caldrail

I think we forget how closely linked we are to the ecological structures of this planet, and if you take a purely animalistic view, then societies comnform to a cultural survival of the fittest, which does fit neatly with our history as a species. Those cultures that suit circumstances and are able to fend off rivals do well, others wither or get conquered, and as Polybius noted back in 150BC or thereabouts, all things die of old age, including nation states. So in that respect, the enviroment is all important. It drives humanity to expand or colonise. It forces them to consider social changes. It determines whether their population can eat and drink, or wipe them out in a natural disaster. Certainly the decision making process of society plays a part as the direct and knock-on effects become apparent, but then so it does with animals in the natural world. Does the carnivore wait for a chance to scavenge a meal, or rush in roaring and teeth barred hoping to scatter rivals away? Does the animal choose to be sneaky or aggressive? These are survival choices that determine who succeeds or not. Are we really any different?

Is historical comparison worthwhile? It can be, provided we learn something from it. The problem I've always noticed with comparisons, and the military sphere is by far the worst offender, is that people assume the world is exactly the same today as it was then, or want it to be essentially the same, because they understand the modern world implicitly and therefore if the Romans were just like us, then understanding would be a breeze. They slot names and numbers into neat constructs that bear more resemblance to the modern day than to anything that happened two thousand years ago. The issue then is context. Whatever aspect of Roman society you want to compare, you must illustrate it with respect to their viewpoint, their culture, and their world in the larger scale. That requires more work and consideration. I've ranted at people endlessly about the Roman military and why they didn't just click their fingers and invent a modern-esque army. That doesn't mean I'm right, but I have given the matter a lot of thought and believe passionately that our assumptions about things Roman distort the lessons we should be learning.

Swindon gets a lot of stick. It rains, it's boring, it's a no-go area for the fashionable. yet even one of our foremost critics, BBC's very own Top Gear, sometimes destroy cars just up the road from our undesirable borough (and show some magnificent views of Barbury Castle in the last episode. Come on guys, show some culture). So far however I have failed utterly to go hiking and walk past Wroughton airfield while they're filming. It's only a matter of time, chaps. Joking aside, there are serious matters to contend with. Swindonians are not happy. Councillors are are knocking on doors asking residents if they agree with yellow lines, those hateful road markings that tell drivers they will be mauled by traffic wardens if they attempt to park their cars. That of course assumes the road doesn't have any potholes in it, which might force you to park your car unexpectedly. Swindon is slowly collapsing into the ground so it seems. There's now an action group that, and I quote, "pushing the council to take action on those potholes forgotten by everyone else". Wow. They mean business. No pothole is safe. But potholes are freaks of nature, the result of weather and geology, not to mention dodgy road maintenance. It seems manhole covers are being stolen. Swindon's neanderthal population have learned that they can catch innocent people for their cooking pots that way, and even better, earn a few quid from scrap metal. In fairness, that's not a new problem. I understand that Hungary had to close railway lines not only because of governmental desires to make everyone use buses, but because certain citizens were knicking rails for scrap. That's happened in Britain too. Not far from Swindon either, one of the great railway towns of a bygone era. But lastly, and most scandalously, it's man's best friend that is causing problems for Swindon. That's the furry barking kind of best friend, by the way, in case you misunderstood. Dog mess is everywhere and dogs are responsible. What, like that started happening yesterday? Now come on, councillors, there are laws about dog faesces on the pavement and it's about time dogs were made to understand it isn't acceptable. No! Bad dogs! Naughty dogs! No more walkies for you! Winter of the Week I don't get it. Why is it so cold. Okay, I know it's the time of year when cold temperatures aren't so unusual, but this is the modern globally warmed era. The governments of the world are telling us that this sort of cold winter is a thing of the past. Why won't winter listen?And when is the government going to penalise winter for taking no notice of their eco-concious pronouncements? it's a scandal. It really is.

There's plenty of suffering in the modern world too. Also, I think we need to be a little cautious in analysing ailments from records left by roman writers, especially from one who liked to add a lot of colour to his descriptions. We have a heightened awareness of aches and pains due to our comfortable lifestyles, plus the knowledge of what actually causes them, whereas even the greek physicians of the time were, for all their skill at healing, were relatively unaware.

