GhostOfClayton

Please don't knock Auntie, Caldrail. You may remember a sketch from 'Not the Nine O'clock News' where a punter writes in to 'Points of View' stating, "I would gladly sell my house and all its contents to help the BBC". And also, all the hoo-hah resulting from Murdoch's evil spawn making that speech condemming the BBC for not making any money for his Dad? I thought 'Stargazing' was the zenith of what the BBC does right. To risk what would normally be considered a very 'narrow-audience' programme at peak viewing times for 3 nights on the trot, was a very bold move on their part, and yet I have heard nothing but good feedback about it, even from people who have never thought to look up at the night sky before. As for Prof. Cox, I don't think there's a single syllable that man has ever uttered that I haven't agreed with 100%. He is a visionary, and if more people listened to him the world would be a much better place than it is right now. To those who don't know him, his attitude can be summarised thus: " Science = good : Wooly thinking = bad ". What a guy!

Wow! I had no idea iPlayer was that clever.

You should be able to get it (and other BBC programmes) on BBC's iPlayer, but unfortunately, they only stay there for a week after broadcast in most cases. Sadly, you're right. Jezza is a very funny and charismatic man.

Yeah, 'Happy Birthday' Aurelia. Good timing - nicely delays the come-down after the Christmas and New Year celebrations.

Hello loyal followers, and welcome to the GhostOfClayton twice-fortnightly blog. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. Apologies First, I know that if this were a truly twice-fortnightly blog, this entry would have appeared last week sometime. I am the type of man who, if something needs doing practically throughout December, that says, "I just want to get Christmas and New year out of the way, and then I'll get on with it . . . ". (I know, ladies. That describes ALL men!). And, surprise-surprise, I did the same with my blog. I have no excuse to give you. Normal service will, hopefully, be resumed when I get motivated again. New Year A Happy New Year to you all. I really hope 2011 brings you health and happiness. What more could you ask for? We've squeezed out and used up the last drop of 2010, so it's time to crack open a whole new bottle of 2011 and see what that brings us all. But before we do, it seems to be the fashion on the telly to look back at 2010, and dig up the past in terms of some sort of 'review of the year'. It's a cheap and easy way to fill column inches, so I will now jump happily onto that bandwagon. Old Year I started 2010 at the small club (pictured) in the sleepy little village of Aquis-of-the-Romans, in the company of Mrs OfClayton and the couple who live at the end of our garden (that is to say, their garden abuts OfClayton Towers' garden - they're not hermit folk who have moved in near our blackberry bush, or anything.) Aquis-of-the-Romans Club is hard to describe. It is not some kind of entertainment hotspot like The Phoenix Club in Phoenix Nights. It is small, overdue a makeover, severely lacking in funds, and 90% of the time, the clientele consist solely of the small knot of men who congregate around the bar, with the air of blokes that've done the exact same thing every night of their drinking lives thus far. Other than 'the knot', a couple of ladies who (as near as I could tell) spent the whole evening playing the bandit, and us four, there were very few people in. We spent the evening feeding coins into the juke box and pool table, so that we could listen to 80s music, and play pool. Something I haven't done since I wasted my youth as a bit of a snooker-shark at college, when I should've been learning stuff. January saw Mrs OfClayton's birthday. I whisked her off to Pateley Bridge for the weekend. Nice weekend spoilt a little by use of a B&B that didn't live up to its web page. February - I was scheduled to take a nice, cheap skiing holiday in France with 'the lads'. However, one by one they dropped out until there was just me. I really didn't want to go without my annual pilgrimage to the Alps, so I bit the bullet and blew my entire 2009 royalties cheque on the last bed in The Dolomites during half term week. This was so I could go skiing with OfClayton Nephew 1 of 3 (I think he has a name, but I find it easier to number them, much like the Borg in Star Trek) and his Dad. Once the shock of the cost had worn off, it was a darn good holiday. Excellent snow in an excellent resort. If you ski, the Dolomites is a Bucket List place to do it. I'm SO glad I did. After Easter, 'The Season' started. Fortunately, I hadn't been allocated any tours in 2010 that involved me speaking a foreign language, so it was all easy-peasy and to a large extent, 'same-old, same-old'. My favourite tour continues to be Hadrian's Wall, and a stint on Jersey was the only new destination this year. Unremarkable, and not as nice as Guernsey, where I did a stint in 2009, and will do another in 2011. This was followed by an unfortunate event. Following a worried call from one of his friends, I had to dash back to Aquis-of-the-Romans to check on OfClayton Snr. He had been mysteriously and suspiciously incommunicado all day, despite his car being in the drive. Shockingly, I found him immobile and semi conscious on his kitchen floor following a massive stroke. He spent a month in hospital, and then another month in care. Once back home, three carers visited him each day, along with regular visits by various therapists. However, following the notorious government cuts that the UK is currently undergoing, the plug was pulled on all that support, and he now has to live independently. Something that I don't believe he is capable of. It is very upsetting to see a once vibrant and active man, reduced to spending his days in front of the telly, unable to entertain himself or go anywhere further than a short walk up the road and back. He is all but a prisoner in his own home. August saw a death in the family. I am, of course, referring to the GhostMobile Mk I, which finally passed away following a long and painful (financially) illness. My mechanic advised me not to spend another penny on it, with the look of a doctor telling a family that it was time to consider switching off the life-support. Considering the thing had probably been financing a playboy lifestyle for him for a number of months, and would continued to have done so, it was very honest of him, and I had to take his advice seriously. So, it was whisked across the River Styx by Charon (in the guise of the man from 'webuyanycarnomatterwhatapileofshiteitispleaseexcusemyfrench.com') to Automotive Elycium. It did, however, have one last trick up its sleeve to keep me from mourning its passage. Outstanding finance from a previous owner! However, Charon sent a few faxes and e-mails, and eventually sorted it all out for me. Note to self: Caveat Emptor! Living, as I do, in Aquis-of-the-Romans, which is about as far north as one can go without falling into the Abus Fluvius, a car is a necessary evil, and so I had to bite the bullet and buy another. I therefore welcomed the GhostMobile Mk II to the family. Now I am NOT, to any degree whatsoever, a petrolhead, but I ended up with (I won't bore you with how or why), a very sporty little number complete with a spoiler, god knows how many horsepower, and only two doors. Very unlike me. I have to admit, though. After a month or two of very steady driving, I found myself in a situation where I had to put my toe down. Wow! I was thrown back into my seat by the acceleration. For a few days after that, I found myself driving like a teenage boy, and practically drooling at the opportunity to accelerate away from lights, etc. In short, I found myself turning into Jeremy Clarkson (pictured) - for those on the other side of The Pond, Jeremy Clarkson is more probably than not, the bastard love child of Geroge Bush Snr and Christine O'Donnel, put up secretly for adoption and brought up by a family in Doncaster, unaware of the child's destiny as the BBC's arch-Climate Change denier. I have since settled down and started to drive like a normal person, though I am still occasionally troubled by unnatural desires to get a perm. September saw me and three chums take on The Brecon Beacons Way, a long distance footpath across the Brecon Beacons mountain range in South Wales. Starting on the Holy Mountain and ending in Bethlehem, it sounds a bit like a Christian Pilgrimage. It isn't. Bethlehem, in this case, is a tiny little village near Carmarthen. A very tough 7-day hike, made all the more so by terrible weather. Still, despite the requirement for some natty navigation when visibility was down to only a scant few metres, we did make it to the end, no doubt better individuals for our adventure. October saw the birth of OfClayton Nephew 3 of 3, courtesy of Mrs OfClayton's brother and his wife. He is a very contented little soul, apart from whenever Mrs OfClayton holds him, when he starts to cry until he is handed back to his mother. OfClayton Niece 1 of 1 was the same with me when she was young, and now she seems to like me, so I'm not too worried. But then again, she once asked me what I do for a living, to which I responded, "I hunt dragons." She is yet to reach a level of maturity where she will question that. What an exciting fictitious life I lead! (If you are troubled by Dragons, give me a call, I'll send you a business card.) November: This was a scant 35 days ago - why can't I remember it? December saw northern Britain covered by a significant blanket of snow, which in Aquis-of-the-Romans lasted until Christmas. Life pretty much had to go on hold for many folk. OfClayton Towers, though, had been crying out since 2005 for a new bathroom. It finally got it just in time for Christmas. The snow cleared in time for us to 'see-in' 2011. Once again in the Club, but this time a booking complication at another venue meant that a disco ended up there. What with that, and me rounding up a few more folk from the village, there was a jolly atmosphere in the place, and a great night was had by all. Weekly stuff resumes It is now just 36 days until the Eagle of the Ninth is released in the USA, and 82 until it's released in the UK. Asterix book of the week is 'Asterix the Gladiator'.

