Romans

On a beautiful sunny Bank Holiday Monday, we took my parents to the garden centre and then for a drive around South-West Northumberland. Chesters Roman Fort was en route, and Dad commented that he hadn't been there since he was a boy, so off we went to Chesters.

In that part of Northumberland you're never far from leftover bits of Roman Britain. The wall built by Hadrian to keep out the Scots runs through it, so there are settlements and forts all over the place. Not much left of them these days, but enough for to be able to see clearly where the stores, barracks and baths were, and whole museums full of everything from altars to hairpins. I stArted off worrying that Dad would find the ground hard going and ended up running to catch up with him (but that was because I stopped to say hello to a horse, and the horse wanted to know if there was anything to eat in my pocket and when there wasn't he tried to eat the pocket instead...)

What made it more fun was that the Romans really were present, or at least, a historical re-enactment society of Romans. They had set up their stalls, cooking, making weapons, and so on, and were about to stage a battle. All great fun, but we didn't stay for the battle.

I remembered a day twenty years ago at Chesters at just this sort of event. It was August Bank Holiday, and freezing.

I believe I've told you before of the Northern word for seriously cold weather. It is 'nithering'. Believe me, that day was nithering and as we stood to watch the exhibition of Romans fighting Britons it got nitheringer and nitheringer. The drizzle of rain began. At least the Romans were wearing tunics and armour, the poor Ancient Britons were in trousers and blue paint and spent a long time lying on the ground being dead. After ten minutes, they probably were. I was so nithered my feet were frozen to the ground. I had my coat wrapped round all three children and was hanging on to them so tightly I expected them to turn as blue as the Ancient Brits from either cold or suffocation. We couldn't move because we were at the front, and besides, we were frozen solid.

At last, the presenting Roman began to wind up the event. Soon, soon, I thought. Warm car. Home. Hot drinks. But they hadn't finished yet. He thought we might like to experience what it was like to face the terrifying charge of the Roman army, so he lined up his troops on a hill and ordered them to charge towards us. We were meant to be impressed.

So we stood our ground in the face of the Roman charge, but we couldn't have moved by then anyway, we were ice, and what was more, I didn't care. Bring it on. Mow us all down. I HAVE LOST THE WILL TO LIVE!