caldrail

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.

Let's make a distinction here. The original question doesn't refer to Roman house, it refers to wealthy Roman's houses. The vast majority of those in Rome lived in little better than squalor by modern standards, crammed into rat-infested jerry-built apartment blocks with no running water, insulation, or cooking facilities. Rural Romans, which unfortunately includes those still living in barbarian styles, were really little better. As for the villa system, to call it a miniature city is a misconception I think. You could justifiably regard it as a community, because it has a ruling family and all who live in the confines of the outer walls are in some way there to serve the family. But there's the difference. Unlike most communities, the population of a villa isn't there to benefit from urban life, nor do they have much self-determination about what to do with their time. They really are there for the comfort and profit of a few individuals. The Romans created a prototype for the medieval manorial system. I don't know if they actually invented it, and in any case, the Romans weren't very good at invention (other than poking insults at each other), preferring instead to let foreigners invent things and then take the credit for all those clever ideas. I suppose you could see a wealthy Roman house from the perspective of a pint sized urban community, but doesn't that rather miss the point of why it was there?

A doctors appointment at some ungodly hour of the morning forced me out of bed long before my unemployed body was ready to face another day. After all the trouble of using iron discipline and sheer willpower to push the duvet aside and start my epic journey to the bathroom, not to mention a long walk across town in the dark, they were locked when I arrived. Brilliant... Good Morning Swindon As the sky first began to brighten a bright star, or more properly some planet or other, was low above the roofs of Swindon and very noticeable. I wonder which one? Venus always seems to be the usual culprit although I understand Jupiter has been making its presence felt lately. When the sun finally rose it revealed a gloriously sunny morning. A shame then the ground is waterlogged after all the rain we've been having. You can't put your foot anywhere without getting clogged in mud. In fact, walking along the pedestrian underpass that runs underneath the Great Western main line near Swindon station, I found it almost returned to its former glory as a canal. The center was flooded with limpid oily water. You have to see that underpass to believe it. Victorian stonework still caked in soot and grime, concrete roofs with stalagtites in orderly rows along the edges of the blocks, and a whole series of electric lamps that stopped working round about the time they were installed. It isn't so much a mix of ancient and modern, more like the perfect habitat of Swindon Man, our native species of neolithic throwback. Referral of the Week Before the new year I was put on a six week job search support programme. Nothing grandiose. Just internet access and free stationery. That said, the facility was very useful. At the library I have a two hour limit to do everything and it all gets a bit frantic. Anyhow, I asked the Jobcentre if I could be referred to the programme again. Yes, they said, and promptly discovered no-one in the office had any idea of how to get teir database to allow it. Two advisors sweated of a hot monitor pushing and poking to no good effect. It turns out they couldn't because officially I haven't finished the first course yet. Apparently I'm stuck in a sort of electronic limbo. I already knew that.

With the Greek Cities no longer bothering us, and rebels pushed aside on Sicily, my obvious next move was to attack Carthage. Surely a victory would raise our standing in Rome, which I have been informed is not good. We need triumphs! Herenius Valerius, our adopted colleague, led the assault on the city of the Punes. A small relief force attempted an ambush upon him, led by none other than Hasdrubal himself, who I understand swore not to retreat from the field of battle until we were defeated. With him was Bisaltes, a man driven by inner demons, and another worthy foe. I had expected an epic battle. We were, after all, threatened by superior forces. To my relief the gods favoured the Scipiones, and the battle was won without fuss. Carthage was ours! A great victory! As if that pleased the Senate... Yes, yes, yes, very good, now go and blockade Thrapsus, they said. A triumph? For that scuffle at Carthage? Pah. The ungrateful senators demanded more for the reward I sought. Old Cornelius died. He was our family patriarch, and we wish him well on the crossing of the river to the afterlife. He never could tolerate journeys by water. In his place is Julianus, who lacks the gravitas of our former patriarch but is perhaps a better politician. We failed at Thrapsus. The carthaginian navy reopened the harbour as I prepared for the next senatorial decree. Caralis, a city in Sardina, must be conquered. As I embarked troops in North Africa those left behind were ambushed by the sneaky Bisaltes. Defeat... Utter defeat... And now Carthage demands the return of Liliybaeum. By 256BC Caralis was ours, and diplomacy has secured an alliance with Numidia, for which the Senate gave their approval. Nope. No triumph. Not yet...

