Weighty Matters

For a change, here is something completely different from the Irish Times.

Rosita Boland looks at the first edition of “Women’s Weekly” in 1911 and finds much of it strangely familiar. The picture comes from 1911 Census dot co dot uk.

It is unlikely that my Mum saw it at the time or the following editions in the next few years. Grannie had other priorities and little time available. Also, in those days every penny counted.

http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/magazine/2011/1217/1224309123142.html

As the article points out it would not be long before the world became a different and more dangerous place.

Up to a point, Lord Copper.

Changing World

According to research by members of Tel Aviv University on a site of human occupation of around 400,000 years ago, even before my time, they suggest that one of the keys to human development was the elephant in the habitation.

The old Homo erectus they believe existed largely on a diet of elephants. These are animals that are slow moving, very big, easy to spot and bring down, they provided a rich long term store of nutrients at relatively little effort or thought.

Then for various reasons the elephants died out and those humans faced an era of severe austerity for which they were ill equipped. From somewhere another breed of humans emerged, faster, quicker and much cleverer and able to find, kill and feed on a wide range of smaller and more mobile animals.

Homo sapiens then made the world their own and happily chased all sorts of animals for food until a relatively short time ago they decided on a different form of diet, one based on farming. This was thought to have a number of advantages.

One of these was the creation of urban areas which became power blocks to dominate their local areas. These power blocks became bigger and bigger and with the growth in the number of this breed of humans more and more became based in urban areas and their immediate hinterlands.

For many reasons these humans retained a capacity for thought at an advanced level together with a variety of skills of survival, social interaction and substantial physical capability. When we look at what recent generations could do and did it is astonishing in comparison with most of the humans of today.

Now when looking at my fellow humans and their activities they seems to be an increasingly useless and physically incapable lot. They know little, have few skills, have poorer and poorer language capability, more and more limited abilities in complex social interaction and are completely dependent on others.

As I look about me and think back not too many years they seem to be another species in the long chain of human development.

The question is whether homo sapiens is giving way now to homo stupidus?

Restore The Ottoman Empire

The past is full of examples of how things might have been different, if only this or that had been changed. One of these is that the Ottoman Empire finally collapsed just before the immense wealth under the soils of it vassal territories became the staple fuels of the world economy.

If by one means or another, at the centre of the Empire the rulers had been wiser, better equipped and more determined they had managed to survive, remain a real power and avoided becoming involved in World War I. They might have stopped the dismantling of the Empire and its loss largely to western powers.

With the wealth that they were literally able to tap what future would that have brought? Would we really be that much worse off? The Ottomans would have been able to stop the later wars starting by simply turning off the pipelines at an early stage. It is very likely that by 1918 they would have been able to dictate the peace that ended the first war.

There were some who argued that for all its faults and bouts of foolishness the Ottomans were a source of greater stability and enabled other states to deal with one overall authority instead of the present multiplicity of petty warlords. Even the Greeks may wish to rejoin.

Perhaps a visionary somewhere might seek to create a new joint authority in the Middle East. It would be a counterweight both to the failing EU and the erratic course of US ambitions and errors. Because of the belief systems it would have within it and the differing cultures it would not be the same as the EU.

It could be a political force to balance Russia and China in a way that India cannot and nor can Brazil or other large powers. If it could achieve both the ability to rule with a sensitivity to the needs of its many peoples then it could act as a catalyst for dealing with the many divisions of these other powers.

If for example it managed to contain rampant usury and demand a moral dimension to international finance it would do us all a favour. If it released science from the control of the mega corporations who have so distorted learning then the medical progress of the old Ottomans could be restored to the present.

Who could be the man to do all this? Tony Blair, your time has come with perhaps Mandy as the Grand Vizier, Gordon as the enforcer, Scimitar Man and Big Ed as the keeper of the harem, after a minor operation. But who would be the Janissaries?

Regretfully, they would not be for me, the Varangian Guard are more in my line.

Thick, Thicker, Thickest

Having trawled the web for the latest collection of human error and frailty I can wonder only at the scale of it and just how daft many of us seem to be. How did this lot manage to survive a more challenging past and still have much of a future?

We may think we are clever at present; indeed we are all too confident in what we think we can do. This could be a bad sign. The link to the longish article in the Discover Magazine below suggests that as we created new forms of society we did not have to be smart to stay alive.

In the last century we seemed to have moved on a stage further in the Descent of Man to have formed the habit of electing idiots to govern us, to allow cheats to control our finances and thugs to run public services.

http://discovermagazine.com/2010/sep/25-modern-humans-smart-why-brain-shrinking

The Daily Mail does cover some science matters although with limited reliability and often less understanding. But at least it can start you looking for more.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2002684/Humans-smaller-bodies-brains-forebears-farming-blame.html

It did not take took long to find this one which says more and evidently the Emory University gives a lot of attention to the issues.

http://esciencecommons.blogspot.com/2011/06/dawn-of-agriculture-took-toll-on-health.html

It may be the lack of critical micro-nutrients in the modern diets. There is one comforting thought, if you can call it that, it may be just a primitive response.

It is that when I complain about the young today at least I can cite some science.

Spinning For Poodles

We think that the world of spin, the doctoring of information and presenting it in a new light is all very modern. But it seems it was alive and literally kicking in the 17th Century during the Civil Wars.

Prince Rupert was an able and feared commander of the Royalist Cavalry. Also, he liked to hunt. But whilst being nobody’s poodle himself, his preferred dog was a Red Hunting Poodle.

You may find this difficult to believe but see the link below to “Past Horizons”.

http://www.pasthorizons.com/index.php/archives/04/2011/who-was-afraid-of-prince-ruperts-dog

The breed is still alive and biting although one with a less elite following today. Google or Bing “Red Hunting Poodle” and you will find where to buy one.

They are featured also on Youtube as you many imagine, which is bad news for ducks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYJ74xwzmpc

At the moment I am fantasizing as to which politicians I would like to chase round the Royal Parks with a pack of Red Hunting Poodles.

Cheesy News About Coopers Hill

When my nearest and dearest went cheese rolling at Cooper’s Hill in the late 1950’s it was never like this.

That it should be cancelled in this way is very sad.

In those days it was much more of a local event and all quite fun.

I blame climate change.

http://news.uk.msn.com/uk/articles.aspx?cp-documentid=156675894

Double Gloucester is still on the menu.

Normans, Saxons And Danes

The BBC has gone strong on The Normans. As ever the need to simplify and push a party line or two means that a lot is missed out. They give us Saxons, then Normans. The reality of the 11th Century is that it was very complicated and there are also The Danes as well. The fable below, 4600 words long, might explain it better than the BBC. But it is very rude in parts, has extreme stereotyping and is calculated to offend as many people as possible.

THE SILK PURSE

Eadric looked into the wooden bowl held between the knees of the man sitting beside him. He did not like it at all. The man evidently could not wait for a cut off one of the animals being turned on one of the several spits to be given the attention of the many cooks for spices and refinement, or the cold meats of the table and had resorted to a dish more commonly taken by the slaves or lepers.

Wulfnoth, looking up from his stirring and cutting, saw the corners of Eadric’s mouth turned down, and winked, not so much in an act of friendship but almost as a challenge. “Good old Saxon food this!” he declared, “None of your modern Danish muck.” He pulled out a piece of heavily chewed meat, rubbed it on his nose to check that the bristles were soft enough to ease between the teeth, and then put it back into the bowl to gather up some of the beaten oats and nettles that filled out the dish.

“All this smoking, curing, messing up, and spiced tastes. Get out into the forest and hold of a good wild pig. Then have the ears fried in goose fat for an hour and that’s what is fit for the King and Queen, and not all this other stuff. Ham off the bone indeed, and a rot gut called wine, and a Danish beer brewed from goats piss. Real food and Real Ale is what I want, this lot gives me an ache in the bladder.”

He began to eat again, and Eadric was grateful. The assembly had a number of large Danes, well equipped with swords and knives, and rather more dangerous, smaller ones with their double headed axes. Now that Knut had fastened his grip on England, one had to be pleasant to the Danes, it might be difficult, but it was safer. An unwise comment, as well as good ale, could leave you legless in the fullest sense of the word.

This was not an ordinary gathering, a hall feast for a marriage or to celebrate a temporary peace before the next round of battles and treachery amongst the nobles. It was a deeply religious occasion in the names of both the King and Queen. Knut and Ymme had come with a clutch of senior clergy to bestow offerings on the Abbey of the New Minster, the Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Peter, and had called all those of high rank, together with a token few brought in from the lower ones for form’s sake, to join in the celebrations.

A new extension had been built to house the Golden Cross of Knut, with two golden images of saints, both festooned with precious stones, and more relics of the holy ones. There were enough bones to fill a small ossuary. The Queen’s Chaplain, Reinbald, had been blessed by a visitation of a Moorish trader from Tripoli, where the bottom had fallen out of the market for the remains of saints, and who by great good fortune was offering two for the price of one.

