Bank rolled

I noticed in the News of the World, the headline story was Charlotte Church’s ex Kyle Johnson selling his story for cash. I’m no fan of the paper, the fact is there is no news at all in there but what really makes my stomach turn is when low life people like Johnson sensationalise a relationship to the press solely for cash. I mean Charlotte has already bank rolled him on 18 grand holidays, posh hotels, nights out and probably the clothing on his back and this is how he repays her! Lets face it, now Charlotte has dumped him he’ll fade into obscurity soon so he needs every penny he can get but what a sad way to get it, I bet the press love him though for now that is, wait for the stories to come out about him when he’s served his purpose and they turn on him because the truth is the press love Miss Church.

Worth the licence fee

Praise be for BBC2. I don’t often watch tv these days in fact I sometimes wonder why I have a tv licence as I watch it so little but last night I tuned in to watch Time Commanders on BBC2 and ended up sticking with the channel all night, here’s why,

7.15pm Time Commanders

I love all that history stuff and usually tune in to watch the show, some weeks its mundane but this week was really good. Mike Noades returned to the show with his usual boundless vigour as an advisor to the contestants along side Aryeh Nusbacher (probably spelt wrong).

The show was interesting this week as history was rewrote, the contestants played William the conqueror at the Battle of Hastings and managed to lose!

No only do I like the show but I like Richard Hammond as a presenter and the expressions he pulls combined with sarcastic jibes aimed at the contestants.

8.00pm Ray Mears’ Bushcraft

What a guy Ray is! He can make something out of nothing, he’s interesting to listen to and the subject of outdoor survival is riveting stuff. I was glued to my tv as Ray got fires going from thin air, cooked palatable food from plants and animals and made a pretty deadly bow and arrow set using flint tools, glue from plants and animal sinew. Eat your heart out Blue Peter. The whole show makes you realise how much we take for granted.

9.00pm Never Mind the Buzzcocks

Always good for a laugh, Bill Bailey is growing on me and Mark Lamarr is as witty and well dressed as ever. With Bez and Tony Christie on the show I was in raptures. A music quiz that doesn’t take itself too seriously.

9.30pm Help

The new show from Paul Whitehouse with Chris Langham looks very promising. Whitehouse is a versatile as ever playing a whole cast of clients visiting the seemingly vexed psychotherapist Chris Langham. As I’m doing a Counselling at college myself I watched with relish and ready to criticise. Ok its not completely accurate to what counselling is about but Langham makes a convincing counsellor and the show seems to have a underlying message. I’ll watch this one with interest.

So, in closing, thanks Beeb 2 for top nights telly

http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbctwo/

Waterloo

I guess it’s a kind of Waterloo for me at the moment and to quote the Abba song ‘I feel like I win when I lose’.

The good news is that I now do not have to appear in court as a witness against the people that assaulted me last April. In all truth I didn’t want to be there but I would have gone, more so for justice than personal gratification or pride. Now the guy who would have faced me across the courtroom has pleaded guilty so I don’t have to be there. In some respects I feel a bit robbed of seeing justice being served. I'm surmising his brief advised him to plead guilty for a lesser sentence and he’s acted on that advice. If I had appeared in court I could have at least showed him I wasn’t scared, that I was making a stand against thugs like that. Of course another side of me wanted to let it all blow over so I could get on with my life, the whole situation feels like it hasn’t reached a definitive conclusion, sure he’s getting charged and now I don’t have to appear in court but the personal experience of a resolution isn’t there. A victory of sorts then and time to get on with life.

Next up and more relevant to the top bit is the situation at work at present. I’ve mentioned the current insurrection at work recently and the battle that has been raging with management. It seems most of the work force are now going to sign the new contract, in some respects I can’t blame them, they have to make a living. I’ve yet to sign, I’m still waiting for some more union clarification but in the end I may end up signing purely for realistic reasons. Its been a good run and the solidarity has been amazing but with the mass majority on other shifts signing the revolutionary atmosphere is washing away, like sandcastles to the ever encroaching tide. So, it all goes back to ‘I feel like I win when I lose’, that sums up my feelings right now, for a brief moment at work me and my colleagues were Che Guevarra, Don Quixote and Danton !

Having a cause made me feel good, I embraced it and even at some points let it engulf me. To end this blog I’d like to quote Danton;

‘We must dare, dare again and go on daring’

Union city blues

Well the good news is that the company I work for has announced that no redundancies are taking place now. This is however pretty unremarkable news seeing that when redundancies were announced a lot of people got scared and left, doing the firm a favour.