I live in a world that is increasingly surreal. I admit that. My horizons have shrunk enormously with the loss of transport and means to pay for it. That alone shouldn't be too significant because although I don't get out of the house much these days, I used to do so a great deal, thus I recall how it was to have a life. Ahh, yes, those were the days! Pummelling peoples ears with a drum kit, flying aeroplanes, driving fast cars, and generally acting like every other young man with enough money to enjoy a spot of hedonistic living. But recently my life reached a new level of surrealness. I received an email telling me that the Museum of Vacuum Cleaners is doing well and had a great financial 2010. Wow. Must go there sometime. Virtual Danger The news was depressing. The weather report unsuprising. The rejection letters from employers stacked up on the table. At times like this you need to walk away and do something. On this particular occaision I chose a computer flight simulation. Not something I always do, but it's fun in short doses and keeps me busy until the sun comes out again. As it happened, I found myself at low altitude, closing in on a relatively slow and helpless enemy aeroplane. Under normal circumstances the outcome is predictable. On this occaision though the enemy was flying a lot slower and began to turn tighter than me. I don't remember quite how it happened, but my fighter 'flicked', a result of pushing the enveople too far, and it turned over on its back pointing toward the ground. I know this was only a simulation, but my virtual life was over in the next second or two if I diidn't do something quick. Push the joystick forward. Give myself more seconds to get out of. Right roll, plenty of top rudder, and with barely feet to go before I became a war statistic, I pulled out of the desperate situation and began climbing away, looking around to see where that enemy plane had escaped to. In real life I never faced that situation with aeroplanes, mostly because low flying is frowned upon by the authorities, but also because I didn't indulge in aerobatics in aircraft not designed for them, and at the end of the day I never was a fighter pilot. Thing is though, I had a brief instant to react to that suprisingly frightening situation before the 'You're Dead' screen came up. I reacted without thinking about it. To have pondered my options at that moment would have invited disaster. I was watching television the other night and a program came up about an incident in real life where a cockpit window on a passenger jet blew out. The captain of the aircraft was sucked out, held only by his ankles, pinned against the fuselage by the airflow. His cabin crew fought to get the airliner down and keep their captain held in place, even though they thought he was dead. As it turned out, the captain was a very lucky man, and made a recovery months afterward. As rare as such incidents go, that was a real life situation. None of my problems with flying aeroplanes were ever that dramatic, thankfully, though I had one or two worrying moments and a couple of near misses. Training and instinct are great survival tools. So I ended up shooting down the enemy plane and got a little star attributed to my name on the screen. It was just a game. But for that one moment, that fleeting instant, with the ground gyrating in the wrong way and disaster imminent, it all seemed very real. Afterward I switched off, and headed for the kitchen for something to eat. As for the airliner crew? They all suffered an extraordinary experience, and I doubt they'll dismiss it as lightly as I could with my computer adventures. Opinions of the Week "You are one" Growled some young man as he made his way past the house the other night. One what? Spit it out boy. If you want to make yourself heard, then do it properly. Or why bother? I mean, what are you, exactly? A doctor, dentist, magistrate, policeman, fireman, ambulance driver, fighter pilot, businessman, or some other pillar of the community? I don't think so. Well, since you decided to tell the world what you think, I consider I have the same privilege. You don't amount to anything, do you?

