A Don’s Life

Why stop at the frail -- lets tag everyone

When I am 85, if I last that long, I fully expect that I shall be tagged.

Quite how “bewildered”, “frail” or “forgetful” (or whatever other euphemism my loving relatives choose for my incipient Alzheimer’s) I turn out to be, doesn’t matter very much. It will simply be more convenient all round for people to know where the old dear is. I’m sure I shall have given my consent . Between a little electronic chip and the kind of constant vigilance that means you’re only allowed out on the town when someone gives you permission, or worse still takes you, the choice is obvious.

Frankly I’m more worried about losing it (the tag, I mean). If the plan is that the chip doesn’t need to be in a criminal-style leg-band, but can just be slipped into my mobile phone…well, I lose that enough now at age 52. What will I be like at 85? Perhaps it would be sensible to go for the subcutaneous variety that people put in their dogs.

That’s me sorted then. But I have no doubt that it wont be long before the plans for tagging (sorry, “tracking” is the new word of choice) Alzheimer’s sufferers, proposed by the government science minister and now backed  by the Alzheimer’s Society, will be taken up elsewhere.

The case for tagging children is surely even stronger.

Does dry-cleaning get rid of radio-activity?

I am posting this between putting the turkey in the oven and getting the pudding on the boil. The husband and daughter meanwhile are just back from (?recovering from) a visit to the Ukraine – part sourcing objects for an exhibition at the Royal Academy and part (this was the daughter’s idea, needless to say) making a trip to Chernobyl.

Poor naïve creature that I am, I hadn’t realised that it was possible actually to visit Chernobyl. But you can now get an easy-to-arrange, custom-made, rather pricey trip from Kiev, with organisations that will get you a visa to visit the “exclusion zone” (a visa’s still necessary), drive you out from Kiev and show you round. Right up to the “sarcophagus” itself, as you can see in the picture.

Of course this is a moving experience. Heaven knows what is actually happening to the local people now. But I was particularly struck by the tales the family brought back of the (then) Soviet workers who leapt in to the reactor to block off the radio-active surge – knowing that it would kill them within days (which it did). And despite all that follows, I’d recommend taking the trip – even if that is a second-hand judgement.  Inter alia the site has become an amazing animal refuge/rare breeds centre…and the animals happily seem normal enough.

But Mum’s question was, predictably: is it dangerous? Or dangerous for humans?

Five things the Romans did at Christmas

OK, the Romans didn’t actually have Christmas. And even Christian Romans didn’t celebrate Jesus’ birthday on 25 December until at least the fourth century AD.

But they did have a big festival in late December for the god Saturn (god of sowing, it is often said – but for most urban Romans his temple in the Forum was best known because it doubled as the state treasury).

And there are lots of things about this festival – the Saturnalia – that should ring a (Christmas) bell.

1) A big dinner. On 17 December, there was a great banquet at which the gods -- or statues of them at any rate -- joined in. And it was a day of release for Saturn himself, because the woollen threads which bound the feet of his statue together were cut or loosened. No, don’t ask me why: I haven’t a clue. But it’s another nice addition to the list of very weird things the Romans did.

And next . . .

Were ancient statues painted?

The short answer is ‘yes’. Much of the pure, gleaming white marble sculpture that we now admire was certainly coloured in some way. The question is how was it coloured: a delicate wash, or bright, glaring hues?

When I was in the States, I went to an exhibition in the Sackler Galleries at Harvard, which offered some examples of how Greek and Roman statues might have appeared with all their original paint. (You may have seen this show already – as a version of the same exhibition has appeared in Munich, Rome, Istanbul, and will soon go to the Getty.)

It’s a great, garish multi-colour spectacular. My question is  quite how far you believe the details. Does the colouring of  ancient statuary really mean this kind of bright, in-your-face, dazzle.

Or, to put it another way: if you are not entirely convinced by the gaudy blues and yellows, are you simply guilty of a romantic view of ancient sculpture that wants it all white?

How do we want our ancient sculpture to look?

What should we do with Stonehenge?

Having been away, I have only just caught up with the decision to leave Stonehenge to the mercy of the motor car: no tunnel (too expensive) and no by-pass either.

I have visited the place three times I think. The first time was with my parents in the mid-1960s. Then, as I remember, you parked your car just off the road, paid your money at a wooden booth and walked right over to the stones. You could touch them, sit on them. We had a picnic I seem to remember. The thrill came from the sheer proximity, from getting right up close to something built all those millennia ago.

By the time I went again, it was with my own children, some time in the mid-1990s I guess. By then, there was a ghastly visitor centre and you certainly couldn’t get close to the thing itself – but I don’t remember much more. (You don’t when you go with kids – you’re too busy tending to their every need and being upbeat about whatever dreary pile of antiquity you’re inflicting on them, to get much out of it yourself.)

