GhostOfClayton

Weren't we going to hear more of the interview? I struggled to get to sleep last night through anticipation!

Sadly, my Spanish extends no further than "OfClayton le da besos mejor de su esposo", but this is very exciting stuff. I suppose it depends on how you interpret 'versions or interpretations', though. More detailed information will, hopefully, be forthcoming.

My view was that she was right, but could've put her point more clearly. She questions their use in the way that it has been popularly reproduced by the media, as a method of attack. I agree with her that attack would not prove a useful application for a chariot. Getting a foot soldier (or two) quickly from A to B - where B is a particular part of a battlefield where they are needed to hop off and do some traditional ground-based fighting - is a more practical use. Obviously it would only be one tool in the battlefield logistics toolbox, but it obviously worked well enough to leave a physical archaeological record.

I'm guessing we're talking north western Med area (Portugal, Spain, France, northern Italy).

Incidentally, the title of this blog refers not to some drunken adolescent, but the frittering away of one's formative years. It's a phrase often associated with the game of snooker, and is certainly true in my case. more on that later. A stroke of luck The day of the Royal Wedding found me staying just outside the oldest town in Britain (which is Colchester). Over breakfast, we'd had the telly on, and inevitably it was wall-to-wall coverage of the lead up to the big 'I do'. This seemed to whet Mrs ofClayton's appetite a little, and she subsequently decided she'd like stay in and watch the ceremony itself. Now, I can't stay in on a sunny day just to watch people get hitched, so I opted to go for a little stroll around the environs to find the nearest bus route into town, and set off along the road. Glancing casually to my left I noticed, set back from the road a few metres behind a sparse hedge, a notice on a kissing gate. Such things do interest me, as these signs usually relate to land with concessionary access, especially whn not accompanied by a right-of-way sign (which this one wasn't). Closer inspection revealed the legend "Gosbecks Archeaological Park. Dogs must be kept on a lead" along with a picture of someone metal-detecting behind a large red cross. Hmmm . . my curiosity is piqued, even though nothing revealed itself beyond the kissing gate other than a very large grassy field and some cows. No further information on the gate, either. What was the archaeology in question? Why was it so special that it rated its own park? How could I ignore that? So, through the kissing gate I went, and onwards following what looked like a slightly worn path in the grass. This lead to the other end of the (quite sizable) field where I found . . . . another big field! Not to be discouraged, I pressed on through this field. It was similarly lacking in anything that could be deemed archaeological. At the far end of this field, I reached a lane. Here, I got the first inkling that I may be onto something. Just across the lane was a small rough area of land that could, with a certain degree of optimism, be called a car park, and beside this car park was a display board showing map of 'Gosbecks Archaeological Park'. Two labels on this map drew my eye instantly: 'Site of Roman Theatre', and 'Site of Roman Temple'. Obviously, these would just be bits of field unidentifiable from any other bit of field, but I had to go and stand in those bits of field anyway. Following my mental memory of the map I pressed on into Gosbecks Archaeological Park and eventually hit the 'Site of Roman Theatre'. To my joy, this wasn't just another bit of field, but a large bit of field that had been carefully mown, and marked out with the outlines of a medium-sized Roman theatre. Not only that, but an interpretation board had been placed next to it with a picture of how the theatre may have looked, details of its construction, and all sorts of pertanant and well-presented archeological information. Not only that, but the same was true about the 'Site of Roman Temple', only this could more accurately be described as a 'Site of Roman Temple Complex', being much larger, and containing the outline not only of the temple, but also the surrounding porticus and ditches. And all I went out to find was a bus stop! Why not in America? Monday saw the conclusion of the World Snooker Championships 2011. Interested? Why not? If you're not interested in religion, they will call you an 'atheist'. They have a word for it! Why, then, is there no word for people who have no interest in snooker? Or telephony? Or oceanography? Or Roman Archaeology? . . . The list is endless. And yet they have a word for people who have no interest in religion. I'm sure some would say that a religious belief is such an all-encompassing belief, permeating the believer's life, thoughts and behaviours, such that in no way can it be compared to a mere hobby/sport/game. They may be right. Religious beliefs do tend to be written through a religious person's life like 'Scarborough' through a stick of rock. But to suggest that this level of passion can only be felt for a deity is to belittle the passion and fantaticism that can clearly be felt for (say) Manchester United in some individuals. As an independant and impartial outsider to both football and religion, I see no difference between those who forsake all else for their God, and those who forsake all else for their team. Anyway, I digress. I wanted to talk about snooker, rather than philosophise about systems of belief. So, 'abilliardists' need read no further. As I was saying, Monday was the final of the Snooker World Championships. Given half a chance, I could cheerfully let whole days of my life drift away watching snooker, so have made the decision that I would only watch the last day of the World Championships, and all other tournaments would (reluctantly) have to pass me by completely. A huge sacrifice, given that I was trading the game I love dearly (but not religiously) for a more constructive and worthwhile life. Anyway, something struck me while I was watching this very exciting final. Why is it that snooker has never taken off in the USA? They play an awful lot of pool, as have I in my time, and snooker is a sort of bigger, better version of pool. Not only played on a much bigger table, but a much more strategic game that can deliver some breathtaking twists and turns. Right up their street, I would've thought. So, if anyone from that side of the Atlantic can cast some light on this, please comment below . . I'd love to hear your thoughts.

