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Fallen Men

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Wednesday 14 January 2026 at 03:45

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He haplessly fell, and helpless, I could not get up

[ 10 minute read ]

There was a man lying in the road yesterday; on one of the dual carriageways in the city. He had tripped and fallen and then went to sleep. Most people don't know what to do in these circumstances. We have seen television programmes of Americans calling , 'Stay with me! Stay with me, buddy!' but that is their language, and it is for the birds and film studios. 

Sure enough, by the time I arrived there were five women ineffectively gathered around the fallen man. It might just as well have been five men, none of them was in charge and none of them seemed to know what to do next. One woman was crouched down near his head. They didn't want to drag him off the road, and I was there for about seven or eight minutes before someone decided to phone for an ambulance. 

It is these two parallel actions that are the tells of the inefficacy of these helping bystanders that marks them out to be note-worthy, but also entirely normal. It would only take a nurse to roll up and the scene of slapstick chaos would be complete.

At least two of these 'helping' women had witnessed the man start to cross the road, and as he got to the middle of the two lanes he tripped and fell, and then didn't get up. I got there perhaps within two or three minutes of this occurring.

       'What happened?'

       'He tripped and fell'

       'Choose someone among you to be in charge, 'I said.

One of the woman mumbled and pointed to the woman crouching by the man's head. I assumed everyone had slotted into their positions to follow her. I didn't really care. In most cases, a man showing up to an unusual scene of five women standing over a prone person lying in the road is going to end in tears, if he tries to take control of the situation.

       'Is he bleeding?' I asked. No-one answered but there was no blood on his face or the road.

I refrained from asking if he was breathing or if he had a pulse. A quick glance told me he was a 'homeless' elderly man. He had no shoes on and there were none to be seen. he had a long, untrimmed salt and pepper beard and was wearing a black great-coat. There was a petrol service station he seemed to be heading for and it was about twelve noon. 

       'He might be a bit drunk.' I offered though uselessly. It made no difference to anyone's idea of what they should do. They just carried on ineffectively looking helpful and it seemed to me, barely managed to appear concerned, to the passing drivers.

Sure enough, just to complete the farce, another woman turned up. It was always going to happen. Sometimes, it is an extra man but only if there are already a lot of men who outnumber the women. If there are a lot of men a female nurse never appears out the blue. What happened next happens regardless of whether there are men or women around. Being 'nuts' is not gender specific.

       'I am a nurse.' Her voice should have triggered a warning in my head, but her breathless tremor was not really so evident that I noticed anything amiss at the time, and I was distracted by my own inability to make them all turn their backs so I could drag the man off the road and onto the central median.

       'He tripped and fell,' I told her. She barely acknowledged me. There were now six women and she was laying the foundations of a wall she hoped the others would labour on. I didn't notice any of the other women's attitude towards me change. 'Family Law', to them, would only ever be just two words together.

I have high-viz fluorescent green paint on my bicycle front forks and, since no-one was watching the traffic, I positioned myself and my bike to 'protect' the carriageway that these 'helpers' were stubbornly occupying. I thought about all the drunk students just twelve days ago, with traffic cones on their heads, and wished I could summon them before they had ever got home. 'Do your bit, lads and lasses, then take them off here.'

At this point, many people would think I am callous. 'Drag him off the road? You brute!' Look at it this way; If you were on a drunken night out and your friend fell over on a road, drunk, what would you do? Exactly! Since a couple of these women witnessed this man fall over they should have moved him off the road. Maybe he had a heart attack? Moving a heart attack victim won't sever his spinal cord. Maybe he has a brain hemorrhage? Take control and protect the scene.

After I had been there for five or six minutes and the nurse had showed up, someone phoned for an ambulance. The nurse came over to me and angrily said, 'Does someone want to direct traffic, instead of just.....' And there it is! 

       'Everyone is behaving well. The traffic is moving and no-one is panicking. You shouldn't try to confuse people if they act acting responsibly.' I replied. Another woman came over to me after another minute or two.