The relics were all presented well in decorated caskets boxes of rare Asian woods, tastefully studded with the teeth of unknown martyrs. A seal of approval was attached asserting their authenticity from the Bishop of Atlantis. For only the active males of two Essex vills, deemed by Reinbald to have been Pagan in their beliefs, so marketable as galley slaves, the Abbey of the Minster would have best relic profile in the English pilgrim trade. Alnoth, the Abbot was out of his skull with joy, shared by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Aethelnoth, and even Aelwine, holy Bishop of Winchester.

The only sour face was sat on a lower bench with a group of impertinent Housecarls; Reinbald, who the Bishops detested as much as he envied them for their position and preferment. He had spent too much time in Rome for their liking, and spoke of strange ideas. They were all fervent in their loyalty to Rome, so long as the current Pope did not bother them too much with the odder notions coming from the East.

As the afternoon wore on it became clear to Eadric that Wulfnoth was too ready with wrong words. He held recondite views on religion and politics, as well as the proper relationships between the many tribes that resided in England. It did not seem to matter to him that this was a Moot of great moment, the occasion of confirming a new Royal Hall, built of stone, high and pillared, and featuring the latest conveniences, a stone floor, glass windows, and a tile roof that would never rot.

Wulfnoth did not like the modern building styles. They cost a great deal too much, were troublesome to maintain, and the great number that the Queen Ymme was giving to the Churches meant too much land was being taken from the warrior classes, one reason of many that explained why he was a subject of the Danes and no longer a Saxon landholder. Others, notably the fastidious Franks and Normans began to be restless at his complaints.

They were the Queen’s guests who should be given every courtesy so Eadric moved to calm them down. “He’s barking mad, spent too long in the Forest staring at pigs arses. Just pity him and take no notice.” The Kings Shield Bearer, who had moved close, winked his agreement with Eadric. This was a feast not a Saxon fighting free for all.

When he resumed his place on the bench they had been joined by Aelgar, the Kings Minstrel. “Shouldn’t you be telling tales or singing?” asked Wulfnoth. The Minstrel shifted about and looked at the roof, “Later perhaps, the Queen has other ideas. But I am preparing a great Saga, it will last for many hours. It will tell of the old Gods, of the Rhinegold, The Valkyries, Siegfried and his sword Nothung, and then the Fall of the Gods. They will be held in thrall.”

Eadric gave him a soft smile, “Aelgar, don’t bother, you will be wasting your time. They only want this Frankish twittery plinky plonky, romantic, song and dance stuff. All soppy love and fondling, not a good old tale of blood and bare backed swiving with strong women.” “Ha,” Wulfnoth gave him a blow on the back, knocking the breath out of his lungs, “True all true, and now I go to show what I think of all these fool Danes and fancy Franks.” He went to the wall and relieved himself, paused, and then for good measure added a few stools, by a long way the smelliest that Eadric had encountered for some time.

The many fires in the Hall had added heat to an already warm and sultry day. The air hung heavy enough outside and had become still. Wulfnoth, a man who had a great deal of flesh on him beyond ordinary human needs was sweating very heavily. But Eadric saw that while the drink was warming his temper, his mind remained crafty. Doors had been opened to let out smoke, but the air that came in was beginning to stir and becoming damp.

Wulfnoth moved his head about, and began to grin like an ass. He stood, and it seemed that his belly almost propelled him forward into the centre of the Hall. “Oh, this a fine place,” he roared, “A very fine place, very pretty, and it cost many a penny. But it will not stand as our Saxon Halls stand, it is foreign stone, weak and shaky and it will fall.” “Villa Regalis they call it! What’s that then? It sounds like something nasty you get from a randy monk!” Some Housecarls began to laugh, but the frozen look of the Queen did not encourage the others to join them.

“This is not a place for the King to rule from, it’s a harlot’s house where the priests can tell you when and where to piss and poke.” The clatter of talk fell away, this was not good to hear, it was insulting to the High Table. But Wulfnoth went on, “I call on the ancient god of my tribe, Donner, grandson of Not, daughter of the Giants, to bring his hammer to rest here and tell us that this is a great wrong.”

The Hall was now silent, but then a buzz of anger rose. As men began to rise, the storm broke, the lightning hit a corner of the roof, shattered a part and blew some of the stonework out of the wall, leaving a wide crack jagged though the masonry.

Reinbald was quick to see that there was the possibility of affairs going badly wrong. With the many warriors from different lands, together with a mob of thirsty monks. A battle could ensue and the inevitable casualties lead to recriminations and feuds for generations. For the Great King of a Christian Empire to have a bloodbath on the occasion of the sanctification of his New Hall would not only impair Reinbald’s prospects of preferment, but lead to a collapse in the political structure of a shaky collection of fiefdoms.

He strode to the centre of the dais, ignoring the proprieties of deference to the King’s Table, lifted his arms and began to preach the Word of God, calling on the storm to cease. As he hoped, the thunder abated as the storm moved on and then he made a quick calculation as to the time of day.

Crossing the fingers at the end of his upraised arms Reinbald moved to a spot under the hole in the roof, did his trance thing, and began to chant. A break in the clouds, as happens in storms, delivered a shaft of light right on cue. Reinbald could calculate as well as preach. He was bathed in a beam of light. The assembly were held in awe, but now he needed someone to blame for this terrible event.

The advice he had given to the King about employing building workers from amongst the local population had been all too correct, but this was not the time to enter into a discussion about the appalling standards of Saxon and British builders, a scapegoat was needed within the minute before the glow of sanctity moved on in the heavens.

Wulfnoth gave a disrespectful long belch. It drew Reinbald’s eye and he recalled that Wulfnoth had told him in no uncertain terms that in his experience stone buildings were made to fall down, the Downs and many other places were littered with the remains of the old Romans. Wood and thatch were far more reliable. Reinbald, still affecting his trance, gave a loud cry of pain and pointed to Wulfnoth. For a moment Eadric thought it was him who had been fingered and shifted well away from the priest’s gaze.

“There is the creature of Satan who has brought this upon us.” Reinbald gave a few cold shivers, “He and his demons have sought to destroy the Holy Hall of the King, he is a foulness of utter horror who is the enemy of God and us all.” Eadric did think that Reinbald had a point about the foulness, but did not care to argue about the general interpretation. As the Housecarls moved towards Wulfnoth to take him, he lurched towards the bench snatching an axe from a stupefied Dane.

It was a brief and nasty encounter. Wulfnoth showed himself surprisingly adept for one now a churl taking out three Housecarls before the remainder cut him down. The body was picked up and carried before the King, Queen, and Reinbald. “Ah.” said Knut, who preferred to leave decisions on these matters to others. “What is he?” asked the Queen, who liked to have the social niceties observed when events like this occurred.

Reinbald needed no help, “He is a man of Pagan Evil, filled with heresy, and he and his familiars have done all the evil that has ever been done against you and the Holy Rule of our noble King and Queen.” Knut thought for a moment, and decided on a positive approach, “Yes, well, I suppose we must do something.”

Reinbald pointed to a fire at the end of the hall, burning well, with the spit unused. “The only way is to burn him, and then cast him and the embers into the river. This will bear him away to the ocean. The seas will bear him to the end of the Earth, where he will fall over the Edge and into Hell where he will spend Eternity in the flames.” King Knut hesitated, wondering, Reinbald had spent a lot of time persuading him that the Earth was round, but this was religion and not science.

Knut turned to his Queen, “Sound’s fair enough to me, dear, what do you think?” “It must be; our priest has spoken for God.” replied Queen Ymme, clutching hard at the small gold box that contained a finger bone of St. Eadburga to give her purity, strength, and a reduction on the time to be spent in Purgatory . The remains of Wulfnoth were taken to the fire where they soon provoked a fine sheet of flame. “It’s always the same with a fat one.” muttered Aelgar the Minstrel to Eadric, “Go up like a torch they do.”

While they were watching Knut, ever curious, repeated the Queen’s question, but this time it was Aelgar The Minstrel on whom the King’s eyes rested. He had heard enough from Reinbald for the moment. Aelgar had been at Court for a long time and knew that boldness was the only way to deal with Knut, for all his studied politeness he would have your balls off in a trice.

“Wulfnoth was once a Freeman Warrior, one of the Shield Wall of Aeldorman Osgod who fought valiantly for his King Aethelrede, and a Hundred Man of Doddington in Worcester. Taken in battle, injured, and then given into slavery to a man that was not worthy of him, he went into the Forest as Wolf’s Head with others. He was here to seek the King’s mercy on such a Feast Day when wrongs are put right and sins forgiven.” Eadric was worried, Aelgar was not only trying his luck, this was a challenge to Reinbald in the implications that the Laws of Hospitality had been broken, a grave sin in itself.

The priest was prepared already. “Yea, the Minstrel speaks truly, and by God’s miraculous intercession a wonderful and holy mercy has been done. The heretic has died quickly and at the hands of noble Christian men, and has been spared the agonies of age, or being flung into a pit of dogs, or being blinded and starved, as can be with those who deny the Lord.”