Hadrian's Villa complex at Tivoli.

Happy birthday and a Happy New Year to you, Doc. By the way, I like the title you chose for this blog entry. A track from one of my favourite albums of all time! Are you a fan?

I don't think we're actually in that much disagreement here. It would make sense to give the Gladius a sharp edge, though the Gladius' edge would be used for cutting/chopping motions rather than the type of slashing a cavalry soldier may do (yes, semantics!). Also, the Spatha (basically a longer version of the Gladius with a blood gutter) gradually took over from the Gladius as a heavy infantry sword, with the Gladius being 'relegated' to light infantry. I don't know how that coincided with the reducing use of tight formation legionary fighting.

Happy Birthday, Doc!

Tend to agree. The beauty of the Gladius was in a tight formation, where you were well protected by yours and your fellow legionaries' shields. There isn't much room to swing a sword. I would say the standard tactic was to raise the shield slightly to defend a swinging attack from the Celtic ne'er-do-well on the opposing side, thus creating a small gap through which you could "stick it in, twist it, pull it out". Where do I get that quote from? Was it from "It Ain't Half Hot, Mum"

An excellent film on BBC2 yesterday (sorry I didn't post it on the 'Coming up next' thread, but it was too late by the time I found out about it) called The Fall of the Roman Empire. This had passed me by so far, but it dealt with the latter part of Marcus Aurelius' life and the acsession of Commodus (much like the film 'Galdiator'). One interesting subplot was that Commodus was not, in fact, the son of Marcus Aurelius, but of his trainer, Verulus (seems to be a fictional character). However, this subplot was based on the rumours that Commodus was actually the bastard son of a gladiator who had been the lover of Marcus Aurelius's wife Faustina.