Every week I attend a work club. You remember the film Full Monty? yep, that's us, a disparate group of individuals all sat for an afternoon plugging away despondently at our job search and ready for any high jinks to pass the time of day. The chap who runs the club has obviously gotten bored of the shy silence that normally pervades our sessions. No-one seems keen to talk to each other, although last week we had a competition to find the stupidest vacancies online. I managed to find a chinese city five miles from Swindon that goes by the name of Wu-Hu. I'm not making it up. Another guy found a vacancy for building formula one grand prix cars. Experience not necessary (!!!!) In order to enliven proceedings, yesterday afternoon he decided to get everyone present to nominate our favourite music track which he would play off the internet for our edification and delight. I chose Stargazer (Rainbow). Not an obvious choice, and at in excess of seven minutes in length, I did wonder if it was going to go down like Casanovas's underwear. Oddly enough, our diverse group of unemployed claimants seemed to enjoy it. The young foreign lady with the engineering qualifications couldn't make up her mind. It was becoming a running joke every time she scrubbed her choice off the list and wrote another one. As her mood changed from utterly depressed to happy smiling party girl, so her choice of music changed with it. And I can't remember the song she chose. Oh yes - I 've just remembered. I believe in Miracles (Hot Chocolate). Inspired choice. The shy elderly chap was a suprise. He could barely speak a sentence without umming and ahhing, but chose Born in the USA (Bruce Springsteen). beneath that frustated and genteel old man lies the heart of a rock n roll rebel, obviously. Our afro-carribean friend in the corner came up with the sort of RnB track you'd expect, but in fairness, it was one of the more musical tracks and had a great chorus. No, I haven't a clue what it was. By the end of the afternoon we were all happy claimants, raring to take on the world in our quest for gainful employment. I suppose it was inevitable someone would suggest we all did a Full Monty, rather like the film, and yes, it was me. I am shameless. Political Discussion of the Week The other interesting thing yesterday was an in-depth discussion of politics. Normally that subject induces an arguement and bitter appraisals, but in this case, the recent riots and uprisings in Tunisia and Egypt proved an interesting counterpoint to how British society dealt with such unrest. My point is that an uprising wouldn't happen here. I remember chatting to an american who worked in Britain for some strange reason, and he reckoned we needed a revolution. Probably why he doesn't live the States anymore. Anyway, I pointed out that although democracy is theoretically designed for the populace to have a say in government, a complete deomocracy would therefore turn its leaders into little more than slaves. Since it's human nature for a minority to dominate the tribe, politicians aren't going to accept this because they want to rule, not to be ruled. Of course our system means theefore that if the public do get bored or upset by a government, their chances of survivng the ballot box diminish, so there's a safety valve in british society that some of the more authoritarian and obstinate governements of the world don't have, preferring to use force and covert measures to survive in office. then again, as we agreed, the effect of modern media is destabilising some of these states. Whereas in the past a villager had little contact outside his own restricted horizons, now he can communicate with anyone else on the worlds surface, thus ideas and sentiments are exchanged. he no longer feels as powerless. That, for a tyrannical regime, is dangerous, because recent events - and indeed, historical ones - have shown how tenuous a governments grip on the public can be. yes, a chance to exercise the brain cells and debate something somewhat more meaningful than the breakdown of a celebrity's marriage, or the mudslinging departure of a soap actor. Now we've done that, can we do the Full Monty now?

You ain't kiddin'. Dave has saved me from despair many times. Channel One shows all the old Star Trek except the original, Dave shows all the old Top Gear. More 4 shows all the old Time Team. My life is complete.

The message I picked up from that program was the widening gap between those that understand science and practice it's strange dark rituals, and the public who are largely ignorant and form protest groups at the sheer mention of anything scientific going on. In other words, it's a modern manifestation of superstition. The public get it into their heads that something potentially evil is going on and head straight there in a ugly crowd holding burning torches ready to set these works of the bad guys alight. Funny really. Mary Shelley had the subject pretty well covered a century and a half ago. You could argue her misguided scientist was acting beyond approval, whereas moden scientists are regulated by governments to avoid inflicting the public with square headed inarticulate zombies, but once the public get suspicious and smell a rat....