The Housecarls were content that justice seemed to have been done, but for Reinbald to call them noble Christians was a new one. At least Wulfnoth once had been a Free Warrior, which explained his abilities with an axe, so the bad business had a smack of honour about it, unlike dealing with impertinent slaves.

The rain had ceased, the air had freshened; there was the feeling of a rebirth. The remains of the fire and Wulfnoth were shovelled into a tub and carried down to the edge of the river, and the assembly followed to make sure of his departure. The tub was emptied and washed out, ready to be filled with ale, and Reinbald took himself onto a hillock to pray again at the Queen’s behest. Purification was necessary.

Reinbald positioned himself carefully so any rays of the sun would appear over his right shoulder and launched into yet another diatribe against sin. Amongst the Housecarls there were whispered wagers made on how long he was good for. The sky did indeed begin to clear, and as the assembly turned congregation looked beyond Reinbald they saw the clouds begin to lift and chase. Suddenly a dozen clumps appeared together in motion flickering along at speed.

The whispers turned to one secret word. “Valkries!” As the clouds lifted further and the light played around the sky a great square of piled cumulus rose high and white, and far away. The word became “Wallhalla!” As Reinbald went into high fervour he was delighted to see the rapt attention of the assembly, as was Queen Ymme, just behind him. Knut was not so certain, looked back over his shoulder, and understood.

The clouds had told the Housecarls that Wulfnoth was a Hero amongst the Gods, even a Wolsung child of Wotan. So by this token Reinbald was a dwarf man and a smart tongued Nibelung whose tongue would make a meal for a river rat. He saw that his warriors had instinctively moved into the form of the Shield Wall and their eyes had begun to stare. Their stillness and silence was deafening.

The implications worried Knut, and if any of his Housecarls had noticed as they slipped into the Trance of War, he was not now in a good mood. By the time Reinbald had finished, and the winner of the wager was the one who had made the most pessimistic forecast of the time taken by the sermon, the clouds had moved on and the sky was quiet.

Aelgar whispered to Eadric, “Perhaps it is time for music to sooth the minds of men, a tale of an Enigma and its variations in the mind, something to make them wonder?” “Just bloody shut up, you would only make matters worse,” was Eadric’s terse reply.

The King turned to his Queen and Court, and told them he needed a few words with the men, to ensure that nothing else untoward would happen to spoil the remains of the day, there as still much to eat and drink. As the rest of the company drifted back to the Hall, King Knut cast a cold eye on the men, and in a moment changed from the diplomat and courtier to the war leader and commander.

It came as a relief to the Housecarls, they could understand this, as opposed to the business of words with flourishes, and the hypocrisies of politics. “Right, you lot, stand up straight for once and listen to me, I know what was going on and I understand why. If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a dozen times, we are now Christian believers, all of us, baptised, for life, and we are told the life after death. Walhalla is out of the question in spite of all the obvious attractions.

More important, there is only one God, and it is his Church that makes the rules. Any objections, or any other ideas, and that means trouble, and a great deal of it. Now the Queen is very particular about God and the Church, so we all, I said all, so that means me as well, have got to be very, very, careful. My Queen is a most noble person, but she has brought many priests and monks from over the water whence she came, and where they go, their brothers and cousins follow. Believe, if that lot get into power and start to run things, none of you will have a team of oxen to call his own, let alone a spear and shield. And there will be heaps of stone in every Parish and Manor, and who will pay for it?”

The King paused for a moment, there were few enough silver pennies about for them to want to give more of them up for religion. The King lifted his voice, “The next thing will be one of them for King after I am gone, and only a mad man would want that. So you lot just watch it, I don’t want to have to send you on your way because of religious technicalities. Got it? The Queen has sons with others who might succeed One, the Prince Eadweard is over the water running with the Norman warlords and the Queen is the daughter of the Duke of Normandy.

If it goes badly the Normans will be over here and they will have all their relations with them. You don’t want that, if you have any sense, they have a greed for land that surpasses all understanding. So as to what went on today you keep it in your hearts, and not in your mouth. I do not, repeat not, want The Queen or the bishops, or that holy son of a whore, Reinbald, to find out. Now have you got that, and got it clearly?”

He took breath, and there was the edge of venom in his voice, “Now I have been trying to get our friend Reinbald a bishopric in his home land, but they do not seem to want him. Nor does anyone else over there. The one thing the Pope may agree is that he goes to Ireland on a Mission to remind them again of their errors about the date of Easter and other theological things they think they know best about, but don’t. So any of you make a mistake and then you are one of his body-guard, whether you like it or not, now do you understand me?”

The Housecarls stood very still, this was no mean threat, the King was always as good, or as bad, as his word. There had been talk. It was difficult to believe, but it was that Ireland was worse than the Welsh Marches. They all wanted to stay in Hampshire. The food supplies were better and more reliable, the property values enhanced, and the odd cross channel plunder a useful source of income. The Housecarls and others beat their shields and cried “Aye”. Knut was the King they had, they did not want another; at least while he kept winning.

The King turned to Eadric and Aelgar, it was a deeply worrying moment for both of them, not least because the King had beckoned to his Writer and other advisers, as well as motioning the Kings Shield Bearer to remain in his place. The King sniffed, called Aelgar forward and offered his hands, Aelgar placed his within them, and bowed, very deeply. “The Queen has a great interest in music, but not alas, yours. In these matters, I bow to her, out of husbandly love, and not because, as the mean minded suggest, it keeps her nose out of my affairs. I honour your craft, but it is time for you to move on, and I fear a little distance away, as our great friend Reinbald has taken a dislike to you. Your praises of male carnality and the Ancient Sagas are a little too forward for his taste. You will be made Free, but for what there is the question.”

The King turned to his Shield Bearer. “Well?” “Sad, my King, he’s no use as a warrior, but can keep the churls happy.” The King conferred with the others. “So, it seems that Wulfnoth’s former lands given to Gorm of Samso are available again, the Manor of Leigh with Bransford, and a few other pieces in the Hundred.” “What happened; did Wulfnoth’s family take revenge?” asked the Shield bearer. “No, they went off to serve the Scots and have carved out lands there, and the waters seem to have made them mad. Gorm was fool enough to go to a feast at the Hall of the Prince of Powys in Wales, and did not return. Well bits of him did but not quite all, so the land needs a master.” The King spoke, “Aelgar can be given Holy Orders and a dispensation to marry, so fix him up with a wife and some pennies and get him on the road as fast as possible. And make sure that if he has no sons to inherit, then the writ makes it clear that the lands revert to the Crown.”

For once Aelgar know when to keep quiet, he made his obeisance and retreated into the furthest corner possible before the King changed his mind. Now it was Eadric’s turn, he looked the King in the eye, then bowed, and went on to bend a knee. “Well, what about this friend of Wulfnoth?” The Shield Bearer smiled, “He’s a Good Man, loyal to his King and his family, he can wield sword or axe, but is best with the spear. He tried to control Wulfnoth, and gave his honour to all your guests, but no man could have done better. Wulfnoth was too far gone.”

The King looked his Shield Bearer for a full minute, but he did not flinch. Knut offered his hands to Eadric who took them. “So?” asked the King, asked the question of his scrivenors, the talk went on for a while in a dog Latin that others did not understand. The King then turned back to Eadric, “Ulf our brave and loyal Thane has lands in Cambridge that are lordless, the locals have been at each other’s throats again. Book reading always causes trouble. He needs a man with a steady mind and a strong arm. You will be Free and hold lands of Ulf under my writ. We will give a wife and slaves, and as many pence as necessary.” The King turned to the Shield Bearer, “Well?” The twist to the smile gave the clue to thing Kings thoughts.

The Shield Bearer nodded firmly. The King continued; he was prepared. “Tolig of Suffolk has daughters to spare. Young Gunnor is a fine one, built for duty and bedding, for suckling the young, and not too holy. You will be Eadric the Spear Shaker, and your seed shall be many and fruitful.” Eadric could not believe his luck, he had been much affected by the loveliness of Gunnor every time she bent forward. “So?” said the King to Eadric, who was now on both knees, “I am the loyal warrior and a man of my King and of Ulf, for all my time and word” he said and the business was finished.

“Well, it won’t be the same, but I might get some peace and quiet.” Said Aelgar relieved that he was still in possession of his vital organs. “With luck, and a good marriage, you could be one of upper classes, and even have a horse,” responded Eadric, who was voicing his own hopes. Given the rate of attrition in the wars, a survivor on the right side could go far. But Aelgar could not help reverting to his trade, “Yea, and I could write a tale of chivalry, of our mighty past, and great matters of the noble knights and their ladies, a tale of Arthur the King, and all the wonders of his age.”

Eadric winced, “Just forget it, what happened on this sod patch many moons ago will be of no interest to anyone. And if your are thinking of using our Anglo-Saxon tongue, forget that as well, the only languages that will be known in the far future will be Latin, the Norse, Frankish, and whatever they speak in the distant places. How many of our rulers speak it now? It is only us poor fools who cannot wrap our mouths round the sounds of others.” Aelgar did not like what Eadric had said, but he was always right.

