caldrail

Back when I started music, you basically had a choice of instruments. Good, expensive ones, or cheap rubbish. Music keyboards especially conformed to this pattern. That was the era when electronics were really starting to make themselves felt. The rubber pads of a ZX Spectrum micro-computer for instance. Not for me. I paid three times as much for a Dragon 32 because it had a decent keyboard. Nonetheless, a cardboard and polystyrene package containing a Spectrum arrived at our house one morning. My father, not being too much interested in this new-fangled computing thing, rang the company up and told them they'd delivered it in error. Oh don't worry, just throw it away they said. So pleased were they the lost item had been found that they sent him another by return post. Now the musical instrument world had the same sort of problem. A mate of mine owned a terrrible plastic box with yellow printed keys. It made the most horrendous noises known to science, and eventually, under the stress of my amused curiosity, began to emit random unintended noises that bore no relation to the control settings. It just sat there on the floor making it's own mind about what to do until we unplugged it. Things have improved since then. Makers of cheap musical instruments have improved the quality of their gear noticeably. Buy a more expensive keyboard and a whole hidden world of electronic possibility reveals itself. I was mightily impressed to try a Korg thingy worth about a cool

From wikipedia.... Army According to Polybius, Carthage relied heavily, though not exclusively, on foreign mercenaries,[7] especially in overseas warfare. The core of its army was from its own territory in Africa (ethnic Libyans and Numidians, as well as "Liby-Phoenicians"

Julius Caesar banned daylight deliveries of goods to businesses, so until his reign as dictator, the streets had plenty of carts and draught animals. Afterward, deliveries were made at night when the streets were clear of citizens going about their business. Horses? Not for pulling wagons. Horses are relatively rare and expensive to keep. Your heroes, travelling with them, are going to attract attention. I don't actually know about stabling. For the purposes of your story, I doubt anyones going to mind too much if your heroes find a stableman willing to look after the animals for a few sestercii. A rich mans slave making money on the side? Would that be the source of the big argument? The rich man thinks the horses are his? Your image of insulae isn't far wrong. They were cramped buildings, often jerry-built on the cheap, prone to fire, rat infested. The cheapest quarters (and given the extortionate rents usually demanded, that's an exaggeration) were the loft. Freezing cold in winter, blistering hot in summer. People were sharing rooms to save money. No cooking facilities, you took your dough to the baker to have baked for you (he very kindly stamped your name in the loaf to ensure the right bread was handed back). Water needed to be carried upstairs from an outside source, a well or a fountain.

Regarding Carthaginian troops... http://www.unrv.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=7653

A myth, caused by the introduction of superior and more consistent training from the Marian Reforms onward. The Roman legions of the time weren't as well trained as their image depicts. Furthermore, the work of Vegetius tends to reinforce this image but incorrectly, since he collated all the various training methods used over the centuries and implied this was standard since the beginning. Not so. The Roman legion at the time of Cannae still used the 'consular' style formation of hastatii, principes, and triarii, each composed of increasing age and experience. Nor was the Roman legion at this time a permanent institution. Legions were formed for the annual season or a particular campaign. They were, to all intents and purposes, a militia until 107 BC. PS - Before I forget, I should point out that some of the Carthaginian mercenaries were very good troops, the gauls in particular were well regarded.