I've decided that television is an insidious device created for the sole purpose of keeping people off the streets. As you probably guessed, I was kept off the streets last night. probably no bad thing mind you, as Swindon streets are certainly no better than anyone elses. This morning I watched a team of hi-vis clothing walking the pavements measuring distances with little wheely things. At first it occured to me that our local council might have realised the streets exist and that they need to take care of them at last, but then again, it might have something to do with our forthcoming retail development at the Old College site. Alternatively, it might simply be a precursor to some bold new means of extracting cash from drivers. Anyway, it's cold out there. Not exactly siberian weather, not even frosty, just that uncomfortable chill that cuts to the bone. My home is all that much warmer mind you, but at least I have the television to keep me company in those long evenings that really fly by. Some of you might be asking why I don't go out somewhere and have fun. I would love the opportunity to do so. Unfortunately such social pleasures invariably cost money, and since the government have decided that I'm allowed enough to eat, drink, and shiver, I'll have to make do with my digital friend for now. That said, it's ridiculous. With freeview I have loads and loads of channels, and the remarkable thing is I spend more time flicking through them trying to find something remotely interesting than actually taking any interest in the latest cheap product, british policemen telling us how they caught a few teenagers driving badly, or the endless accounts of every detail of nazi horror in world war two. So bad has it now that a bunch of comedians have gotten together to do a current affairs program. If that weren't ironic enough, last night they lambasted news reporting. Guys, I'm not joking, either start taking journalism a bit more seriously or tell some jokes. Funny ones. Please. Thousands Missing Out There's a headline in the news right now. Thousands of britons are apparently missing out on radiotherapy treatment that might cure their cancer. When I first saw that headline, I assumed it was a public outcry against our beloved NHS, never an organised renowned for efficiency. Wrong! It's the experts again. They're telling us that we all need this treatment which apparently is the medical equivalent of hiring an assassin to kill your enemies. So why are these anonymous learned people telling us that 52% of british people could benefit from this 'radical' treatment? Because they want to benefit from increased funding. Death rays don't come cheap you know. Government Announcement of the Week Lately there's been some news about our ailing economy, which has shrunk by a small degree. I'm not exactly clued up on the inner mysteries of finance but I assume that's not good news. However, let's not be saddened or worried by this development, as our Prime Minister has announced that Britains economic recovery plan is already yielding success. I guess having comedians present a current afffairs program makes senes, because we also seem to have comedians running the country.

Oh no. So many vacancies to apply for, so little time. Sadly I only have precious minutes left before the library computer warns me to save my work or else, so I'll leave you with the news headlines. Woman helps baby walk downstairs. You just know it's going to end in tears. Caldrail helps foreigner use computer. No really, the poor man couldn't speak a word of english and needed to contact the Foreign Office for permission to stay in England. My good deed for the day. Man gets shouted at by girlfriend. Hilarious. Poor bloke didn't stand a chance. I almost rang for an ambulance. Librarian makes sarky comment. Sorry, didn't listen, too busy. Well that's it for Caldrails newsflash. Hope to write something more interesting tommorrow when... Hang on, I need to dsave my work... And hopefully something interesting will (Session terminated)

North Africa was a declining region on a longer scale. The encroachment of desert has been going on for thousands of years as rainfall patterns atrophied, and in any case, the prosperity of the Romans did the region no favours at all, since their predations and over-use of resources had implications for their future (and ours, as it turns out). After all, the north african region was the most heavily urbanised area of the Roman Empire, and with such a population to support, the increasingly arid conditions would have eventually spelled doom had not the germanic tribes found the region full of babies to impale. That said, the economic decline that surely must have followed the end of the organised Roman regime (and the decline of its needs as a consumer) meant the long term survival of large scale urbanisation was not good. However, what is true is the pressure that climatic changes can force upon human behaviour, such as the westward expansion of the Huns, driven to migrate aggressively by increasingly arid conditions in their own ranges, or the social changes of early human colonisers of Britain at the end of the last ice age 10,000 years ago, when melting ice flooded Doggerland and forced tribes to find new ways of surviving. I've also read that Krakatoa, on the other side of the world, may have influenced european events by causing temporary climate change after a volcanic explosion in late imperial times. One point that is also relevant to us in the modern age is that human beings tend toward specialisation like any other animal. We get used to doing things a certain way, finding food and water from certain sources, and in civilised socieities, increasingly reliant on infrastructure. Look how the Minoan empire evaporated overnight when sea commerce was destroyed by the Santorini Tsunami.