They walked back to the Hall, a little reluctantly, but they were both thirsty. Silent at first, it was Aelgar who was the first to speak. “Now Caracatus; that might make a song of love and duty.” Eadric shook his head. “Well, something holy, a piece on The Apostles?” Eadric made the same motion and this time pulled his face. “About being young, a Wand of Youth”, “Age? A Dream of Gerontius?” “For the warrior shipmen, Sea Pictures?”

Eadric almost shouted, “No, no, no, your minstrelsy is past, it is over, ended, finished! You are now a landed Freeman in service to your Lord. Go to your holding, take a wife, and a few other women in service, raise crops, brew ale, rear livestock, breed children, and forget the past, it is done with.”

Aelgar walked quietly for a little way, but could not resist a last voicing of his thoughts. “Just a long poem? About ordinary men and women?” he muttered. Eadric the Spear Shaker stopped for a moment; raised his hands and said with a threatening but kindly tone of finality, “Aelgar, Aelgar, you are becoming too silly, so what is this tale to be?” The reply was slow in coming, “All’s well that ends well?”

Eadric the Spear Shaker shook his head gave Aelgar a light tap on his shoulder with his fist, and they moved on into the gathering darkness together, humming an old tune.

In Praise Of Sir Alec Douglas-Home

Apparently, in a poll of a number of historians Sir Alec Douglas Home, who had been the 14th Earl of Home before disclaiming his peerage and becoming a knight when appointed Prime Minister in 1963, was voted 11th out of 12 (the last being Eden) and therefore one of the worst two Prime Ministers of recent times. I wonder who these historians were; perhaps they should have had a closer look at the detail?

As someone embroiled in the Suez Crisis in 1956 I can agree that Sir Anthony Eden deserves one of the lowest listings although he involved us in only one bad war unlike Blair and Brown. Given his health problems as well as his temperament he should never have become Prime Minister. It was not simply bad succession planning it was the total lack of it.

In dealing with Sir Alec, however, he is one of the very few leading politicians about whom sporting metaphors can be used with any truth. He played cricket as an amateur for Middlesex and the MCC in an era when there were many fine cricketers in the game, professional and amateur.

Despite an undistinguished academic career, devotion to cricket does not go well with high honours given the time involved, Sir Alec became one of the reliable work horses of politics. He was trustworthy, knowledgeable, astute and unfailingly courteous. Given a job to do he would do it.

Also he had contacts in all classes and always knew a good man to talk to. Running a major estate requires skill and The Borders had a range of key Scottish industries that related closely to the local agriculture and economy.

Essentially, he played a straight bat, was a good man to go in when the wickets were falling and as a stock bowler kept the opposition’s runs down; which is precisely why the Conservative’s put him in as Captain of the team in October 1963.

It was when Harold Macmillan’s government was scoring ducks and Butler looked to be losing his nerve again, as he had done in 1940. Douglas-Home took control and made them buckle down in the field, bowl tight, and dig in behind the crease.

Macmillan had been betrayed by the Profumo scandal and had mishandled the issues involved. He had suffered rejection by De Gaulle over Europe. His Cabinet was in increasing disorder and the economy was beginning to blow fuses after his 1958-1960 spending. The Right were in anguish over the loss of Empire and world status and the Left were mesmerised by the Soviet mirage.

The Centre had grasped at Keynes ideas from the 1930’s to give some sort of basis of policy but had not realised that in the context of the 1960’s the changes in structures and money systems meant that inflation and other disruption were the consequence.

Amazingly, Douglas Home got his team back in the game. They lost the 1964 Election by very little when in 1963 it seemed that the Conservatives could be looking at another 1945 wipe out.

Labour took 317 seats with 44.13% of the vote and the Conservatives 304 with 43.40%, the actual margin being only 203,000 votes overall. A little more time and another Budget and Douglas Home could have won the election.

He did this despite being on the end of personal media vituperation and nastiness that was almost unparalleled in modern British history. The BBC was taking a terrible revenge for the Conservative decision to allow commercial television to compete for audience and attention and compromise its monopoly.

What he did lack was a pretty face, media experience and a salesman’s manner. His slightly shy, brusque, but determined stance echoed Attlee’s but this was now the TV age and Douglas Home was far from being the camera’s friend. Attlee was lucky to have missed TV.

Also, the age of the gentleman amateur was departing. When Douglas Home said with a wink that when trying to work out economic issues he used a box of matches it did not meet the age. Probably, he knew a lot more about practical affairs than most. Wilson played the expert technocrat and his party took their parts in this way. They claimed that they knew how things worked and so how to manage them.

As a statistician Wilson was fascinated by all the charts and lists of figures. The snag was that most of them were unreliable and needed analysis and careful thought. Wilson and his followers did not do that. They did decisions on the immediate figures. We all know where that kind of approach can lead us.

In the out turn Douglas Home’s matches may have been a better guide to working out economic policy given the catastrophic course of the Labour administration of 1964 to 1970. He had only a year and never had the chance to be a Prime Minister in the full sense of the term. His worst mistake was to promote Edward Heath but it is likely he had little option.

He did not get us into bad wars, he did not break the economy, he did not ruin half the population, he did not provoke a boom bust, he did keep us in touch with world affairs and he did maintain a decency and balance that we have all forgotten.

After he resigned the Conservative leadership he returned to be a very capable Foreign Secretary under Edward Heath. There hasn’t been a better man since. So we could never vote him one of the best Prime Ministers, but he was far from being the worst. Given choosing Sir Alec Douglas Home as Prime Minister against some of those since or before, then I would vote for him.

Certainly, I would be happy to see him at the other end of the pitch if I came into bat as last man in with ten to win, an hour to play and a failing light.

Not least, he was a Borderer of Nesbitt descent.

The Rule Of The Plundercrats

For some time I have been suggesting that all the old baggage of theories and “isms” we have collected down the years are out of date and now impede real discussion and awareness of what is going on out there. The problem is finding new words and a structure of ideas that does and can be understood. Perhaps we need to reduce matters to the simplest possible.

It is that the world is ruled by a shifting group of people who have gained control over the financial systems, scarce resources, communications and means of distribution. They are increasingly above the law, can control politics and their interests extend into almost every home and location in the world from which they extracted increasing amounts of wealth that they alone govern. Much of the developed world is collapsing into debt slavery and much of the undeveloped world is already there.

There are two possible words, Plundercrats or Lootocrats with Plunderocracy and Lootocracy as the group options. The second comes a little too close to the old Plutocrats associated with past “ism’s”. The first is a little clumsier but is more accurate as it more or less describes their mode of operations. I am settling for The Plundercrats.

This line of thinking was sparked off by a long item on The Vikings in the latest “Current Archaeology” that deals with the debate about them being “raiders or traders” etc. Rightly, the author, Chris Catling, points out that they were not the only armed groups of men in that period. There have been many others.

If you look at history in the longer period and over wider territories than Europe and the Mediterranean there have been times when there have been many types of mobile armed groups with predatory intentions and purpose who have plagued others and have taken what they wanted and when they wanted. What made The Vikings different was that they arrived suddenly by deep sea voyages and did not trouble too much about who they attacked. The churches and monasteries were not sacred as far as they were concerned if there was plunder or loot to be had.

To reduce all the political structures of history to their basic form essentially you have four organisational layers (who says I am not up to date?) above the base farming, working and trading elements in a society. You have War Bands, roughly a boat load of Vikings or Saxons and the like. Above them you might often have a War Lord who is recognised as senior and sometimes controlling of a number of War Bands, maybe by consent, maybe by force.

Above the category of War Lord there is Overlord who can command the loyalty and support of a number of War Lords. Then it is possible to have a Superlord who commands, and/or controls and is recognised by Overlords and other Warlords as their superior. To put it into old fashioned European terms an Emperor or major King might be a Superlord, other Kings with sundry Dukes, Princes as Overlords, with then ranks of Warlords and War Bands below them.

This system covers one or another most complex political systems in history. If you scratch below the surface of either ancient or modern supposedly representative systems you can find the same basic structure. They might have stopped cutting throats and all the rest but the idea is control and supremacy. The key to this is that these are in continual flux and do not remain static. Groups can rise or fall with either astonishing rapidity or over several generations. One situation can change form and then change again and again.

What is it all about? Essentially just like the aggressive Viking raiders, plunder, loot and money taking to enable the gathering of wealth to trade in desired goods and to create status. Also, the more of it you take the greater the chances of ascending the ladder of lordship, so long as you can keep it and your followers together. During our human history the various grades of lords have rarely cared too much about what happens to those below them and the collateral damage.

All these war band leaders and their lords are Plundercrats or Lootocrats and they are with us today in the shape of the globalised financial, oil and business communities. They have now escaped the control of the military lords; indeed they pay and command them. This is done through their political agents and stewards, sometimes theoretically representative, often dictatorial who depend on their funding and support for the access to media and the bands of followers they lead.

