Seemingly endless dunes of the Namib Desert, close to Sandwich Harbour on Namibia's Atlantic coast.

..seemingly one of the girls crossing was called Taylor

and the other was called Ripley..believe it or not : )

Tamale, Ghana

Seemingly his full title was: Field Marshal Douglas Haig, 1st Earl Haig, KT, GCB, OM, GCVO, KCIE, ADC.

A Snaga Orc, seemingly having confused "Middle Ages" with "Middle-earth", during the medieval festival "Knights, Minstrels, Cut-purses" at Hilpoltstein Castle, Hilpoltstein, Franconia (Bavaria)

 

Some background information:

 

An orc or ork is a fictional humanoid creature that is part of a fantasy race akin to goblins. While the overall concept of orcs draws on a variety of pre-existing mythology, the main conception of the creatures stems from the fantasy writings of J. R. R. Tolkien, in particular "The Lord of the Rings". In Tolkien's works, orcs are a brutish, aggressive, repulsive and generally malevolent species, existing in stark contrast with the benevolent Elvish race and generally pressed into the service of an evil power. They fight ferociously as long as the guiding will of Sauron compels or directs them.

 

Orcs are of human shape and varying size. They are depicted as ugly and filthy, with a taste for human flesh. Tolkien himself describes them as "squat, broad, flat-nosed, sallow-skinned, with wide mouths and slant eyes". Snaga Orcs are the most widespread subspecies of Orcs. They are quite small and therefore treated by the much taller and stronger Uruk-hai as lesser Orcs.

 

Hilpoltstein Castle is the ruin of a hill castle on a sandstone rock. It is located in the old town of Hilpoltstein in Middle Franconia in the federal state of Bavaria, about 30 km (19 miles) south of the city of Nuremberg.

 

The castle dates back to the 10th century, as archaeologists have found evidences for a first fortification already at that time. However the hill castle, as we know it today, was most likely built not before 1100. In 1109, it was first mentioned in a document. In 1154, the castle was named "castellum dicto Stein", which refers to its founders, the Knights von Stein.

 

Between 1220 and 1230 the great hall and the keep were built. In 1250 the imperial ministerialis Heinrich von Stein pushed on with the further expansion of the castle. He passed the stronghold on to his son Hilpolt I, who also became its name giver. After the death of Hilpolt V in 1385, Hilpoltstein Castle was acquired by the House of Wittelsbach, but not for a long time. Further owners over the next two centuries were the Dukes of Bayern-Landshut and the Dukes of Pfalz-Neuburg.

 

In 1606, Dutchess Maria Dorothea, who was the widow of Duke Ottheinrich II of Sulzbach, the patriarch of a branch line of the House of Pfalz-Neuburg, chose the castle as her residence. Hence Hilpoltstein Castle was extended again. But after her death in 1639, the estate was abandoned.

 

In 1793 it was acquired by private persons, who used it as a stone quarry. In 1972, the administrative district of Roth took possession of the meanwhile badly damaged castle and in 1989, the administrative district began to realise extensive measures of protection.

 

Hilpoltstein Castle can be visited between April and October each year. Every year in May it is the venue of three-day medieval festival "Knights, Minstrels, Cut-purses", where people dress themselves up as medieval citizens and act out their romantic imagination of the Middle Ages.

 

The town of Hilpoltstein has a population of more than 13,000 and is situated in the administrative district of Roth in Northern Bavaria. The history of the town also dates back to the 10th century. In 1392, Duke Stephan of Bayern-Landshut approved the town privilege of Hilpoltstein. In 1505 Hilpoltstein was attributed to the princedom of Pfalz-Neuburg and in 1542 it was pledged to the free imperial city of Nuremberg for the following 36 years. After this period of time Duke Philipp Ludwig of Pfalz-Neuburg bequeathed both town and castle to his brother Ottheinrich II. After the death of Dutchess Maria Dorothea in 1639, who had chosen Hilpolstein as her place of residence, the castle derelicted and in the following years also the town lost its status as a ducal seat.

 

In 1799, Hilpolstein was awarded to the Electorate of Bavaria. Due to a boundary adjustment between the Upper Palatinate and Middle Franconia in 1880, the town was affiliated to Middle Franconia. Until 1972 Hilpoltstein was the administrative centre of the administrative district of Hilpoltstein, but has lost this function in the course of local government reorganisation.

 

Housesteads Roman Fort is the remains of an auxiliary fort on Hadrian's Wall, at Housesteads, Northumberland, England, south of Broomlee Lough. The fort was built in stone around AD 124, soon after the construction of the wall began in AD 122 when the area was part of the Roman province of Britannia. Its name has been variously given as Vercovicium, Borcovicus, Borcovicium, and Velurtion. The 18th-century farmhouse Housesteads gives the modern name. The site is owned by the National Trust and is in the care of English Heritage. Finds can be seen at the site, in the museum at Chesters, and in the Great North Museum: Hancock in Newcastle upon Tyne.

 

Hadrian's Wall was begun in AD 122. A fort was built in stone at the Housesteads Roman Fort site around AD 124 overlying the original Broad Wall foundation and Turret 36B, about two miles north east of an existing fort at Vindolanda. The fort was repaired and rebuilt several times, its northern defences being particularly prone to collapse. A substantial civil settlement (vicus) existed to the south, outside the fort, and some of the stone foundations can still be seen, including the so-called "Murder House", where two skeletons were found beneath an apparently newly-laid floor when excavated.

 

In the 2nd century AD, the garrison consisted of an unknown double-sized auxiliary infantry cohort and a detachment of legionaries from Legio II Augusta. In the 3rd century, it comprised Cohors I Tungrorum, augmented by the numerus Hnaudifridi and the Cuneus Frisiorum, a Frisian cavalry unit, cuneus referring to a wedge formation. The Tungrians were still there in the 4th century, according to the Notitia Dignitatum. By 409 AD the Romans had withdrawn.

  

The northern granary at Vercovicium, looking east. The pillars supported a raised floor to keep food dry and free from vermin. They are not part of a hypocaust.

 

The latrines at Housesteads on Hadrian's Wall, hygienically placed at the lowest corner of the fort. The water tank at left still has original lead sealing between its slabs.

Most other early forts straddle the Wall and therefore protrude into barbarian territory. It is also unusual for Britain in that it has no running water supply and is dependent upon rainwater collection (for which purpose there is a series of large stone-lined tanks around the periphery of the defences). It also has one of the best-preserved stone latrines in Roman Britain.

 

The name of the fort has been given as Borcovicus, Borcovicium, and Velurtion. An inscription found at Housesteads with the letters VER, is believed to be short for Ver(covicianorum) – the letters ver being interchangeable with bor in later Latin. The name of the 18th-century farmhouse of Housesteads provides the modern name.

 

The site is now owned by the National Trust and is currently in the care of English Heritage. Finds from Vercovicium can be seen in the site museum, in the museum at Chesters, and in the Great North Museum: Hancock in Newcastle upon Tyne.

 

Housesteads is a former farm whose lands include the ruins of the fort. In 1604 Hugh Nixon, "Stealer of cattle and receiver of stolen goods", became the tenant of Housesteads farm. From 1663, Housesteads was the home of the Armstrongs, a notorious family of Border Reivers. Nicholas Armstrong bought the farm in 1692, only to have to sell it again in 1694 to Thomas Gibson of Hexham for the sum of £485. They remained as tenants. They were a well-known band of horse thieves and cattle rustlers who used the old fort as a place to hold the stolen horses and cattle. They traded as far afield as Aberdeen and the south of England. At one time every male member of the family was said to have been a 'broken man', formally outlawed by English or Scottish authorities. Nicholas was hanged in 1704, and his brothers fled to America. The Armstrongs lived in a typical 16th-century defensive bastle house of two storeys: the ground floor for livestock and the upper level for living quarters. Its ruins remain built up against the south gate of the Roman fort, with external stone steps and narrow loop windows. A corn-drying kiln was inserted into the gate's guard chamber in the 17th century.

 

In 1698, the farm had been sold to Thomas Gibson who turned the land around the fort to agriculture and thus ploughed up numerous Roman artefacts. The 17th-century bastle house was replaced by a farmhouse located over the Roman hospital, which was sketched by William Stukeley in 1725. Throughout the 18th century Housesteads was farmed by a single tenant farming family. Since Hodgson recorded the presence of William Magnay as the tenant during that period this fixes the tenure. In particular, the well (thought to be Roman) was documented as having actually been built by William, and used by the family as a bath. Interest in the fort increased in the 19th century, particularly after the farm was purchased by the amateur historian John Clayton in 1838, to add to his collection of Roman Wall farms. The Roman site was cleared of later buildings by Clayton, and the present farmhouse built about 1860. John Maurice Clayton attempted to auction the fort in 1929. It did not reach its reserve and was donated to the National Trust in 1930. The farm was later owned by the Trevelyans who gave the land for the site museum.

 

Roman Britain was the territory that became the Roman province of Britannia after the Roman conquest of Britain, consisting of a large part of the island of Great Britain. The occupation lasted from AD 43 to AD 410.

 

Julius Caesar invaded Britain in 55 and 54 BC as part of his Gallic Wars. According to Caesar, the Britons had been overrun or culturally assimilated by the Belgae during the British Iron Age and had been aiding Caesar's enemies. The Belgae were the only Celtic tribe to cross the sea into Britain, for to all other Celtic tribes this land was unknown. He received tribute, installed the friendly king Mandubracius over the Trinovantes, and returned to Gaul. Planned invasions under Augustus were called off in 34, 27, and 25 BC. In 40 AD, Caligula assembled 200,000 men at the Channel on the continent, only to have them gather seashells (musculi) according to Suetonius, perhaps as a symbolic gesture to proclaim Caligula's victory over the sea. Three years later, Claudius directed four legions to invade Britain and restore the exiled king Verica over the Atrebates. The Romans defeated the Catuvellauni, and then organized their conquests as the province of Britain. By 47 AD, the Romans held the lands southeast of the Fosse Way. Control over Wales was delayed by reverses and the effects of Boudica's uprising, but the Romans expanded steadily northward.

 

The conquest of Britain continued under command of Gnaeus Julius Agricola (77–84), who expanded the Roman Empire as far as Caledonia. In mid-84 AD, Agricola faced the armies of the Caledonians, led by Calgacus, at the Battle of Mons Graupius. Battle casualties were estimated by Tacitus to be upwards of 10,000 on the Caledonian side and about 360 on the Roman side. The bloodbath at Mons Graupius concluded the forty-year conquest of Britain, a period that possibly saw between 100,000 and 250,000 Britons killed. In the context of pre-industrial warfare and of a total population of Britain of c. 2 million, these are very high figures.

 

Under the 2nd-century emperors Hadrian and Antoninus Pius, two walls were built to defend the Roman province from the Caledonians, whose realms in the Scottish Highlands were never controlled. Around 197 AD, the Severan Reforms divided Britain into two provinces: Britannia Superior and Britannia Inferior. During the Diocletian Reforms, at the end of the 3rd century, Britannia was divided into four provinces under the direction of a vicarius, who administered the Diocese of the Britains. A fifth province, Valentia, is attested in the later 4th century. For much of the later period of the Roman occupation, Britannia was subject to barbarian invasions and often came under the control of imperial usurpers and imperial pretenders. The final Roman withdrawal from Britain occurred around 410; the native kingdoms are considered to have formed Sub-Roman Britain after that.

 

Following the conquest of the Britons, a distinctive Romano-British culture emerged as the Romans introduced improved agriculture, urban planning, industrial production, and architecture. The Roman goddess Britannia became the female personification of Britain. After the initial invasions, Roman historians generally only mention Britain in passing. Thus, most present knowledge derives from archaeological investigations and occasional epigraphic evidence lauding the Britannic achievements of an emperor. Roman citizens settled in Britain from many parts of the Empire.

 

History

Britain was known to the Classical world. The Greeks, the Phoenicians and the Carthaginians traded for Cornish tin in the 4th century BC. The Greeks referred to the Cassiterides, or "tin islands", and placed them near the west coast of Europe. The Carthaginian sailor Himilco is said to have visited the island in the 6th or 5th century BC and the Greek explorer Pytheas in the 4th. It was regarded as a place of mystery, with some writers refusing to believe it existed.

 

The first direct Roman contact was when Julius Caesar undertook two expeditions in 55 and 54 BC, as part of his conquest of Gaul, believing the Britons were helping the Gallic resistance. The first expedition was more a reconnaissance than a full invasion and gained a foothold on the coast of Kent but was unable to advance further because of storm damage to the ships and a lack of cavalry. Despite the military failure, it was a political success, with the Roman Senate declaring a 20-day public holiday in Rome to honour the unprecedented achievement of obtaining hostages from Britain and defeating Belgic tribes on returning to the continent.

 

The second invasion involved a substantially larger force and Caesar coerced or invited many of the native Celtic tribes to pay tribute and give hostages in return for peace. A friendly local king, Mandubracius, was installed, and his rival, Cassivellaunus, was brought to terms. Hostages were taken, but historians disagree over whether any tribute was paid after Caesar returned to Gaul.

 

Caesar conquered no territory and left no troops behind, but he established clients and brought Britain into Rome's sphere of influence. Augustus planned invasions in 34, 27 and 25 BC, but circumstances were never favourable, and the relationship between Britain and Rome settled into one of diplomacy and trade. Strabo, writing late in Augustus's reign, claimed that taxes on trade brought in more annual revenue than any conquest could. Archaeology shows that there was an increase in imported luxury goods in southeastern Britain. Strabo also mentions British kings who sent embassies to Augustus, and Augustus's own Res Gestae refers to two British kings he received as refugees. When some of Tiberius's ships were carried to Britain in a storm during his campaigns in Germany in 16 AD, they came back with tales of monsters.

 

Rome appears to have encouraged a balance of power in southern Britain, supporting two powerful kingdoms: the Catuvellauni, ruled by the descendants of Tasciovanus, and the Atrebates, ruled by the descendants of Commius. This policy was followed until 39 or 40 AD, when Caligula received an exiled member of the Catuvellaunian dynasty and planned an invasion of Britain that collapsed in farcical circumstances before it left Gaul. When Claudius successfully invaded in 43 AD, it was in aid of another fugitive British ruler, Verica of the Atrebates.

 

Roman invasion

The invasion force in 43 AD was led by Aulus Plautius,[26] but it is unclear how many legions were sent. The Legio II Augusta, commanded by future emperor Vespasian, was the only one directly attested to have taken part. The Legio IX Hispana, the XIV Gemina (later styled Martia Victrix) and the XX (later styled Valeria Victrix) are known to have served during the Boudican Revolt of 60/61, and were probably there since the initial invasion. This is not certain because the Roman army was flexible, with units being moved around whenever necessary. The IX Hispana may have been permanently stationed, with records showing it at Eboracum (York) in 71 and on a building inscription there dated 108, before being destroyed in the east of the Empire, possibly during the Bar Kokhba revolt.

 

The invasion was delayed by a troop mutiny until an imperial freedman persuaded them to overcome their fear of crossing the Ocean and campaigning beyond the limits of the known world. They sailed in three divisions, and probably landed at Richborough in Kent; at least part of the force may have landed near Fishbourne, West Sussex.

 

The Catuvellauni and their allies were defeated in two battles: the first, assuming a Richborough landing, on the river Medway, the second on the river Thames. One of their leaders, Togodumnus, was killed, but his brother Caratacus survived to continue resistance elsewhere. Plautius halted at the Thames and sent for Claudius, who arrived with reinforcements, including artillery and elephants, for the final march to the Catuvellaunian capital, Camulodunum (Colchester). Vespasian subdued the southwest, Cogidubnus was set up as a friendly king of several territories, and treaties were made with tribes outside direct Roman control.