By sheer coincidence i watched a repeat of a Time Team special last night that is very relevant to this discussion. Mankind has made something like eight attempts to colonise the British Isles of which only the last has proven succesful, the others failing largely because of climatic changes to do with the recurrent ice ages, and I understand there have been five glaciations. The oldest recorded artifact (not Ireland related unfortunately) dates back 700,000 years. A rare find, since the earliest human remains discovered are half that age. The variable sea levels have had an interesting effect on humanities attempt to be British (or Irish). Firstly, human tribes wre understandably none too sophisticated and for survival went where-ever there was food to be had. Sea coasts, river banks, and the apparently fertile plains and valleys of what is now the North Sea provided the easiest if somewhat hazardous living. Even when an animal was brioguht down in the hunt, it was butchered on the spot and the meat taken away to safety, for fear of predators and scavengers seeking an even easier meal. Bears, hyaenas, lions, sabre tooth cats (Rare, but a few still survived), plus incidental risks from irate elephants, mammoths, and rhinos. However, with the melting of the glaciers and consequent rising of sea levels, humans were forced by circumstance to colonise forests and higher ground. We see fire being used to clear woodland. Social chamnges to govern the more claustrophic conditions of daily life without wide plains to wander away into when you got fed up of someone. Rather than a hunter/gatherer exostence, humans are now looking toward finding alternative food sources and thus agriculture gets off to a shakey start as they learn to co-operate on an entirely new level. It would seem then that Ireland was less frequented because no-one had any real reason to go there, either because food was plentiful where the herds went, or perhaps because terrain made travel onerous. The migration of humans in these early times was forced on them and deomonstrated a gradual process rather than expeditious change in behaviour.

It is genrally accepted that iron usage was a gallic import to Britain, introducing a more warlike pattern of settlement that spurred on the development of hill forts both as secure shelters for communities, but also very noticeably as status symbols for those with property to defend. The larger your fort, the more important you must be, and there are instances of private farmers building their own stockades to demonstrate their wealth. The question of population increase is more difficult because we can detect an increasing native population before the arrival of the Halstatt gauls. Indeed, as I mentioned the existence of organised religion across England and it's apparent attraction to those living on mainland Europe (remains of foreigners have been found dated to those times) suggests trade and communication across the Channel. The question then is why it took so long for settlers to colonise Ireland. Unless new evidence comes to light, the first visitors arrived there after the region was cut off by rising sea levels, and given the relative crudeness of the seacraft available at the time (rafts, log canoes, and skin coracles) it was likely that was no insignificant venture. part of the reason has to be the terrain. As Britain was colonised following the extraordinarily dramatic melting of the ice cap (Average temperature rose seven degrees in fifteen years, and no V8's or industry in existence - How about that?), the land was quickly overgrown by virgin forest, which some modern antiquarians fondly refer to as the period of the 'Wild Wood', in which it's been said a squirrel could cross from east to west without needing to drop to the ground. A fanciful description but certainly a temperate rainforest quickly established itself. Woodland clearance is no small task for those with stone or antler tools. Experiements have proven it can be done, as we would obviously expect, but it requires considerable exertion and the tools themselves weren't necessarily reliable. Agrarian settlement then took time, which might help explain the slow expansion toward Ireland, yet we also see burial sites throughout southern England of considerable age. Wayland's Smithy on the Lambourn Downs for instance is around 5000BC in origin. So the question has to be asked whether the forest terrain of the 'Wild Wood' period was a real obstacle to travel, delaying the arrival of colonisers to Irish shores until after the Irish Sea had been created. Or, was the post-glaciated terrain too difficult to traverse before extensive woodland? Tall mountains of ice like stranded icebergs would have dotted the land, along with muddy torrents of meltwater and inland lakes, with little vegetation to survive on. How long did this difficult enviroment persist in the new warmer climate?