Unluckily, their greed and rapacity has done so much damage that in the vast urban areas and their helot populations new groups of predator War Bands are springing up. They are going out of control and will soon either contest the local Plundercrat leadership or by operating as independent entities that are impossible to control these War Bands will reduce the major economic bases to extreme forms of poverty.

The Plundercrats will then form or recruit their personal War Bands and retreat into heavily fortified communities, sometimes having to pay ransoms or forfeits to any better equipped War Band that might turn up asking for cash, as did the old Vikings.

I saw this big fast boat down at the coast that is there for the taking. If around thirty to forty blokes with time on their hands and all the right kit would like to come along we could have an interesting trip. Should we start at Marbella and move on to Monaco?

Call it our own personal Human Rights Campaign.

Bananas And Boundaries

Now that “Grabber” Gordon Brown is Has Been Of The Year what happens next? Will he adorn the benches of the House of Lords as Baron Brown of Balamory or even Earl of Glenvarloch? Will he retreat north to carry on plotting? Or has be bigger fish to fry, subject to EU quotas and environmental regulations?

Perhaps, given the resilience of the Labour vote in his homeland he may emerge as either the next First Minister or at least the Grey Eminence of a Scotland detached from England. The first straw in the wind is the claim by Martin Gilbert, Chief Executive of Aberdeen Asset Management that Scotland, or rather Edinburgh, could become one of the major tax havens of the world leaching capital from the deficit stricken developed world and the increasingly impoverished undeveloped by enabling the rich to evade taxation and other penalties of citizenship.

This was reported by the Tax Justice dot blogspot dot com on Tuesday 4th May under “The BBC, Scotland and Offshore” criticising the BBC’s lauding of the proposal. But the BBC at that point was trying to whip up support for Brown. The item in the Tax Justice blog just before that, one from Monday 3rd May was about “London, The Most Unequal City In The Developed World”. The nub of this was that London, the central agency for most of the world’s tax havens, necessarily has followed the pattern of such places by becoming a place with a super-rich elite and a helot population who are becoming ever poorer and now tops the list for inequality.

Who was responsible for that happening? Please refer to the first paragraph, Gordon Brown himself. The Scots remaining north of the border should be careful not only of what they wish for but who and take a look at just where Martin Gilbert’s lot operates. If Banana Man Miliband succeeds Brown as Labour Leader will he pave the way for the UK to become a collection of warring Banana Republics?

Those poring over the electoral map point to the disparity in the balance of voting and suggest that this necessarily means the potential end of the union. Quite why this should occasion an expensive and damaging breakup is a puzzle. Especially if any part remains in the EU, in which case the putative “independence” would be a complete fiction. It would means that relationships between say Cumbria and Dumfries would be determined by a clutch of continentals in Brussels without much reference to either Edinburgh or London.

Most other countries manage to accommodate differing patterns of voting in various parts by means of routine politics and the ordinary business of transactions. That we allow the whole business to be bedevilled by some of the more grotesque posturing of nationalist propaganda and myth making is plain silly. In any case if you look a little harder at the map you see that the voting imbalance in not marked by the current border, itself once known as cutting through The Debateable Land. The line is found further to the south.

You might take it either along the line of the Tees over to Morecambe Bay, north of the old Yorkshire and Lancashire or to the south from the Humber to the Mersey, in my view the more northerly one is the better of the two, but it is arguable. It depends on your view of the implications of The Treaty of York of 1237 later more or less firmed up by the Treaty of Edinburgh and Northampton of 1328.

Before 1237 the situation was in constant flux with the coming and going of Kings and Lords. Until 1283, the year of the Battle of Largs the Norse still had an interest. During the last years of King John in 1215 the Northern Earls of England allied with the King of Scots to attempt a coup whilst those in the South brought in Prince Louis of France as their potential King.

What is little understood today is that this line was drawn across lands disputed by various families and additionally amounted to a partition of the ancient Kingdom of Northumbria. This had been reduced to an Earldom, which had several claimants, including the King of England, the King of Scots and others, Mowbray’s to the south and Douglas’s to the north.

There was continuing conflict and violence until the early 17th Century when the accession of King James 6th of Scotland to the throne of England led to a crackdown on the Border families. This was accompanied by a range of bribes and honours for the great landowners. The territory is still thick with Barons, Earls and Dukes to this day.

So if voting pattern is the criteria could the southern part of the old Kingdom of Northumbria be rejoined with the northern part if that might be the wish of the relevant electorates? Cumbria might care to join them in such a Greater Scotland or Albion. Perhaps over the water the Six Counties might be allowed a vote on an individual county basis. Would Antrim and Down and even Londonderry prefer unity with the newly defined northern country?

Why in the 21st Century should borders necessarily be based on ancient long dead dynastic political deals? Especially, if they are troublesome and lack logic in the present world? There is enough trouble around the globe in places cursed with an unwise division imposed either by outsiders or as the consequence of a grubby personal deal between the reigning elites at that time.

If we are serious about democracy and local empowerment perhaps we should extend it to reviews of all boundaries in what is going to be a very changed world.

The real issue, however, is whether the various parts of the Atlantic Isles should function in one form of close liaison or another with each other or whether we allow ourselves to be detached and separated under the domination of other entities, whether in an EU with a broken currency or as economic colonies of China and Russia. When this was the case in the past in the Atlantic Isles it meant continuing and damaging conflict for the benefit of others.

At present we have a botched and bastard federalism. It might be better if we looked to the Swiss as an example. At least we would have a decent and affordable railway system.

May Day

Today I heard a distant voice singing, it is a very long while since I last heard this in a place far away in distance and in time. Lost, lost, lost.

“Sing a song of May time,
Sing a song of Spring,
Flowers are in their beauty,
Birds are on the wing.
May time, play time,
God has given us May time,
Thank Him for his gifts of love,
Sing a song of spring.”

2010 - A Reminder From The Past

A document unearthed recently by archaeologists from a building site near Kings Cross, evidently a place of ritual, has been translated. It is a public declaration by an official called “Custodian” relating to the year beginning and is dated to early 410 AD in modern form.

“ After due examination of the entrails of several beasts and offerings to the great and good amongst our gods and officials we can confidently state that there is to be a new beginning to our future, quite unlike the beginnings of the past, which will lead to a recovery in our affairs to reinstate what we have lost forever and no longer need.

The reductions in our defence budget and planned future deployment of more of our legionaries to the furthest corners of the Empire to secure our borders against the Persians, Goths, Vandals, Dacians and others will enable us to concentrate our efforts on our own internal security. This will be achieved by the empowerment of local officials in liaison with groups of the auxiliary forces in consultation with local interests. We are sure that the high level of mutual interests will lead to the political stabilisation of the Atlantic Isles for another four hundred years at least.

This will be enabled by the wise foresight of the control of the mints. The progressive reduction of the silver content of the coinage will continue to help increase the amount of money to further trade and critically the great work being undertaken by the money changers and lenders. It is to them and their central role in the getting and spending of money and trade that we look to provide a continuing rise in our prosperity. The reduction in the amount of gold we hold to assist the Empire in paying dues to the peacemakers on our eastern borders has been of great benefit and the continuing reduction will free us from concerns from this quarter.

Our policy of increasing the amount of protective fortification of the dwellings of our patrician class and local tribal leaders together with the concentration of trading in designated walled centres has helped our internal security and protected our vital interests. The continuing troubles amongst the plebeians and the other classes dependent on free grain doles will be addressed by firmer laws and wider powers being granted to lower officials and others to allow them to act without reference to the usual procedures. We have no doubt that the best way of dealing with the problem is to extract promises from the disaffected elements and to then release them to adjust to their communities in accordance with their lifestyle.

Community spirit will be maintained and improved by the provision of extra games and pursuits. Necessarily some of these will be violent amusements and others giving insights into the baser instincts and conduct of ordinary people. This is part of our lifestyle and we must learn to tolerate and welcome this as a staple of social intercourse.

In administration the greater influence and authority of Aquisgranum the city serving the interests of the Belgae, the Germanians and the Gauls is to be welcomed giving the Atlantic Isles a more central pivot to refer to for policy and trade. Similarly the transplantation of local tribal peoples, the Scotti, from the territories of south eastern Britannia around Camulodunum and Venta Icenorum to the furthest north can only be of benefit to all concerned. We are sure they will be welcomed by the Picts and the remnants of earlier peoples who went north in past times.

The Empires greatest achievement is in creating a diversity of peoples and beliefs. The steady flow of the skilled and able workforces from the lands around the Rhine and its northern and eastern neighbours we are sure will be augmented by more of these law abiding and peaceful tribes bringing with them their inclusive and benign gods. Moreover increased trade and contact with the horsed tribes far to the east has opened other wonderful opportunities. The Empire has little to fear from them.