 

Establishment of Roman rule

After capturing the south of the island, the Romans turned their attention to what is now Wales. The Silures, Ordovices and Deceangli remained implacably opposed to the invaders and for the first few decades were the focus of Roman military attention, despite occasional minor revolts among Roman allies like the Brigantes and the Iceni. The Silures were led by Caratacus, and he carried out an effective guerrilla campaign against Governor Publius Ostorius Scapula. Finally, in 51, Ostorius lured Caratacus into a set-piece battle and defeated him. The British leader sought refuge among the Brigantes, but their queen, Cartimandua, proved her loyalty by surrendering him to the Romans. He was brought as a captive to Rome, where a dignified speech he made during Claudius's triumph persuaded the emperor to spare his life. The Silures were still not pacified, and Cartimandua's ex-husband Venutius replaced Caratacus as the most prominent leader of British resistance.

 

On Nero's accession, Roman Britain extended as far north as Lindum. Gaius Suetonius Paulinus, the conqueror of Mauretania (modern day Algeria and Morocco), then became governor of Britain, and in 60 and 61 he moved against Mona (Anglesey) to settle accounts with Druidism once and for all. Paulinus led his army across the Menai Strait and massacred the Druids and burnt their sacred groves.

 

While Paulinus was campaigning in Mona, the southeast of Britain rose in revolt under the leadership of Boudica. She was the widow of the recently deceased king of the Iceni, Prasutagus. The Roman historian Tacitus reports that Prasutagus had left a will leaving half his kingdom to Nero in the hope that the remainder would be left untouched. He was wrong. When his will was enforced, Rome[clarification needed] responded by violently seizing the tribe's lands in full. Boudica protested. In consequence, Rome[clarification needed] punished her and her daughters by flogging and rape. In response, the Iceni, joined by the Trinovantes, destroyed the Roman colony at Camulodunum (Colchester) and routed the part of the IXth Legion that was sent to relieve it. Paulinus rode to London (then called Londinium), the rebels' next target, but concluded it could not be defended. Abandoned, it was destroyed, as was Verulamium (St. Albans). Between seventy and eighty thousand people are said to have been killed in the three cities. But Paulinus regrouped with two of the three legions still available to him, chose a battlefield, and, despite being outnumbered by more than twenty to one, defeated the rebels in the Battle of Watling Street. Boudica died not long afterwards, by self-administered poison or by illness. During this time, the Emperor Nero considered withdrawing Roman forces from Britain altogether.

 

There was further turmoil in 69, the "Year of the Four Emperors". As civil war raged in Rome, weak governors were unable to control the legions in Britain, and Venutius of the Brigantes seized his chance. The Romans had previously defended Cartimandua against him, but this time were unable to do so. Cartimandua was evacuated, and Venutius was left in control of the north of the country. After Vespasian secured the empire, his first two appointments as governor, Quintus Petillius Cerialis and Sextus Julius Frontinus, took on the task of subduing the Brigantes and Silures respectively.[38] Frontinus extended Roman rule to all of South Wales, and initiated exploitation of the mineral resources, such as the gold mines at Dolaucothi.

 

In the following years, the Romans conquered more of the island, increasing the size of Roman Britain. Governor Gnaeus Julius Agricola, father-in-law to the historian Tacitus, conquered the Ordovices in 78. With the XX Valeria Victrix legion, Agricola defeated the Caledonians in 84 at the Battle of Mons Graupius, in north-east Scotland. This was the high-water mark of Roman territory in Britain: shortly after his victory, Agricola was recalled from Britain back to Rome, and the Romans initially retired to a more defensible line along the Forth–Clyde isthmus, freeing soldiers badly needed along other frontiers.

 

For much of the history of Roman Britain, a large number of soldiers were garrisoned on the island. This required that the emperor station a trusted senior man as governor of the province. As a result, many future emperors served as governors or legates in this province, including Vespasian, Pertinax, and Gordian I.

 

Roman military organisation in the north

In 84 AD

In 84 AD

 

In 155 AD

In 155 AD

 

Hadrian's Wall, and Antonine Wall

There is no historical source describing the decades that followed Agricola's recall. Even the name of his replacement is unknown. Archaeology has shown that some Roman forts south of the Forth–Clyde isthmus were rebuilt and enlarged; others appear to have been abandoned. By 87 the frontier had been consolidated on the Stanegate. Roman coins and pottery have been found circulating at native settlement sites in the Scottish Lowlands in the years before 100, indicating growing Romanisation. Some of the most important sources for this era are the writing tablets from the fort at Vindolanda in Northumberland, mostly dating to 90–110. These tablets provide evidence for the operation of a Roman fort at the edge of the Roman Empire, where officers' wives maintained polite society while merchants, hauliers and military personnel kept the fort operational and supplied.

 

Around 105 there appears to have been a serious setback at the hands of the tribes of the Picts: several Roman forts were destroyed by fire, with human remains and damaged armour at Trimontium (at modern Newstead, in SE Scotland) indicating hostilities at least at that site.[citation needed] There is also circumstantial evidence that auxiliary reinforcements were sent from Germany, and an unnamed British war of the period is mentioned on the gravestone of a tribune of Cyrene. Trajan's Dacian Wars may have led to troop reductions in the area or even total withdrawal followed by slighting of the forts by the Picts rather than an unrecorded military defeat. The Romans were also in the habit of destroying their own forts during an orderly withdrawal, in order to deny resources to an enemy. In either case, the frontier probably moved south to the line of the Stanegate at the Solway–Tyne isthmus around this time.

 

A new crisis occurred at the beginning of Hadrian's reign): a rising in the north which was suppressed by Quintus Pompeius Falco. When Hadrian reached Britannia on his famous tour of the Roman provinces around 120, he directed an extensive defensive wall, known to posterity as Hadrian's Wall, to be built close to the line of the Stanegate frontier. Hadrian appointed Aulus Platorius Nepos as governor to undertake this work who brought the Legio VI Victrix legion with him from Germania Inferior. This replaced the famous Legio IX Hispana, whose disappearance has been much discussed. Archaeology indicates considerable political instability in Scotland during the first half of the 2nd century, and the shifting frontier at this time should be seen in this context.

 

In the reign of Antoninus Pius (138–161) the Hadrianic border was briefly extended north to the Forth–Clyde isthmus, where the Antonine Wall was built around 142 following the military reoccupation of the Scottish lowlands by a new governor, Quintus Lollius Urbicus.

 

The first Antonine occupation of Scotland ended as a result of a further crisis in 155–157, when the Brigantes revolted. With limited options to despatch reinforcements, the Romans moved their troops south, and this rising was suppressed by Governor Gnaeus Julius Verus. Within a year the Antonine Wall was recaptured, but by 163 or 164 it was abandoned. The second occupation was probably connected with Antoninus's undertakings to protect the Votadini or his pride in enlarging the empire, since the retreat to the Hadrianic frontier occurred not long after his death when a more objective strategic assessment of the benefits of the Antonine Wall could be made. The Romans did not entirely withdraw from Scotland at this time: the large fort at Newstead was maintained along with seven smaller outposts until at least 180.

 

During the twenty-year period following the reversion of the frontier to Hadrian's Wall in 163/4, Rome was concerned with continental issues, primarily problems in the Danubian provinces. Increasing numbers of hoards of buried coins in Britain at this time indicate that peace was not entirely achieved. Sufficient Roman silver has been found in Scotland to suggest more than ordinary trade, and it is likely that the Romans were reinforcing treaty agreements by paying tribute to their implacable enemies, the Picts.

 

In 175, a large force of Sarmatian cavalry, consisting of 5,500 men, arrived in Britannia, probably to reinforce troops fighting unrecorded uprisings. In 180, Hadrian's Wall was breached by the Picts and the commanding officer or governor was killed there in what Cassius Dio described as the most serious war of the reign of Commodus. Ulpius Marcellus was sent as replacement governor and by 184 he had won a new peace, only to be faced with a mutiny from his own troops. Unhappy with Marcellus's strictness, they tried to elect a legate named Priscus as usurper governor; he refused, but Marcellus was lucky to leave the province alive. The Roman army in Britannia continued its insubordination: they sent a delegation of 1,500 to Rome to demand the execution of Tigidius Perennis, a Praetorian prefect who they felt had earlier wronged them by posting lowly equites to legate ranks in Britannia. Commodus met the party outside Rome and agreed to have Perennis killed, but this only made them feel more secure in their mutiny.

 

The future emperor Pertinax (lived 126–193) was sent to Britannia to quell the mutiny and was initially successful in regaining control, but a riot broke out among the troops. Pertinax was attacked and left for dead, and asked to be recalled to Rome, where he briefly succeeded Commodus as emperor in 192.

 

3rd century

The death of Commodus put into motion a series of events which eventually led to civil war. Following the short reign of Pertinax, several rivals for the emperorship emerged, including Septimius Severus and Clodius Albinus. The latter was the new governor of Britannia, and had seemingly won the natives over after their earlier rebellions; he also controlled three legions, making him a potentially significant claimant. His sometime rival Severus promised him the title of Caesar in return for Albinus's support against Pescennius Niger in the east. Once Niger was neutralised, Severus turned on his ally in Britannia; it is likely that Albinus saw he would be the next target and was already preparing for war.

 

Albinus crossed to Gaul in 195, where the provinces were also sympathetic to him, and set up at Lugdunum. Severus arrived in February 196, and the ensuing battle was decisive. Albinus came close to victory, but Severus's reinforcements won the day, and the British governor committed suicide. Severus soon purged Albinus's sympathisers and perhaps confiscated large tracts of land in Britain as punishment. Albinus had demonstrated the major problem posed by Roman Britain. In order to maintain security, the province required the presence of three legions, but command of these forces provided an ideal power base for ambitious rivals. Deploying those legions elsewhere would strip the island of its garrison, leaving the province defenceless against uprisings by the native Celtic tribes and against invasion by the Picts and Scots.

 

The traditional view is that northern Britain descended into anarchy during Albinus's absence. Cassius Dio records that the new Governor, Virius Lupus, was obliged to buy peace from a fractious northern tribe known as the Maeatae. The succession of militarily distinguished governors who were subsequently appointed suggests that enemies of Rome were posing a difficult challenge, and Lucius Alfenus Senecio's report to Rome in 207 describes barbarians "rebelling, over-running the land, taking loot and creating destruction". In order to rebel, of course, one must be a subject – the Maeatae clearly did not consider themselves such. Senecio requested either reinforcements or an Imperial expedition, and Severus chose the latter, despite being 62 years old. Archaeological evidence shows that Senecio had been rebuilding the defences of Hadrian's Wall and the forts beyond it, and Severus's arrival in Britain prompted the enemy tribes to sue for peace immediately. The emperor had not come all that way to leave without a victory, and it is likely that he wished to provide his teenage sons Caracalla and Geta with first-hand experience of controlling a hostile barbarian land.

 

Northern campaigns, 208–211

An invasion of Caledonia led by Severus and probably numbering around 20,000 troops moved north in 208 or 209, crossing the Wall and passing through eastern Scotland on a route similar to that used by Agricola. Harried by punishing guerrilla raids by the northern tribes and slowed by an unforgiving terrain, Severus was unable to meet the Caledonians on a battlefield. The emperor's forces pushed north as far as the River Tay, but little appears to have been achieved by the invasion, as peace treaties were signed with the Caledonians. By 210 Severus had returned to York, and the frontier had once again become Hadrian's Wall. He assumed the title Britannicus but the title meant little with regard to the unconquered north, which clearly remained outside the authority of the Empire. Almost immediately, another northern tribe, the Maeatae, went to war. Caracalla left with a punitive expedition, but by the following year his ailing father had died and he and his brother left the province to press their claim to the throne.

 

As one of his last acts, Severus tried to solve the problem of powerful and rebellious governors in Britain by dividing the province into Britannia Superior and Britannia Inferior. This kept the potential for rebellion in check for almost a century. Historical sources provide little information on the following decades, a period known as the Long Peace. Even so, the number of buried hoards found from this period rises, suggesting continuing unrest. A string of forts were built along the coast of southern Britain to control piracy; and over the following hundred years they increased in number, becoming the Saxon Shore Forts.

 

During the middle of the 3rd century, the Roman Empire was convulsed by barbarian invasions, rebellions and new imperial pretenders. Britannia apparently avoided these troubles, but increasing inflation had its economic effect. In 259 a so-called Gallic Empire was established when Postumus rebelled against Gallienus. Britannia was part of this until 274 when Aurelian reunited the empire.

 

Around the year 280, a half-British officer named Bonosus was in command of the Roman's Rhenish fleet when the Germans managed to burn it at anchor. To avoid punishment, he proclaimed himself emperor at Colonia Agrippina (Cologne) but was crushed by Marcus Aurelius Probus. Soon afterwards, an unnamed governor of one of the British provinces also attempted an uprising. Probus put it down by sending irregular troops of Vandals and Burgundians across the Channel.

 

The Carausian Revolt led to a short-lived Britannic Empire from 286 to 296. Carausius was a Menapian naval commander of the Britannic fleet; he revolted upon learning of a death sentence ordered by the emperor Maximian on charges of having abetted Frankish and Saxon pirates and having embezzled recovered treasure. He consolidated control over all the provinces of Britain and some of northern Gaul while Maximian dealt with other uprisings. An invasion in 288 failed to unseat him and an uneasy peace ensued, with Carausius issuing coins and inviting official recognition. In 293, the junior emperor Constantius Chlorus launched a second offensive, besieging the rebel port of Gesoriacum (Boulogne-sur-Mer) by land and sea. After it fell, Constantius attacked Carausius's other Gallic holdings and Frankish allies and Carausius was usurped by his treasurer, Allectus. Julius Asclepiodotus landed an invasion fleet near Southampton and defeated Allectus in a land battle.

 

Diocletian's reforms

As part of Diocletian's reforms, the provinces of Roman Britain were organized as a diocese governed by a vicarius under a praetorian prefect who, from 318 to 331, was Junius Bassus who was based at Augusta Treverorum (Trier).

 

The vicarius was based at Londinium as the principal city of the diocese. Londinium and Eboracum continued as provincial capitals and the territory was divided up into smaller provinces for administrative efficiency.

 

Civilian and military authority of a province was no longer exercised by one official and the governor was stripped of military command which was handed over to the Dux Britanniarum by 314. The governor of a province assumed more financial duties (the procurators of the Treasury ministry were slowly phased out in the first three decades of the 4th century). The Dux was commander of the troops of the Northern Region, primarily along Hadrian's Wall and his responsibilities included protection of the frontier. He had significant autonomy due in part to the distance from his superiors.

 

The tasks of the vicarius were to control and coordinate the activities of governors; monitor but not interfere with the daily functioning of the Treasury and Crown Estates, which had their own administrative infrastructure; and act as the regional quartermaster-general of the armed forces. In short, as the sole civilian official with superior authority, he had general oversight of the administration, as well as direct control, while not absolute, over governors who were part of the prefecture; the other two fiscal departments were not.

 

The early-4th-century Verona List, the late-4th-century work of Sextus Rufus, and the early-5th-century List of Offices and work of Polemius Silvius all list four provinces by some variation of the names Britannia I, Britannia II, Maxima Caesariensis, and Flavia Caesariensis; all of these seem to have initially been directed by a governor (praeses) of equestrian rank. The 5th-century sources list a fifth province named Valentia and give its governor and Maxima's a consular rank. Ammianus mentions Valentia as well, describing its creation by Count Theodosius in 369 after the quelling of the Great Conspiracy. Ammianus considered it a re-creation of a formerly lost province, leading some to think there had been an earlier fifth province under another name (may be the enigmatic "Vespasiana"), and leading others to place Valentia beyond Hadrian's Wall, in the territory abandoned south of the Antonine Wall.

 

Reconstructions of the provinces and provincial capitals during this period partially rely on ecclesiastical records. On the assumption that the early bishoprics mimicked the imperial hierarchy, scholars use the list of bishops for the 314 Council of Arles. The list is patently corrupt: the British delegation is given as including a Bishop "Eborius" of Eboracum and two bishops "from Londinium" (one de civitate Londinensi and the other de civitate colonia Londinensium). The error is variously emended: Bishop Ussher proposed Colonia, Selden Col. or Colon. Camalodun., and Spelman Colonia Cameloduni (all various names of Colchester); Gale and Bingham offered colonia Lindi and Henry Colonia Lindum (both Lincoln); and Bishop Stillingfleet and Francis Thackeray read it as a scribal error of Civ. Col. Londin. for an original Civ. Col. Leg. II (Caerleon). On the basis of the Verona List, the priest and deacon who accompanied the bishops in some manuscripts are ascribed to the fourth province.