This getting out of bed lark is starting to annoy me. Time was when I didn't mind, always rushing about to go here and there, but now? Another trek across Swindon for a doctors appointment. Today they were going to give me a blood test. I suspect that has something to do with extracting a sample of the stuff, and since my body was designed by nature to keep all the precious red fluid inside, I also suspect some sort of puncture is required. Oh well. No pain, no gain. So I booked in and waited. I cannot believe how rubbish womens magazines are. Surely this surgery could spend a pound or two on a car magazine for us blokes to while away the minutes before being stabbed by a nurse? Eventually my time was up. "Have you eaten or drunk anything since last night?" She asked me. Erm... Yes, I have. "Didn't the doctor tell you you not to?" Erm... No, he didn't. So it's back next week then? Stig of the Week No suprise to hear that the BBC have found a new Stig for the Top Gear team. After Dead Stig and Sacked Stig, we now have the Stiglet (Dare I call him The Baby Stig after his discovery in a stable in Bethlehem?). Quite an exuberant driver too, as his inaugural rush around Dunsfold was clearly edge of the seat stuff. Maybe that was partly due to the fact he was driving a V8 Ariel Atom, a car with almost as much power to weight as a formula one racer, and with even less bodywork, but perhaps the lad was keen to make an impression? Fastest Top Gear lap of a road going car ever. Give the lad a pat on the back.

Now I know I'm getting old. How do I know? Well sit down comfortably and I'll begin. Exhibit A is a pretty ordinary computer printer, an cream coloured plastic box with a couple of slots and a mind of its own. Even when plugged in, it sits there resolutely doing nothing. Somewhere on the featureless surface of the box is a button that brings this reluctant technological wonder to life. Somewhere... I know there's a 'start' button on this thing... For a moment, I nearly resorted to reading the manual. If anything comes close to a rejection of honourable manhood, reading the manual is definitely right there like getting caight in private with a centrefold and a test tube. Which of course I know nothing about. Can we get on with the story, please? Okay, my search for the 'start' button didn't go unnoticed. One by one the other males in the office wandered over and started poking and pointing in an oddly competitive effort to be first to uncover the arcane means by which my plastic friend reacts to external stimuli. Eureka! I found it! Yes! Nonetheless my clumsy and ineffectual attempts at utilising conumser electrical goods isn't something I'm used to. There was a time that no technological device was beyond my enquiring mind. You know what I'm talking about. It's a bit worrying because at this rate I'll be unable to change channels on my television in ten years time. I might be stuck watching the shopping channels for the rest of my life, helpless to find alternative and intelligent viewing. No wonder peope become vegetables in old age. More About The Letter Having been threatened with having my money stopped, I set about putting the world to rights. I can't run faster than a speeding locomotive or leap tall buildings in a single bound, so maybe wearing underpants outside my trousers isn't such a good idea. However, an injustice is in danger of being perpetrated, so Caldrailman is on the case. It turns out that one vacancy given to me has been listed as "Not Applied For". Nonsense. I remember filling in their application form and handing it to the lady at the front desk to be sent off. I have an email from the employer apologising for rejecting the application and explaining the vacancy had aleady been filled. My grim determination must have been obvious. Even the security guard thought twice about challenging me as I strode past him, smouldering like a steam engine. Even the office boss glanced at me and made a rapid retreat. There you go. Technology to the rescue. My emails reveal my evidence. Vacancy applied for. Now pay up please and stop demotivating me with threats of poverty.

It's wrong to think as freed slaves as being always completely independent. That was often the case of courrse, but many freedmen were still under the patronage of their former masters, often by mutual understanding. Those with such connections probably had a better chance of surviving in freedom, and that is obviously why the feudal system of patronage worked for both parties. We should however be careful in assuming a slave was merely a menial worker. Many slaves had skills and professions that would provide them an income afterward. Some slaves had run businesses under their masters ownership, and thus were well prepared to meet the difficulties of life. Others weren't. I have read of former gladiators returning to the arena after being awarded the rudis, not only because of the reward of fighting in the arena, but because their retirement didn't work out. Look at this another way. Whilst it was a demonstration of generosity and civic beneificence to release slaves to freedom, that same patron might find himself criticised if all he did was inflate the number of people on the corn dole.