Now the pressure is on for us to conform and sign the new mickey mouse contract they have presented us with, the contract that promises much but as yet so few of the workforce has bothered to sign it. After consultation with our union the company decided to ease off with the heavy handed tactics and leave us be for a while, now however the pressure is back on now they think it’s blown over. So far their plans have backfired at every turn, more of the workforce feel pressured and more are signing up for the union, this should hopefully gives us more clout when things go pear shaped again. The problem now is convincing more people to join the union so we are better represented, more than half of the workforce need to join so the union can claim certain rights and have a more active role due to the fact it represents more of us. Its just amazing the stupid logic some of the workforce have ‘why join the union, its does nothing for me?’ the fact is it would and could if more of us actually joined. Amazing some feel that £2.50 a week is too much to pay, not that in real terms you can buy much with £2.50 these days anyway! Yet these people who don’t want to join are ironically the first to scream when something goes wrong for them and then they want union representation!

“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.” - Winston Churchill

I'm not Keane

I’ve not watched the Brit awards fully in a couple of years now, mainly because I have been dis-illusioned with the music scene for a good while. This year however I decided to give it a go and I was quite happy with what I saw – to a point.

I choked on my tea at the beginning when Robbie took the award for ‘best british song’ over Kate Bush, Queen and Joy Division, I grudgingly admit I like Robbie but ‘Angels’ isn’t really an anthem song like queens ‘we are the champions’, not only that, they could have picked from hundreds of other songs and artists, Robbie takes the first award on default because of lack of competition. You’d have thought with Robbie having 15 gongs already they’d have chosen someone else?

I guess with awards like the Brits you have to get it into context that the whole thing is geared for recording labels and moguls to promote their precious artists. Who decides these categories anyway and the artists participating? What we saw last night was a collection of artists with very little material under their belts yet they are touted at being the next big thing already, even though in my eyes they are largely unproven. Allegedly the voters pick the winners, though they can only vote for who ever see's fit to put them in a category, oh to have the power!

I’m not saying I dislike the new acts though some do make me wince and squirm, take Keane for instance whilst collecting their award their faceless front man said ‘we are just a few guys from East Sussex blah blah’ – the Beatles were just four guys from Liverpool but they had something Keane don’t and that’s charisma. Franz Ferdinand look promising but it makes me piss when they call some of the others ‘rock acts’ when they are far from it.

At least acts like Robbie and Kylie are fading now, no bad thing really. Kylie can’t really hold a candle to Gwen Stefani for sheer performing talent, sure Kylie has a nice rear and does modelling and the odd bit of crap acting but Gwen has the raw talent and energy that a performer should have, her singing is better too! (and she had Japenese dancers!)

I was really pleased to see the Scissor Sisters clean up and bag loads of gongs, all rightly deserved, I narrowly missed seeing them last year supporting Duran Duran, shame really.

And why didn't the 5,6,7,8's get a mention as best new comer or international act?

It was also fab to see Siouxsie Sue there and also the babelicious Kelly Osbourne,

Kelly can I ask why you are not returning my calls ?

The fall of Tethion

They came as traders, then as invaders, those cursed Romans who have come among us to enslave or ravage these green lands. So here I stand this day before the feast of Beltane begins, we have to kill these invaders before we can feast but when we drive them back towards the sea the wine will taste sweeter than spring rain. Pulling on the chariot reins I feel the blood coursing through my veins as the leather strap bites into the back of my hand. I turn to Nyfain my daughter, she looks beautiful as the breeze ripples her lovely pale blonde hair. She smiles at me sardonically knowing I didn’t want her to be here today, to be here at Lyanymynech, to face the foe. I smile back but its more of a grimace than a smile, here is my daughter, defiant and brave yet only nineteen summers young. A war chant begins as the ranks of men taunt the Romans, to my left my son wails curses, ah Brethoc my son and heir, youthful yet wise, pray hope he doesn’t fall ere this day. My stout ponies shift nervously as the chant gains momentum and I gaze along the assembled lines of warriors of the Cornovii tribes here today. My gaze rests upon Caractacus, the warrior who was displaced from his lands far to the south east and has fought the Romans since, he comes this day with tribesmen from Silurus, our fierce southern kinsmen and we call him Caradoc in our own tongue. With such a mighty gathering we shall scatter this enemy, Caswallawn our god of war shall see to this for he listens to true warriors. If I fall here today then I’ll be feasting from his cauldron and making merry with the other brave souls, toasting the victory he has given us, for we are worthy. I gaze across the Llanymynech plain watching our hunters skirmish with the Romans, hurling spears of oak to smite them. Gurci our druid dances before them shrieking incantations at the ranks of the Romans cowards, jeering loudly my kinsmen shout obscene insults at the roman scum. I raise my spear