 

In the 12th century, Gerald of Wales described the supposedly metropolitan sees of the early British church established by the legendary SS Fagan and "Duvian". He placed Britannia Prima in Wales and western England with its capital at "Urbs Legionum" (Caerleon); Britannia Secunda in Kent and southern England with its capital at "Dorobernia" (Canterbury); Flavia in Mercia and central England with its capital at "Lundonia" (London); "Maximia" in northern England with its capital at Eboracum (York); and Valentia in "Albania which is now Scotland" with its capital at St Andrews. Modern scholars generally dispute the last: some place Valentia at or beyond Hadrian's Wall but St Andrews is beyond even the Antonine Wall and Gerald seems to have simply been supporting the antiquity of its church for political reasons.

 

A common modern reconstruction places the consular province of Maxima at Londinium, on the basis of its status as the seat of the diocesan vicarius; places Prima in the west according to Gerald's traditional account but moves its capital to Corinium of the Dobunni (Cirencester) on the basis of an artifact recovered there referring to Lucius Septimius, a provincial rector; places Flavia north of Maxima, with its capital placed at Lindum Colonia (Lincoln) to match one emendation of the bishops list from Arles;[d] and places Secunda in the north with its capital at Eboracum (York). Valentia is placed variously in northern Wales around Deva (Chester); beside Hadrian's Wall around Luguvalium (Carlisle); and between the walls along Dere Street.

 

4th century

Emperor Constantius returned to Britain in 306, despite his poor health, with an army aiming to invade northern Britain, the provincial defences having been rebuilt in the preceding years. Little is known of his campaigns with scant archaeological evidence, but fragmentary historical sources suggest he reached the far north of Britain and won a major battle in early summer before returning south. His son Constantine (later Constantine the Great) spent a year in northern Britain at his father's side, campaigning against the Picts beyond Hadrian's Wall in the summer and autumn. Constantius died in York in July 306 with his son at his side. Constantine then successfully used Britain as the starting point of his march to the imperial throne, unlike the earlier usurper, Albinus.

 

In the middle of the century, the province was loyal for a few years to the usurper Magnentius, who succeeded Constans following the latter's death. After the defeat and death of Magnentius in the Battle of Mons Seleucus in 353, Constantius II dispatched his chief imperial notary Paulus Catena to Britain to hunt down Magnentius's supporters. The investigation deteriorated into a witch-hunt, which forced the vicarius Flavius Martinus to intervene. When Paulus retaliated by accusing Martinus of treason, the vicarius attacked Paulus with a sword, with the aim of assassinating him, but in the end he committed suicide.

 

As the 4th century progressed, there were increasing attacks from the Saxons in the east and the Scoti (Irish) in the west. A series of forts had been built, starting around 280, to defend the coasts, but these preparations were not enough when, in 367, a general assault of Saxons, Picts, Scoti and Attacotti, combined with apparent dissension in the garrison on Hadrian's Wall, left Roman Britain prostrate. The invaders overwhelmed the entire western and northern regions of Britannia and the cities were sacked. This crisis, sometimes called the Barbarian Conspiracy or the Great Conspiracy, was settled by Count Theodosius from 368 with a string of military and civil reforms. Theodosius crossed from Bononia (Boulogne-sur-Mer) and marched on Londinium where he began to deal with the invaders and made his base.[ An amnesty was promised to deserters which enabled Theodosius to regarrison abandoned forts. By the end of the year Hadrian's Wall was retaken and order returned. Considerable reorganization was undertaken in Britain, including the creation of a new province named Valentia, probably to better address the state of the far north. A new Dux Britanniarum was appointed, Dulcitius, with Civilis to head a new civilian administration.

 

Another imperial usurper, Magnus Maximus, raised the standard of revolt at Segontium (Caernarfon) in north Wales in 383, and crossed the English Channel. Maximus held much of the western empire, and fought a successful campaign against the Picts and Scots around 384. His continental exploits required troops from Britain, and it appears that forts at Chester and elsewhere were abandoned in this period, triggering raids and settlement in north Wales by the Irish. His rule was ended in 388, but not all the British troops may have returned: the Empire's military resources were stretched to the limit along the Rhine and Danube. Around 396 there were more barbarian incursions into Britain. Stilicho led a punitive expedition. It seems peace was restored by 399, and it is likely that no further garrisoning was ordered; by 401 more troops were withdrawn, to assist in the war against Alaric I.

 

End of Roman rule

The traditional view of historians, informed by the work of Michael Rostovtzeff, was of a widespread economic decline at the beginning of the 5th century. Consistent archaeological evidence has told another story, and the accepted view is undergoing re-evaluation. Some features are agreed: more opulent but fewer urban houses, an end to new public building and some abandonment of existing ones, with the exception of defensive structures, and the widespread formation of "dark earth" deposits indicating increased horticulture within urban precincts. Turning over the basilica at Silchester to industrial uses in the late 3rd century, doubtless officially condoned, marks an early stage in the de-urbanisation of Roman Britain.

 

The abandonment of some sites is now believed to be later than had been thought. Many buildings changed use but were not destroyed. There was a growing number of barbarian attacks, but these targeted vulnerable rural settlements rather than towns. Some villas such as Chedworth, Great Casterton in Rutland and Hucclecote in Gloucestershire had new mosaic floors laid around this time, suggesting that economic problems may have been limited and patchy. Many suffered some decay before being abandoned in the 5th century; the story of Saint Patrick indicates that villas were still occupied until at least 430. Exceptionally, new buildings were still going up in this period in Verulamium and Cirencester. Some urban centres, for example Canterbury, Cirencester, Wroxeter, Winchester and Gloucester, remained active during the 5th and 6th centuries, surrounded by large farming estates.

 

Urban life had generally grown less intense by the fourth quarter of the 4th century, and coins minted between 378 and 388 are very rare, indicating a likely combination of economic decline, diminishing numbers of troops, problems with the payment of soldiers and officials or with unstable conditions during the usurpation of Magnus Maximus 383–87. Coinage circulation increased during the 390s, but never attained the levels of earlier decades. Copper coins are very rare after 402, though minted silver and gold coins from hoards indicate they were still present in the province even if they were not being spent. By 407 there were very few new Roman coins going into circulation, and by 430 it is likely that coinage as a medium of exchange had been abandoned. Mass-produced wheel thrown pottery ended at approximately the same time; the rich continued to use metal and glass vessels, while the poor made do with humble "grey ware" or resorted to leather or wooden containers.

 

Sub-Roman Britain

Towards the end of the 4th century Roman rule in Britain came under increasing pressure from barbarian attacks. Apparently, there were not enough troops to mount an effective defence. After elevating two disappointing usurpers, the army chose a soldier, Constantine III, to become emperor in 407. He crossed to Gaul but was defeated by Honorius; it is unclear how many troops remained or ever returned, or whether a commander-in-chief in Britain was ever reappointed. A Saxon incursion in 408 was apparently repelled by the Britons, and in 409 Zosimus records that the natives expelled the Roman civilian administration. Zosimus may be referring to the Bacaudic rebellion of the Breton inhabitants of Armorica since he describes how, in the aftermath of the revolt, all of Armorica and the rest of Gaul followed the example of the Brettaniai. A letter from Emperor Honorius in 410 has traditionally been seen as rejecting a British appeal for help, but it may have been addressed to Bruttium or Bologna. With the imperial layers of the military and civil government gone, administration and justice fell to municipal authorities, and local warlords gradually emerged all over Britain, still utilizing Romano-British ideals and conventions. Historian Stuart Laycock has investigated this process and emphasised elements of continuity from the British tribes in the pre-Roman and Roman periods, through to the native post-Roman kingdoms.

 

In British tradition, pagan Saxons were invited by Vortigern to assist in fighting the Picts, Scoti, and Déisi. (Germanic migration into Roman Britannia may have begun much earlier. There is recorded evidence, for example, of Germanic auxiliaries supporting the legions in Britain in the 1st and 2nd centuries.) The new arrivals rebelled, plunging the country into a series of wars that eventually led to the Saxon occupation of Lowland Britain by 600. Around this time, many Britons fled to Brittany (hence its name), Galicia and probably Ireland. A significant date in sub-Roman Britain is the Groans of the Britons, an unanswered appeal to Aetius, leading general of the western Empire, for assistance against Saxon invasion in 446. Another is the Battle of Deorham in 577, after which the significant cities of Bath, Cirencester and Gloucester fell and the Saxons reached the western sea.

 

Historians generally reject the historicity of King Arthur, who is supposed to have resisted the Anglo-Saxon conquest according to later medieval legends.

 

Trade

During the Roman period Britain's continental trade was principally directed across the Southern North Sea and Eastern Channel, focusing on the narrow Strait of Dover, with more limited links via the Atlantic seaways. The most important British ports were London and Richborough, whilst the continental ports most heavily engaged in trade with Britain were Boulogne and the sites of Domburg and Colijnsplaat at the mouth of the river Scheldt. During the Late Roman period it is likely that the shore forts played some role in continental trade alongside their defensive functions.

 

Exports to Britain included: coin; pottery, particularly red-gloss terra sigillata (samian ware) from southern, central and eastern Gaul, as well as various other wares from Gaul and the Rhine provinces; olive oil from southern Spain in amphorae; wine from Gaul in amphorae and barrels; salted fish products from the western Mediterranean and Brittany in barrels and amphorae; preserved olives from southern Spain in amphorae; lava quern-stones from Mayen on the middle Rhine; glass; and some agricultural products. Britain's exports are harder to detect archaeologically, but will have included metals, such as silver and gold and some lead, iron and copper. Other exports probably included agricultural products, oysters and salt, whilst large quantities of coin would have been re-exported back to the continent as well.

 

These products moved as a result of private trade and also through payments and contracts established by the Roman state to support its military forces and officials on the island, as well as through state taxation and extraction of resources. Up until the mid-3rd century, the Roman state's payments appear to have been unbalanced, with far more products sent to Britain, to support its large military force (which had reached c. 53,000 by the mid-2nd century), than were extracted from the island.

 

It has been argued that Roman Britain's continental trade peaked in the late 1st century AD and thereafter declined as a result of an increasing reliance on local products by the population of Britain, caused by economic development on the island and by the Roman state's desire to save money by shifting away from expensive long-distance imports. Evidence has been outlined that suggests that the principal decline in Roman Britain's continental trade may have occurred in the late 2nd century AD, from c. 165 AD onwards. This has been linked to the economic impact of contemporary Empire-wide crises: the Antonine Plague and the Marcomannic Wars.

 

From the mid-3rd century onwards, Britain no longer received such a wide range and extensive quantity of foreign imports as it did during the earlier part of the Roman period; vast quantities of coin from continental mints reached the island, whilst there is historical evidence for the export of large amounts of British grain to the continent during the mid-4th century. During the latter part of the Roman period British agricultural products, paid for by both the Roman state and by private consumers, clearly played an important role in supporting the military garrisons and urban centres of the northwestern continental Empire. This came about as a result of the rapid decline in the size of the British garrison from the mid-3rd century onwards (thus freeing up more goods for export), and because of 'Germanic' incursions across the Rhine, which appear to have reduced rural settlement and agricultural output in northern Gaul.

 

Economy

Mineral extraction sites such as the Dolaucothi gold mine were probably first worked by the Roman army from c. 75, and at some later stage passed to civilian operators. The mine developed as a series of opencast workings, mainly by the use of hydraulic mining methods. They are described by Pliny the Elder in his Natural History in great detail. Essentially, water supplied by aqueducts was used to prospect for ore veins by stripping away soil to reveal the bedrock. If veins were present, they were attacked using fire-setting and the ore removed for comminution. The dust was washed in a small stream of water and the heavy gold dust and gold nuggets collected in riffles. The diagram at right shows how Dolaucothi developed from c. 75 through to the 1st century. When opencast work was no longer feasible, tunnels were driven to follow the veins. The evidence from the site shows advanced technology probably under the control of army engineers.

 

The Wealden ironworking zone, the lead and silver mines of the Mendip Hills and the tin mines of Cornwall seem to have been private enterprises leased from the government for a fee. Mining had long been practised in Britain (see Grimes Graves), but the Romans introduced new technical knowledge and large-scale industrial production to revolutionise the industry. It included hydraulic mining to prospect for ore by removing overburden as well as work alluvial deposits. The water needed for such large-scale operations was supplied by one or more aqueducts, those surviving at Dolaucothi being especially impressive. Many prospecting areas were in dangerous, upland country, and, although mineral exploitation was presumably one of the main reasons for the Roman invasion, it had to wait until these areas were subdued.

 

By the 3rd and 4th centuries, small towns could often be found near villas. In these towns, villa owners and small-scale farmers could obtain specialist tools. Lowland Britain in the 4th century was agriculturally prosperous enough to export grain to the continent. This prosperity lay behind the blossoming of villa building and decoration that occurred between AD 300 and 350.

 

Britain's cities also consumed Roman-style pottery and other goods, and were centres through which goods could be distributed elsewhere. At Wroxeter in Shropshire, stock smashed into a gutter during a 2nd-century fire reveals that Gaulish samian ware was being sold alongside mixing bowls from the Mancetter-Hartshill industry of the West Midlands. Roman designs were most popular, but rural craftsmen still produced items derived from the Iron Age La Tène artistic traditions. Britain was home to much gold, which attracted Roman invaders. By the 3rd century, Britain's economy was diverse and well established, with commerce extending into the non-Romanised north.

 

Government

Further information: Governors of Roman Britain, Roman client kingdoms in Britain, and Roman auxiliaries in Britain

Under the Roman Empire, administration of peaceful provinces was ultimately the remit of the Senate, but those, like Britain, that required permanent garrisons, were placed under the Emperor's control. In practice imperial provinces were run by resident governors who were members of the Senate and had held the consulship. These men were carefully selected, often having strong records of military success and administrative ability. In Britain, a governor's role was primarily military, but numerous other tasks were also his responsibility, such as maintaining diplomatic relations with local client kings, building roads, ensuring the public courier system functioned, supervising the civitates and acting as a judge in important legal cases. When not campaigning, he would travel the province hearing complaints and recruiting new troops.

 

To assist him in legal matters he had an adviser, the legatus juridicus, and those in Britain appear to have been distinguished lawyers perhaps because of the challenge of incorporating tribes into the imperial system and devising a workable method of taxing them. Financial administration was dealt with by a procurator with junior posts for each tax-raising power. Each legion in Britain had a commander who answered to the governor and, in time of war, probably directly ruled troublesome districts. Each of these commands carried a tour of duty of two to three years in different provinces. Below these posts was a network of administrative managers covering intelligence gathering, sending reports to Rome, organising military supplies and dealing with prisoners. A staff of seconded soldiers provided clerical services.

 

Colchester was probably the earliest capital of Roman Britain, but it was soon eclipsed by London with its strong mercantile connections. The different forms of municipal organisation in Britannia were known as civitas (which were subdivided, amongst other forms, into colonies such as York, Colchester, Gloucester and Lincoln and municipalities such as Verulamium), and were each governed by a senate of local landowners, whether Brythonic or Roman, who elected magistrates concerning judicial and civic affairs. The various civitates sent representatives to a yearly provincial council in order to profess loyalty to the Roman state, to send direct petitions to the Emperor in times of extraordinary need, and to worship the imperial cult.