Or this article... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_Magistrates

Despite my recent trend of staying bed, I slid out from under the piled insulation into the cold bedroom for an earlier start at the sunday library session. Unusually for sunday there was activity out back. In the yard a large white van burbled past and off down the alleyway. This sunday is a day that doesn't seem to know what it wants to inflict on Swindon. The pavement is damp, the sky a dreary grey with occaisional sunny spells, and there's a mood of let's get on with another sunday no matter how boring it is. Naturally enough then the crowd was building up in the library foyer for the ritual opening of the gates. BFL was. She's a regular these days, and I have to say, probaly the most consistently annoying person ever born. She sat down to book a computer upstairs. This is something she's done many, many times before, yet failed compl;etely this morning. "Oh I'm not having much luck yoday." She announced. In fact, part of her annoying character is the constant loud commentary she provides to everything she does. It's as if we all have to be interested in the minutae of her existence. A rather public spirited schoolgirl of asian origin spotted her mistake, and very kindly began to correct BFL's error. "Don't want to be rude," BFL snarled, "But go away. It's none of your business." Oh? Really? I thought the public service announcements were for a purpose? And indeed they were. The young security guard, D, emerged from his hidey hole and was immediately pounced on by BFL, who is now on first name terms with him whether the unfortunate lad likes it or not. She positively fawned and stroked him. Ugh. I mean, she's old enough to be his granny. But of course, she got her way, and D booked her computer slot for her. That it? Happy now? Almost. She was also keen to be first through the door. Trouble is she took the lift which meant we all arrived ahead of her. Some people never learn. Oops of the Week I got a letter yesterday. There's been some doubt raised concerning the validity of my jobsearch. This always happens. As soon as there's any trust established, as soon as you think everyones happy you're contientiously seeking gainful employment, they land a blow on you like this. Strictly speaking they could stop my money without so much as a by or leave. What did I do wrong? Or more to the point, what didn't I do? I don't know. My life is a whirlwind of applications and emails. Or maybe the big boss lady at the job centre has decided it's my turn to have my head ground down by high heels. What? Again?

The trouble with any system that accentuates honour is that not everyone lives up to that standard. The most obvious example of that is a little earlier than Cicero's time, but very illustrative of Roman chicanery. A chap called Servius Sulpicius Galba (not the later emperor of the same name, but a praetor sent to put down a spanish revolt) was campaigning against the Lusitanio. Eager to bring the warfare to a conclusion, he sent messages to the spansish tribes that if they too were tired of the fighting and wanted peace, all they need do is turn up at any of three nominated camps, surrender their weapons, no hard feelings, and an allotment of land will be theirs for the trouble. Something like 30,000 turned up and did as the Romans suggested. Immediately Galba had a third of them slaughtered and the rest carried off in chains to Rome. Galba was immediately hauled in front of the horrified senators with a view to prosecution to what we would now call 'war crimes'. The wiley Galba however told his children he was going to be killed and had them paraded in the Senate, and the sight of two children bawling their eyes out swung the result. Galba walked away, abeit with a stain on his career.