‘Fear us’

Nyfain stands beside me uttering her last prayers to Brigantis as a silence descends over the sun drenched grassy plain. Brethoc shouts to a nearby warrior that he’ll be back in Onguen’s bed this night, he belly full of wine and her belly with child. I always did approve of Onguen, by Caswallawn I pray I don’t deliver to him back to her a corpse. I unclasp the wine skin from my belt and pass it to my beloved brave children, I only hope I return to my beloved and do not tarry in this place. Still I am confident and before this day is over my woman will firm my hand and my fingers will tussle playfully with her red braided hair. I look to the sky, wisps of clouds hang above and on those clouds the gods bear witness, holding my spear aloft I yell

‘Give me the spear of Caswallawn and give me clear understanding, give me hope as a talisman’

Our warriors lurch forward, taunting and rattling spear against shield, druids yell, maidens howl then suddenly we charge.

Swiftly goading my trusty chariot ponies’ forwards I raise my spear aloft, my cry stifled as my mouth is suddenly dry even though my thirst was recently slaked. The chariot rattles and creaks as we surge ahead of the warriors, turning I see other chariots nearby but we are too few here today. We may be in battle first but fearless warriors follow to hew and cleave these Roman curs.

Nyfain is screaming, rivlets of tears adorn her face but her shouts are of defiance, my brave daughter, my flower of Brigantis. Brethoc regards me with a grimace, his jaw clenched, his woad paint glistening in the afternoon sun, his dark hair dancing in the breeze, my son, my heir and my firstborn.

Then we are upon the dogs of Rome, crashing into them like a scythe through a farmers crop, we brace ourselves as we cleave into their shield wall but all too quickly the ponies buckle and fall under Roman iron. My chariot suddenly grinds to a halt and I master my senses shouting a war cry at the reeling Romans around us. Suddenly in the fog of battle we are circled by them, Nyfain takes an advancing Roman in the groin with a spear before grasping another sturdy spear from within the chariot. Brethoc has jumped free from our wrecked chariot and takes a roman in the throat, crimson blood cascading down his spear shaft. I wheel around to see a roman dog hurtling towards me, his sword raised about to strike but I take the fools life quickly with my spear, plunging it deep into his vitals. My hands shake and my head is delirious, the clash of iron and death screams hang in the sweet spring air as the rest of our army crashes into the roman ranks. In the infectious heat of battle I lose sight of Brethoc but Nyfain stands at my rear in the chariot, screeching like a banshee and hurling vehement spears at the encroaching foe. Who would have thought I would draw courage from my daughter? She makes an old warrior proud, songs will be sung after this day. I notice the brave Caradoc nearby, grim faced as his sword deals a death blow to roman soldier, beside him Gurci the Druid wields his sickle whilst singing a dirge of Caswallawn, the romans step back gripped by fear, hah - their gods are no match for ours!

Our fervour is short lived as the roman’s quickly regroup their ranks and approach again, their eager spears thrusting against us. Gurci falls, a roman javelin pierces his green tunic, he utters his last words to our gods before his body falls to meet the crimson streaked grass. Our warriors seeing this hurl themselves hatefully at the foe but their armour is strong and many a woad daubed warrior falls, blood replacing war paint, death replacing life.

I parry a roman javelin with my shield and swiftly despatch its owner, he glares at me before smiling weakly to acknowledge his defeat as he slides off my spear tip. Then…

‘NO’

Brethoc, Oh Brethoc my son, my heart almost stops and I yell a blood curdling scream as I see him hewn down by two roman cowards but as I leap from the chariot to avenge his death I hear Nyfain call for me. Wheeling around I see all her spears are spent and her arms flail wildly against the roman’s trying to pull her from the chariot. My breath rasping from fatigue I charge to her defence as the roman curs pull at her gown, yelling joyfully as they grapple with her. As I reach her side she kicks and screams, her teeth locked on a roman’s cheek, his blood cascading onto his armour.

‘Nyfain!’

Heedlessly I launch into the fray smiting romans before me but my battle cry is the last I shall utter as roman iron bites deep into me from behind, torturous pain rips through my body and I stumble, a grey haze descends all around. I see Nyfain on the ground, roman dogs clawing at her, shouting in triumph. I try and rise but my strength fails me, blood surges into my mouth to stifle my shouts of ‘Nyfain’. Her robe in tatters and a roman dog heaving himself upon her stricken body before taking a knife and cutting her throat, she quivers like a newborn lamb, her eyes rest upon me, a faint smile passes between us, no fairer warrior maiden died this day. My beautiful Nyfain.

‘Caswallawn I come to you now, I Tethion of the Cornovii’

Then darkness takes me, Nyfain and Brethoc await me.