 

Demographics

Roman Britain had an estimated population between 2.8 million and 3 million people at the end of the second century. At the end of the fourth century, it had an estimated population of 3.6 million people, of whom 125,000 consisted of the Roman army and their families and dependents.[80] The urban population of Roman Britain was about 240,000 people at the end of the fourth century. The capital city of Londinium is estimated to have had a population of about 60,000 people. Londinium was an ethnically diverse city with inhabitants from the Roman Empire, including natives of Britannia, continental Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa. There was also cultural diversity in other Roman-British towns, which were sustained by considerable migration, from Britannia and other Roman territories, including continental Europe, Roman Syria, the Eastern Mediterranean and North Africa. In a study conducted in 2012, around 45 percent of sites investigated dating from the Roman period had at least one individual of North African origin.

 

Town and country

During their occupation of Britain the Romans founded a number of important settlements, many of which survive. The towns suffered attrition in the later 4th century, when public building ceased and some were abandoned to private uses. Place names survived the deurbanised Sub-Roman and early Anglo-Saxon periods, and historiography has been at pains to signal the expected survivals, but archaeology shows that a bare handful of Roman towns were continuously occupied. According to S.T. Loseby, the very idea of a town as a centre of power and administration was reintroduced to England by the Roman Christianising mission to Canterbury, and its urban revival was delayed to the 10th century.

 

Roman towns can be broadly grouped in two categories. Civitates, "public towns" were formally laid out on a grid plan, and their role in imperial administration occasioned the construction of public buildings. The much more numerous category of vici, "small towns" grew on informal plans, often round a camp or at a ford or crossroads; some were not small, others were scarcely urban, some not even defended by a wall, the characteristic feature of a place of any importance.

 

Cities and towns which have Roman origins, or were extensively developed by them are listed with their Latin names in brackets; civitates are marked C

 

Alcester (Alauna)

Alchester

Aldborough, North Yorkshire (Isurium Brigantum) C

Bath (Aquae Sulis) C

Brough (Petuaria) C

Buxton (Aquae Arnemetiae)

Caerleon (Isca Augusta) C

Caernarfon (Segontium) C

Caerwent (Venta Silurum) C

Caister-on-Sea C

Canterbury (Durovernum Cantiacorum) C

Carlisle (Luguvalium) C

Carmarthen (Moridunum) C

Chelmsford (Caesaromagus)

Chester (Deva Victrix) C

Chester-le-Street (Concangis)

Chichester (Noviomagus Reginorum) C

Cirencester (Corinium) C

Colchester (Camulodunum) C

Corbridge (Coria) C

Dorchester (Durnovaria) C

Dover (Portus Dubris)

Exeter (Isca Dumnoniorum) C

Gloucester (Glevum) C

Great Chesterford (the name of this vicus is unknown)

Ilchester (Lindinis) C

Leicester (Ratae Corieltauvorum) C

Lincoln (Lindum Colonia) C

London (Londinium) C

Manchester (Mamucium) C

Newcastle upon Tyne (Pons Aelius)

Northwich (Condate)

St Albans (Verulamium) C

Silchester (Calleva Atrebatum) C

Towcester (Lactodurum)

Whitchurch (Mediolanum) C

Winchester (Venta Belgarum) C

Wroxeter (Viroconium Cornoviorum) C

York (Eboracum) C

 

Religion

The druids, the Celtic priestly caste who were believed to originate in Britain, were outlawed by Claudius, and in 61 they vainly defended their sacred groves from destruction by the Romans on the island of Mona (Anglesey). Under Roman rule the Britons continued to worship native Celtic deities, such as Ancasta, but often conflated with their Roman equivalents, like Mars Rigonemetos at Nettleham.

 

The degree to which earlier native beliefs survived is difficult to gauge precisely. Certain European ritual traits such as the significance of the number 3, the importance of the head and of water sources such as springs remain in the archaeological record, but the differences in the votive offerings made at the baths at Bath, Somerset, before and after the Roman conquest suggest that continuity was only partial. Worship of the Roman emperor is widely recorded, especially at military sites. The founding of a Roman temple to Claudius at Camulodunum was one of the impositions that led to the revolt of Boudica. By the 3rd century, Pagans Hill Roman Temple in Somerset was able to exist peaceably and it did so into the 5th century.

 

Pagan religious practices were supported by priests, represented in Britain by votive deposits of priestly regalia such as chain crowns from West Stow and Willingham Fen.

 

Eastern cults such as Mithraism also grew in popularity towards the end of the occupation. The London Mithraeum is one example of the popularity of mystery religions among the soldiery. Temples to Mithras also exist in military contexts at Vindobala on Hadrian's Wall (the Rudchester Mithraeum) and at Segontium in Roman Wales (the Caernarfon Mithraeum).

 

Christianity

It is not clear when or how Christianity came to Britain. A 2nd-century "word square" has been discovered in Mamucium, the Roman settlement of Manchester. It consists of an anagram of PATER NOSTER carved on a piece of amphora. There has been discussion by academics whether the "word square" is a Christian artefact, but if it is, it is one of the earliest examples of early Christianity in Britain. The earliest confirmed written evidence for Christianity in Britain is a statement by Tertullian, c. 200 AD, in which he described "all the limits of the Spains, and the diverse nations of the Gauls, and the haunts of the Britons, inaccessible to the Romans, but subjugated to Christ". Archaeological evidence for Christian communities begins to appear in the 3rd and 4th centuries. Small timber churches are suggested at Lincoln and Silchester and baptismal fonts have been found at Icklingham and the Saxon Shore Fort at Richborough. The Icklingham font is made of lead, and visible in the British Museum. A Roman Christian graveyard exists at the same site in Icklingham. A possible Roman 4th-century church and associated burial ground was also discovered at Butt Road on the south-west outskirts of Colchester during the construction of the new police station there, overlying an earlier pagan cemetery. The Water Newton Treasure is a hoard of Christian silver church plate from the early 4th century and the Roman villas at Lullingstone and Hinton St Mary contained Christian wall paintings and mosaics respectively. A large 4th-century cemetery at Poundbury with its east–west oriented burials and lack of grave goods has been interpreted as an early Christian burial ground, although such burial rites were also becoming increasingly common in pagan contexts during the period.

 

The Church in Britain seems to have developed the customary diocesan system, as evidenced from the records of the Council of Arles in Gaul in 314: represented at the council were bishops from thirty-five sees from Europe and North Africa, including three bishops from Britain, Eborius of York, Restitutus of London, and Adelphius, possibly a bishop of Lincoln. No other early sees are documented, and the material remains of early church structures are far to seek. The existence of a church in the forum courtyard of Lincoln and the martyrium of Saint Alban on the outskirts of Roman Verulamium are exceptional. Alban, the first British Christian martyr and by far the most prominent, is believed to have died in the early 4th century (some date him in the middle 3rd century), followed by Saints Julius and Aaron of Isca Augusta. Christianity was legalised in the Roman Empire by Constantine I in 313. Theodosius I made Christianity the state religion of the empire in 391, and by the 5th century it was well established. One belief labelled a heresy by the church authorities — Pelagianism — was originated by a British monk teaching in Rome: Pelagius lived c. 354 to c. 420/440.

 

A letter found on a lead tablet in Bath, Somerset, datable to c. 363, had been widely publicised as documentary evidence regarding the state of Christianity in Britain during Roman times. According to its first translator, it was written in Wroxeter by a Christian man called Vinisius to a Christian woman called Nigra, and was claimed as the first epigraphic record of Christianity in Britain. This translation of the letter was apparently based on grave paleographical errors, and the text has nothing to do with Christianity, and in fact relates to pagan rituals.

 

Environmental changes

The Romans introduced a number of species to Britain, including possibly the now-rare Roman nettle (Urtica pilulifera), said to have been used by soldiers to warm their arms and legs, and the edible snail Helix pomatia. There is also some evidence they may have introduced rabbits, but of the smaller southern mediterranean type. The European rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus) prevalent in modern Britain is assumed to have been introduced from the continent after the Norman invasion of 1066. Box (Buxus sempervirens) is rarely recorded before the Roman period, but becomes a common find in towns and villas

 

Legacy

During their occupation of Britain the Romans built an extensive network of roads which continued to be used in later centuries and many are still followed today. The Romans also built water supply, sanitation and wastewater systems. Many of Britain's major cities, such as London (Londinium), Manchester (Mamucium) and York (Eboracum), were founded by the Romans, but the original Roman settlements were abandoned not long after the Romans left.

 

Unlike many other areas of the Western Roman Empire, the current majority language is not a Romance language, or a language descended from the pre-Roman inhabitants. The British language at the time of the invasion was Common Brittonic, and remained so after the Romans withdrew. It later split into regional languages, notably Cumbric, Cornish, Breton and Welsh. Examination of these languages suggests some 800 Latin words were incorporated into Common Brittonic (see Brittonic languages). The current majority language, English, is based on the languages of the Germanic tribes who migrated to the island from continental Europe

Having seemingly missed the boat on the Hot Wheels Japan Historics premiums which VERY briefly appeared at Smyths Toys along with the equally quickly sold out Door Slammers, I consoled myself by getting a few more Case F goodies from them instead. Hot property when it was first released, this new Nissan Silvia is already becoming much easier to find as most collectors are now waiting for Case G to arrive. Mint and boxed.

A seemingly close call, this FedEx MD-11 was actually a couple hundred feet above the bluff yet. Makes for a pretty dramatic image, though!

 

This is an excellent spot to, well, "spot" approaching aircraft. The bluff effectively blocks out the aircraft's engine noise once passed...all that is left is the sound of vortices generated by the aircraft. At first it's a low rumble (as if a portion of the engines' sound is carried rearward through the vortices...then suddenly a "ripping" like sound occurs as the last of the vortices passes by. Very cool...you gotta try it if in Anchorage!

Seemingly now re-timed to a far more user friendly 1203 departure from Westerleigh, 60092 heads past Grovefield Way, Cheltenham with 6E45 to Humber OR. 25th May 2021.

Seemingly unrelated things! Two handsome jeeps, a children playroom, a Plumeria rubra and Sai Kung Village Association, and they form an interesting scene worthy to sketch.

 

兩部Toyota吉普車、一所幼兒園、加一棵雞蛋花同西貢區同鄉會，再添一點陽光，就係一幅畫。

This seemingly inconspicuous SUV is used as a mobile crime scene laboratory by the portuguese criminal (judicial) police. One of the few vehicles, bought in 1999, usually seen in scenes of violent crimes, murders, suicides and other situations in which forensic identification is required.

Seemingly a lot of TK Maxx stores never got the new Majorette Suzuki Jimny in so I count myself very lucky to have found three! Part of the basic Street Cars series but almost semi-premium next to your average Hot Wheels and Matchbox! Mint and boxed.

Seemingly interested in cameras, but more interested in birds.

 

Seemingly Dara Quilty is The Big Ride Home. Although it could also be Dublin Bus AV 427 which is seen here on route 16 to Dublin Airport. Parnell Square 01/02/2016

A seemingly rare car. Spotted at a school car park, I had to be careful. Only seen a few. I had no idea these were the second generation of the Festiva with a different name.

Seemingly at one time owned by coal merchant Compton of Shaftesbury, this FA45/130 now acts as a livestock transporter

I seemingly have a knack of finding these in other countries. Like a few other cars in this car park, it didn't seem to have moved for a while, and unfortunately the beach opposite this was the most disappointing one I have seen for some time.... Although the nicer beach is about 10 minutes away, I felt the urge to explore down this side of Kos too.

Seemingly ignored by the preoccupied passers-by. (Except by me, stalker of grid girls!)

After seemingly being available exclusively in Toys R Us for a few months the new Hot Wheels Lamborghini series has now become available in many other U.K. retailers who predictably charge a premium for them even though they only cost one Dollar in the States! Admittedly they arn't too expensive and are a welcome distraction from the poor choice of Mainlines we've had to endure over the last few months. This set has a great choice of mainly modern Lamborghinis such as this Reventon roadster which does look particularly stunning especially when clothed in this metallic silver paintwork with contrasting black stripe and blacked out wheels. The majority of my Lamborghini models came from ASDA who normally lead the way in this type of Hot Wheels series. Mint and boxed.

Seemingly a strange name for a 50cc machine. Honda probably thought so too because it was soon to be renamed the C50 after its engine was changed from OHV to OHC.

One of the Honda Cub family of machines that to date has by far the largest production run of any motor vehicle. I don't know what the figures are; to an extent this depends on what exactly one includes as a Cub, and also there are many copies and clones. I'm guessing that it's close to 100 million machines.

This one looked in good unrestored condition and from memory had about 17,000 miles on the clock. There are no DVLA records so it must have been off the road since the early 80's at least. The plate is a Berkshire issue from July 1966.

digital composition

Another seemingly brand new Suntoys casting now appearing in a Revz branded four vehicle set at Smyths Toys. Generic or loosely based on a real vehicle? I truly have no idea! Mint and boxed.

Seemingly unlicensed but definitely one of the best pocket money Matchbox sized models i've ever encountered of an AEC Routemaster. You can thank Welly for such low cost excellence and one I hope they'll maximise with other liveries. Part of a three vehicle set found recently at Home Bargains. Mint and boxed.

youtu.be/rSSgM94sSxQ

Starring Richard Egan, Constance Dowling, Herbert Marshall, John Wengraf, Philip Van Zandt, and William Schallert. Directed by Herbert L. Strock.

When two scientists at a top-secret government installation devoted to space research are killed -- in their own test chamber, seemingly by an experiment gone awry -- Dr. David Sheppard (Richard Egan) is sent out from Washington to investigate. Sheppard mixes easily enough with the somewhat eccentric team of scientists, though he always seems in danger of being distracted by the presence of Joanne Merritt (Constance Dowling), who serves as the aide to the project director Dr. Van Ness (Herbert Marshall) but is, in reality, another security agent. Sheppard is as puzzled as anyone else by the seemingly inexplicable series of events overtaking the installation -- properly operating equipment suddenly undergoing lethal malfunctions, and the radar tracking aircraft that aren't there -- until he puts it together with the operations of NOVAC (Nuclear Operated Variable Automatic Computer), the central brain of the complex. But the mystery deepens when he discovers that NOVAC was shut down during one of the "accidents" -- and even the computer's operators can't account fully for the whereabouts of GOG and MAGOG, the two robots under the computer's control.

"...and then without warning, the machine became a frankenstein of steel," says the sensationalist poster text. This is the third story in Ivan Tors' OSI trilogy. His first "Office of Scientific Investigation" story was Magnetic Monster in early 1953. The second was Riders to the Stars in early '54. With Gog the loose trilogy is complete. Unlike the Star Wars trilogy in which the stories build upon each other, each of the three OSI stories are separate tales which have nothing to do with each other. The common thread is the idea of there being a sort of Science FBI agency whose job it is, is to check out the scientifically strange. In that regard, Tors' OSI is a bit like a foreshadowing of the X-Files TV series, but without any of the New Age paranormal focus.

 

In keeping with the previous two stories, Gog is more of a detective murder mystery movie. Tors was a huge fan of "hard" science, not fanciful fiction fluff, so Gog, like the other two movies, is chock full of reveling in sciencey stuff in an almost geeky way. This reverence for real science keeps things from getting out on shaky limb, as many sci-fi films to. The events are much more plausible, less fantastic.

 

Synopsis

At a secret underground research facility, far out in the desert, scientists working on preparations for a manned space mission, are getting murdered mysteriously. Two agents from the OSI are dispatched to solve the mystery and keep the super secret space station program on track. The scientists are killed in various ways, mostly through equipment malfunctions. The facility director and the agents suspect sabotage. Small transmitter/receiver boxes are found within equipment in different parts of the facility. They suggest that someone on the outside is transmitting in the "malfunctions" in order to kill off the program's scientists. Occasional alarms indicate some flying high intruder, but nothing is clearly found. One of the base's two robots, named Gog, kills another technician while it's mate, Magog, tries to set up an overload within the base's atomic pile. The OSI agents stop Magog with a flame thrower. Meanwhile, interceptor jets scramble and find the highflying spy jet and destroy it with missiles. Once the trouble is past, the Director announces that they will be launching their prototype space station the next day, despite the sabotage attempts to stop it. The End.