It's important to realise how macho and chauvanistic Roman society was. I don't doubt for a moment they had those among them who sought alternative lifestyles, you get that in any society, but the issue of manhood is very important for Romans. The accusation of effeminancy or sexual diversity is often used in a demeaning and directly spiteful manner. The problem is that we look at this issue from a slightly more enlightened attitude in the modern day, or at least most of us do, and thus we miss the reasons that Roman celebrities are described as having unusual tastes. Now I'm not saying that any particular Roman did not indulge as the writers suggest they did, because I only have their word for it and as dubious the accusation might actually be, there's often nothing to contradict these accusations. That's precisely why they were made in the first place. We should also realise that many of these accusations may not be intended to insult or ruin a reputation (public image was hugely important for important Romans), but made on the basis on hearsay and gossip. An observer misinterpreted a joke or gesture, perhaps being unaware of what the situation signified, and quite possibly the tale quickly inflated as gossip often does. From something relatively innocent but misunderstood, a story becomes common currency. In order to underline that, we ought to take a moment to look at the way the common classes relate to the world. For them, with limited education and difficulties in expressing themselves, graffiti is almost always sexual in nature. The sort of thing scribed on Roman walls isn't fundamentally different from the sort of thing we see in our own day, except perhaps I notice a more distinct frustration emerging in modern times, and less public advertising. This is because the individuals involved are driven by these instincts. As social animals, who gets to mate is an important issue, at least subliminally. Women are attracted to confidence, wealth, and success, thus the common man generally struggles in that respect and lets off steam with the depressing and unnecessary record of their emotional and intellectual state. Was it so different for the Romans? Apparently not. Certainly sex was more readily available but at the same time the virility expected of a Roman raised the bar of their expectation in that regard. So was Caesar bisexual? I don't know. I share the doubts expressed above, but I'll have to keep an open mind on the issue because I don't have any reliable source to balance that accusation. I suppose that means the accusation has stuck to Caesar. Perhaps, but isn't that the entire point of 'thrown mud'?