The Carthaginian campaigns in Italy from the Punic War II had many parallels with WWII Operation Barbarossa; an invading army with vastly superior net military performance that is nevertheless utterly contained and neutralized by an immense and painful logistic effort from the invaded power. No similarity whatsoever. Barbarossa was a landgrab, the Punic Wars a struggle for commercial dominance between rival cities. Furthermore, the ugly face of racism was a contributory factor, there were two very different political ideologies at work (though both were, admittedly, dictatorships). The Punic Wars were fought between oligarchic democracies. Most of the examples of undefeated armies for comparable lapses that eventually lost their wars (eg, the French in Spain in the early XIX century or the Americans in Vietnam in the middle XX century) were facing mostly irregular forces and controlling most of the disputed territory, including almost all the main urban centers; the Romans preserved a fully functional state that remained in control of most of Italy even after Cannae. Because Hannibals campaign was not directed at capturing territory. The whole point was to force the Romans to consider surrender. - The Fabian strategy, basically the Roman version of scorched earth. Nonsense. The Fabian Strategy was a delaying tactic to buy time. The Russian 'scorched earth' policy did that, but also forced Germany to extend their supply lines to breaking point across terrain rendered useless to them. The odds were clearly favorable to the Roman side at 218 BC, and it's an outstanding tribute to the military abilities of Hannibal and his army that they were able to hold the Romans against the ropes for so long. Hannibal must have understood at the outset of his campaign that he had a limited time to complete his objective. If you want modern comparisons, the concept was similar to Japan attacking Hawaii. An intended knock-out blow, but disastrous in the long term if the objective wasn't successful. Hannibal attempted to subdue Italy enough to force the Roman senate to seek terms. He didn't need to conquer territory (which he couldn't hold onto), only subject the Romans to a defeat bad enough to convince them that surrender was the best option. The senate had members made of stronger stuff. There's simply no way Cannae 216 BC can be reconstructed as any modern battle, let say like Waterloo 1815; our main sources are irremissibly biased and confused by their own propagandistic agendas: Cannae is the most studied battle ever. The reconstructions are available in the press, right off the shelf. The alternative explanations are all very well but where's the evidence? Cannae's account is atypical for being described mostly from the Carthaginian standpoint; Naturally, since Hannibal is depicted as the noble adversary, the leader with initiative, and forms the focus for that sequence of events. The description of the Lybian units armed with captured Roman weapons is particularly problematic, because they have been usually regarded as phalanx-like (ie, lancer) units, which would have then been hardly adequately trained for the use of the Roman gladius. Roman style weapons were in common use in the mediterranean. As today, military fashion tends to spread. On the Roman side, the main problem would be the deliberate attribution of absolutely all the responsibility for the disaster to Varro, presumably for being both a novus homo and a survivor, as if there were no other three commanders with consular or proconsular powers in the field; Standard Roman practice was to swap command of an aggregated army between the senior commanders. On the day of Cannae, Varro was the man in charge. Since his lack of operational insight led directly to their defeat, he can hardly be declared innocent of failure. the dispassionate review of the raw facts of the campaign show no manifest disagreement from any commander, a hardly surprising fact as they were presumably following direct Senate's indications. Hardly. The two generals at Cannae, Paullus and Varro, were representing the Senate and appoinrted to command in the field. The Senate had no direct control over events. In fact, the plurality of command seems like a better explanation for the mostly delayed and uncoordinated Roman response. Nonsense. Roman maniples were expected to use their initiative, not to rely on HQ. During the battle, the maniples did indeed respond to their situation by wheeling to meet the enemy flanks, and ironically it was this that broke the coherence of the Roman formation and with it any chance of Varro retaining control of his army. Contrary to the prudent Polybius, ancient historians as a whole tended to give the full (or almost full) responsibility for any battle's outcome to the commander on the field. Of course they did. The commander decided on the course of action the army was to take. His decisions, made before the battle, directly affected it's outcome. It's a mistake to see ancient armies as being directed by generals in much the same way as Napoleon might. Once battle began, the ancient general had little control and may well be involved in the fighting personally, and if needed to rally troops, his viewpoint was very restricted and consequently the actions of individual partitions becomes noteworthy. However, no sensible junior commander is going to upstage his general by claiming his actions won it. That's an accolade a gratified general might accord if he felt the honour was worthy... and politically safe. Knowing better than that, we can reasonably infer that the overall quality of the legionaries and their training was in one of its lowest points ever in 216 BC, after the huge veterans' slaughtering of the previous two years and the exhaustive recruitment; Italian allies overall proportion probably raised to 2/3 from a regular