       'If you want to get going, I will take over. I have a hi-viz in my car.' she offered. She was helpless but calm, and not at all like the hapless woman pretending to be a nurse. She knew I was acting as a lookout.

       'I'm fine. Hi-viz forks,' I said pointing to my front forks.

       'Where did he get hit?' asked the nurse of the other women. You will remember that I had already told her that he had tripped and fallen. Two of the women pointed to the pot-hole in the road and told her they had seen him fall without being hit. The helpless and hapless 'nurse' however, looked around on the road, downstream of the traffic.

       'Where are his shoes? Where did they get flung to?' 

       'He doesn't have any,' one of the women patiently replied; like the others, helpless, now a spiky non-conversant worrier had turned up.

       'You had better phone the police too, because he is lying in the road.' The nurse shrilled. That won't help, I thought. I think the other women silently agreed, since no-one had already done so. One of them, a slight Indian woman complied.

The hapless barking nurse was beginning to sound a bit like the Martians in the film, 'When Mars Attacks!'. 'Ack Ack Ack!' The same words over and over, and only the intonation changing. We had stopped listening to her.

The traffic was passing at about eight miles an hour, and giving a wide berth to the gathering bodies around the man. A few drivers slowed down to a crawl to lasciviously rubber-neck, and I silently hoped their partners would eventually see the light and finally leave them for someone a bit brighter and more socially responsible. 

The hapless pretend nurse, it was obvious, had no experience of crouching on a portion of a dual carriageway, and eight mile an hour moving vehicles was freaking her out. No-one else was at all bothered. One or two of the women stopped the traffic so they could cross the road to get to a building, and then come back again. Nobody braked sharply or swerved. The cars that stopped for them remained stopped until I beckoned them on. All of them were sensible.

Because, I suspect, the women would never have allowed me to drag the man off the road by his wrist, I wanted to loop my belt through one of his own belt loops to prevent him from waking, attempting to rise, and end up falling into the open carriageway. If I had done so, the scary and fizzing pretend nurse would have had a melt-down, I thought. I resigned myself to having to sacrifice my bike if the man decided that the attention was fine and fun but the road was too cold now, and it was time to get up. I knew that I would have to throw my bike in front of a moving car to make them do an emergency stop; just in case he blindly shoved one of the women away from him. 

Plainly, the rabid hapless nurse wanted to stop the traffic, but there was no way I would do that, unless it was entirely necessary. I have a huge amount of experience of being in, blocking, and clearing carriageway lanes across the whole of Western Europe. I have experienced the different national styles of driving; a myriad of accidents both happening in front of me and old ones too. I have seen cats run over, and dogs and people flung into the air, and I understand the practicalities of panicking people into doing something other than what their nature tells them to do. On the autobahns of Germany with no speed limits, the only cars that are rear-ended, and are on the side of the road, have British number plates. I also know that stationary traffic causes accidents.

Backing up the traffic leaving the city, would paralyse the whole city. It is a tiny University city. The police and fire station are in the city centre, a five minute walk from the mouth-foaming witch who had decided to take charge. The onus of the position she had placed herself in was just too much for her. Man, woman, child; we all feel like that for a day or so, or if it is longer we upset our families.

Thirdly, and everyone ignores this; only a police officer can direct traffic and not get sued if there is an accident as a result of a driver following traffic controlling action. Yes, you will see road-workers controlling traffic, and, Good Crikeyness, you should obey them, because your insurance company recognises their experience and desire to protect both themselves and others' property.

Eventually, a rapid response ambulance turned up and squeaked its horn to alert us that it wanted to run us over if we didn't move. 'I am here; watch out!' Actually, the driver was just saying 'Be careful, because I am about to do an unusual thing by crossing the central median'. I moved and rode on, but not before I noticed a police car stop on the other, entirely clear and freely moving, carriageway. 'Great', I thought, 'That should slow the traffic down on that side of the road too!' I shook my head and was glad to be out of it and on my way.