The task for the day was to head out to the edge of my known universe, or more specifically, Blunsdon. That's four and a half miles away. Even though the start of the one day course in 'How To Use The Internet For Jobsearching' was not all that early, getting there required an early start. I don't mind as such. If you need to get out of bed at some ungodly hour, that's what you do, and whether the need to get up or the uncomfortable cold temperatures were the cause, I was wide awake long before the alarm clock threatened to wobble. Usually when I travel to that far outpost of the Rushey Platt Empire it rains. Nine times out of ten I get thoroughly soaked, squelching as I plod through the doors despondently. Yesterday however was a rarity, a day of water-free weather on my northern frontier. Cloudy, chilly, but not wet. And so I arrived at the swanky hotel where the course was being staged. Smart casual, as the dress code demanded. I hate dress codes. So pointless. I mean, why do doormen at nightclubs turn away people for not having the preferred footwear? It doesn't exactly stop any trouble breaking out, does it? As it happens, the course was professional and well presented, a breath of fresh air after the kindergarten courses I normally get sent on. The trainer deserved some congratulation because he kept the pace of his tuition going in a slick solo performance all day, and only once did I begin to nod off (and got woken with a jibe about using a sandwich board to advertise my availability on the job market. Cheeck of the working class... ) Many hours later, many miles southward, I was home again, safe, dry, and utterly informed about how to get that job in four days time. Unfortunately the lady next to me scored an interview before the day was out. I just can't compete with that. Memory lane Last night I stumbled across a tv channel showing a number of documentaries about rock bands (rockumentaries, if you will... ) and so I spent a few hours watching the turbulent fortunes of Phil Lynott and his band Thin Lizzy (I remember seeing Mr Lynott on a tv panel on one occaision, utterly out of his box and embarrasing everyone else on the show. That was shortly before he died). Or the truth behind Black Sabbath's first ground breaking album, which apparently turns out tobe whatever you want it to be, or the extraordinary 2008 Iron Maiden in which they hopped from one country to another in their own airliner, rather like a band travelling in the back of their own van but on an entirely different scale. I noticed something odd. The players, even those who fell off the bandwagon for one reason or another, all seem very jovial and philosophical about events in their career. It's the producers who are deadly serious about it all, going to great lengths to demonstrate the virtuosity of those whose sound they manipulated. Managers seem very unwilling to give anything away in case the truth destroys their profits. it all seems very familiar to me. Sigh. I think it's about time someone did a documentary about Red Jasper. Can't wait to see the red faces...

It is becoming more popular to take that stance as a comedian, isn't it? In fairness I've never taken any notice of Russel Brand so I'll leave that to those with more experience of him.

Bear in mind that legionaries weren't as law abiding as might be expected. We have one account of legionaries in the late empire raiding germanic settlements for profit, swimming across rivers covertly using shields as flotation devices. Also, the defensive posture of the late empire was circumstantial, since the Roman legions of the time were less capable, widely spread, and although in greater numbers than ever before, comprised of people increasingly drafted rather volunteered. If you notice, the centurionate, a fundamental source of tradition and discipline, had declined after Constantine. The whole rationale of the legion as a strong fighting force has atrophied. Also, we need to realise that the legions were taking in volunteers in the earlier periods, and sifting out those they considered weak at the very start. By the late empire, anyone would do, even if they had hacked off their thumbs in an effort to make themselves unenlistable, a practice that was going on throughout imperial times. Although your point about booty from conquest is valid, bear in mind that soldiers in the early empire were never guaranteed such reward. It was always dependent on warfare taking place, and legionaries could their entire term without having fought a single battle. In fact, since they were paid three times a year, often along with donatives and bribes, serving in the legions was not entirely unrewarded anyhow. Add to that the availability of free medical care of some expertise, the added bonus of being able to requisition from civilians if the mood took you without any overt fear of official sanction (though I suspect if you went too far the officers would take steps to stop you), it seems less onerous. Many soldiers obtained cash from their colleagues by one means or another, as often happens in military sub-cultures. In any case, my point is not entirely aimed at the military. The fact remains however that swords in the legion and the arena both became shorter over time until the soldiers eventually threw them away in favour of the longer spatha, and that the organisers of the arena contests introduced new weaponry designed for visual appeal and reduced killing potential, apparently desiring to stage longer, withering, and bloodier contests than the fast do-or-die duel of old.

It is often forgotten that the Romans did not organise occupied Britsin as a replacement administration, but rather co-opted local leaders into their society to do that for them and smooth out the process of extracting tax and service from the natives. Notice that Roman towns were initially sited as tribal centers. Calleva Atrebatum for instance, which refers to the settlement as being the administrative headquarters for the Atrebates tribe. Of course they encouraged foreigners to do as the Romans do, but note how Tacitus sneers at thwe Britons who aped their betters. Obviously they couldn't always do that and yes, sometimes they had rebellions or regional conquests to make, enforcing their rule if necessary. Roman Britain was in many ways analogous to the 'Wild West'. Some areas got along with the 'Ro-Man', other areas resisted. Some areas were well settled, others were little more than wilderness.