There are other groups with other gods, including some who believe only in a single god. While the great majority of these are meek, submissive and helpful in their beliefs there are small number of extremists who give concern and who are both reluctant and unwilling to respect other gods and practices. Some have taken down bridges to make their places of worship and only allow marriage and child bearing within the terms of their own laws. More worrying is the lack of diversity in their relationships with others and secretive internal dealings. Nevertheless they are important to the Empire as a valuable source of slaves for the galleys and mines.

There are other issues for the Empire to deal with in the coming decade. The deforestation of much of the Isles is leading to difficulties in sourcing fuel and building materials. Also the more fertile soils of the lowlands are no longer giving the yields that they once did which means that the Province is failing to meet its revenue and export targets. The lack of maintenance of water facilities has led to breakdowns in some urban communities that are difficult to rectify. The calls on the legions have removed not only soldiers but the water engineers who have kept the systems running in the past.

Nevertheless the future is bright and the Empire has guaranteed that more coins will soon be had that although different will mean that the chariots and pack mules will soon be as busy as before.

Morituri te salutant!”

How different it all seems from our modern world.

Gordon Brown & A Christmas Carol

The name Ebenezer has attracted interest arising from the season of the year and the endless screenings of versions of “A Christmas Carol”, Charles Dickens take on Christmas published in 1843. Ebenezer Scrooge is the name of the miser who is persuaded by spirits to abandon capital accumulation in favour of consumption spending on behalf of those unable to take on the burden of economic stimulus.

There have been spoof blogs and articles favouring Ebenezer Scrooge’s original policy of conservative financing and leaving the Cratchits to their own devices, but point is given to the matter by the knowledge that Gordon Brown’s father was named John Ebenezer Brown.

Why Dickens happened on the name Ebenezer Scrooge (Scrogg/Scroggie?) is still a matter of debate. Given that he was something of a jackdaw in picking up the names and references that appear in his books it could have been anything from a tale he heard told to an incidental experience.

There were many Scots in London at the time of Dickens, himself once a clerk. They were recruited for their skills as clerks and accounting staff in the mid 19th Century arising from the more organised and extensive education of the young in Scotland at the time. Inevitably there was some resentment when many office jobs went to these migrants.

Dickens may have had to deal with a few and if he came up against one or two who were more stringent and particular in their duties than Dickens cared for and one was an Ebenezer the name was too good to miss.

Given the stern Biblical nature of its origins and the fact that many Scots, and perhaps Scottish offices in London, did not celebrate Christmas at the time because it was not in their faith to do so, it would have been an obvious reference. Some Christian denominations do not celebrate Christmas on Biblical grounds.

What of the name John Ebenezer Brown? With 171 Ebenezer Brown’s listed in Scotland at one time or another and no doubt others there is no shortage of choice. The one that really catches the eye is the marriage of an Ebenezer Brown to a Sophia Blair in the Middle or New Parish of Greenock, Renfrewshire in November 1875.

In Greenock at the time was a David Brown who had a son, Ebenezer in 1886, and earlier a John Brown, who also had a son Ebenezer, in 1863. There were a lot of them about. At this point I have to declare interest. One of my grandparents came down from Greenock and their family were resident in the same parish and the same period as those Brown’s. One had the Christian name of Ebenezer which had been in the family at least since the early 18th Century.

They had moved up to Greenock from Ayr and they and their family connections around the Shire had been there at the time of Robert Burns, whose maternal family were Brown’s. As we know, Gordon can be a wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, and the Burn’s poem “To A Mouse” ends:

“The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear!”

As well as the alarming thought that Blair and Brown could be related is another twist in the tale. The parts of Ayrshire and adjacent districts were strongly Presbyterian, but of different persuasions.

One group in the late 17th Century whose firm beliefs made them Protestant Martyrs were The Cameronians, a devout fundamentalist Biblical group, the followers of Richard Cameron who challenged authority to worship in their Conventicles.

A hundred or two years later many people in that general area of Scotland and wider would have part of their ancestry derived from this relatively small group. There are a great many possibilities. One is that in ancestral terms Brown could be in part a Cameronian by faith and blood.

Happy Hogmanay to you all.

Nero Returns - All Hail or Oh Hell?

According to recent Archaeology, it is possible that in the recently conquered Londonium of the the 1st Century AD the Romans erected a major building in tribute to the the Emperor Nero. In my last post I mentioned Lord Myners, the representative of The City close to the Prime Minister, if only to suggest that he was a major influence in the affairs of Government.

Seeing the picture of him, above, in Old Rightie's blog, it brought instantly to mind the portrayal of Nero in the series "I Claudius" of the 1970's. Guess which picture is which, a clue is which one has dropped a small wrinkled gherkin down his underpants.

Nero famously was a man who sang for his supper, and composed songs for others to sing. He was an actor who played to audience who were forced to watch and applaud, or else. He took part in an Olmpics to be awarded the prizes for events he did not win. His personal life was complicated in the extreme, and he seemed to have a general availability. He was widely distrusted, persecuted Christians, and enoyed roasting people alive. In the end he provoked a revolution, and left a chaotic legacy for his successors.

Quite different from Lord Myners, well, up to point, Lord Copper.

Brush Up Your Shakespeare

One of the major eating houses of the Midlands of England is the Pizza Hut at Stratford-upon-Avon on the corner of Ely Street and the High Street. It is one of the few surviving ancient buildings following the many fires of the 17th Century that destroyed much of the old town. There is no evidence that William Shakespeare ever ate in this building, although it was unlikely to be a pizza eaterie or take-away at the time. As he was an inveterate freeloader, it is possible that he had a free lunch there at another person’s expense.

There are echoes of the past, from the unhealthy diet and the way the remains of meals are strewn about the neighbourhood. They relate to the ancient beliefs of making oblations to their ancestors and the local gods. The archaeologists of the distant future will look on these remains and wonder in awe at the peoples who lived lives of such intensity and complexity.

The term "hut" an Anglo-Saxon corruption derived from Germanic sources, more recently known as an anthem to St. Elvis of Memphis, the hermit who lived in a dwelling so small he could never stand up in it, "The Little Hut". But "Pizza" has an ancient British meaning. In the Pre-Roman days the sub-tribes of Dubrovni of the Midlands, the Tin Oss, the Moreis, the Arm Strong, the Jags, Root, etc, were feared for the speed and aggressive way of handling of the chariot on the field of battle. Even today outsiders venture into the motorway ring roads around Birmingham or Coventry with fear and trepidation.

The particular technique of these warriors was to ride straight at and over the enemy reducing him to a mangled heap of pulp, at which the victorious charioteer would cry "Pyggeroffal” in the local dialect, a nasal one confusing to those not familiar with its intricacies. In linguistic terms little has changed amongst the peasantry in the last two millennia.

After a battle the victors would eat such remains as part of their celebrations.When the Roman Legions (the merger and acquisition dealers of their day) encountered these tribes, they eventually triumphed by reason of their ability to stay sober for more than an hour and willingness to communicate with each other rather than engaging in a fierce debate when any decision had to be made. They still sustained serious losses.

As the basic Roman diet at that time consisted of a hardened pancake of unleavened bread with a thick fish sauce (garum) coloured and made palatable by strong spices, it closely resembled the mangled pulp to which many of their comrades had been reduced. Consequently their basic food became a "Pyggeroff" . The Romans absorbed local cultures from most of their domains.

This word was taken back to Italy as a description for the food. Down the centuries the meal sadly has been debased into a flat white bread soft circle onto which anything can be tipped and usually coloured with a cheap tomato sauce; hardly the stuff of the warrior classes. The word also has been corrupted under the influence of changing speech patters into the easier and sloppier "Pizza" with the decline in the vigour of modern generations.

Whenever you have a take-away "Pizza", and contemplate the past, it can be a totally new experience, although the rumbling you will hear and the pains in your abdomen will have nothing to do with chariots or the heat of battle. There will soon be a new type of Pizza on the market, when the Lisbon Treaty has been ratified.

It will be called “Berlusconi – The Treat of Rome” and will consist of a lump of very ripe fat cheese between two tasty bits of young rump lying on a bed of oily salad, above a subsidised GM bread base and surrounded by capers and wine soaked cherries. It goes very well with a strong country Sicilian wine.

Lenin, Hitler, Liverpool, London & Rorke's Drift

An item has been for sale online, said to be an etching made in 1910 of Lenin and Hitler playing chess together in a room in Vienna in the house of a mutual friend. Perhaps, the bit that worries me is the etching. This is skilled, expensive, and takes time and trouble. Anyone recording this event would have been more likely to make a quick sketch of one sort or another. Also, there must have been many more interesting people in Vienna playing chess or talking together at the time. Hitler was an unsuccessful artist, turned 20, and going nowhere. Lenin was just another middle aged political thinker and activist on the run from Tsarist Russia, ageing and seemingly with no real future.