  

The time spent reveling in techno-geekery has a certain Popular Science charm to it. There's an evident gee-whiz air about space and defense sciences which is fun to see. People were fascinated with things rockety and atomic. For various fun bits, see the Notes section.

  

Gog oozes Cold War from every frame. First is the base's underground location to make them safe from A-bombs. Next is the mysterious killer trying to stop the space station program. The high-flying mystery plane is "not one of ours." (that leaves: Them, and we all knew who they were.) The space station is to be powered by a solar mirror. Even that benign mirror has sinister possibilities. While demonstrating the mirror, the scientists use it to burn a model of a city. "This could happen...if we're not the first to reach space," says the Director. Space is the next "high ground" to be contested. At the end of the movie, when discussing the launch (despite the sabotage attempt) of the prototype space station, the Director says, "Through it's eye, we'll be able to see everything that goes on upon this tired old earth." The Defense Secretary says, "Nothing will take us by surprise again." An obvious reference to Pearl Harbor.

 

B-films often re-used props and sets from prior films in order to save on their budgets. Gog, even though shot in Eastman Color, was no exception. Two old prop friends show up in Gog. One is our venerable old friend, the space suits from Destination Moon ('50). Look for the centrifuge scene. The research assistants are dressed in them, and as an added bonus, they wear the all-acrylic fish bowl helmets used in Abbot and Costello Go to Mars ('53). Our second old friend is scene in the radar / security room, (the one with the annoying tuning fork device). Check out the monitor wall. It's been gussied up a bit, but it is the spaceship control panel wall from Catwomen of the Moon and Project Moon Base -- complete with the empty 16mm film reels on the right side. It's fun to see old friends.

 

B-films often include stock footage of military units, tanks, jets, battleships, etc. to fill things out. Gog is no different, and even commits the common continuity error of showing one type of plane taking off, but a different kind in the air.

 

What amounts to a small treat amid the usual stock footage of jets, some shots of a rather obscure bit of USAF hardware -- the F-94C Starfire with its straight wings and huge wing tanks. In 1954, the Starfire was one of America's coolest combat jets, yet we hear little about it. The swept-wing F-86 Sabers (which we see taxiing and taking off) were the agile fighter which gained fame over Korea. They're common stock footage stars. The F-94, with its onboard radar (in the nose cone) was deemed too advanced to risk falling into enemy hands. So, it didn't see much action , and therefore little fame. The heavier, yet powerful F-94C (one of the first US jets to have an afterburner) was 1954 America's hottest Interceptor -- designed to stop high flying Soviet bombers. It's blatant cameo appearance in Gog, intercepting the high-flying mystery plane, was a fun little bit of patriotic showing off.

 

The very name of the movie, Gog, is charged with meaning to American audiences of the mid 50s, though virtually lost on viewers of the 21st century. The names of the two robots, Gog and Magog, come from the Bible. More specifically, from the prophecies of Ezekiel (Chapter 38) and the Book of Revelation (chapter 20). While just who they are (nations? kings?) has been debated for centuries, their role as tools of Satan in the battle of Armageddon is clear. Mainstream American patriotic Christendom had settled on the idea that the Soviet Union was the prophesied "nations from the north" who would join Satan to oppose God. This gives the title of the movie a special Cold War significance. It also puts an interesting spin on the Dr. Zeitman character for having named the two robots in the first place. Since they were tools of the mega-computer NOVAC, what was he saying about NOVAC?

 

It is interesting that the base's radar could not detect the mystery plane (which was beaming in the 'kill' instructions to NOVAC) because it was made of "fiberglass" which rendered it invisible to radar. Now, fiberglass itself isn't sturdy enough for high-speed jets, and it would take until the 1990s before composite materials advanced to make the dream of a stealth aircraft a reality. Nonetheless, the dream (or nightmare) of stealth aircraft was on-screen in 1954 in Gog.

 

The super computer, NOVAC, controlled everything on the base. Even though the machines were not really killing scientists on their own, but following human orders from the mystery plane, there was the on-screen depiction of machines having a murderous mind of their own. (all pre-Steven King) In the techno starry-eyed 50s, it was fairly uncommon for the technology itself to be turning on its masters. This idea would gain traction later in the 50s, and especially in the 60s, but in '54, it was unusual.

 

A cautionary subtext to Gog is the danger of trusting in a supercomputer to manage defenses and a whole base. NOVAC doesn't go bad on its own, as the computer will in The Invisible Boy, Hal in 2001 or Colossus in The Forbin Project. In this movie, it was the nefarious "others" who hacked into NOVAC to make it do the killing, but this just demonstrates the danger. People were getting a little nervous about letting machines take over too much responsibility. We were starting to distrust our creations.

 

Until Gog, robots were fairly humanoid.

 

They had two legs, two arms, a torso and a head. Audiences had seen the mechanical Maria in Metropolis ('27), the fedora-wearing metal men in Gene Autrey's Phantom Empire serial ('35). The water-heater-like Republic robot appeared in several rocketman serials. There was the gleaming giant Gort in The Day the Earth Stood Still ('51) and the cute left over fedora-dudes in Captain Video ('51). The metal giant in Devil Girl from Mars ('54) was also humaniod, in a chunky way. Gog and Magog were a departure from the stereotype. They were noticeably in-human, which was part of the mood.

 

Bottom line? Gog seems a bit bland, as far as sci-fi tends to go, but it has a lot in it for fans of 50s sci-fi.

 

Ralph* is a 28-year-old student and police officer in the Gok area of the Greater Lakes region.

But there is something wrong in this seemingly promising picture of a gainfully employed young man making progress in life. About a week ago, Ralph began to serve a six-month-long prison sentence in Cueibet. The young bachelor was caught committing adultery.

As another two men were involved in this unlawful sexual encounter, the customary fine for adultery, seven cows (paid to the woman’s husband), was divided among the culprits, with Ralph requested to provide three of the bovines due.

“I could only afford two cows, so now I’ll be here in prison for the next six months,” Ralph says, adding that finding a wife of his own would probably have been a better idea.

The latter admission elicits howls of laughter amongst a group of fellow inmates and a couple of prison wardens surrounding us.

Considering the dire conditions of those forced to spend time at the Cueibet Prison, the predominantly male prisoners are jovial and in good spirits. Ralph, who has been a police officer for four years, is hopeful of a successful return to his work, and to his community.

“I’ll use myself as a warning example. What happened to me, as a police officer, will show people that nobody is above the law.”

The prison in Cueibet, recently renovated by the United Nations Mission in South Sudan as part of its Quick Impact Project programme, holds more than 200 male and juvenile inmates and nine women.

Some 120 of them are crammed into two cells in a building measuring approximately 120 square metres in total. The no-frills structure (bare walls and a roof) was intended for 30-50 inmates, which goes to show that, with its current population, swinging a cat about is hardly an option. Another 100 or so prisoners inhabit a similar abode, with the nine women enjoying a comparatively spacious hut.

Yet, conditions used to be worse. The UNMISS-funded renovation included fitting windows (with bars) onto the cell walls.

“At least now we can breathe and not worry about suffocating or picking up respiratory diseases from each other,” one relieved inmate says.

Serving one meal a day, a late 3 pm lunch, offering no leisure or educational activities and with fourteen hours a day (from eight in the morning till six in the evening) spent inside, a night at Cueibet prison is still not likely to feature on anyone’s bucket list anytime soon.

The precarious facilities may offer an insight as to why a number of inmates have wanted, and successfully attempted, to make a dash for freedom. They have managed to escape despite the inclusion of a two-metre-tall fence, topped with a bit of barbed wire, in the Quick Impact Project renovation, and despite the eleven armed and watchful prison wardens lurking on the outside of the perimeter.

“This prison needs a higher fence, actually a high, proper wall,” Ralph says, with his peers behind bars voicing their agreement.

Prison Director Ambrose Marpel pinpoints the problem:

“The people of this area are Nilotic. They are very tall and can jump very high,” he says, adding that two prisoners escaped just a couple of days before our visit.

Overly congested cells, not enough food, insalubrious sanitary conditions, a lack of sports or other available outdoor activities and the absence of possibilities to use their time in prison to learn a new vocation are all items featuring on the inmates’ long list of grievances.

“Prisoners need to pick up new skills, like carpentry or something similarly useful, to prepare themselves for their return to civilian life. The rehabilitation part of being imprisoned is very important,” Ralph stresses.

Other, primarily younger, inmates miss being able to study, and want to go back to school.

Chol*, an 18-year-old boy, is one of them.

“I have to go back to school, because I want to become a politician and work in the local government in my area,” he says.

There is a hitch, however: Chol has been sentenced to capital punishment for murder.

A group of other prisoners approach us with a different kind of problem. Displaying a variety of skin rashes and vigorously scratching their genitalia, they are unhappy with the hygienic standards of their seemingly infection-infested ablution units.

“We want them to bring doctors to circumcise us. This will help us keep diseases away, as we share the same urinals,” one inmate believes.

According to Isaac Mayom Malek, minister of local government, better times lie ahead for those in captivity, with both sports activities and vocational trainings being considered.

“Insecurity was our biggest problem in the area. Now that we have peace, many government programmes will be implemented, including activities for the prisoners who are here,” he says, admitting that he does not, as of yet, have a time frame for this to happen.

“We have talked to doctors and they are organizing to come here to circumcise everyone who wants it done,” adds Mr. Marpel, commenting that two inmates underwent the procedure during the last medical visit to the prison.

The incarceration facilities in Cueibet hold a number of people on remand, charged with but not convicted of murder and other serious offences. Some of them have been here for more than two years without appearing before a judge, and they share a sentiment of “justice delayed is justice denied”.

The root cause of these extended detentions is that, till August this year, Cueibet did not have the kind of high court needed to try these cases.

 

Photo: UNMISS / Tonny Muwangala

 

Seemingly laid up Belgian 306. A high spec prefacelift from the look of it and in a well-used condition. Plates were of note: old style BWE-486 on the front, new style 01-BWE-486 on the back.

 

A local oddity.

  

Some City churches seem to be open, if not all the time, then frequently. But others rarely seem to open their doors to visitors. Then there are those who seemingly don't want anyone to see inside their wonderful buildings. Which is more than a shame, really. These houses of God should be for everyone, not just the custodians.

 

Saying that, I must take another opportunity to thank The Friends of the City churches, and the time given by their volunteers who give up their time to ensure that these are open at least one day a week.

 

So, in the past two years, I think I have visited all of the churches that they are keyholders for, and so without this fine organisation, I would not have seen inside many of them.

 

St Benet's is open between 11:00 and 15:00 on Thursdays, and despite wondering whether it would be open as advertised, the greeters assured me it is open each and every Thursday.

 

St Benet's is unique in that I think I am right in saying that it is the only City Wren church that survived the Blitz undamaged. In which case, Wren would reconise this church, over all others he helped rebuild after the great fire in 1666.

 

It is now situated tucked in the corner of an off ramp of Queen Victoria Street, and the pedestrian has to walk through an unwelcoming subway to get to the door, which on this occasion was open.

 

I was greeted warmly, and given a tour of the history of the church, plus tips on visiting other churches. A wonderful visit and a fine church.

 

----------------------------------------------------

 

The Church of St Benet Paul's Wharf is a Welsh Anglican church in the City of London. Since 1556, it has also been the official church of the College of Arms in which many officers of arms have been buried. In 1666 it was destroyed in the Great Fire of London, after which it was rebuilt and merged with nearby St Peter's. The current church was designed by Sir Christopher Wren.[1] It is one of only four churches in the City of London to escape damage during World War II.

 

St. Benet's traces its history back to the year 1111, when a church was built on the site and dedicated to St Benedict. Over time the name was abbreviated to St. Benet. To the west of the site was the watergate of Baynard's Castle, which is referenced in the biographies of Queen Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey. Both the church and the castle were destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666. It was rebuilt by the architect Christopher Wren, and reopened in 1683.

  

St Benet Paul's Wharf, London, taken from the top of nearby St Paul's Cathedral. Visible behind the church is the City of London School.

On 2 March 1706, Henrietta Hobart married Charles Howard, 9th Earl of Suffolk, a captain in the 6th (Inniskilling) Dragoons there. (Henrietta Howard subsequently became mistress to the future King George II.)[2]

 

The church was narrowly saved from destruction in the late 19th century, when its parish was merged with that of St Nicholas Cole Abbey. After an energetic campaign by its supporters, it was preserved and reconsecrated in 1879 as the London Church of the Church in Wales.[3] It is now the City's Welsh church, with services conducted in Welsh.[4]

 

In 2008 the church was closed for a few months due to a "dwindling congregation"[5] but reopened in time for the carol service in December that year. Welsh services are held weekly on Sundays at 11 a.m and 3.30 p.m and the church can be toured on Thursdays between 11 a.m and 3 p.m.

 

The church is of dark red brick, with alternate courses of Portland stone at the corners. The tower is situated to the north-west of the nave and is capped by a small lead dome, lantern and simple short spire.

 

The interior is almost a square. Unusually for a Wren church, the ceiling is flat rather than domed or curved. The north gallery was formerly used by the Doctors' Commons, and is now used by the College of Arms. Most of the original 17th century furnishings are still intact, including the magnificent altar table, reredos and pulpit, designed by Grinling Gibbons. The lectern and baptismal font are also original.[7]

 

The galleries are supported by Corinthian columns. There is a memorial to Inigo Jones, who was buried in the previous church, and a medallion bust of Sir Robert Wyseman, a benefactor of St Benet's who died in 1684.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Benet%27s,_Paul%27s_Wharf

 

A church has been on this site since 1111. Destroyed in the Great Fire, the present church was built by Wren and Hooke (possibly owing more to the latter) between 1677 and 1683. It was one of only four Wren churches to escape damage in the Second Word War but was vandalised in 1971: repaired and reopened in 1973. It has a long-standing connection with the College of Arms across the road. Also since 1879 the church has accommodated the Welsh Episcopalian congregation in London. It is therefore sometimes known as “the Welsh church”, though that is a misnomer. Paul’s Wharf was the wharf on the Thames from which stone and other building materials were conveyed for the Wren reconstruction of St Paul’s cathedral.

 

www.london-city-churches.org.uk/Churches/StBenetPaulsWhar...

 

There has been a church on this site, dedicated to St Benet (or Benedict), since the Twelfth Century.

 

Shakespeare refers to it in Twelfth Night: Feste, the Clown asking Duke Orsino to add a third to the two coins he is offering reminds him: “...the bells of St Bennet, sir, may put you in mind -– one, two, three.”

 

In the Sixteenth Century, because the watergate of Baynard’s Castle was close by, both Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey may have received the last rites at St Benet on their way to execution at the Tower. The River Thames was, of course, an important thoroughfare at the time and the unlucky women could have completed their journey by boat.

 

St Benet is the only unaltered Wren church in the City. All but four were damaged in the Second World War and the other three either suffered the effects of an IRA bomb or have been restored.

 

The royal connection continued with Charles II having a special door at the side of the building and a private room from which he could take part in services. The Stuart arms can be seen above the west door marking the vantage point from which the king observed proceedings below.

 

Until 1867 St Benet was the parish church of Doctors Commons, a legal institution which, among its other activities, could provide facilities for hasty marriages. There is a record, for instance, of some 1300 weddings taking place in one year alone in the Eighteenth Century.

 

In 1747, Henry Fielding, the author of Tom Jones, Joseph Andrews and Shamela, married his second wife here.

 

In 1879 Queen Victoria removes St Benet from the list of churches to be demolished and grants the use of the church to the Welsh Anglicans for services.

 

The Officers of the College of Arms still have their own seats in St Benet’s and their personal banners hang from the gallery together with that of the Duke of Norfolk. At least 25 Officers are buried here.

 

In the 1870s the church was regarded as redundant and scheduled for demolition. Eminent Welsh Anglicans petitioned Queen Victoria to be allowed to use the building for services in Welsh. In 1879, Her Majesty granted the right to hold Welsh services here in perpetuity and this has continued ever since, with a service each Sunday morning.