What makes a comedian funny? Obviously, because he tells jokes, but by definition that means he has a sense of humour. If there's one thing I've noticed about comedians in general, they're not afraid to make fun of themselves, and since poking fun at others isn't always well received, that strain of self depreciation is something endears them to us. We recognise they're human too. At least, most of them are. I've never been a fan of Ricky Gervais. That's no secret, I said as much ages ago. I just can't understand why people find him funny. Perhaps it's because he specialises in ridiculing people, something increasingly popular as a genre of comedy, or perhaps he just isn't that funny. I'm not sure. After his performance at a recent award ceremony I've no reason to change my opinion. Asked by a reporter about it, he dismissed any concerns with "If people get upset, it's not my fault, is it?" Pardon me? So who else is to blame? Oh, I see, we're all supposed to laugh at his antics and jibes regardless. Not only is Ricky Gervais not entirely funny, he isn't entirely trying to be any more, and expects to be feted on whatever comes out of his gob. There will be those who will dismiss this disparagement for various reasons, such as claiming I'm a sad so and so, or envious, or a hypocrite, or anything else they can think of. However, if they do, aren't they doing the same as I just did? In any case, if what I'm writing upsets anyone, it's not my fault, is it? Quiet Please How many times have I mentioned the use of mobile phones in the library? Of late people have been pretty good, but this morning? Oh ye gods it turned into a call centre. The man on the right is organising a business deal. The lady behind me is organising her holiday. The lady on the left is organising her husband. Here I am trying to navigate the inner mysteries of an online job application and all I can hear is half a conversation from several directions. They're having a laugh... They just can't resist it. As soon as that ring tone goes off their automated response is to answer and tell everyone where they are. I know you're in the library, people, I can hear you jabbering on the phone. Where's Dragon Lady when you need her?

I disagree. I would advise the use of the 1000BC limit to be regarded with some suspicion. It was dreamt up by Victorian antiquarians who had no access to modern research and were prone to making assertions like this in order to sound knowledgeable. Although the population of prehistoric Britain was never numerous, there were established populations here long before the celtic migrations, especially the Halstatt Gauls around 500BC. After all, the various megalithic sites, including Stonehenge and Avebury, went out of use around 1600BC, and for a considerable time represented the labour of an organised society. In fact Britain seems to have been colonised as soon as the withdrawing ice allowed them too, and evidence suggests at least one false start before a recurrent ice build-up. Ireland however was less frequented. The earliest confirmed archaeology is dated to around 6500BC, concerning people who must have arrived by sea because Ireland had been cut off by rising sea levels a thousand years earlier. According to Francis Pryor (Britain BC), these early irish lived in lightweightweight shelters, possible migratory camps, subsisting on a varied diet of fish, eel,wild pig,birds, and hazelnuts. Mr Pryor does mention the possibility that ireland was visited temporarily at an earlier date.

An invite! I don't get a lot of those these days, so imagine my delight at receiving an email inviting me to a gathering in Bristol. Unfortunately an evening in Bristol is not the quick dash down the road it once was. Now it's a major expedition, planned and funded to the last detail, and oddly enough for someone who once thought nothing of driving two hours for a night out, off the edge of known universe. I guess that's what happens when convenient transport is no longer affordable. And what, you may ask, is the invite for? It's an evening presentation on the significance of lean production in the context of logisitcs, organised by a higher level recruitment agency, and boy oh boy do I not want to waste my time travelling to take part in that. The least they could of done was laid on a rock band for the night. An Invite To... For those that haven't seen it on YouTube, here's my three minute video trailer for the route I've been working on in Train Simulator. Hey, don't sneer. Rod Stewart might by a successful performaning artist but even he has a model railway layout. Unlike him, I can't afford a californian palace to build one in, so I have to make do with a computer instead. Much for fun than lectures in towns thirty miles away.