In a taxi on the way to Panama City airport 12 months ago. My bike had already flown with Girag air cargo, to Bogota, so I was on my way, blissfully unaware that the text message I was about to receive from Karen, would not only change this trip, but my whole life and my outlook on life too.

After a very uncomfortable 11 months of being beholden to my friends and without any real independence, I’m about to have somewhere of my own. To be in a position where I can actually begin to think about being me again and to contemplate what life is and that there is a future, rather than just a killing time.

My new job will see me moving around quite a bit and will of course finally enable me to have some income. 11 months, even when the roof over your head is paid for, still eats into your reserves, especially when there’s nothing, not a penny coming in.

And with an income starting, I won’t have to resort to suing Karen, although it would still be an option considering what has, or rather, what has not, happened.

So bagging up my bits and bobs, spending what little I have left on getting appliances and household stuff (American things don’t work and Karen has almost all of them anyway) and heading for the hills.

The new site should be ready early in the new year. Only trouble is, I’ll be remote, so broadband may not be as readily available, still there will be somewhere I can exchange my money for access I’m sure. I’ll just have to find it.

Liverpool Mac shop has been my link to the outside world. My only contact with people, apart from the odd ride out with the GSers and of course Rob and Gill, my saviours from a life on the street (not wishing to seem melodramatic here, but given the total lack of support from the Government bodies and I mean none at all, I would have been on the streets without their help. I can see how easily folk can fall through gaps in what professes to be a civilised society, full of caring and charitable institutions with initiatives here, there and everywhere, yet none would have prevented me from being destitute).

It was good to be able to treat Rob and Gill to dinner last night. Scant return on all of their hospitality, but heart felt thanks, none the less.

11 very traumatic and pressurised months and the friendship has held up…that’s the only good thing to have come out of this. That and a realisation that I need to harden up and never put myself in a position where I am so beholden to someone else’s whim and fancy, that they can cause anything like this to happen again.

Trust has taken on an unsavoury edge. Not one I like to have to implement, but one I’ve learned I must put in place.

Well this isn’t one to celebrate either. One year ago I started out on the Three Teas Trip.

Still haven’t really got to grips with what happened, or why and certainly haven’t returned to any status that you’d call normal, or desirable?

Perhaps it’s just a trip that hasn’t finished yet, so there’s no way to sum it up…yet.

In between sending out over 1250 job applications since returning, trying to prove to the Government that I am indeed British, constantly explaining what the hell I’m doing in the UK and “no it doesn’t seem to make any sense does it”, and “no there isn’t a shorter version” and “I’m sure it’s not something you’ve encountered before but can you help” and “what do you mean, it’s too complicated for you, you are the citizens advice bureau, you are supposed to have access to experts” and, “if I had any money I wouldn’t be asking if you did a no win no fee service, so why do you keep saying 200 pound an hour and ooh isn’t it complicated, so that’ll take quite some time”, and, “well after two years your no claims bonus has gone, so it’s full price”, in between doing that stuff on a very regular basis, well daily actually, I have spent a few hours at the Apple Mac store.

They have helped me to work on a new version of this site. It’s not quite finished, but it is the only thing where I seem to be making an progress in my life. So bear with me for a short while and there will be something more dynamic and functional to look at.

In the meanwhile, I’ll get back to wading in the crud that I seem to be unable to crawl free from.

An area of Great Britain that I’d always by-passed in the past was the North East corner of England.
I had a job interview in York (didn’t get it) and with my hosts having a celebratory leaving for America party for their son (not something I felt comfortable attending), I decided it would be a good time to take advantage of my proximity to the area.
The interviewer said he’d not hold my motorcycle clothes against me, so I set off on Thursday.

Unlike crossing the USA, crossing England is a few hours at most, especially at the point where the wall was built by Hadrian between 122 and 130 AD. Much of it has gone. Pillaged for use in other buildings near by. In certain areas it has disappeared altogether. In others, remains show how formidable an obstacle it would have presented, especially where combined with geography and geology.

This is a slide show from some of the stills I took. There’s lots of video that I need to edit, but I’m also working on changing this website at the moment, so patience is needed on that.

When looking at history and travel, sometimes it’s easy to think it was only invented a few hundred years ago. The fact that sitting on a wind swept, wet dark, cold and overcast volcanic outcrop, high above the marshy lands that were the boundary with the barbarians, was the job of a Syrian archery battalion in AD 100, suddenly brings home how arrogant we can be to be dismissive of the achievements of our ancestors.

That buildings were constructed, which have lasted time, wars and weather for centuries, where as the modern structures we throw up have a fifty year life expectancy, makes you question our temporary, disposable attitude.

One thing to remember about building a wall is, it will have two sides…one side to keep people out and the other side keeps people in. You are building not only a structure but also division, creating an us and them, mistrust, alienation and fear. Always been the same with walls, always will be.
Hadrian’s version was as much about financials as it was safety.

Of course, when the Romans and their forces withdrew, they left behind a very prosperous country but without admin and a strong law. Others tried to move in, so defences were needed to keep them at bay.

Human nature being what it is, when not facing an enemy, often the powers that held this force, would use it to further their own causes, which sometimes resulted in the subjugation and exclusion of the populace from sharing in decision making and wealth. The few gained a lot, at the expense of the masses.

So there you have it. Fear and the manipulation of fear, enabling the few to prosper and create a clique of power, at the expense of the people they are supposed to be protecting. Still that’s just history…isn’t it.