Nothing much to report today I'm afraid. A strong wid howls through the air conditioning, the world revolves on it's axis, and the good citizens at the library are behaving themselves, apart from one gent who made audible his disgust at Facebook, or the blood curdling scream from downstairs as the deadly were-librarian claims another victim. I'll need to be careful because I forgot my silver library card this morning. The shocjk horror revelation today though is research by the Minnesota Planetarium Society, who reveal that because of gravitic influence our astrological signs are no longer accurate. When I was born I was a Libra, a sign that didn't exist until the time of Julius Caesar. Now I have become a Virgo overnight. Not sure what that means. So let's do a comparison and see what sort of person I might be... Libra Your element: Air Your ruling planets: Venus Symbol: The Scales Your stone: Opals Life Pursuit: To be consistent Vibration: Unsteady Libran's Secret Desire: To live an easy, uncomplicated life. Description: Every adolescent Libran's fantasy is to find the Prince or Princess of their dreams. As their lives unfold, the experiences, false starts, dramas, broken hearts and disillusionment they encounter seeking this personal Holy Grail, often shapes their futures in the most extra-ordinary manner. Love and love-lost makes a big difference to the Libran although their often happy-go-lucky appearance against all kinds of odds may not reveal this as fact. Librans can switch off from the world around then and during these periods much more occurs on the deep innermost levels of the Libran's psyche, than their closest companions imagine. Many Librans after establishing a lifestyle that somehow falls short of their childhood dreams, manage to conjure up a most independent life and keep up an image of being dedicated to a "close relationship". They can escape into obscure role playing - and often this makes them extremely successful business people. When it comes to romance and love, Librans can be difficult to fathom yet in business many Librans discover they can not only be creative, but it provides an opportunity to express the more diverse sides to their personalities. Their charm can win jobs and provides powerful friends. But in both work and play, looking for peace and harmony, Librans often say "yes" when they should be saying "no". It is a sad fact about many a Libran's personal or business lives to say - many would have faired far better had they remained alone! But for those Librans who do find their secret dream and meet up with their Prince or Princess, that's another story! You'll find them living in some exotic, distant beautiful place, probably running the local bar or restaurant, designing the beach or ski gear, looking wonderful, sipping cocktails and finding life to be the total paradise they knew it could be. What Librans always have to remember when looking to fulfil their dreams is they should never undermine their own integrity and hold out until their dreams do come true - not simply take whatever is offered. And now for my new adopted star sign... Virgo Your element: Earth Your ruling planets: Mercury Symbol: The Virgin Your stone: Sapphire Life Pursuit: To do the right thing Vibration: Compassionate and caring Virgo's Secret Desire: To love and be loved in return Description: Virgos are often put down badly by many astrologers and written up as being fussy and narrow-minded. But when a Virgo shines, there is practically no sign to match their inner light. An in-tune Virgo is a treat to meet. When a Virgo is confident within themselves they are the most successful, structured and creative of all the signs. Many Virgos can be found working in the "service to others" industries, ranging from welfare work, doctors, school-teachers through to practising natural forms of healing like massage, herbal remedies etc. One of the most magical characteristics of the Virgo is no matter how many times life or romance turns sour on them, they still manage to maintain faith in others, refusing to become cynical. There is ingenuity around this sign, a kind-heartedness, which unfortunately is sometimes played upon by others for their advantage. Virgos can often become victims of relationship power-games, where they are mistreated. Creative and sensitive, Virgos are delicate people who, like rare and special orchids, require individual treatment to fully blossom into their true unique beauty. Shy, they are happy to allow others to take centre-stage and often generate their time and energy into making those they love happy or successful. Virgos are givers and when the chips are down and you need a friend, the one available during those testing times when you need advice or companionship the most, is likely to be a Virgo. Virgos understand human frailties better than most, because they are so deep and reflective themselves. With a Virgo in your life you have someone who understands and cares and any romance or friendship based upon these qualities is certain to be mutually rewarding And The Winner Is... I don't know. I recognise traits in both stars, a common flaw that rational investigators notice about star signs in general. So I might be Libran, Virgo-ish, or perhaps even Ligoan or Virbran. Maybe I'm just me. Sorry about that, but hey, that's what you get for believing in obselete Babylonian astrology. As if the stars actually do reveal your future! What codswallop. It's midday and the skies are obscured by heavy grey cloud. Does that mean I have no future? Oh no. Think of all the time I wasted looking for a job.

It's more than that. There seems to be a tendency for those spending time observing life rather than living it to become passive, almost in an instinctual way. I do note that those who live violently tend to enjoy it, and whilst I've no doubt that adrenaline can make a difference, experienced fighters are inevitably calm about their business. For them, there's nothing to be frightened of because they're fully aware of what violence is and know by practice how to deal with it. I knew a chap in workplace who was once jailed for soccer violence. He was a jovial sort, friendly up to a point, and a self confessed 'reformed' personality. Yeah right. I ended up having almost daily sparring sessions with him. As someone less used to fighting than he was, I was struck by how detached and cool-headed he was, never mind how quick and accurate his movements were. For him, fighting was incredibly easy, and inevitably I lost almost every exchange of pulled punches. The thing is, he enjoyed that activity without any need for adrenaline.