Tony Blair once told us that he wanted everyone in Britain with an internet connecrtion. Now Gordon Brown is proclaiming "The Digital Revolution" and telling us that he sees the internet as an essential part of life, as much as basic services like gas, electricity, and water. The government sees this internet growth as part of their plan for recovery from the recession. Well that's nice isn't it? Ordering breakfast by email to the missus, sending that spreadsheet to the kids so they know what chores to do today, and firing up Microsoft Dog-Walking Sim 2009, before logging on to your employers network and watch everyone you've never met compete for the biggest excuses of the day. The government doesn't miss a trick does it? All this internet is great but you have to pay for it. Here in Blighty we only get free internet service if we pay for something else we usually don't want. A couple of years ago they laid all the fibreoptic cables in my area. Subsequently I've been bombarded by colour pamphlets telling me all this television, radio, telephone, mobile telephone, and tons of gigabytes download allowance is available for the low low price quoted. Then six months later you get to pay full whack. They're already talking about the "digital divide", where some households have broadband and others don't. They really don't seem to grasp that some people have the money to pay for this service, and some don't. No, that's wrong, they do grasp that, but they don't want to foot the bill for this initiative when the public can spend their way out of recession for them. The "digital divide" isn't eventually going to be who has a broadband link or not, but who can pay. Then again, why worry whether Britains poor can log on? They've no money to spend. Rush Hour of the Week What a lovely morning. The sun is shining, everyone seems happy to go about their business, and there's a mad rush to get into the library. Of course The Flash is always first up the stairs these days - he's finally realised that rushing around the coffee bar serves no useful purpose - but it seems now others are falling prey to that contagious mood. Not me. I'm too relaxed. I'll just saunter to my favourite PC, and... Huh? Booked? Aww pooh... Okay, lets find another available computer... Booked... Booked.... Busy.... Not working.... Booked.... Okay. I'm starting to panic. Unless I find a free computer soon, the government will send me a red letter demanding to know why I haven't logged on....

Why would victims of disease be beheaded? Given that these remains were in the territory of the Durotriges tribe, who weren't exactly friendly to Roman interests, and that the remains date from Vespasians conquest of the area, it's hard not to reach a certain conclusion.

The chance of finishing Rome was the entire point of the campaign. As to whether it was a 'real' chance, Hannibal was gifted leader willing to lead his mercenaries on a harsh journey across alpine Europe and tackle the Romans on home ground. Obviously, he considered the possibility real. Even considering his hatred of the Romans, he wasn't stupid. For that matter, he came a lot closer to victory than is generally realised. Rome was in a state of panic. Don't be drawn into thinking Hannibals campaign was aimed at mere military conquest. That wasn't the point. The real point, the 'real' chance of victory against Rome, was to make Rome feel helpless, to bring it to it's knees, to force it to seek terms. Close, but no cigar.

It's signing on day again, my fortnightly ritual designed to ensure my search for gainful employment is suitably renumerated. The process involves submitting evidence that you've actually done something to deserve handouts. I can see why they do that - the government don't want to pay people for sitting on their backsides - but the jobsearch booklet you have to fill in with all the details of the search creates a sort of pedantic 'schooltime' atmosphere. The claims advisors come across like frustrated teachers, some very authoritarian, others more sympathetic. A list of todays new vacancies proved to be a dissapointing collection of occupations I have no skill, experience, or ambition of. No pressure she tells me. Nonetheless, it feels like a test. To her credit, she did attempt to bolster my morale. "I'll see you next time... unless you get a job." Young Couple of the Week Occaisionally you get people at the library who are so engrossed in their own business that they forget no-one else wants to hear it. There's a young couple in the next booth. He keeps on trying to tease his girlfriend whilst she keeps on trying to wear the trousers. What makes it worse is that now that this young man has now reached puberty, so he has that annoying resonance in his voice that no matter how quietly he speaks you can still hear that monotone humming. Luckily a security guard wanders by and they stop punching each other. Ahhhhh.... Peace and quiet to let me carry on with my business.... Oh no. She's arguing again.... How many times do I have to cough before they realise I'm about to demonstrate my unsubtle temperament? The girlfriend notices my hard stare... Take the hint lady. She punches her boyfriend to stop the arguement. He of course takes that as a challenge....