 

In 1954, in the reorganisation of the City churches and parishes, St Benet became one of the City Guild churches as well as the Metropolitan Welsh Church.

   

The eminent composer Meirion Williams was the church organist in the 1960s and 1970s. As well as a Mass, Missa Cambrensis, he wrote a number of other works, including songs which are particular favourites of contemporary Welsh opera singers.

 

In 1971 a fire started by a vagrant damaged the north side of the church. During the repair work, necessitated mainly by smoke and heat damage, the Nineteenth Century organ was moved and rebuilt in its present (and original) position in the west gallery. When the church was reopened in May 1973, the congregation received a message from the Prince of Wales and trumpeters from the Royal Welsh Regiment blew a fanfare in celebration.

 

Today, the growing congregation at St Benet's remains committed to making known the good news of Jesus afresh to the current generation of the Welsh in London.

  

www.stbenetwelshchurch.org.uk/pages/historyENG.html

Seemingly uninhabited, but this resembles many dwellings in Alice Springs & Outback Australia. No one should have to live this way. Every successive government has a solution to the problem. Each & every time the solution is the same, throw more money at it & hope it goes away.

 

Of course there are numerous point of views in relation to this problem, who is the cause & who is responsible to find a resolution. I'll refrain from publishing my opinions or proportioning blame here.

 

But what I will say is, children, regardless or race or background should not have to live in these conditions. Mr Rudd & Mr Abott (who recently visited here), stop burying your head in the sand & fix the bloody problem

 

Considering the amount of MY/OUR money that was embezzeled through ATSIC & the corruption that existed within. I think it's due time that we saw a return on our investments. Start representing your constituents, stop the theatrical bickering for five minutes & work together at resolving the biggest blight on our society.

 

Note: the 'blight on our society' is equally shared between the appalling conditions that Indigenous Australians live in & the waste of tax payers funds that have been squandered. Only to see the situation worsen.

A seemingly random look at a CD display... but actually, this was me trying to capture the differences in price tags. Late last year, Target implemented new price cut and other tags that are slimmer, feature a different font, and stick on the display rather than having to be inserted like the older, bulkier ones. The old price tags are the ones with the half-circle jutting out; the new ones are, well, the ones that don't have the half-circle!

 

TUESDAY – more cookbook ad uploads!

 

(c) 2015 Retail Retell

These places are public so these photos are too, but just as I tell where they came from, I'd appreciate if you'd say who :)

Seemingly out of place, out there on the pier...

Ralph* is a 28-year-old student and police officer in the Gok area of the Greater Lakes region.

But there is something wrong in this seemingly promising picture of a gainfully employed young man making progress in life. About a week ago, Ralph began to serve a six-month-long prison sentence in Cueibet. The young bachelor was caught committing adultery.

As another two men were involved in this unlawful sexual encounter, the customary fine for adultery, seven cows (paid to the woman’s husband), was divided among the culprits, with Ralph requested to provide three of the bovines due.

“I could only afford two cows, so now I’ll be here in prison for the next six months,” Ralph says, adding that finding a wife of his own would probably have been a better idea.

The latter admission elicits howls of laughter amongst a group of fellow inmates and a couple of prison wardens surrounding us.

Considering the dire conditions of those forced to spend time at the Cueibet Prison, the predominantly male prisoners are jovial and in good spirits. Ralph, who has been a police officer for four years, is hopeful of a successful return to his work, and to his community.

“I’ll use myself as a warning example. What happened to me, as a police officer, will show people that nobody is above the law.”

The prison in Cueibet, recently renovated by the United Nations Mission in South Sudan as part of its Quick Impact Project programme, holds more than 200 male and juvenile inmates and nine women.

Some 120 of them are crammed into two cells in a building measuring approximately 120 square metres in total. The no-frills structure (bare walls and a roof) was intended for 30-50 inmates, which goes to show that, with its current population, swinging a cat about is hardly an option. Another 100 or so prisoners inhabit a similar abode, with the nine women enjoying a comparatively spacious hut.

Yet, conditions used to be worse. The UNMISS-funded renovation included fitting windows (with bars) onto the cell walls.

“At least now we can breathe and not worry about suffocating or picking up respiratory diseases from each other,” one relieved inmate says.

Serving one meal a day, a late 3 pm lunch, offering no leisure or educational activities and with fourteen hours a day (from eight in the morning till six in the evening) spent inside, a night at Cueibet prison is still not likely to feature on anyone’s bucket list anytime soon.

The precarious facilities may offer an insight as to why a number of inmates have wanted, and successfully attempted, to make a dash for freedom. They have managed to escape despite the inclusion of a two-metre-tall fence, topped with a bit of barbed wire, in the Quick Impact Project renovation, and despite the eleven armed and watchful prison wardens lurking on the outside of the perimeter.

“This prison needs a higher fence, actually a high, proper wall,” Ralph says, with his peers behind bars voicing their agreement.

Prison Director Ambrose Marpel pinpoints the problem:

“The people of this area are Nilotic. They are very tall and can jump very high,” he says, adding that two prisoners escaped just a couple of days before our visit.

Overly congested cells, not enough food, insalubrious sanitary conditions, a lack of sports or other available outdoor activities and the absence of possibilities to use their time in prison to learn a new vocation are all items featuring on the inmates’ long list of grievances.

“Prisoners need to pick up new skills, like carpentry or something similarly useful, to prepare themselves for their return to civilian life. The rehabilitation part of being imprisoned is very important,” Ralph stresses.

Other, primarily younger, inmates miss being able to study, and want to go back to school.

Chol*, an 18-year-old boy, is one of them.

“I have to go back to school, because I want to become a politician and work in the local government in my area,” he says.

There is a hitch, however: Chol has been sentenced to capital punishment for murder.

A group of other prisoners approach us with a different kind of problem. Displaying a variety of skin rashes and vigorously scratching their genitalia, they are unhappy with the hygienic standards of their seemingly infection-infested ablution units.

“We want them to bring doctors to circumcise us. This will help us keep diseases away, as we share the same urinals,” one inmate believes.

According to Isaac Mayom Malek, minister of local government, better times lie ahead for those in captivity, with both sports activities and vocational trainings being considered.

“Insecurity was our biggest problem in the area. Now that we have peace, many government programmes will be implemented, including activities for the prisoners who are here,” he says, admitting that he does not, as of yet, have a time frame for this to happen.

“We have talked to doctors and they are organizing to come here to circumcise everyone who wants it done,” adds Mr. Marpel, commenting that two inmates underwent the procedure during the last medical visit to the prison.

The incarceration facilities in Cueibet hold a number of people on remand, charged with but not convicted of murder and other serious offences. Some of them have been here for more than two years without appearing before a judge, and they share a sentiment of “justice delayed is justice denied”.

The root cause of these extended detentions is that, till August this year, Cueibet did not have the kind of high court needed to try these cases.

 

Photo: UNMISS / Tonny Muwangala

 

Seemingly quite a rare trim level these days, and one that has thinned out rapidly in the past few years. In all honesty though, in the areas I look around, the Sierra is still a fairly easy find, but only the late ones seem to be abundent in any way now, even the diesels are nigh on impossible to spot. This looked mega sun bleached, but is happily still on the road at the moment, an undesirable model like this though is a long way off from an appreciating value however.

Seemingly anything goes in this classy Blackpool Bed and Breakfast:-

 

Footballers

 

Contractors

 

Stag-Dos

 

Hen Parties

 

Single Sex Parties

 

Families

In seemingly fine condition, and living at a retirement home as you might expect! A first gen mid-'80s model, and not a curve to be found above the wheel arches.

Seemingly about to leapfrog over the TMS bus in front.

Middlesborough, 4th July 1995.

16459! I've seemingly often looked up this bus, and always found that was still on loan to Norfolk Green. Then in December it was announced on SKM that it was back at Kettering. And in January it was in the main fleet to cover for 18105. It was only a matter of time before it would turn up on the 39, like here on the 17th of January, 2015.

 

I also briefly met John Abbott/John's Transport Photos when this was taken.

Seemingly there is still a once a year bus service registered from the City Centre to Hazlehead Park.

 

Service 15A runs for the duration of the Highland Games only and has run since 2007 on a 30 minute frequency from 934am to 504pm.

 

It did run this year with B9TL 37634 but as no one seems to have produced a 2011 display it just ran with Woodend 14 and with no timetable or publicity it ran empty when I saw it. Had I clocked what it was at the time I might have made my way up to Hazlehead to get a shot of it in the old terminus. Maybe 2012...

The events that raise a welt in my experience of life are sometimes seemingly trivial. Being a parent seems impossible because it is a necessary part of life that one's child gets hurt and that the parent will be the cause and that the cause might be seemingly trivial and that the child might remember it forever. The big, nontrivial injuries are what I am sure parents try to avoid and still they happen too. Bad things happen. Rents in the fabric. Often the little things take a turn for the worse...

 

Eventually a terminally bad thing happens. Today one of my patients died. He was very sick and was sick from the moment I met him. The little aching in his gut, the stomach ache, took on a life of its own. It changed from an annoyance to being his only sensory input, within hours. Before he could really understand what was happening, he fell out, collapsed. He had perforated an ulcer in stomach and leaked out liters of dilute acid into his abdominal cavity. We operated on him twice in 24 hours, an entire team of physicians and nurses came to his aid, to help. His kidneys shut down and we gave him emergency dialysis; his lungs stopped exhaling and we placed him on a ventilator; his heart gave out and we gave him epinephrine in his IV; etc. We never got him even close to coming back around. The shock took him.

 

One definition of shock, penned in the 1800's by Samuel Gross, is "the rude unhinging of the machinery of life". I read that when I was a third year medical student and I have thought of it often. It is the best definition of shock I know. All the processes come unglued, the wheels are off. If we catch shock early it is often reversible, but there comes a point at which the rent is too deep, the unhinging. At that point, nothing works.

 

Standing at the bedside of a patient in this place is lonely business even though I have never stood alone at this kind of bedside. There are always many people around. We are all working, but I know that we are also all feeling the pull of the drain as the patient circles. We know what is coming and we remain silent in the knowing, we keep doing. In those moments, just being is too hard. We cling to our own lives while we helplessly watch another's simply end. For the first decade or two of a career in medicine, this also happens unconsciously.

 

As I have gained experience as a surgeon and as a person, I see my role differently in these moments. As soon as I have that tug of the rope's end in my own gut, I stop. I find the family and I tell them everything. Earlier we have talked and they already know that things are grim and I have told them about the possibilities, options etc. That is one conversation. The conversation I am talking about now has far fewer words. This conversation involves walking with them to the edge of a cliff and holding their belt while they lean over. The family is cursed with the same blood as the dying person. The vibration of the unhinging is rattling in them palpably. I can feel it. My job is to be. there. with them. I must have enough of me to be at their side, not talk them out of it and stop giving them hope of a different reality. If I don't let them honestly have the feeling of that moment, they don't get the understanding they need to let the person go in peace. If I help them look over the cliff, they find a way to say goodbye and even more miraculously, they usually find a way to not jump.

 

www.bendlight.me

Seemingly conscious of self-awareness, this tattered pearl crescent butterfly has mastered the art of camouflage. Boylston, MA.

a sage (seemingly) clearing the water to take a dip in the holy river Godavari in Parnasala near Bhadrachalam, an important pilgrimage center in the state of Andhra Pradesh, India. It is located in the very picturesque Dandakaranya forest.

 

I am a little unhappy about the composition, but I nevertheless posted it for my own sake. Comments/brickbats most welcome!

Benjamin Jonson (c. 11 June 1572 – 6 August 1637) was an English Renaissance dramatist, poet and actor. A contemporary of William Shakespeare, he is best known for his satirical plays, particularly Volpone, The Alchemist, and Bartholomew Fair, which are considered his best, and his lyric poems. A man of vast reading and a seemingly insatiable appetite for controversy, Jonson had an unparalleled breadth of influence on Jacobean and Caroline playwrights and poets.

 

Although he was born in Westminster, London, Jonson claimed his family was of Scottish Border country descent, and this claim may have been supported by the fact that his coat of arms bears three spindles or rhombi, a device shared by a Borders family, the Johnstones of Annandale. His father died a month before Ben's birth, and his mother remarried two years later, to a master bricklayer. Jonson attended school in St. Martin's Lane, and was later sent to Westminster School, where one of his teachers was William Camden. Jonson remained friendly with Camden, whose broad scholarship evidently influenced his own style, until the latter's death in 1623. On leaving, Jonson was once thought to have gone on to the University of Cambridge; Jonson himself said that he did not go to university, but was put to a trade immediately: a legend recorded by Fuller indicates that he worked on a garden wall in Lincoln's Inn. He soon had enough of the trade, probably bricklaying, and spent some time in the Low Countries as a volunteer with the regiments of Francis Vere. In conversations with the poet William Drummond, subsequently published as the Hawthornden Manuscripts, Jonson reports that while in the Netherlands he killed an opponent in single combat and stripped him of his weapons.[1]

 

Ben Jonson married, some time before 1594, a woman he described to Drummond as "a shrew, yet honest." His wife has not been definitively identified, but she is sometimes identified as the Ann Lewis who married a Benjamin Jonson at St Magnus-the-Martyr, near London Bridge. The registers of St. Martin's Church state that his eldest daughter Mary died in November, 1593, when she was only six months old. His eldest son Benjamin died of the plague ten years later (Jonson's epitaph to him On My First Sonne was written shortly after), and a second Benjamin died in 1635. For five years somewhere in this period, Jonson lived separately from his wife, enjoying instead the hospitality of Lord Aubigny.

 

By the summer of 1597, Jonson had a fixed engagement in the Admiral's Men, then performing under Philip Henslowe's management at The Rose. John Aubrey reports, on uncertain authority, that Jonson was not successful as an actor; whatever his skills as an actor, he was evidently more valuable to the company as a writer.

 

By this time, Jonson had begun to write original plays for the Lord Admiral's Men; in 1598, he was mentioned by Francis Meres in his Palladis Tamia as one of "the best for tragedy." None of his early tragedies survive, however. An undated comedy, The Case is Altered, may be his earliest surviving play.

 

In 1597, a play co-written with Thomas Nashe entitled The Isle of Dogs was suppressed after causing great offence. Arrest warrants for Jonson and Nashe were subsequently issued by Elizabeth's so-called interrogator, Richard Topcliffe. Jonson was jailed in Marshalsea Prison and famously charged with "Leude and mutynous behavior", while Nashe managed to escape to Great Yarmouth. A year later, Jonson was again briefly imprisoned, this time in Newgate Prison, for killing another man, an actor Gabriel Spenser, in a duel on 22 September 1598 in Hogsden Fields,[1] (today part of Hoxton). Tried on a charge of manslaughter, Jonson pleaded guilty but was subsequently released by benefit of clergy, a legal ploy through which he gained leniency by reciting a brief bible verse in Latin, forfeiting his 'goods and chattels' and being branded on his left thumb.[2]

 

In 1598, Jonson produced his first great success, Every Man in his Humour, capitalising on the vogue for humour plays that had been begun by George Chapman with An Humorous Day's Mirth. William Shakespeare was among the first cast. This play was followed the next year by Every Man Out of His Humour, a pedantic attempt to imitate Aristophanes. It is not known whether this was a success on stage, but when published, it proved popular and went through several editions.

 

Jonson's other work for the theater in the last years of Elizabeth I's reign was unsurprisingly marked by fighting and controversy. Cynthia's Revels was produced by the Children of the Chapel Royal at Blackfriars Theatre in 1600. It satirized both John Marston, who Jonson believed had accused him of lustfulness, probably in Histrio-Mastix, and Thomas Dekker, against whom Jonson's animus is not known. Jonson attacked the same two poets again in 1601's Poetaster. Dekker responded with Satiromastix, subtitled "the untrussing of the humorous poet". The final scene of this play, whilst certainly not to be taken at face value as a portrait of Jonson, offers a caricature that is recognisable from Drummond's report - boasting about himself and condemning other poets, criticising performances of his plays, and calling attention to himself in any available way.