Che-Jay, 4th Feb 05


The recorded history of Britain of that time is extremely sketchy. In the main the only records are those by the conquering race, the Romans. But to set the scene it is necessary to remember that the country was, at that time, in a tribal state, each with its own leader but perhaps having allegiance, when advantageous, to other tribes and other leaders, and at times, even to the Roman invaders themselves.

In AD 40, Cunobelinus, of the Trinovantians (an area north of present-day London) expelled his son, Adminius, who fled overseas and made an act of submission to the Roman Emperor Gaius. At the death of Cunobelinus, his kingdom was divided between Togodumnus and Caractacus.
The invasion by Rome is said to have coincided with a plea by Adminius for help, as well as an economic need for Rome to conquer Britain. This economic need was simply that it was easier to conquer Britain than it would be to create a mainland Europe defence against possible invasion from British tribes.

In AD 43, when the Romans landed in force, the Britons' resistance was led by Togodumnus and Caractacus, but, although there were successes, the general result was a retreat by Togodumnus and Caractacus who gathered support from the various tribes as they retreated. But some tribes sensed that the end was nigh, and made peace with the invaders. Eventually, Caractacus found refuge with the Ordovices of Powys, although some say it was with the Cornovii of Shropshire, but either way it would put the scene of his last battle firmly in the area we know today as Shropshire and Powys. Little seems to be known about Caractacus except what was recorded by the Roman historian Tacitus who, in turn, obtained his information from eye-witness reports. Yet Caractacus is important enough to be listed under Prominent People in my edition of Pears Cyclopaedia.

The Romans called him Caractacus, although he is better known as Caradoc. (the name Caradoc still can be found in use in Wales today) He was one of the last of the British leaders to stand against Rome.

Details of the battle, including a description of the terrain, were recorded by Tacitus at the time, and he states that the British leader artfully availed himself of his knowledge of the country, and posted himself on a spot, the approaches and retreats of which were as advantageous to his own party as they were perplexing to the enemy. Despite inferior weapons, it is said that Caradoc encouraged his men and told them that the work of that day would be the beginning of a new liberty or of eternal slavery. Their resolution astonished the Roman general, and the river which flowed at the foot of the hill, together with the ramparts and steeps, presented to the assailants a formidable and resolute appearance.

But despite their resolution, the Britons had no chance against the superior strength of the Roman legions. Caradoc's wife and daughter were taken prisoner, his brother surrendered and Caradoc himself was treacherously delivered up to the Romans soon after by the Queen Cartimandua of the Brigantes with whom he had sought protection (Cartimandua later refused to help Boudicca). The story of Caradoc does not end here as he and his family were taken as prisoners to Rome where the news of his valour had preceded him.

First in the procession came the king's dependents and retinue; next his brothers, his wife and daughter, and last himself was presented to public view; his body was mostly naked and painted with figures of beasts; he wore a chain of iron about his neck, and another about his middle; the hair on his head hanging down in curled locks covered his back and shoulders. Caradoc neither by his looks nor language pleaded for mercy, and when he came before the Emperor's seat expressed himself in these terms:-

"Had I made that prudent use of my prosperity, which my rank and fortune would have enabled me to make, I had come hither rather as a friend than as a prisoner; nor would you have disdained the alliance of one descended from illustrious ancestors, and sovereign over many nations. My present condition, disgraceful as it is to myself, reflects glory on you. Possessed as I once was of horses, men, arms and wealth, what wonder is it if I parted from them with reluctance. Had I sooner been betrayed, I had neither been distinguished by misfortune nor you by glory. But if you now save my life I shall be an eternal monument of your clemency."

The Emperor generously granted the pardon of Caradoc, his wife and brothers, who remained at Rome in the highest esteem. At this time Christianity was preached in the imperial city and many of his family became Christians.

At the expiration of seven years they were permitted to return, and were thus furnished with a favourable opportunity of introducing the Gospel into their own country and were instrumental in reclaiming many of the Britons from their ancient superstitions. Of course, we don't know how accurate this report of Caradoc's arrival in Rome is. But the records of Rome show that either he was held in high esteem by his behaviour, or that Rome felt it necessary to record his time in Rome in this manner. Either way it shows that Caradoc was an enemy worthy of Rome's respect.

It is not recorded whether Caradoc was converted to Christianity, but his son, Cyllin, and his daughter, Eigen, are both ranked among the British saints. Eigen married a British chieftain and one of her sisters is believed to have become the wife of Pudens, a Roman senator.

Names and place names were taken from various sources and all may not be historically accurate though I think most are. For further reading see the link below.

http://www.britannia.com/history/bb51.html