Morning has broken. I can sort of tell that from the light coming through the curtains. Even better, the colour of the light varies according to the weather, so I know what sort of day it is before I summon the will to get out of bed. A grey sombre look for rainy days, a dull rosey glow in snow, and a brighter glow in the sunshine reflected off the abandoned college building. Boy are my natural rythmns going to be upset when they pull that one down. So now it's time for my daily stroll down to the library. You see, my minimalist preparation is a grreat excuse for my lack of fashion sense. Hey, I'm an individual, me. So are my socks. Finding a matching pair that early in the day is one of my personal challenges, followed by the gymnastic event "putting on trousers whilst sleepy". Ablutions... Don't talk to me about ablutions.... Yep, there's another toothpaste stain on my tee-shirt. It looks like I drink gloss white paint and dribble a lot. Anyhow, time to open the curtains at the front window and... Yes... I forgot to do up my flies. I'm standing outstretched in an upstairs window with open trousers as a double decker bus stops at the pedestrian crossing outside my home. Why is always groups of young ladies who spot this sort of thing? Car Park Conundrum Now here's the thing. At the bottom of the hill I pass the College Car Park, which at that time of the morning is still filling up with cars. There's always at least one random prestige car parked there right beside the low concrete wall by the pavement. Porsche, Aston Martin, Maserati, BMW. Never used to see that when the economy was thriving. Now that the economy is failing and house prices are ridiculously inflated, everyone's buying hugely expensive prestige cars. Looks like the trend is to keep up with the Joneses expenses. Weather of the Week My usual method of forecasting the weather is glancing out the window. However, whilst flicking through my email site, I've discovered that this weekend there's a possibility of thunderstorms. Now that would explain the great heaps of cumulus cloud that filled the sky yesterday (today is just a patchwork of those flat-bottomed puffy clouds that don't do anything except drift past). It all seems very safe and secure doesn't it? Oh no, this is Britain. Our weather just hides waiting for the foolish to venture outside....

I was in the library foyer this morning, waiting for the ritual opening of the doors. The novel I'm reading is one of those action-horror things, set in 50's Egypt. It's a very readable tale as it happens, but so odd. Did anyone back in the fifties run marathons in their middle age to keep fit? Sounds like a very modern habit. The interplay is a bit cliched to my mind. The ubiquitous and ineviatable sultry woman (and eventual love interest, even if she does claim to be too busy - at least the love-interest hasn't claimed to have a headache so far), the old priest who knows everything but always makes an excuse not to reveal all, the nasty police chief, the arrogant king, and a ressurected demon having silent meetings to organise death and destruction along the Nile. It's a ridiculous story but you can't help reading it. Written a bit like a Hollywood thriller but in text. Lots of movement, but a no-brainer. Ah. Library doors are opening. Page.... One hundred and ninety.... Right. Back to the daily grind.... Reunion of the Week My computer has been released from hospital. Naturally I'm pleased it made a recovery, it means I'm back in the saddle so to speak, but it's left me with a very disquieting feeling. It works fine, no problem. It's just that it seems all unfamiliar. You could describe it as welcoming home a family member after surgery, only to find that person looking confused and not knowing who this happy person is. Wierd how machines generate personality in our minds. Disturbing when that machine has a different personality. I guess I'm anthropomorphising the computer a little, but don't we all?

Actually I was a bit careless with my previous answer. The praetorians in the time period of yourstory were small units of bodyguards in the military looking after generals in the field, not a 'unified' paramilitary protecting an emperor at Rome with official state functions.