 

This "War of the Theatres" appears to have been concluded with reconciliation on all sides. Jonson collaborated with Dekker on a pageant welcoming James I to England in 1603 although Drummond reports that Jonson called Dekker a rogue. Marston dedicated The Malcontent to Jonson and the two collaborated with Chapman on Eastward Ho, a 1605 play whose anti-Scottish sentiment landed both authors in jail for a brief time.

 

At the beginning of the reign of James I of England in 1603 Jonson joined other poets and playwrights in welcoming the reign of the new king. Jonson quickly adapted himself to the additional demand for masques and entertainments introduced with the new reign and fostered by both the king and his consort Anne of Denmark.

 

Jonson flourished as a dramatist during the first decade or so of James's reign; by 1616, he had produced all the plays on which his reputation as a dramatist depends. These include the tragedy of Catiline (acted and printed 1611), which achieved only limited success, and the comedies Volpone, (acted 1605 and printed in 1607), Epicoene, or the Silent Woman (1609), The Alchemist (1610), Bartholomew Fair (1614) and The Devil is an Ass (1616). The Alchemist and Volpone appear to have been successful at once. Of Epicoene, Jonson told Drummond of a satirical verse which reported that the play's subtitle was appropriate, since its audience had refused to applaud the play (i.e., remained silent). Yet Epicoene, along with Bartholomew Fair and (to a lesser extent) The Devil is an Ass have in modern times achieved a certain degree of recognition. While his life during this period was apparently more settled than it had been in the 1590s, his financial security was still not assured. In 1603, Overbury reported that Jonson was living on Aurelian Townsend and "scorning the world."

 

His trouble with English authorities continued. In 1603, he was questioned by the Privy Council about Sejanus, a politically-themed play about corruption in the Roman Empire. He was again in trouble for topical allusions in a play, now lost, in which he took part. After the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot, he appears to have been asked by the Privy Council to attempt to prevail on a certain priest to cooperate with the government; the priest he found was Father Thomas Wright, who heard Fawkes's confession(Teague, 249).

 

At the same time, Jonson pursued a more prestigious career as a writer of masques for James' court. The Satyr (1603) and The Masque of Blackness (1605) are but two of the some two dozen masques Jonson wrote for James or for Queen Anne; the latter was praised by Swinburne as the consummate example of this now-extinct genre, which mingled speech, dancing, and spectacle. On many of these projects he collaborated, not always peacefully, with designer Inigo Jones. Perhaps partly as a result of this new career, Jonson gave up writing plays for the public theaters for a decade. Jonson later told Drummond that he had made less than two hundred pounds on all his plays together.

 

1616 saw a pension of 100 marks (about £60) a year conferred upon him, leading some to identify him as England's first Poet Laureate. This sign of royal favour may have encouraged him to publish the first volume of the folio collected edition of his works that year. Other volumes followed in 1640–41 and 1692. [See: Ben Jonson folios.]

 

In 1618, Ben Jonson set out for his ancestral Scotland on foot. He spent over a year there, and the best-remembered hospitality which he enjoyed was that of the Scottish poet, Drummond of Hawthornden. Drummond undertook to record as much of Jonson's conversation as he could in his diary, and thus recorded aspects of Jonson's personality that would otherwise have been less clearly seen. Jonson delivers his opinions, in Drummond's terse reporting, in an expansive and even magisterial mood. In the postscript added by Drummond, he is described as "a great lover and praiser of himself, a contemner and scorner of others".

 

While in Scotland, he was made an honorary citizen of Edinburgh. On returning to England, he was awarded an honorary Master of Arts degree from Oxford University.

 

The period between 1605 and 1620 may be viewed as Jonson's heyday. In addition to his popularity on the public stage and in the royal hall, he enjoyed the patronage of aristocrats such as Elizabeth Sidney (daughter of Sir Philip Sidney) and Lady Mary Wroth. This connection with the Sidney family provided the impetus for one of Jonson's most famous lyrics, the country house poem To Penshurst.

 

The 1620s began a lengthy and slow decline for Jonson. He was still well-known; from this time dates the prominence of the Sons of Ben or the "Tribe of Ben", those younger poets such as Robert Herrick, Richard Lovelace, and Sir John Suckling who took their bearing in verse from Jonson. However, a series of setbacks drained his strength and damaged his reputation.

 

Jonson returned to writing regular plays in the 1620s, but these are not considered among his best. They are of significant interest for the study of the culture of Charles I's England. The Staple of News, for example, offers a remarkable look at the earliest stage of English journalism. The lukewarm reception given that play was, however, nothing compared to the dismal failure of The New Inn; the cold reception given this play prompted Jonson to write a poem condemning his audience (the Ode to Myself), which in turn prompted Thomas Carew, one of the "Tribe of Ben," to respond in a poem that asks Jonson to recognize his own decline.[3]

 

The principal factor in Jonson's partial eclipse was, however, the death of James and the accession of King Charles I in 1625. Justly or not, Jonson felt neglected by the new court. A decisive quarrel with Jones harmed his career as a writer of court masques, although he continued to entertain the court on an irregular basis. For his part, Charles displayed a certain degree of care for the great poet of his father's day: he increased Jonson's annual pension to £100 and included a tierce of wine.

 

Despite the strokes that he suffered in the 1620s, Jonson continued to write. At his death in 1637 he seems to have been working on another play, The Sad Shepherd. Though only two acts are extant, this represents a remarkable new direction for Jonson: a move into pastoral drama. During the early 1630s he also conducted a correspondence with James Howell, who warned him about disfavour at court in the wake of his dispute with Jones.

 

Jonson is buried in Westminster Abbey, with the inscription "O Rare Ben Johnson" (sic) set in the slab over his grave. It has been suggested that this could be read "Orare Ben Jonson" (pray for Ben Jonson), which would indicate a deathbed return to Catholicism, but the carving shows a distinct space between "O" and "rare".[4] Researchers suggest that the tribute came from William D’Avenant, Jonson’s successor as Poet Laureate, as the same phrase appears on his gravestone nearby.[4][clarification needed] The fact that he was buried in an upright grave could be an indication of his reduced circumstances at the time of his death,[5] although it has also been written that Jonson asked for a grave exactly 18 inches square from the monarch and received an upright grave to fit in the requested space.[6] The same source claims that the epitaph came from the remark of a passerby to the grave.

Walking from Yellowcraig to North Berwick this afternoon, a break in the seemingly endless rainy weather, we had a bright, crisp day (still windy and cold tho!). Very high tide today and recent gales and storms have eaten more chunks out of the dunes, more of them eroded away. Late afternoon, clear skies, low, golden winter sun declining, the thin stretch of beach between dunes and high tide in shadow but the last hour of daylight kissing the western flank of North Berwick Law in the distance

This seemingly very tidy one owner Astra is for sale about 10 miles away for a decent price. If it wasn't for lack of space and the fact I'm going on holiday soon I'd have snapped it up as it looks superb and being a 1.4 it'd be affordable to run.

She was very interested, & seemingly disturbed, by this knock-down-drag-out battle. She honked at them almost the entire time they fought.

The country seemingly abundant with chaos made me turn off the news and get away from the city if only for a moment.

 

A friend of mine swears by the stability of the Mavic Air 2 and I just had to find out. I let the drone hover in place for just under a minute; played back much faster. I've included the results as part of this video. You will see movement in the clouds but the drone holds steady. I'm impressed and happy with this acquisition for sure!

Title: It! The Terror From Beyond Space

Year Of Release: 1958

Running Time: 69 minutes

DVD Released By: MGM Home Entertainment

Directed By: Edward L. Cahn

Writing Credits: Jerome Bixby

Starring: Marshall Thompson, Shawn Smith, Kim Spalding, Ann Doran, Dabbs Greer, Paul Langton, Robert Bice

Taglines:

1. It breathes, it hunts…It Kills!

2. IT!...Reaches through space!...Scoops up men and women!...Gorges on blood!

3. The revelation shocker of things to come!

Alternate Titles:

It! The Vampire from Beyond Space (1958)

The Terror from Beyond Space (1958).

Review Date: 12.12.04 (updated 1.1.10)

 

The film opens with a thundering musical theme and a title that threatens to bust out of the screen and into our third spatial dimension. After the credits end, we get a view of the Martian surface. In the distance we see the wreckage of a crashed rocket ship. A voice belonging to Colonel Edward Carruthers begins to narrate, relating how the ship he commanded cracked up on landing six months previously and how he is now the only survivor from that doomed expedition, the crew encountering some strange force on the Red planet they came to know only as death. The camera slowly pans over the landscape and a second rocket ship is revealed, albeit intact and standing erect. Carruthers says that he will now be going back to face his superiors on Earth and possibly another kind of death.

Now we see the capitol building in Washington D.C., which quickly fades to a door marked, “Science advisory committee. Division of interplanetary exploration.” No doubt down the hall are the offices for the division on Radiation-Enlarged Insects and Lizards. Inside this room a government official is conducting a press conference and releasing information on the second rocket ship sent to Mars. He talks about how Colonel Carruthers has been found alive, but is the only survivor from the initial expedition. The Colonel will be returned to Earth to face trial for the murders of the rest of the first ship’s crew.

Back on Mars, we see the Challenge-142 preparing to lift off. Before they can depart, Van Heusen notices an open compartment. It seems Lt. Calder was dumping some crates (littering) and forgot to close it. The open hatch is closed remotely, but as it slides shut, an ominous shadow moving about nearby alerts us to the fact that something has managed to get aboard while it was open. We hear a few growls and even get a close up of IT’s feet as it moves about. I gotta say, this guy needs some serious corrective footwear. Talk about a slewfoot! What is even more hilarious is that the shadow we see on the wall seems to be made by the actor in the monster suit, but not the monster mask. His facial features seem pretty clear in silhouette.

After a name check, Van Heusen begins the launch countdown at ten, while strapped into what appears to be a lawn chair! Where was the budget blown for this ship? No trash recycling systems and cheap chairs! The contractor must have spent it somewhere, but it obviously wasn’t on this ship!

Once in space and safely on the way home, Van Heusen (who will henceforth be referred to simply as Van – some of the characters did it, why not me) begins acting like an asshole, ridiculing Carruther’s story of a monster. He tells Carruthers (seemingly with great delight) that they have enough evidence to put him in front of a firing squad. They head up one level and Van shows him a human skull they found on the surface of Mars. Dental records revealed it to be a Frank Kenner, one of Carruther’s crew. The skull has an obvious bullet hole in it and Van says, “There’s only one kind of a monster that uses bullets.” There is an ominous musical cue. Carruthers walks away and the film fades out.

 

Sometime later the crew is cleaning up after a meal. Correction: the women are cleaning up after a meal. Yes, in this futuristic year of 1973, women – despite being doctors and presumably vital members of the crew – are still assigned the laborious task of cleaning up after meals and making sure all the lazy, fat-ass males have fresh, hot coffee in their cups and are supplied with cigarettes. I wonder if these guys made them cook the meal as well.

So this group has finished a meal and are relaxing. The usual light banter is exchanged before the topic of Colonel Carruthers and his monster comes up. Royce (the other Royce will always be referred to as Doctor Royce for purposes of this review) says that he doesn’t disbelieve or believe the story. Along about that time Carruthers arrives and is greeted with a smart-ass comment from Van. He gets some coffee from Ann and retreats back up one level. Van then states that before they reach Earth, he will have Carruthers’ confession on tape. What is he going to do, beat it out of him?

Some more time passes and Ann brings Carruthers a plate of food. She admits that she has only heard the story of what happened to the crew of the Challenge-141 from Van and would like to hear it straight from Carruthers. He relates to her how they landed, went out exploring and then got caught in a sandstorm. Something in the storm began taking the crew and in the confusion shots were fired, one apparently killing Kenner by mistake. Carruthers was the only one who made it back to the ship. Subsequent searches turned up no signs of his crew or the thing that took them.

Van continues to act like a dick. Ann - with whom he seems to have some sort of relationship beyond work - tells him that he owes it to Carruthers to treat him like a fellow officer and not an animal, and that it is not his place to decide whether he is guilty.

More time passes. Royce and Carruthers are playing chess while Van looks on, smoking a cigarette. Calder is nearby scribbling in a notebook – probably “I won’t leave outer hatches open before lift-off” a hundred times, enforced by Van for his lamebrain mistake. Elsewhere, Keinholz is sitting alone at a desk, looking bored. He hears their stowaway bumbling around the cargo hold. He goes to investigate and is killed, the attack shown as shadows on a wall. The monster lifts Keinholz over his head and brings him smashing to the floor, where he proceeds to pelt the unfortunate crewmen with a barrage of blows…or in this case, cartwheeling its arms and bitch-slapping the guy to death.

Above, Carruthers has heard the commotion and wonders what is going on. No one else seems to have heard anything. He still insists on performing a head count and when Keinholz comes up missing, everyone begins searching the ship for him. While everyone is split up, Gino Finelli is captured by the beast when he stops to pilfer some cigarettes from a storage locker.

 

Everyone convenes again and Van is in disbelief as there just isn’t a place on the ship a man could hide. Carruthers asks where Gino is and Bob says that he was right behind him. He looks back down the ladder to the deck below and calls out to Gino, but all is silent below. He, Van and Carruthers all go back down where they find Gino’s unused cigarette on the floor, but no Gino. Now everyone is calling out for Gino in addition to Keinholz. Soon after, Keinholz’s body is located in an air duct.

Everyone comes running and arrives as Keinholz is removed from the duct. Bob wonders if Gino is inside the duct, but Carruthers looks and sees nothing. Major Purdue volunteers to go in to look for Gino as he claims to know the layout. He crawls on in, but doesn’t see anything at first. Then he re-orients himself and sees Gino at the end of the passage. Gino is looking pretty bad, like he was in a fight with an Avon lady who applied her make-up samples to him. Purdue yells out that he found Gino and begins to crawl toward him. He shakes Gino, trying to rouse him but Gino just shakes his head limply. Then there is a shadowy movement nearby and IT arrives on the scene, no doubt pissed to find someone playing with his food. IT growls and claws at Purdue, who screams before pulling out a revolver and squeezing off a few shots. This makes the monster roar and outside in the storage room, Carruther’s face is one of dread – he knows that roar all too well, it seems.

Purdue comes barreling out of the duct and Carruthers sneaks a glance inside before he and Van replace the cover over the entrance. Bob, naturally has a fit, upset that his brother is being left behind. He is removed by Royce and Carruthers yells to the cowering women to run and get a head start. A head start for where? You’re on a spaceship, not the open plains of Iowa. Carruthers then spots a crate of grenades and suggests that they wire them up to the hatches, thus blowing IT up if it decides to leave the duct. So Van, Carruthers and Calder wire up these grenades, then gather up Keinholz’s body (which seemed to magically aid them in picking itself off the floor) and retreat to one of the upper levels.

Next we see a table loaded with guns, rifles and ammunition. It looks like a NRA convention! It is at this point that I must point out the sheer stupidity of these people. They are on a spaceship, which is traveling through the vacuum of space. Rupturing the hull of the ship in any way would be extraordinarily bad. I’d imagine that great pains would be taken to minimize the chances that such an event ever took place. Yet these fools insist on firing projectile weapons within the confines of the ship. Not only that, but they have grenades ready to detonate below. Now, what kind of tests did these people have to pass in order to be selected for this mission? Cuz smarts don’t seem to be a requisite. Not once does any one of them stop to consider the chances that such an explosion might actually harm the bloody ship! No, they just fire away. Either these people are colossal idiots, or they are confident in the construction and engineering of the ship – but given the lawn chairs adorning the place, I would not exactly be willing to bet my life on the latter possibility.

So the men are taking stock of the weapons while the ladies apply the most idiotic looking bandage to Purdue’s head. Royce tries to console Bob by telling him there was nothing they could have done for Gino, but Bob is pissed that they didn’t even try to rescue his brother.