As usual, the BBC has something you might be interested in. Have a look here for a number of multimedia courses that will set you off in the right direction. As you progress, it will recommend its own books, and other media to accompany the learning, usually called (for example) 'Talk! German'.

The other good example is Marcus Tullius Tiro. Freedman, and former slave of Marcus Tullius Cicero. It was fashionable for slaves to have a Greek-style name (in this case Tiro). Following his manumission, Tiro took on the 'Marcus Tullius' of Cicero.

I thought Titus Pullo was Caesarion's real father.

If we're plugging Roman Baths, I would be neglecting my duties if I didn't plug the reproduction military bath-house at Segedunum (Wallsend, Newcastle). This is part of the visitor centre at the fort that marked the eastern end of Hadrian's Wall. I heard that it was originally built as a working reconstruction, so that you could try out the genuine experience, though i believe it encountered technical difficulties. A link can be found here.

For reference, the Latin Wikipedia can be found here. There are over 48,000 articles. For the record, I am not a Latin speaker, so cannot comment directly, but there are quite a few active users, so I'm certain incorrect grammar would tend to be corrected as and when it was noticed.

It's a massively complex issue, morally. It would be OK by me if GM were used in a responsible and properly controlled manner, but (as Ursus alluded to) once the tacky individuals who see a fast buck get involved, the genuinely useful applications are quickly overshadowed. Then there's the British Press who saw an opportunity for a quick buck themselves, and whipped up public sentiment against by using the label 'Frankenstein Foods', purely, I would imagine, to sell more papers. Would that everyone could have a balanced, and informed view. By the way, it seems an appropriate time to mention a book called "Last Human" by Doug Naylor (co-creator of 'Red Dwarf'). In it, a football team genetically engineer a goal-keeper exactly the same size and shape as a goal-mouth.

Roman-Britain.org is pretty good for Britannia, even though it doesn't EXACTLY fit your bill.

I'm sure plenty of other contributors to this forum are also regular contributors to others, or (more likely) found their way here from others. I found my way here from one of the Hadrian's Wall fora, though I think that has fallen by the wayside now. There's also Romanarmy.com. This is the best, though.

Hi, Celtictool. I would be tempted to say something interesting, new (and maybe even controvertial) on the subject. Regular contributors watch the threads, and the conversation is likely to restart of its own accord.

Interesting article, Guy. Thanks.

We had a smimilar thing in our house with Frank Kelly's (he was Father Jack in 'Father Ted'!) but (suspiciously?), my Dad quite liked this Happy Holidays, Doc.

Is 'Her Upstairs' anything like Pauline?

Hello loyal followers, and welcome to the GhostOfClayton twice-fortnightly blog. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. Technology fails me again I spent quite some time on Sunday typing out this blog, ready to publish it on Monday. Much thought went into the subtle wordplay, intelligent prose and reader-experience. I checked it over, made changes, was happy with the result. Repeated the check, made more changes, was no more or less happy with the result. I repeated the last part a few times. When Monday morning came around, the draft copy I saved had disappeared. How deeply depressing! Not becuse of the time spent, but because I know that, no matter how hard I try, the blog you are now reading will be no match for that previous incarnation. The holistic detective I was overjoyed to find that BBC4 were due to air a one-off (a one-off that will hopefully lead to a series) of a screen adaptation of the novel 'Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency'. I fist read Douglas Adams' excellent book at the age of about 24. Despite being a highly intelligent clever-clogs, I could never follow the chain of logic that allowed Mr Gently to solve the whodunnit during the denouement. I re-read it when I was 10 years older (and 10 years wiser) and still couldn't see how on earth Mr. Gently had made this giant logical leap to uncover the mystery. Third time lucky? Surely after 20 years had passed, I would have become such a towering genius of a man that the conundrum would elude me no longer! No such luck. So, I finally waved the white flag, and did what I usually do when I need to fill the gap between my actual intellect, and that which I'd like - I looked it up on Wikipedia. It turns out that, in order to understand how Dirk Gently solved the mystery, the reader must recognise that versions of 'Kubla Khan' and 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' stated in the book differed subtly from those that Samuel Taylor Coleridge actually penned! Curse my decision to turn down that Classical Education at Cambridge University in favour of a Higher National Diploma at Sunderland Polytechnic! It ocurrs to me that my next blog will be after 'Dies Natalis Sol Invictus' , so may I take this opportunity to wish you all (and your families and friends) a very Merry Brumalia. Asterix and the Eagle of the Ninth countdown will resume in the new year.

The skies near us were free from cloud. I got a good view at about 7:10, when it was about a quarter of the way gone. Unfortunately, by 7:41, I was driving away from it. Disappointing!