Usually I pass through a supermarket checkout with little interaction. Do I have my own plastic bags? Do I have a nectar card? Twelve pounds sixty five please Sir. For the most part, these women are bored out of their tiny boxes and the quicker they can push you through the tills the better, or so it seems. It isn't always that bad. Sometimes I make a lame joke and they politely smile. You get the feeling they've heard me say that one a couple of times before. Yesterday the woman on the till was decidedly chatty. I sensed a certain enquiry as to whether I had kids. Expensive aren't they? Well, probably, I'm too busy finding enough money to pay for my meagre needs, never mind a family. She looked up with a cheery smile having convinced herself that I was a responsible father and then I noticed the makeup. Mascarra an inch thick surrounding her eyes. It looked horrendous. It would be easy to think she's after me, but then, I could have used any lane of the four normally in use, and she wouldn't know I was popping in at that particular time. I made another lame joke and having paid for the goods, left forthwith. Womens makeup is a funny thing. Used properly it really can make a woman look her best. I've seen one woman in particular wipe fifteen years off her face with expert application. Used with all the skill of a painter and decorator, it looks more like desperation. I wonder sometimes if ladies realise that a nice smile and a friendly manner usually wins the day? We blokes are suckers for women anyway, nature having made us that way, although I accept our motivations are often physical. Or, is there an unknown woman at the supermarket, quietly plotting to ensare me... I hope she uses less makeup. Accusation of the Week I was but a young lad, invited to Dungeons & Dragons session and keen to take part. The game was okay, I guess, DP was a hugely imaginative guy but without any ability in gamemastering (or indeed, social interaction). At one point in the proceedings, just before I went home, one of the two adult players said "Your mascara is slipping". Eh? What? Was that an insult? What's he on about? I was completely mystified at his knowing smirk. No matter. The next week I discovered him to be a poet, and boy oh boy did I make him feel uncomfortable with a much bigger smirk of my own. Mascara duly returned I think. Never did see him at the table again.

Arrested? Easy. Just make a social faux pas. Have your character sit beside a senator in the theatre. Outrage! But that wouldn't get him sold into slavery. For that, your character would have do (or be accused of doing) something that would make a magistrate taking away his freedom and status in that manner. Debt perhaps? Kidnapping is less likely in Rome. Solitary travellers in the countryside were more prone to this fate. Not really sure how prevalent this sort of thing was, but Augustus had Tiberius look into it, so it reached imperial attention. No, but knives were common enough and there were plenty of muggers at large in the city after dark, some of whom wouldn't think twice about killing their victim. No, usually a soldier wouldn't be seen with a sword, especially in Rome which had customs against armed soldiers in the streets. Praetorian guards wore togas on duty at the senate house (not in armour, as usually portrayed)and swords were not to be seen. Roman legionaries could be a rough crew however, certainly capable of handing out a beating, and the nature of legionary organisation meant that contubernia, or 'close friends', barracked in eight man squads, would often socialise together. Yes. The toga has a voluminous nature and plenty of bulky folds. Caesars assassins concealed daggers under theirs for instance. Depends on the character of the soldier. many were less than good mannered. Juvenal includes a satire about the fate of a man who complains to a legionary commander that his men stole a donkey with menaces (legionaries weren't tried in civil courts). The following 'court martial' was biased against the plaintiff ('Judges in boots') and the indeed the plaintiff may well find himself beaten up afterward by aggrieved soldiers.

You guys are so lucky. If I were forced to move to Texas I'd get jailed for not having a green card.

The British weather is an endless source of comment. When you want to start a conversation in Britain, you always begin by asking how good or bad the weather has been of late. Yes, it's been pretty good these last couple of days. Hot sun, light winds, but yesterday afternoon? It poured with rain. Those unlucky enough to still be out and about trudged past my home in a state of abject misery, their clothes two shades darker and dripping wet. I do have sympathy of course. I've been caught out by rain so many times before. Thing is though, even in dry shelter, I couldn't really be all that smug. Having been busy that morning I was sweating like a pig. It makes me wonder how people used to cope in the days before we thought latin was a good idea. No brick walls or slate roofs back then. Just a fur rug and a muddy straw tent for shelter. Come to think of it, just how far have we advanced as a civilisation? We're just as vulnerable to the elements as we always were. As a nation, we Brits seem very ambivalent about it. We know our weather can turn on us quickly but we so rarely ensure that we're prepared for the worst. Anyway, must dash, I need a few odds and ends from the supermarket and pick up a newspaper to check if anyones advertised a vacancy. Quick glance out the window... Hmmm... Weather looks good. Yep, I'll think I'll pop down there now.... That Sinking Feeling The Airbus A330 isn't getting a very good reputation is it? Quantas had one that went into two steep dives, one has tragically exploded over the Atlantic, and now Air France has had a mid-air situation with a faulty airspeed indication. We pilots are superstitious creatures. I can just imagine the rueful expressions of aircrews flying them right now. It seems security needs to be stepped up at airports around the world - Mr Gremlin is busy sliiping onto flights everywhere. Life is always a risk, no-one is guaranteed survival, and the grim reaper gets us all in the end. Nonetheless, its times like this that makes flying seem more of the gamble it actually is. Keyboard of the Week All is well in the land of keyboards. I now have a serviceable instrument with which to entertain, amuse, baffle, confuse, frighten small children, and occupy council noise investigators. Can't wait.

