and forgotten, and dug up by a farmer, builder, or even someone digging a protective trench in the last century.

Todays blog entry is devoted to the subject of bigness. Is it a good thing? Upsetting a guy bigger than you is always a risky venture, one of the first and most important lessons we learn as children. I remember a photograph of a protestor at a fuel refinery many years ago getting the shock of his life when the irate lorry driver he was obstructing turned out to be considerably bigger than he was. The issue of bigness is inherent to human beings. 4x4 drivers rely on it. The sheer size of their vehicles means that even if they don't mount expeditions across arctic tundra to get to work, they can still bully little cars out of the way. On one occaision I was driving my faithful red MR2 sports car and fell into line on a large roundabout as traffic got a little snarled up. I was in the left lane, coming up gradually on my exit. I had no choice but to drive slowly. On the one hand, there were cars in front, on the other, the sun was shining in my face and every other vehicle on the road a dark silhouette. Suddenly that massive 4x4 in the lane on my right decided he wanted to avoid this traffic jam, and assuming his bigness meant I could do nothing but shake fists and fume, he pulled out very abruptly in front of me. Did he signal? Probably not, but it's unlikely I would have seen it with the sun dazzling me. Maybe the risk of collision was slight but I was annoyed nonetheless. Don't get mad, get even. Once off the roundabout and driving along the road, it was impossible to overtake him with all the oncoming traffic and I decided to bide my time instead of doing something dumb. So I drove behind calmly and waited. Oh yes, my honour was impugned, and these things are very important to the male driver. However, the next roundabout was approaching. He was going across and thus took a sort of lazy cut across the left hand side. I stayed on the right, hoping tio nip past, but his big truck obstructed my path. I gave him a couple of polite toots on the horn to ask him to move over. And he did. Good chap. Now floor the accelerator and zoom past him. Success. Honour is restored (even though I did bend the Highway Code by overtaking on a road junction). Naturally he got upset and drove behind me inches from my rear bumper, determined that I should be punished for trumping his bigness. Didn't get him anywhere. My throttle pedal worked better than his did, despite his larger V8, and at the strategic moment, I left him floundering behind me. It was a bit childish, wasn't it? Oh well. Maybe women are right. I'm just a big kid. He he he.... Too Much Of A good Thing Can you have too much bigness? Apparently so. Being big was great for the dinosaurs when it meant carnivores couldn't touch you. Sadly, as most of us are aware, it also means you run up a huge grazing bill, and when meterorites hit the earth and cause catastrophic damage and climate change, food is hard to come by. Or what about Mubarak, standing down as Egypts leader? Who was biggest? The ruler of a nation for three decades or a crowd of people who wanted him removed? Or what about Saddam Hussein, whose bigness on the world stage helped him not one jot. Then there's those people whose size and weight reduces them to a parody of Jabba The Hutt. If you get too big for your boots, you could argue you only have yourself to blame. And Now, A Real Biggie Normally I don't discuss trains on this blog, but today I'm going to make an exception. I found a 3D model of a Russian tanker wagon on the internet and it seriously is a humungous piece of ironwork. Apparently these things are trundling back and forth across the former Soviet Union... Model and textures by Roman Vlasyuk.

How do I describe today? Believe it or not, I'm finding that difficult. Okay, it's Friday, so thank God for that (or not, depending on religious beliefs or recent events in your life), but that doesn't do justice to the sort of wishy-washy lazy don't know what I want to be kind of day. I mean, it's cloudy, right? Soft focus grey blankets of cloud obscure the sky, but it isn't raining, and far from it, because I see the sun shining. How is that possible? How is this Friday able to destroy my fondly held preconceptions of what weather is supposed to be like? We Apologise We have decided that the doubt no longer applies What the Department of Work & Pensions mean by that statement is that they were wrong to accuse me of not accepting an opportunity to return to the workplace, they're very sorry, and here's a tiny pay rise for your trouble. Makes you feel good to be alive, doesn't it? Others Share My Mood On the way down to the library I have to negotiate a crossing on a busy road junction. The crossing is in two halves to avoid traffic moving in two different directions. Not such a hazard you might think, with modern technological wonders like traffic lights, but then I know from experience that drivers sometimes do odd unexpected things on that junction. Like today. A young lady waited for the lights to change. When the signal showed a green pedestrian, she set out across the road, head buried in the all important mobile phone. An approaching 4x4 either didn't see the lights change or wanted to chance a bit of 'amber gambling', a very British pastime. It slammed on the brakes when the lady stepped forward. She carried on unaware of the danger she was in. Meanwhile, the cars windscreen bulged around the drivers nose. See what I mean about today? Okay, Maybe You Don't I'll try again. Earlier today I had to pop down to the supermarket. The woman in front of me at the till had deposited a mountain of provisions for her army of little hoodlums on the black rubber conveyor, and quite forgot that half of it was stacked on the brushed aluminium casing that housed it. Eventually she realised I wasn't quite as gallant as some women believe us chivalrous types like to be. With a very false sounding suprise, she made an apology and swept everything on with a sweep of her arm. No, I'm not helping her pack either, however much she struggles with the practicality of it. Come on, lady, the bag opens the other end. No, it's all right, she's found it. Shall I try Again? Nah. It's the afternoon, I'm pooped after a long day on job searching and three hours of voluntary work at the museum (It's a tough day spent avoiding skeletal T-Rex's). If you haven't gathered what a lazy day this Friday is, I can't be bothered to explain.

