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The weather in Britain is terrible. Apparently they have a saying amongst the Cantici - "If you can see Gaul, it's about to rain. If you can't see Gaul, it's raining." What with that and the fog, it's no surprise I've picked up some local ailment which I believe is called 'a stinking cold'. I curse my own foolishness, of course. There was a perfectly good war going on in Africa I could have got involved in. Or I could have invaded Lycia and Pamphylia - they've got good beaches there. But no, I had to let scholarly interest lead the way.
The ferry crossing was horrible, but at least I picked up some good stuff in the duty free. I don't think the elephant enjoyed it much though - and trust me, you never want to observe a seasick elephant. I shall be having words with Guilliemus Acerbus.
Still, the fighting's going well. Had a bit of trouble with the Britons being uncooperative, knocking off at the seventh hour, and not fighting at all two days out of seven. Vespasian (he'll go far, that man) suggested we attack after the seventh hour and on those two days, and since then we've been killing them. Serves them right. The silly people can't even decide how to spell their own names. Cymbeline or Cunobelinus? No-one seems to know.
I'm quite pleased with the latest bit of the 'autobiography'. I've made up some nasty stuff about my grandmother (well, she's dead now, she was a shrew, and it's not as if anyone's ever going to read this). Messalina's asking me to put some racy stuff in for her, and I may well oblige.
Anyway, must go. I've been stuck on the via Londiniensis circularis for a couple of hours, but it looks like we're about to start moving.
Yours,
Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus you know the rest ...
P.S. What's this about Odysseus still not being home?
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Thanks for all the latest news from your campaign. Sorry to hear that Britain is such a wash-out, though. Still, think what fun it will be to extend the pomerium when you get home. And I'm sure the yields from the tin mines will do wonders for the treasury.
How interesting to hear about the fighting habits of the Britunculi. I've heard that they have some frightful national drink they like to partake of in the late afternoon - 'ti', or something, I believe it's called. I hope it's nothing like the brew those villagers up in north-western Gaul used to drink. You remember - the ones who gave your illustrious great-grandfather so much trouble.
I don't know how you find the time for your autobiography, what with all the other fascinating tomes you've produced on subjects like gambling and new letters for the Latin alphabet. Still, I suppose a man needs a little cultured diversion while he's stuck on the far fringes of the civilised world. Are you planning to publish it during your lifetime, or bury it in a lead box somewhere for posterity to discover?
As for Odysseus, he did show his face briefly to set the kingdom in order and get rid of the suitors (pity...). But he's attracted such fame now his travels have been novelised that I've barely seen him since, what with the lecture tours and so on. Still, it brings in the money, and leaves me free to get on with my weaving.
Speaking of which, I suppose I'd better get back to it. Good luck with the rest of your campaign, and I do hope you'll remember to invite us to the triumph.
Vale!
Penelopea Purpurea
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