When I got home, I waited for someone to phone me as a follow up to a business appointment I had in the city. I don't like waiting for phone calls, so I listened to LBC. The topic was on social media for under sixteens. There was a caller.

       '[...] I am fairly sure that I don't think original thoughts anymore. If I come across something unusual in my everyday life I think, "That reminds me of a TikTok video I saw last week, or something I read on X. I don't think for myself"

Not everybody has the same experiences in life and we don't act appropriately in many situations.

Someone at the scene of the fallen man should have taken charge and been able to answer questions; The marionette nurse should have had her strings cut and sent on her way because she was confusing everyone with her lack of experience; the woman who said she has a hi-viz jacket and was standing in the road should have been wearing it; The cars parked half on the road and half on the central median should have been fully on the road with their hazard warning lights on (none of the three there had them on); Someone should have been making sure the man did not rise up in mental anguish and start attacking people around him; and someone should have been shouting to get him to wake up.

Why didn't I do more? I think it is obvious; experience cannot be explained to inexperienced people. It didn't matter if the attending people were male or female; most people don't have original thoughts any more. Anyone who does is an alien.

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The hammers that crush creativity on the anvil of doctrine and dogma

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Tuesday 16 September 2025 at 16:15

All my posts: https://learn1.open.ac.uk/mod/oublog/view.php?u=zw219551

or search for 'martin cadwell -caldwell' to eliminate caldwell returns or 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser. 

I am not on YouTube or social media

Tomorrow, I am going back to writing fun posts. The 'interview' posts are popular, but I am actually more fun than it might first appear from those posts. Click on the tag 'interview' for those.

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[ 9 minute read - 2045 words ]

The hammers that crush creativity on the anvil of doctrine and dogma

I have come to a crossroad in my thinking. That sentence is probably the least true sentence I have written in ten years. My thinking is not linear. There are no crossroads in a primeval forest where my imagination dwells. I don’t walk across a field from one five bar gate to another five bar gate without looking at the pond, the fallen tree or the cowlick and water trough.

Ultimately, we all have to take responsibility for what we say and do. Most of us have to make an effort to be kind. While it is inherent, in different measures, in all of us, kindness can be suppressed by doctrine, just as creativy is.

Doctrine: A rule or principle of law, especially when established by precedent.

From Wikipedia: ‘Doctrine is a codification of beliefs or a body of teachings or instructions, taught principles or positions, as the essence of teachings in a given branch of knowledge or in a belief system. The etymological Greek analogue is 'catechism'.

Let me make myself clear: I am in no way aligned with an ideology or doctrine that promotes creativity in one and seeks to crush creativity in other less capable beings. If talking works for some people and they find it stimulating, then fine. If it is talk that harms or plagiarises others then I am not keen on it. If people need to feel validated, then fine, that is their bagatelle or trifle. Such a position positively invites being judged though, doesn’t it?. Is the statement strong? Is it logical? Is it another way of preaching, but by a back door. Most people, however, won’t dwell on it as being worthy for expansion or explanation because they have their own original ideas, and in any case, there is the next paragraph to go on to.

From a very young age I was good at art. I got an A+ for a topic on birds which I spent perhaps 95% of my time making a collage of a bird from only torn newspaper (and glue). At primary school, kids could just do as they pleased. No-one was channeled into following technique or dogma. It was a free-for-all thinking place.

A couple of years later, at secondary school, my class was given Art homework: “Copy something that has a rough texture, such as bread. Also as the second part of your homework, copy something that reflects light or its environment.” Those weren’t the exact words, but you get the idea. I protested that I could already do that, to no avail. I did the homework and at the end of the school year dropped Art as a chosen subject. I have made some money from my art since leaving school, and I saluted myself when I came across Art graduates from the same University. Their final pieces were so similar as to cause me to think that I was seeing representations of how their tutor preferred to paint (pointillism).