Everything after I fall into a chair and refuse to get up again is the afternoon for me.

Please don't go there. I got dismissed from a job once because I turned down an offer of a BMW saloon. That was very visible as it happens, a sort of bright cross-spectrum red normally used to bait bulls with (that's a joke - see if you can get it)

Cavalry travelled by ship if they needed to. As for this mask, it didn't need a Roman present in Gotland. it could have been booty, traded northward.

Apparently it reads something like this... Roman cavalry mask has been submitted Published: Saturday 05 February at 07:27, Share The County Board has received one of Gotland unique archaeological finds. It is a mask used by the officers in the Roman Empire cavalry. Unique Roman face masks found on Gotland The County Board has received a very unique archaeological finds. It is an ancient Roman mask used by the officers in the Roman cavalry, presented by a man. The mask was used between the first and third centuries AD. Marie-Louise Hellqvist the County Administrative Board says she's never seen anything like it on the island. Reporter Gunnel Wallin / Sveriges Radio Gotland Marie-Louise Hellqvist the County Administrative Board says she's never seen anything like it on the island. According to experts, the mask was used during the first centuries after Christ. The man that made the (... discovery of?...) bronze mask have inherited it and thought it was better that a museum had to take care of it. National Heritage Board and the Museum in Stockholm has now commissioned an expert look at the mask, which confirmed that it is around 2000 years old. County Administration hopes that the mask will be exhibited at the Museum of Gotland.

1.) What was the role of a slave in ancient Rome? What rights did they have? The role of a slave was to perform as required by the owner. It really was that simple. The value of a slave wasn't just measured by a price tag alone. Some slaves had expert skills, others were trusted servants. Some slaves might be set up in business for their owners profit, and probably with a view to manumission later. On the other hand, an unlucky slave was condemned to hard labour or worse. A man could sleep with a female slave as he wished, but women were not supposed to do so with male slaves, even though it's obvious they did from time to time. There were harsh penalties imposed for treachery. Should a slave kill his master, it was expected that all the slaves of that household would be executed, a policy designed to inhibit conspiracies. Also, even if you were freed by your master, you were stained by having been a slave, and could never seek public office again. Since they were not citizens nor even human, slaves were not allowed to marry. Some owners allowed them to cohabit and any children were the masters property, rather like breeding animals. Strictly speaking, slaves had no rights. They were, by definition, not human beings. In fact, they were sometimes referred to as 'Talking Tools'. However, the maltreatment of slaves became a humanitarian issue as the Principate arrived, and bit by bit, the worst excesses of owners were curbed by law, such as the selling of slaves to a ludum, or the dumping of sick slaves to die. In effect, the slaves were protected not by giving them rights (you didn't want slaves quoting rules), but by denying them to their owners. It should be pointed out that slavery was not always foisted upon the individual. In some cases, a person volunteered for slavery to avoid debt, or even improve their career prospects if they had suitable skills, experience, and could find the right owner. One of Claudius's administrators did exactly that. There's a lot more to this subject, but that's just my two cents for now. 2.) What percentage of the population in Rome were slaves? Nobody actually knows, because there's no accurate survivng census. However, information that has been recovered suggests that many homes, even some of the poorer ones, had one or two slaves. Only a minority of wealthy owners had hundreds of slaves to call upon. PS - I've just remembered an oddity of Roman law. A slave could not own property because anything of his belonged to his master, but I note there was nothing in law to prevent a slave from owning another slave.

No, not yet, I still don't drive an Aston Martin and so far John Cleese hasn't popped out of the floor to demonstrate an invisible BMW.

Another day, another visit to the doctor. It was an early start on a damp and dismal day in rainy old Swindon, the traffic thrashing around in a sort of 'late for work' way. When the doctor called for me he asked "What can I do for you today?" It was tempting to reply that I didn't know. Hey, I was asked to book this appointment. Come on Doctor, get your act together. Not that it would have made any difference. Apparently I'm going to be turned into a cyborg for 24 hours shortly. No, really. They're going to fit me with some sort of monitor. I wonder what it does? Alert the Police if I go outdoors? Check for body odour and bad fashion? Whether I'm breaking the speed limit? Or have they finally cottoned on that I might be from another planet? Keeping It Real Repent Sinners, and delete thy Confession app from thine iPod! The Pope says it isn't a genuine substitute for a real confession. I agree completely, but then, real confessions aren't exactly credible, are they? Come on, Mr Pope, who are you trying to kid? Send them a text telling sinners to type out twelve Hail Mary's. Advert of the Week Goes to Lloyds TSB. You have to laugh. Apparently if you overdraw your account you get until closing time the same day to sort it out. Or what? Are they going to send the boys round? I'll know I'm in trouble when Michael Caine turns up at the door. Another Quote From The Caldrail Archives I'm a morning person. Afternoons are there for me to recover from doing things