A quick glance through the news is always the same thing. Once again the plight of residents in Queensland, Australia, takes centrestage, but the the usual collection of political and financial wrangling makes life seem one long argument from start to finish. No wonder people turn to soap operas. What's the alternative? Learning that a female celebrity was sleeping with a different guy every night as one newspaper headline proclaimed this morning? How much of our news is nothing more than exaggeration and fantasy? Do people really sleep around in that manner? I don't doubt there are individuals who sleep around a lot, and these individuals are a rarity in any population whether we like to admit our own less hedonistic lifestyles or not. After all, if Jordan is headline news for behaving in this manner, it must be exceptional. Unusual. Newsworthy. Or is she wrapped up in some fantasy lifestyle of her own? You could could get very moral about her her reported behaviour and that is precisely what the media would like, so that revelations of her wild nights sells more papers. All part of being a celebrity I guess. Discreet Extravagance One of the side effects of a succesful life is the accumulation of wealth and the material bounty that allows you. Outward symbols of status are nothing new. Human beings instinctively proclaim their status with outward displays of wealth in clothes, cars, and as we note, sexual excess. Walking along the local high street yesterday, head down against the blustery wind and persistent light drizzle, I passed a row of parked cars, which at first sight was certainly nothing unusual in Britain today despite the price we pay for that privilege. The thing was that in amongst the hatchbacks and family cars was an Aston Martin. Normally such a car would stand out, an obvious sign of wealth. Yet this one was an unwashed maroon colour, and fitted right in with the perfect urban camouflage. I almost didn't notice it was there, and if I were honest, only the big hips of the car made it stand out at all. There was also a porsche 911 I used to see driving around Swindon that was painted in grafitti. Not coloured by some socially undesirable youngster in a hoody, but deliberately by the owner. Not quite as discreet perhaps, but certainly without the solid colour and deep polished shine we usually associate with cars owned by succesful wealthy individuals, I somehow doubt it saw much vandalism. Then again, I don't see it driven around any more.

It was noted by more than one source that young men were often keen to get stuck in. Sebastianus knew that and chose his elite advance corps from those who showed that sort of enthusiasm deliberately. That's a human trait of course. Young males are often competitive and aggressive, something that armed forces throughout history have relied upon. As far as training is concerned, I have no argument. Vegetius confirms the poor state of affairs, but the fact he moans about that state of affairs is significant. Please not that, irrespective of Mr Holmes opinions, the modern armies are much more concious of the need to 'break in' recruits in a way that would not be considered necessary a couple of generations ago. The potential is still there, but that it takes longer to reach it. One point we must accept is that as we reach the late empire, the willingness of Romans to seek a military career evaporates. Romans are drafted rather than asked to volunteer. Identifiably, the martial values of the Roman people were in decline. However, the point is not entirely concerned with those choosing a violent career. It also concerns the audience, those that did no more than watch from the sidelines, which according to Dr Gerbners model of human behaviour would introduce passive behaviour in those that no longer need to be aggressive themselves. This behaviour would eventually spread throughout a population and onto future generations by natural processes of learning as well as experience. It would seem to be an insidious efffect on society. I wouldn't of thought of it, but as I sat down to watch the program Dr Gerbner was waxing lyrical about how media moguls demand that programs show simple plots and violence, because that sells. It's that part of us that wants to watch others being hurt that is being exploited commercially. Then Gerbner stated this was unprecedented. That at no time in the past had this happened before. My immediate reaction was "Oh come on, Gerbner, what about the Romans? Their arena games were an entire industry...". Ping! The light bulb went on. I'm not suggesting for a moment this was the only reason for Roman decline, but rather a contributory factor that appears to be borne out by modern experience.