The other tale about the travels of Adolf that had attention in the past is the one about his supposed visit to Liverpool between November 1912 and April 1913. Based on a suspect memoir by his sister-in-law, Bridget (born Dowling), whose husband Alois Hitler; step brother of The Fuhrer, was working as a waiter in Liverpool at the time, it became the plot of an imaginative and readable novel by Beryl Bainbridge that was turned into an interesting TV item. As ever the myth overtook the truth. Detailed research in Vienna suggests that such a visit was never made, and that Bridget was making up an Irish whimsy later in life to help sell the copies of her life story. It is a great pity, in 1913 both my parents and their hordes of families were roaming the streets in which Alois and Bridget Hitler lived and worked. I could have come up with all sorts of wild fantasies.

A much better prospect for men who might have met and talked is a pairing that many would feel very unlikely. It is Lenin and Hook, one of the 13 men who won the Victoria Cross at Rorke’s Drift in 1879 when just over 100 men held off and defeated a Zulu Impi with a force of up to 4,500. They were certainly in the same place at the same time and for a year, and with interests in common.

In April 1902 Lenin, born Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, was in London under the name of Jacob Richter, to avoid the attentions of the Paris agents of the Okhrana, the Tsarist Secret Police of Imperial Russia, and he stayed until May 1903. At the British Museum he was issued with ticket number A72453 to give him access to the Library with its vast resources of books, and he spent a great deal of time there researching and writing. One minor speculation is where he preferred to sit, perhaps seats G7, H9, R7, R8, but the favourite is L13 because of its nearness to the reference shelves. Of the many attendants around, one would have stood out.

Alfred Henry Hook, who had dropped the Alfred early in life, known as Harry, was by then around 50, and perhaps already affected by the TB that was to end his life in 1905. He had been employed there since the 1880’s. After earning his VC in 1879, and with permanent injuries he had bought out, and in 1881 was working as a groom to a General Practitioner in Monmouth named George Willis. Not long after he was employed at the British Museum as an attendant, and signed up additionally with the Royal Fusiliers, The London Regiment, 1st Volunteer Battalion as an instructor, rising to be Sergeant. The Volunteers were the predecessors of the Territorial Army, and often functioned as feeder units to the regular Army.

There are reasons for Lenin to check Hook out. One was that as a figure of authority he was more likely than most to be asked his opinion about this “Mr. Richter” if the Special Branch had been alerted by the Okhrana and were seeking information. The logic would have been to test the possibility. Intellectually, however, would anyone with such an enquiring mind and intelligence of Lenin, miss the opportunity to have an occasional conversation with a man of this experience? It would not have been difficult, because Hook was temperance, and as busy men both may well have used one of the cheap tea rooms in the vicinity before going on to meetings, as Lenin would, or the Drill Hall, as Hook would. Even fifty years later, it was surprising who you could just bump into when going into a Bloomsbury tearoom for a quick cuppa and a sandwich.

Imagine, a foreigner with little income, but with a trained legal mind, high academic qualifications, and a great breadth of knowledge, asking plain reasonable questions to an older man to help him towards an understanding of this or that in the news in Britain. The end of the war in South Africa, a new Prime Minister, the crowning of the new King, the British in Somaliland and West Africa, the troubles of agriculture in the Atlantic Isles and more. Hook was a countryman by birth, one of the many who joined the Army for employment and training. As for Empire, Hook had experienced the full reality of it at the end of his bayonet, and had been involved with many men since who had seen its further shores. He would have been able to make informed and incisive comments about the South African War of 1899-1902 and the business in Nigeria.

It is speculation, and no more, but what might Lenin have learned from Hook? Lenin at the time was interested in agrarian issues, colonisation, political structures, and the extent of financial interests. In military terms, it would have been organisation, discipline, tactics, the ability of a small well trained group with the motivation and leadership to withstand and overcome what was in theory a vastly superior force. In 1914 the Old Contemptibles, the small regular British army, stopped the might of the German Kaiser’s Imperial Army by its rifle skills, discipline, and bayonets.

To understand Hook you need to forget the film “Zulu” and totally clear it from your mind. It is “Hollywood History”, not as bad or idiotic as most, but certainly with many adjustments to the facts and in particular the portrayal of personalities. Hook of the film is a travesty, as are other characters, notably Dalton, but to a lesser extent Chard and Bromhead, both highly professional soldiers who at the end of the battle shared a bottle of beer found in a burned out wagon. Hook was a sober, capable man, probably with a West Country accent, literate and able to communicate well enough. He would have been a good man to talk to. I believe he always remained a country man, because he returned to his home village, Churcham in Gloucestershire, to die. There is no statue to him anywhere; he has only a simple grave in a country churchyard.

If they did meet and talk a time or two, it might have been this quality and a direct sense of purpose that may have impressed Lenin most of all.

DNA, Genes, And All That

DNA, GENES & ALL THAT

Essentially there are three types of DNA assessment available to the public. These are:

Y Chromosome tests, which define the male line from father to son. These are used for ancestral problem solving and paternity issues; for surname studies; and for a variety of kinship groupings, tribe (clan), caste, extended families, broad ancestry etc.

Mitochondrial DNA, that defines the female line from mother to daughter. These have been used to try to estimate population movements, in that the child-bearing females are critical in population expansion. At the earlier stage of DNA testing attempts were made to identify human groupings on this basis. When Y Chromosome testing became available it was found the patterns were not the same. The debate continues.

Autosomal DNA, that is a depth examination in the 22 chromosomes other than the Y to seek the pattern of overall sources of ancestry. At 12 generations back there is a total potential of 4096 ancestors at that point for any individual. Whilst the actual figure in each case may be lower, it may well still exceed 3000. Beyond twelve generations the increase continues, probably at a lower rate. For the great majority of people beyond the very limited numbers in enclosed or highly restricted groups this implies that the total of an individuals ancestry cannot be limited to one social class, geographical area, or kinship group. For those groups or people who know that their ancestry is widely based this can help them define the major elements. But the definitions are broad in scope, entail continental groupings, and cannot distinguish between the nation states and other political entities that historically are very recently contrived.

Phases of Interest

The classification of periods and the drawing of lines at different points of time is an intellectual minefield with several dangers. One is the risk of losing sight of the woods for the trees, and another that the scheme adopted may not follow the evidence but lead to a form of analytical rigidity with the effect that findings and evidence are forced into a set mould irrespective of what the reality may be, because for particular groups and structures it is necessary to have that theoretical basis for their status, work, or to retain the integrity of their belief systems.

So a key problem in this field is that too many people can jump to conclusions, suppose grand theories on findings that are really very limited in scope, or have fixed agendas to follow from the recent past in the interpretation of data. There are also the dangers of misunderstandings leading to more serious problems. In the UK we have had major legal fiascos arising from the manipulation, gross mishandling and misinterpretation of DNA and statistical data, and this in courts where one might expect the sharpest minds to be at work on the most expert and informed evidence available.

The phases I suggest are crude lines drawn to be able to distinguish potential areas of interest and nothing more, they are not a grand historical scheme, simply marks in the sands of time. The first phase is the period from around 1700 or 1800 to the present. This is to find lost branches of known families, or lost cousins in the movement of populations around the world. For some it will as a result of the many diaspora and flights from the land, and for others to identify from whence their families came. The second is broadly the period 1100-1800 the pre-modern economy, the time of surname formation, and of the recorded history of much of Europe. The third is the Post Roman to 1100 period where the recorded history is very limited, there is a great deal of myth and legend, all too often taken literally, and a story that is becoming more complicated and indefinite as archaeology reveals more of the past.

The fourth is the period of Roman Britain and the Ice Age where the written sources are very sketchy and of doubtful reliability, but again the archaeology is becoming more complex. The fifth is the Bronze Age where there are substantial settlements, but we rely heavily on what comes out of the ground. For much of this and the earlier times the same applies to a much greater degree. We then depend on archaeology, dendrochronology, the ice cores and the many and various means of scientific analysis. The sixth, seventh and eighth phases represent the Neolithic, the Mesolithic, and the Palaeolithic, where the size of settlements is reduced as we go further back in time, and farming gives way to hunting and gathering. Again we are leaning to be less dogmatic about these matters, it seems that later hunter gathers may have had means of cultivation, and the farmers did more hunting than we have assumed.

Phase One – 1700/1800 to Now

Who on Earth am I related to? A great many people may wish to know that, although human emotions being as they are, the answer may not be welcome. A fairly near cousin who is unknown may have left his DNA at the scene of the crime, and you may be obliged to answer questions about family history about which you are sadly unclear, but if a respected and famous person is found to be one of the family that might be a happy result. Also, where did all those cousins go, and who are they? Re-uniting families can be attempted. Historically, the collation of evidence on a larger scale may lead to clarification and re-assessments of what is believed to have happened in recent history. Some of the assumptions that are made about class, social, and personal mobility have to be questioned. One thing is certain, our DNA is not our own, nor is it our private possession, we share it with others, indeed all others.

Phase Two - 1100-1800

A number of similar considerations will apply to this period of history, although broader in the scope of enquiry, and taking account of greater complexities of movement, structure, and the patterns of relationships. This will go beyond families and considerations of existing national boundaries, many of which are historically quite recent in inception. One area is surnames.