I witnessed a squirrel falling out of a tree on Saturday. I was sitting in Castle Park in Colchester eating my lunch, and not three metres from me, a grey thing fell perfectly vertically from a tree to land with a significant thump (I was reminded of the Angels in the Lynx advert) and a cloud of dust. It then sat very still, obviously quite stunned for a few minutes, before taking a few tentaive jumps towards the tree trunk. More sitting looking stunned, and then it disappeared behind the tree trunk. I'm not aware of its fait thereafter. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=riwBXClOSyo

Somewhere on the toe of Italy?

You see, take the Sony Playstation network down for a week, and look at what the Americans can accomplish!

A very nice article! Well spotted, ParatrooperLirelou. I very much like both her way of thinking and her style of writing. I may well investigate her work further.

Yep . . happy birthday, Ursus.

There's so much Roman stuff on Time Team, and it's on so often, that I never mention it here. However, this week there's a special that will definately be worth a look. 'Time Team Special: Boudica's Lost Tribe' Country: UK Channel: Channel 4 Date: Wednesday, 4th May Time: 2100 GMT for 60 mins Episodes: 1 (though there are 5 more, premuably non-Roman, Time Team Specials in this series) Link: Channel 4 As usual, this one will be on 4OD from Thursday onwards. if you're living outside this green and pleasant land, you may not be able to get 4OD. if not, and you'd like to see it anyway, let me know and I'll record it for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwtDrRWHgr0

Yes, being up early has allowed me to be the first (of many, I'm sure) to wish Crispina the happiest of birthdays. Are you doing anything special today, Crispina?

Wow! Please can I have your autograph?

We need to know more of your 15 minutes of fame, Melvadius.

Agreed! Edge of your seat stuff!

Now if you had a dog, you would undoubdtedly we its mistress. A cat? I'm not so sure. If you're, for example, putting up a shelf, your dog would be looking at you thinking, "I love you. I don't know what you're doing, but whatever it is, I love you." Whereas your cat would be looking at you and thinking, "you should be using #4 rawl plugs for that job. That won't stay up for two minutes!"

My mistake - my early onset dementia seems to be playing me up again!

Is there a difference between the Latin words for 'sleep' and 'dream'?

Perhaps one way to test the theory is by looking at the health of the empire during the period of his reign. I'm not knowlegable enough to comment on that, but maybe someone else here is.

I seem to remmeber this being described at the start of the novel 'Pompeii' by Robert Harris (which is a truly excellent book!)

I'm not sure many of the Brits are that bothered about the Royal Wedding/Family either. The nation's attitude seems to be summed up in one commerative plate that said, "Thanks for the day off". Still, the Brits who ARE that bothered about the Royal Wedding/Family do seem to redress the balance by being VERY bothered about the lives of their overlords. Just for the record, I fall fairly and squarely into the 'not really bothered one way or the other' camp.

Your mate is clearly a very talented chap. There's no wonder he knows six women!

I spent the latter few of my formative years in the bleak and blustery wastes of the far, far north of England, in which the Geordie, and the Maccam peoples eke out a fragile existence, and call a home. It was here, among these hardy folk, that I first heard some of their magical and enchanting musical strains: . . .

PM me in early May, Iolo (when I'm 'back at the ranch'). You can then send me your intended avatar, and I'll shrink it for you. Someone else may offer in the meantime, though. (Over to you others. . . . )