Oh cheers Neph... Actually, the woman was an idiot. I never took her seriously after that, especially when she didn't seem to know what a session musician was - and she was the local rags music correspondent. Fun? Well it had its ups and downs, like any endeavour. The interminable travelling wore us down a little. Our red van (it had to be didn't it?) wasn't actually roadworthy and on one fateful night, we had a loose spark plug on our return journey from Blackpool. After repeated attempts to screw the thing back in with our bare hands, it eventually fell off somewhere on the M6. With an engine that never ran well in the first place, having only three cylinders wasn't enough to haul two tons of gear and people, so we pulled into a service station to make repairs. This was late autumn if I remember. The wind was strong, cold, and it was a damp night. Me and Dave caught sight of each other in a mirror and we could only laugh hysterically. We looked like a cross between scarecrows and victorian chimney sweeps. It's interesting how perception plays a part. Swindon by and large regarded us as a local band, something I found odd, since we only ever played a handful of gigs there. Indeed, most of our gigs were outside Wiltshire. Our usual venues were found in London, Bristol, the south coast, and the north of England. The fact we were recording albums and playing some serious gigs didn't seem to impact on Swindons conciosness, and I wonder if this was partly because that silly journalist had written us off. The truth is the music business takes no prisoners. It really doesn't. Something like half our gigs in the early years were played to almost no-one, and it's soul destroying to watch your audience melt away after the first song. I think though it was those occaisions where it really did work that made it worthwhile. Besides, we all felt it could go somewhere.

Where to start? As one novelist once wrote, "at the start". Joining or forming rock bands as a teenager is something of an exercise in folly. A chap I used to used to know at work would say it was all about acceptance, that by making yourself an entertainer, even at such a low level, you improve your popularity. He might be right. It would account for the endless stream of people who joined my bands only to wander away again when they found out they weren't going to be rock stars the day afterward. Perhaps the realisation that rock music was hard work made up their minds. Sometimes the new girlfriend demanded more attention (which for a youth is a very strong motive), sometimes the allure of a motorbike and it's status amongst the 'have-nots' proved stronger. In my case, it was rebellion, pure and simple. My parents were horrified to discover that I'd found out about forms of music they'd sheltered me from. Encountering Deep Purple's Strange Kind of Woman for the first time was a revelation, and my future was being plotted and designed with youthful optimism... or perhaps more accurately, youthful fantasy, but that was before I'd actually done anything. The funny thing is that I can't remember why I chose to be a drummer. Wiltshire County Council paid off my first kit (guess where I spent my student grant) but I have to say for all the fun I had in those early years, it was always a case of Go Back To Start, Do Not Collect

I am so tempted to write 'Confessions of a Rock Drummer' Truthfully, I did encounter 'groupies' but obviously the level of attention varies with the success of the artist concerned. "Spider Dijon" I was not. But hey, having a woman do her best to get off with you in the darkness of backstage 'Devizes Bowl' may have been poorly timed (I was waiting to go on stage) but ye gods it was fun.