Last year I attended a programme designed to teach jobseekers how to go about searching for a job. Yes, it really was that banal. The course was aimed at young people who had never worked before in their lives so for me, it was like being back at infants school. One of the lads on the course at the same time was LB, whose penchant for stopping at Greggs (A high street bakery) o the way meant he never, and I mean never, arrived on time, though in fairness his light hearted attitude toward life meant he never would have any intention on being punctual. He really is someone who will be late for his own funeral. I bumped into him the other morning. That's the first time we've met since last year, and a cheery hello was exchanged. It turns out he's back on the same course again., or at least, when he can be bothered to turn up. And last night? I hear on the news that business at Greggs is rising. Kell soopreez... Caldrail Has Left The Building There is some excitement to report. Now libraries aren't known for high octane fast paced thrills and spills but yesterday as I went about my daily internetting a loud beeping noise interrupted my comatosed mouse-clicking. A small red light flashed from the ceiling. Everyone looked up and waited for someone else to react first. Luckily Dragon Lady was on hand to tell us the fire alarm was sounding and urged us in her very own special way to leave by the nearest exit immediately, and if anyone wasn't sure what was going on, a disembodied robotic voice repeated the insistent order over the tannoy. Gosh. That was exciting. Can we do that again? Slight Obstacle As if a fire alarm wasn't enough excitment for one day, I turned up at the Programme Centre to use their facilities and I was stopped at the foyer by one of the ladies, who told me the internet wasn't working. Sorry. Internet not working? But... But... Erm... Oh no. My little world is collapsing around my ears. Or maybe it hasn't. Ahh, now you thought I was not going to be able to carry on, but no, wait and see. I have another card in the deck. Slighty Bigger Obstacle I'll use my telephone. Didn't expect that, did you? I'll just phone Jobseeker Direct and get them to do a search for me... Dialling... The menunsystem is starting up but from experience I know I need only press '2' twice and wait for a personal response... "This is Jobseeker Direct, Tracey speaking, how can I help?" Oh hi. I'd like a job search please. "I'm sorry, we don't do that any more. Try your local job centre. Have a nice day." Erm...

270 to 264 BC My capital was Capua, south of Rome. Also I started with a colony on Sicily. I had every intention of conquering the entire island for Rome's glory. It seems the Senate anticipated this and urged me to attack Syracuse, a great metropolis under the control of the Greek Cities. Start as you mean to continue then. Rapid recruitment ensued and my reinforcements arrived by sea from the port of Ostia. There was a minor scuffle with sicilian bandits who soon succumbed to our swords. But Syracuse? That was a tougher cookie by far. One of the two greek generals was a man of some reputation in military affairs, far more able and experienced than my own eager but lacklustre family members. Gaius was up to the job, make no mistake. Our siege lasted long enough to build tunnels under the walls of Syracuse, and without any ado, we broke through and fought a pitched battle in the streets as the enemy recovered from the shock of our fast assault and rallied their men. We won. A convincing result, though the casualties we suffered were higher than I hoped for, including brave Aulus, a young man with much potential who sadly did not leave the field alive. The Senate were pleased with our efforts. Almost immediately the Senate required us to atack Lilybaeum, at the western tip of Sicily. This was worse since it meant attacking mighty Carthage. As it happened, the Greek Cities were at war with the Punic hordes and I hoped to play one side off against another, an artifice that failed to produce the desired effect despite persistent diplomacy.. My troops arrived at Lilybaeum expecting to lay siege as before, but this time, the crafty Carthaginians launched a suprise attack upon our army. This was not going to be easy. The odds were just slightly less than even. I could not trust my generals to win such a confrontation so I therefore took personal command. The Battle of Lilybaeum (266 BC) began as I expected, with remorseless advance of Carthages finest. Elephants! By the gods, they brought elephants! To make things worse my men reported Carthaginian reinforcements heading our way. We were outmatched. My plan was to trap Carthage within a killing ground by widening my front into three parts. The extra enemy troops foiled that by arriving on my left flank, and thus I had no choice but meet that advance with a third of my men. What ensued was a messy and chaotic battle. Punic elephants and cavalry kept me busy, preventing me from forming a solid line, always rushing here and there to counter a threat. Truly we were on the defensive. After twenty minutes, my men were wavering across more than half our number. We faced a possible defeat. Despair not, for the gods came to my rescue. One after the other, the enemy generals fell in bloody melee, and the Punic morale broke. They did try to rally at the end, mounting a dangerous counterattack, yet the battle was by this time in my grasp. And so we won. You may now cheer loudly. I had expected Lilybaeum to resist our presence. They did not. The cowardly inhabitants readily surrendered themselves to slavery, and the conquest of Sicily was complete. As the hot wind blows across the fertile sicilian hills, I study the map and ponder which step toward total domination should be next...