Meanwhile, Van is asking Carruthers if he knows what IT is. This must have just galled the guy to no end. Here he was all ready to break Carruthers and get a confession, and now he must admit that the other man was right all along. Time passes and the gang is pacing up and down, waiting for IT to leave the ducts and trip the grenade trap. They all gather around the intercom and listen as IT busts through the grate covering the duct and sets off the grenades. All those grenades detonate and we are treated to an explosion that looks like it was made by a box of firecrackers.

 

They still hear the monster growling, so they know that the plan has failed. Without a word, they hoist their firearms, open the central stair hatch and head down to investigate further…well, all the guys do. The women stay up above, no doubt prepping coffee. The guys gather around the door to C and open it up. A lot of smoke passes through the doorway, obscuring their vision. Calder, who is carrying the biggest gun, goes in first. Well, actually Van was in the lead, but when he couldn’t get the lights activated, he motions for Calder to go first. Chickenshit bastard. Calder barely gets through the door when IT lunges out of the smoke, grabs his rifle and bends it, Superman-style, over its head. Calder, Royce and Bob then run like hell up the stairs while Van and Carruthers fire their pistols at the beast. They retreat up the stairs, firing all the way, while IT tears the door to C compartment open wide enough to get through. Once safely up the stairs, the crew closes the central stair hatch.

Next gas grenades are used in an attempt to kill the beast. This fails to work as well and Van comes out of the engagement with an injured foot, scraped up something bad when the monster grabbed him.

Dr. Royce has completed the autopsy on Keinholz, discovering that “there is not a molecule of oxygen or a drop of water” left in his body. Blood, bone marrow, glandular secretions – everything, is gone. She theorizes that since there are no puncture marks on the body, that this was accomplished through some type of osmosis process. Keep in mind that the Human body is sixty to seventy percent water. Now, we got a pretty good view of the dead Keinholz earlier. Sure, his body was shriveled, but if all the moisture in his body had been removed, then would not he have looked more like a dried up prune, and been the size of a cabbage patch doll? Van Heusen hasn’t joined the cadaver club yet, though his wound is infected and nothing Dr. Royce can do helps it any.

They open the central hatch and peer down. IT is two levels down, but they can see it breaking through the center hatch onto the level directly below them, which will grant it access to the next level. They realize that if IT can get through the center hatches, they are royally SCREWED. Ann approaches Carruthers and tells him that he was right and they were all wrong. They hold hands and share a Kodak moment.

 

Royce pipes in about now with an idea he and Bob have worked out. He proposes that two men exit through the control room airlock and then space walk down the side of the ship and re-enter through the airlock on the motor level – below the current location of the creature. This would enable them to surprise the monster, but they aren’t sure what to surprise it with. Carruthers says he’s been thinking and has an idea, so he and Calder suit up and make their way down the hull to the bottom of the ship. They reach the airlock on the motor level and the others above begin talking loud at the proper time, distracting the monster from what is occurring below it. Carruthers and Calder sneak out onto the motor level and set an electrical trap on the stairs that lead to the upper level where IT is located.

 

The two then take cover behind some induction pumps and open the center hatch, which is noticed by the creature. It begins to descend the stairs and when it gets to the appropriate spot – ZAP. Nothing. The monster is not affected. Carruthers is able to make it safely to the airlock, but Calder takes a blow to the head that tears his vinyl “helmet” and stumbles back, his foot getting caught and the fall breaking his leg. He fires up an acetylene torch and uses it to fend off the monster every time it gets to close to his hiding spot.

Carruthers returns to the others where they try and think of a way to rescue Calder, who can be heard over the radio. Meanwhile the Doctor approaches Royce and tells him that the alien bacteria are attacking bone marrow, resulting in a leukemia-type condition. The drugs she has been using are working too slowly and she needs fresh blood to keep Van and Purdue alive – but there is no more on this level. They will need to descend to the cargo level and retrieve some more.

Royce is preparing to make a run for the blood and Bob decides that it his “turn” now to go. What is this, a ride? I suppose he feels the need to do something in helping kill the monster that murdered his brother. Carruthers decides to accompany them. Calder promises to keep them apprised of the creature’s movements via the intercom. A shadow on the wall tells us that IT is still dragging dead Gino around, and has wandered into the reactor room. After Calder reports this, it gives Carruthers an idea. He remotely closes the reactor room door and asks Calder what the monster does. When no odd behavior is reported, the three men make their descent in search of the blood supply.

 

Meanwhile Van has awoken again and is trying to get up from his cot. The women try to restrain him but he yells and pushes past them. He has an idea – by unsealing the reactor, the radiation will kill the monster. He flips some controls while the ladies still try and talk sense into him. In the reactor room, the creature is banging on the door to get out when the reactor is unsealed and it gets a face full of radiation. The women call down to warn the men what has happened, inciting Carruthers and Royce to speed things up. Below, Bob is helping Calder up the stairs when IT breaks out of the reactor room. Calder dives back into his hiding spot and Bob fires off his pistol at the beast. He then tries to run up the stairs, but IT is too fast. The monster reaches up and grabs him, pulling him down to the floor and bitch-slapping him to death. Royce and Carruthers haul ass back up the stairs with the blood, having to leave Bob behind. They get back to the laboratory level and then everyone heads on up to the topmost level – the control room.

Everyone is now huddled on the highest level. For some IDIOTIC reason, Carruthers is carrying a bazooka. A bazooka! They pile some heavy crates over the hatch in the floor, hoping to keep IT from busting up through the opening. Nearby Ann and Van are talking and the ever more disconcerted Colonel is remarking on Ann is now “with” Carruthers and how it happened out of the blue. She tries to dismiss it and wants to talk about it later, but he insists that there may be no later considering how their situation is degenerating rapidly. She walks off to help Carruthers and Van continues to mutter to Dr. Royce.

  

They contact Calder down below, who is still alive. He can see the monster still bumbling around on the motor level. About now IT has decided to find out where everyone else has gone. IT ascends the stairs to the first storage level and begins banging around. Calder warns Carruthers that IT is on its way up. The gang up top makes ready, turning the lights off and preparing for the last fight. Carruthers tells Calder to make his way to the airlock now that IT is no longer nearby and hide there. Then Carruthers picks up the bazooka again and aims it at the hatch.

While waiting, Carruthers happens to glance at a dial on a nearby instrument panel and notices that the oxygen consumption on the ship is far in excess of what it should be. He points this out to Royce and the two theorize that it is due to the monster. With the thin air on Mars it would need a gigantic lung capacity and has thus been hogging all the oxygen on the ship with its Darth Vader breathing style. Carruthers suggest letting all the air out of the ship to kill it. Royce agrees, saying they can build it back up for themselves later.

 

A mad rush is on now, everyone trying to get into his or her space suit. The monster tears his way up onto the laboratory level, doesn’t even hesitate and then heads up the latter to the top level. IT bangs on the hatch, causing all the boxes sitting atop it to topple over, and then IT peels back the metal of the hatch like wrapping paper and pokes up through the opening like a jack-in-the-box. Everyone has their spacesuits on now, but Carruthers cannot reach the controls to release the air because the monster is in the way. He calls to Royce, who is now holding the bazooka, to drive it back down so he can make his way to the proper control panel. Royce fires the bazooka, but the rocket just bounces off the monster before bouncing around the floor some. No detonation at all! It must have been a dud. Carruthers is trying to reach the controls, but the monster is preventing him from getting too close. Van then jumps up, runs to the controls and hits the correct button. The airlock doors open and the air begins rushing out. The monster has grabbed Van and no doubt given him the squish treatment, as when next we see Van, he is stretched out on the floor.

The ship begins diving. Well, not really…but given that the emergency klaxon blaring away to warn everyone of decompression and air loss sounds just like the diving bell in some old WWII movie, and one can see why it seems like the ship is diving. Everyone hangs on for dear life. Papers start flying around the room, but very few actually get blown out the airlock. The monster growls, writhes around and finally stops moving as the last of the air is removed. Carruthers checks on both IT and Van, but both are still and quiet. I have to wonder how Van didn’t get blown out. Everyone was hanging on, but Van was out cold (or dead). It seems the monster is finally dead. Everyone seems relieved, and the camera zooms in on Ann and Carruthers as they hold hands before fading out…

…Into ANOTHER freakin’ shot of the ship flying through space (number nine). This fades into the room in Washington D.C. that we saw at the very beginning of the film. The same government official is conducting another press release. He has more information to add to the story he gave to the reporters the previous evening. He reads a message from the Challenge-142 received less than an hour ago:

“This is Eric Royce talking. Of the nineteen men and women who have set foot upon the planet Mars, six will return.”

Six? Let’s see…Carruthers, Ann, Royce, Dr. Royce, Purdue and…Calder, I suppose. Calder was hiding in the airlock on the motor level while Van Heusen got beat up by the monster and was laying there pretty still at the end, so I guess he was the one who died. The message continues:

“There is no longer a question of murder, but of an alien and elemental lifeforce. A planet so cruel, so hostile, that man may have to find it necessary to bypass it in his endeavor to explore and understand the universe.”

 

Well, at least Carruthers has been cleared, but Royce makes out like the planet Mars is so damn dangerous. Excuse me, but were not you guys all safe until you got back on the ship? The planet seemed pretty harmless. It is the native life that proved to be so deadly. Big difference. The message (and the movie) concludes:

“Another name for Mars…is death.”

Fade out. The End.

   

Structurally, this movie is most similar to The Thing From Another World in that it deals with a small group of people trapped struggling to prevail against a deadly organism from another planet bound and determined to make a snack of them all. Aside from the opening and closing segments set on Earth (which most people conclude were added in order to stretch out the film’s running time) the movie never leaves the crew of the Challenge-142. Once things get rolling, the movie rarely lets up and moves along at a brisk pace, rapidly pushing its characters through one bad situation and into another. While not as intense as later films would be, the approach taken works very well and the viewer begins to detect the sense of danger and desperation that builds as the film progresses.

Sadly, the character development that was so well executed in the Howard Hawk’s The Thing From Another World, is sorely and quite obviously lacking here. We are quickly introduced to a number of people, who for the most part, will be expanded upon very little and examined only long enough to form the vaguest of impressions. With the exception of Carruthers and Van Heusen, who these people are and what motivates them was just not important to the producers. Those two are plainly set up to be at odds with each other, though the conflict is really all on the part of Van Heusen, who is resolute in his belief of Carruther’s guilt. Yet, the film sets up this adversarial dynamic and goes no where with it. Early on during the monster’s rampage, Van Heusen takes a hit and is restricted to bed for the rest of the film, offering up only smartass remarks and a failed attempt at killing the creature thereafter. I suppose one could say that Van Heusen was shown to be in error when it came to the veracity of Carruthers’ story, and that he was pushed aside to make room for latter to take the lead and redeem himself. There could not be two leaders, so one was removed.

While the characters might not be the most fleshed out in film history, they certainly make up for it with their actions. After viewing this movie, one has to wonder what kind of idiots these people truly were. How they ever graduated from some type of training program and granted a position on a ship to Mars is beyond me. In fact, the entire organization seems lacking. There is just so much that betrays them as morons. Like smoking. These people are nicotine fiends who are lighting up non-stop. Someone missing? Have a smoke. The monster kills someone? Have a smoke. Time running out and death looking certain? Have a freaking smoke! I must say that the Challenge-142 must have one HELL of an air recycling system. These folks have the oxygen scrubbers working overtime with all the smoke they exhale.

On top of that, these guys are gun toting, trigger-happy morons who make the Montana militia groups look like the boy scouts. They start squeezing off rounds at the drop of a hat, no worries about ricocheting bullets or friendly fire. I guess the ship, on top of having a first rate air recycling system, also has the sturdiest hull ever manufactured by mankind. It must have, as these guys don’t give a single thought to accidentally rupturing the hull. And they don’t stop with guns! They haul out grenades by the dozen and detonate them and then move on up to firing a bazooka in their ship’s control room!

 

As far as visual FX are concerned, this film doesn’t have too many. What we do see is adequately done by the standards of the day. The most ambitious shot is the view of Carruthers and Calder walking down the side of the ship as it traverses the stars. Back then it might have looked awesome, but now it is very easy to notice that the actors don’t seem to be covering any ground, despite taking numerous steps as well as the obvious signs of matting them into the footage of the rocket. I’d venture to say that the best looking thing we see, though it is just for a few seconds at the film’s beginning, is the painting that represents the surface of Mars. Sure, it looks nothing like what Mars really looks like, but it is still executed pretty darn well.

 

Now we come to the one aspect that is both one of the best as well as one of the worst things about the movie: The monster. The monster costume is a glaring source of both potential embarrassment and possible fun. The costume is a rather bulky, rubber affair that bends in all the wrong places, heightening the “cheese” factor and lending a certain air of ridiculousness to the film. The way it lumbers, stumbles and plods around the ship is laughable considering the dire circumstances and danger it supposedly represents. The face is static, except for the tongue that is often protruding from the sizable mouth. This effect was produced by the actor’s chin pushing the “tongue” through the creature’s maw.

Since the movie was filmed on a mere handful of sets, with a single set used to represent the various central chambers of the ship – just re-dressed for each one, director Cahn makes good use of the limited space he has. Thanks to the camera work and the set dressing, the ship comes across as being fairly good sized. Another thing he does rather well in conjunction with cinematographer Kenneth Peach is to hide the monster and utilize shadows to create an atmosphere of dread and creepiness. Whether this was done for artistic reasons or to help hide the often silly-looking monster suit is open for debate, but since the creature is shown quite well on several occasions, and the suit holds up pretty darn well to scrutiny, I personally believe it was the former. There are numerous occasions where all we see is the beast’s shadow on the wall, or a foot moving across the floor. More than one assault on a Human is shown as nothing more than shadows on a wall, which, while lessening the onscreen violence, only makes the attacks more horrifying. This method really helps in firing the imagination, as what the mind conjures up is almost always more frightening than what we ultimately see on screen.

Still, despite all the apparent flaws...indeed, perhaps because of those very flaws, this film has a sizable “fun” quotient. Taking it too seriously will only lessen the enjoyment derived from the proceedings. An enormous grain of salt, along with a large suspension of disbelief will come in handy here, and will help transform the film from an “old 50’s monster movie” into a “classic B-Movie experience.”

  

Seemingly floating over a sea of green in the form of the ever present vegetation that plagues the network, 150239 approaches the bracketed gantry and level crossing at St Blazey on a sunny 20th May 2023 with 2N03 1020 Newquay to Par.

 

Such a classic shot that I've seen featuring Fifties, Westerns and 37s....and all I can manage is a 150!

 

Pole shot.

Mission Deep Educational Trust, Amritsar, Punjab, India.

 

Recently, a seemingly endless series of violent and tragic events have dominated our thoughts so much that we feel hopeless facing this destructive, insensitive and cruel side of humanity. During these dark days, it is easy indeed to forget that a major part of humanity does a great many good things to improve our fellow human beings, to make that little difference in someone’s life or to provide the biggest gift of all: education. During my last trip to India, I made a short trip to Amritsar, Punjab, where I was shown hospitality that I have not experienced before. I visited a NGO called ‘Mission Deep’ that dedicates itself to educating destitute children, most of whom are girls. The Mission itself operates on a shoestring budget, but the impact it makes is enormous. Its operational budget comes from small gifts, including some cash, but most of its donations come in the form of food, clothes and shelter. Our host, Jasmeet Singh, a modest man, operates a campus for the mission by giving half of his dwelling to these children’s education as a residential school. Local farmers drop off vegetables or grains to ensure the children are fed well. Serving these children by providing them an education is their Karseva, a selfless service to their society! It is this deep-rooted ‘selfless service, without thought of reward’, that gives me hope for humanity. When I see these children happy and getting an education, my faith in humanity is renewed. It is November, and it is the month of giving, and I want to believe in our ability to make these Missions thrive! I want to believe in that grace.

 

And “if we can find that grace, anything is possible. If we can tap that grace, everything can change.” – President Obama, Charleston, South Carolina, June 26, 2015.

 

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