Hannibals attempt to take on Rome was in effect a 'bltizkrieg' in ancient times. Such fast attacks have always relied on achieving a knock-out blow, because once the war becomes drawn out, the isolation of your troops becomes a significant disadvantage. This is what happened to Hannibal. Notice that he remains mobile. His army is always on the move. Despite his string of victories he does not indulge in capturing cities. Although the Romans panicked with cires of "Hannibal at the gates", the carthaginian general had little opportunity to lay siege. Had he done so, he would have been trapped in situ, and he knew it. His forces were mercenaries by and large but make no mistake, these were men happy to earn a living from violence and had joined Hannibal for the express purpose of going to war. Even the hardships of the alpine crossing hadn't deterred the majority. The story goes that whilst desperately short of food, one his generals suggested that his men should learn to enjoy human meat, something Hannibal wouldn't entertain. Apocryphal? Possibly, but there's no doubt the Carthaginian army was not having a good time. Unlike the Romans, Hannibals army had no supply line. His men would have to forage for food and water as they went. It was therefore important to remain mobile because to do otherwise would reduce his army to starvation once they had cleaned out the immediate area. So Hannibal attempts three things. 1 - Outflank and suprise the Romans. He achieved a success. His march over the Alps was unexpected and although he suffered cobsiderable losses en route, he did suprise Rome who hadn't planned on such a large force attacking from that direction. 2 - To whittle down Roman forces for eventual victory. In this he came so tantalisingly close. The Roman defeats such as Trasimene and Cannae caused huge losses to the legions, such that 'green' troops were being hurriedly raised and sent to plug the gaps. Hannibals failure of course was that the Roman recruitment pool was large enough to withstand these losses - but it must be noted they were becoming desperate for soldiers at short notice. 3 - To attempt to intimidate the Romans into surrender. The Romans are losing battles, they fear for the worse, and Hannibal is marching across Italy at whim. Sooner or later he would surely turn on Rome itself? Hannibal was gambling that the Roman senate would seek peace terms if he created enough havoc. No doubt there were some senators who would have considered such a choice - historically, they had once before during the sack of Rome in 392BC - but in that case, the gauls had strode into the senate house itself. Rome in Hannibals day was a tougher nut to crack, and he was hoping to achieve a similar result without raising a siege to the city, thus tying down his forces and making them more vulnerable to Roman counterattack. In short, Hannibal failed in this objective.

The guy in the music store has known me for many years. He's a nice chap, as far as it a shopkeeper can be. I guess I've spent a fair few quid buying instruments, drumsticks, strings, and several guitars in that period. He is of course, a businessman first, and kept a poker face as I manhandled my ailing keyboard through his doors. Yes, another technological toy has bit the dust. My long suffering Yamaha keyboard, which must be nearly a quarter century old, a veteran that saw action on the front lines of stage performances, has decided to stop working. Of all the times it could have chosen to break down, it has to be now. How can life get any more painful? No, that's tempting fate isn't it.... The answer was staring me in the face. The salesman sighed and took down a few details in a fruitless quest to get the keyboard repaired, and warned me that if it wasn't an internal battery that needed replacing it's going to be expensive. There are pound signs revolving in his eyesockets as I write. Noise Schedule For 2009 I understand that the Old College site is to be demolished later this year. Can't wait for that. Explosions, collapses, big cranes swinging back and forth, earthmovers, heavily laden lorries, loud shouts of "Over 'ere, Fred!". Just to get me warmed up, the garage across the yard started this morning with a mechanical rattle, rather like a manic robot woodpecker. Demolishing someones car no doubt. And charging money for the privilege.

This spring has been very colourful. The chalk uplands of the MArlborough Downs are a somewhat lonely landscape, but that isolation has a charm of its own. Farming is more intensive than it was forty years ago, much more emphasis on crops rather than sheep grazing, but it's also a suprisingly rugged area with all those rolling hills, mostly because being so exposed to the elements you're not sheltered in the same way as the flat lowland farmland around it.

Couldn't agree more. There isn't any relation at all. Ethics are after all the informal rules of behaviour, whereas quality of art is a somewhat subjective appraisal of ability in expression. The behaviour of an artist (and many of them are distinctly flakey, others extremely cunning) varies enormously, and since ethics are rarely imposed on artists, their own ethical codes vary along with their personalities and egos.

It gets better. I've just popped down to the supermarket, and my route passes by one of these rehearsal places tucked away in an alleyway behind some offices. As I passed, a group of lads were leaving, guitars in hand, all looking very fresh faced and innocent - not one over the age of twenty. One of them was talking and he said (and I kid you not) "I swear to God, he used to play in some band called Red Jasper. Got left behind or something". I don't know whether to smile or cry