If anyone wishes to have a surname group study it is possible, but does rely on enough people to be willing to give samples. Sometimes it suggests common close ancestry, and sometimes not. We have to be aware that surnames have come into use in Europe only in the last thirty or fewer generations, and that the fixing of those names and spelling can be recent, for example Saxe-Coburg-Gotha and Battenberg’s becoming Windsor’s in 1917, despite the protests of the holder of that ancient title. If the findings suggest a common pattern amongst a large enough proportion of the sample, this could point to a degree of relationship, and perhaps nature of distant origin in broad terms.

What it might be in detail is another matter. If many Macdonald’s seem to have common male origins, this does not mean that the “Somerled” gene has been found. We do not have his DNA, and too many questions arise. One is that we cannot be sure where the early males who left most surviving progeny came from, and the exact pattern of relationships at the time. In the millennium 1000 to 2000 AD, there are still a great many uncertainties and complications concerning human demographic growth and movement.

So who my ancestor in the male line may have been in the last thousand years is arguable. He may have been a trader who never went back. Perhaps he was one of the many foreign mercenaries recruited by one or other of the Warlords down the millennia, or even a travelling friar prone to human temptations. He may even have been in the Atlantic Isles immediately after the last Ice Age. What the DNA will begin to suggest if enough samples are found for analysis is who some of my distant cousins might be, and this will narrow the number of possibilities. In any event by this stage the potential number of the ancestors is very large indeed. If a person has found one or more members of the elite groups by the 16th or 17th Century, the chances are that by 1100 almost all the then elite will appear in the family tree, as one commentator has put it, half the population or more will have King William I, The Conqueror of 1066, in their ancestry.

Phase Three – Post Roman to 1100

In this period, roughly taking in “The Dark Ages” we have very few documents, and while some of these may refer to other peoples and groups they have to be approached with a great deal of care as their information is often distant in sources, loose in description, generalised, and far from being impartial. Yet a great deal of historical writing and theorising has imposed perceived structures of population and the analysis of archaeological research since the Renaissance on these shaky foundations. Because little is available, and is written by men of religion, it does not mean that we can place greater reliance on it.

Whilst we have learned to change our minds about much in science, astronomy, and medicine, in terms of the demographic issues in History there still exists a substantial vested interest in past theoretical structures and the classification of information. Giraldus Cambriensis (Gerald of Wales), of Norman Welsh immediate descent, may be an attractive writer and persuasive in his prose, but this does not make him a reliable commentator. That another cousin of the same family, Maurice Fitz Gerald, was the progenitor of the large Irish Clan of Fitzgerald, does not make his ancestry Irish.

In the third phase my father’s forefather could be an Icelander, the Sagas etc, a Pict, one of the Irish based Viking raiders that rowed up the Severn in the 890’s, a Norseman, a Gotlander, a Frieslander, a Dane, or a Saxon or any one of quite a few other things. The Haplogroup of my male DNA is found across Europe, into the Balkans, with scatterings further beyond. There were some settled in Transylvania and the Balkans, and a few of them arrived in the Scottish Borders and the West Midlands as Dacians and others recruited by The Roman Empire. It is found in Afghanistan, albeit a minority and beyond.

The idea of my forebear being some kind of Siegfried waving his sword about, or a bold Viking doing the usual things has attractions for many. The majority of my personal ancestry by 1600 probably is Scots, and they have their own ideas, some conditioned by the terms of the Scots Declaration of Arbroath of 1320. This claims “expulsis primo Britonibus et Pictis omnio deletis,” which, however translated, gives a survivor of the 20th Century a very queasy feeling. The references to Norwegians, Danes, and Angles suggest that they were not welcome economic migrants. Also, it is addressed as submission to a Pope in Avignon then currently engaged on a major Crusade against his local Jews in southern France, eliminating any who he considered to be dissidents, conniving at the sale of heretics as slaves in Islam, and burning and pursuing the fleeing Franciscan Scholar followers of John Duns Scotus, who may well have come from Dunwich in Suffolk, where an East Anglian Scott family was prominent. So what I might like to have as an ancestor, who I did have, and their personal habits and actions may be different things.

Phase Four - Roman Britain & The Iron Age

But what were Vikings, Saxons and others before these labels were applied? The few writings of the period we have inherited are anything but clear, and modern archaeology is suggesting that what went on in the settlements was quite complicated. Similarly the story of the Roman and the immediate earlier period is becoming much more complex, there is scanty written information, and the naming and characterisation of the peoples and tribes encountered beyond the Imperial fief is vague and loose. A real problem is that this information from the Classical Period has had a major impact since the Renaissance, with again too much trust placed on too few sources. Before then in Northern and Western Europe we have only the findings of archaeology and the application of science. This has developed so rapidly in the last three decades, that much of the theorising and the ideology of historians, antiquarians, and eugenists made in the period 1700-1970, that is still imposed in many academic circles and in groups myths of origin has to be discarded. But the imposition of old theories and systems are difficult to shake off. My preference is to use the simple term “early peoples” until a great deal more is known.

Just who were the Germanii, the Goths, Visigoths, Vandals and others? How do these earlier groupings fit in to the pattern? Then, there are the Celts, an alleged all conquering Master Race eliminating native populations, presumably by the usual methods. If they were not this, and there are grounds for thinking that matters were much more complicated, are we using this term as a catch-all that has been assumed as a racial theory? Given the movement question then it begs the question of whether many of the later Saxons, Franks and Gauls were just another type of “Celt”. If there are serious difficulties in the analysis of the Iron Age and the later Bronze Age then in the times before it is necessary to be come even more careful and less dogmatic or wedded to an 18th Century and 19th Century methodology. The belief in Britain and Ireland by many that the “Celts” wiped out the previous populations to become the only Pre-Roman race in these territories is a sub-set of the early theories of an Aryan master race, and consequently has to be approached with a very critical eye.

We may have begun to learn a great deal from the benefits of the applications of science in terms of the food they ate, the metals they used, the way they built their houses and farmed, and other things. But we can only speculate about the languages they spoke, the gods they worshipped, their belief systems, how they saw themselves, or how they regarded their history. We can be surer that they knew mathematics and the way of the stars in the sky, but less so about the purpose. For myself, my ancestry is likely to be amongst all or any of them.

The Early Four Phases – The Bronze, Neolithic, Mesolithic and Palaeolithic Periods

In the early, called pre-historic times, the early Iron Age, the Bronze Age, the Neolithic, the Mesolithic and the long Palaeolithic there is no documentation for much of Europe, as well as other parts of the world. There are remains in the Mediterranean Basin, the Near and the Far East that give us an insight into language, society, and the economy of a number of peoples. In Britain and Europe in the mid 19th Century the rediscovery of the ancient world of the Near East beyond the time of the Greeks and Romans, and the decipherment of their languages with the accompanying information from these earlier societies took a long time to find acceptance. This was because whole systems of belief, theology, and the myths of peoples rested on only what had been known, and for many solely in the history recorded in The Bible. So there was denial, and the attempt to insist on fitting every finding into an existing theoretical structure.

But elsewhere only what is found and reclaimed from the soil and the scientific analysis and classification of those findings is available to us. In the last thirty years, new developments, new methods, and new science have transformed much of the dating and analysis of discoveries, and of past findings. The DNA research is attempting to provide, if not an answer, at least a means of addressing some of the issues of human occupation.

Inevitably, in the analysis of human DNA from existing populations there is a debate, with a divide between those who want to prove the continuing validity of the early theories of race and descent, and those who feel that these are inadequate or plain wrong as an explanation of the development of modern humanity.

For the lands beyond the Atlantic, now the Americas, the “New World” seems to be becoming much older than anticipated, and more complex, and illustrative of some of the problems. As the Ice Sheet covered much of North America the initial theories that became established were that the settlement of The America’s originated only after the Last Ice Age with migrants from North East Asia across a previous land bridge and later the Bering Strait who made their way south over many generations. In the USA now there are groups who have claimed the description of Indigenous People and who bitterly oppose any findings or attempt to research or reconsider any further past. Alongside them is an academic establishment alarmed that matters might be more complicated, and that there were both earlier and other peoples. So there are moves to suppress work that could challenge these beliefs. Also, little attempt was made to find anything from earlier periods because it was assumed that there was nothing to find, or to look for other peoples because the theory said they did not exist, much in the way that the concept of the circulation of the blood was once disregarded by the most learned physicians, and of course, we all know that theoretically it is impossible for bees to fly.

Coda

Given that the Ice Sheet came down to what is now the English Midlands, my male ancestor may have just stayed where he was and changed with the times or have come from one of many places. Where he may have been and what form of life he adopted, can only be guessed at. There was one of my name transported to America for theft in the early 18th Century. He would have felt that he had been sent to the ends of the Earth. But when he arrived there he would have found a local tribe in the vicinity, and he would have recognised the name.