Oh yes, the bendy bloke…St Cuthbert. Locked himself away, so that the view and other people wouldn’t interfere with him performing his devotions (not sure what practical use that has). Anyway, he died and was venerated for what seems to be a purely selfish lifestyle. Still on Lindisfarne Island, the monks had amassed wealth by selling prayers to save the souls of those willing to pay. The Vikings came over and raided. St Cuthbert was exhumed and moved. His body was still flexible and hadn’t decomposed, even though he’d been dead for 40 yrs. He was dug up several times there after, always bendy and fresh. So it seems that St Cuthbert’s reward for his piousness was to be blessed with a flexible body…after death…so that’s useful.

Took a leisurely 3 hours to meander across England from one side to the other, following the 80 mile long wall as closely as possible. Took 4 days of riding around, to see what I wanted to see though.

Things frequently seem so cut and dried in historical reports. That’s very rarely the case as you soon discover following the Wall. We were taught that it was the end of the Roman Empire, but that was only the case for a 40 yearish period. Trajan had gone much further north and you see Roman settlements and forts on the “barbarian” side of the Wall. Plus these barbarians weren’t all that barbarian. They were skilled farmers and crafts people. They were just different and had a different culture to the Romans, who happened to write the reports.

Anyway, Cumbria and Northumberland, full of history. I even tripped over history, it’s everywhere.Vindolanda, is the site of the most treasured British find in the British Museum, the earliest written records found in the country. The excavations in this picture are of the 7th layer of fort built by the Romans. Their structures used unseasoned timbers, so had to be demolished every 20 years or so. They’d cut the wood down to ground level, then use clay to set a new floor. This anaerobic layer effectively sealed the layer beneath and trapped everything for posterity.

As I mentioned previously, the forces here came from many locations, with the Roman Romans holding the senior positions. Even the local Brits joined the Roman army…minimum 25 years after which you were eligible for Roman citizenship.
This is a modern stone to commemorate all who served at Vindolanda and the Wall.

The Batavians (Latin Batavi)[1] were a Germanic tribe, originally part of the Chatti, reported by Tacitus to have lived around the Rhine delta, in the area that is currently the Netherlands, “an uninhabited district on the extremity of the coast of Gaul, and also of a neighbouring island, surrounded by the ocean in front, and by the river Rhine in the rear and on either side” (Tacitus, Historiae iv). This led to the Latin name of Batavia for the area.[2] The same name is applied to several military units, originally raised among the Batavi. The tribal name, probably a derivation from batawj? (”good island”, from Germanic bat- “good, excellent” and awj? “island, land near water”), refers to the region’s fertility, today known as the fruitbasket of the Netherlands (the Betuwe).

Tungrorum:
The Tungri were a tribe inhabiting the western Ardennes in central Europe. The only concrete evidence for the presence of this unit in Britain is an undated altar to Hercules unearthed at Mumrills on the Antonine Wall, where they were probably the first garrison. The only other records of this regiments service in Britain are on military diplomata from Chester and York

Nerviorum: from the Bavay area of northern France.

The Vardulli [or Varduli] were a small tribe from north-east Spain, whose neighbours were the Vascones. Their territory was a narrow strip which stretched from the coast (between San Sebastian on East and Motrico on West) in land just about to the river Ebro between Logrono and Miranda de Ebro. Strabo only specifically mentions the Vascones as occupying the region now populated by the Basques, however Pomponius Mela and Claudius Ptolemy mention in addition, the Vardulli and a third tribe the Allotriges [or Autrigones]. It is probable that the Vardulli and Allotriges were either tribal subdivisions of the Vascones or separate tribes linked by at least a common language.
The early history of the unit is unclear, however it is likely that the cohort had been raised by the time of Claudius. It is first recorded in AD98, as part of the garrison of Britain. By this time the unit had already earnt the titles fida [loyal] and Civium Romanorum [Roman citizens]. It was an equitata cohort which meant that of the approximately 500 troops about 120 were cavalry the remainder being infantry.

Sometime between AD105 and AD122 the cohort was enlarged and become a milliary unit. The introduction of milliary units in the second century AD was an important development. These were approximately double the size of the standard quingenary [500 strong] cohorts. In the second century AD there were at least 7 of these units in Britain, one of which was coh I Fida Vardullorum. These units were not only larger than the standard cohorts and alae, but were more highly regarded than them, being commanded by the pick of equestrian officers. Milliary units were commanded by tribunes, rather than prefects who commanded quingenary units. From time to time it was necessary to split the milliary units in two, with the rump quingenary cohort and a vexillation of nearly quingenary strength. It was normal for the unit to drop the title milliaria at these times, retaking the title when the vexillation was restored to the unit.

http://vindolanda.csad.ox.ac.uk/

This is the link to what the British Museum consider to be the most valuable items in their collection. Why?
Well jewels and carvings are valuable, but due to the fact that these tablets are fragile slivers of wood with ink writing, there’s very little chance of survival. That they record, first hand, the communications of folk, is like being able to listen in to a time gone long ago. “It is as near as one gets to travelling in time and meeting someone from that age”.When Romans were riding their early versions of Lambrettas, MVs, Ducatis and other Italian makes around the Empire they obviously needed road signs, as although motorbikes had been invented, GPS was still in its infancy.

He was however a very successful Emperor.
This is history though. Purely history, from which we will all have no doubt learned much, so I dare say we won’t be making such judgemental calls again…ooops too late.