The third time, five or six years ago, was a more reflective visit, with plenty of time to think about just how terrible the fate of the stones had been. In fact, there is not a single wonder of the world I know of  that is more unpleasant and tacky to visit.

Radical solutions are, I am afraid, called for.

The Last Days of Pompeii

Blogging again from 37,000 feet, I have come to the conclusion that air-stewards/esses fall into two types, much like nannies. On the one hand, there are those who exude brisk, efficient and wholesome concern (and, while affectionately liberal with the goodies, don’t encourage too many second helpings). In my experience, this is the British Airways/Air New Zealand type.

On the other are the “double dose of Calpol all round, rock the little ones  to sleep, so the nannies can put the kettle on and chat about their latest dates” type. This is what I have just experienced on American Airlines, from Los Angeles to Boston. We piled on at 3.00 in the afternoon and got force-fed vast quantities of alcohol (OK – it was what is euphemistically called a “premium” cabin), lunch was delivered and taken away at lightning speed. And then it was blinds down and lights out, while the cabin crew spent the rest of the six hours engrossed in chat and doing their nails. Woebetide any passenger who didn’t go to sleep. In fact, on the flight out to LA, they actually barricaded their area with one of those little trolleys and anyone daring enough to try to pass by to get to the loo was firmly told to use the one at the back.

I wouldn’t have minded the lights-out, snuggle-down routine quite so much in other circumstances, but when you are going West to East, LA to Boston, in the middle of the day, the way to avoid jet lag is to STAY AWAKE not go to sleep.

But anyway this was the only blot on my trip to the Getty Villa and Center, where it was a nice 80 degrees and sunny, the lecture went well, plenty of books were sold, lots of friends came – and (when I wasn’t self-promoting) I had enormous fun as part of a “brain-storming” group making plans for a Getty exhibition on the “Last Days of Pompeii”.

One night stands

While I have been blithely posting on the irritations of car insurance etc, I have in fact been in the States on a tour of one night stands. No – not that sort. It’s the theatrical/lecturing sense of the term I’m using here.

I left the UK last week, after an excellent brunch for book-bloggers at Profile Books (who publish my “Wonders of the World” and “Profiles in History” series). Petrona’s already reported in on this. I just want to add that – enthusiastic book-blogger that I occasionally am -- I was a bit apprehensive about meeting my cyber-colleagues. Truth to tell, I suspected that, however sparky they might appear on the computer screen, they might prove to be a bit nerdy in the flesh (like me?). Actually I was wrong and good fun was had by all.

Why did Profile host it? Not total altruism. Blogging is increasingly an important review medium and leads to sales (or at least it may do). It’s worth a publisher being in with us.

After that, first stop was Boston . . . then New York, and I’m writing this on the plane to Los Angeles. It’s been good so far, but not as glam as you might think. The first 36 hours I didn’t set foot outside the hotel, but sat in my room, sustained by room-service (apart from the occasional trip to the gym/swimming pool/cocktail bar) finishing – well, writing really – the lectures I’m giving.

Name and shame for bad classicists

I’ve long been tempted to have a regular extra blog post, collecting together recent howlers about the ancient world presented to an unsuspecting audience by journalists etc who should know better. What has tended to put me off is the “let who is without sin . . .” principle. That is to say, everyone makes mistakes, and if you name and shame someone today, they’ll do it to you the next time you make a slip.

Anyway, I’ve given up those scruples just for a while.

A colleague emailed me the other Saturday morning to tip me off about an interview with the Margaret-Thatcher-loving, tv-historian Dr David Starkey (pictured here with a royal), in the back of the Guardian’s Guide section. Starkey, it turns out, is a real Roman hater (odd that – I’d have predicted the reverse). “What did the Romans ever do for us?” asked the interviewer:

“The Roman empire is a greatly exaggerated virtue”, responded the Doctor, “That’s the case with most empires, and certainly the sort the Romans created, which was, if not mono-cultural, then certainly very centralised and very aggressive, riding roughshod over highly diverse and different native cultures. We’re very reverent about the Roman empire, but the really creative periods are what followed. The Romans were overrated and over here.”

Now I don’t mind anyone hating the Romans, or anyone giving the Middle Ages their fair due. But I do mind them spreading this rubbish. The grudging admission that the Roman empire was not mono-cultural is one thing (try looking at the culture of Roman Syria and comparing it with Roman Scotland and then doing the mono-culture test). But where has Starkey been if he thinks that Rome was very centralised and rode roughshod over native cultures?

Not in a library that’s for sure.