However, years later, I almost entirely stopped being physically creative. I wasn’t despairing or anything but I did a level 1 Art course at a college, you know, actually going there. Wow! I did not know that there were techniques that make a world of difference to the fun one could have, and the outcome of the piece. A leap of thinking: I still don’t understand why musicians practice scales, though.

I have to take responsibility for chundering a belief system or doctrine, as being a loose codification of beliefs. My take on life is much affected by my past and my current perception of how I can best navigate environments that confuse, frighten, and also delight me (though not simultaneously). My intention has always been to foment creativity by showing it. If someone liked a picture I painted it was because they have some imagination. I should, however, make it clear that writing or making creative pieces is really for my own pleasure in the doing of it, but I have a mind on how a finished piece might affect others. Nearly all of us learn how to consider others. However, there are a few who have such a firm belief in themselves that they are completely convinced that the doctrine they follow is the only one with any credence. That is one of the signs of indoctrination.

I suggest it starts with a form of narcissism and like Chat GPT this narcissism is groomed by bad actors to become open to suppressing individual creativity and thinking. My brother was a narcissistic psychopath, which meant I could never give him the slightest praise for anything I considered to be worthy of reward and for which I understood to be his own idea or work. Of course, in that sentence I am evincing my own narcissism or self-worth. We do have to have self-esteem to avoid becoming a victim. Here then, is a different perspective on why we can be swayed into developing an acceptance of a controlling force. In order to bolster our self-esteem, we need validation. Chat GPT does that. It is designed to do that. It is however, only a set of algorithms. 

The ‘crossroad’ of thinking comes from a new mental position I now have. Should doctrine be suppressed because it suppresses? Paradoxical as it is, it is comedic if we protest against all protests. Bit too topical perhaps. A quick swerve away from that; OU blog posts is not the place for fomenting sedition or sharing political viewpoints. I have an Northern Irish neighbour who reminded me of something that I grew up with. He said, “I don’t normally talk about religion or politics.” I suddenly realised why I had grown up with that. It is an Irish thing. Yet, it still holds today. I had been talking religion to my friendly Irish neighbour. How crass of me. There was me thinking my viewpoint is open and friendly and not at all demanding or challenging! I completely ignored considering someone else’s background and upbringing as being directly affected by violence, because there were and are two opposing viewpoints.

I try to write clearly that it is my opinion that I am offering, from my own perspective and that I am baffled why other people have different lives and likes. I try to put across that I am flawed in my thinking; that I don’t have enough information to understand other people; why they plagiarise other people’s ideas and concepts; and most curiously to me, why young people want to be influencers (I do, however, know they want to feel validated in a world of ‘likes’ and inter-connectivity). I also want to feel validated.

I am absolutely certain that creativity is more about originality and uniqueness than copying and emulating. Cover versions of songs have sometimes fooled me into thinking that I am hearing an original because I have never heard the original. I have even preferred a cover version than the original. Plainly, there is some effort that has gone into creating a new production, but to my mind, it isn’t creative. It is merely using a tool to rehash something, much like using A.I. to rewrite a blog post or essay. For me, I cannot help but think I am in the presence of a creative piece that has been decimated by precision and shaved into a shape by doctrine. By decimated (10%) , I really DO mean 61% has been removed, only a structure exists; it lacks soul or depth. Nine iterations of decimation has occurred.  It is bland and uninteresting; it is a conjunction of words or musical notes that make sense to a robot. There is no contributing human. It is not our language. It is machine code masquerading as sentiment. It is the dissection of creativity. That is not to say cover versions are dull or empty if creativity is added.

Voices on the telephone sometimes belie the true sound of someone’s voice. It is a long time since I did ONC Electrical and Electronic Engineering at college and Microprocessor-based Computers with the OU, but I think I am right in saying that the bandwidth used in telephone calls clips the outlying frequencies of voices over a telephone network. This may not be true with microwaves, but over a landline this occurred or occurs. So, the lowest and highest frequencies that make up the signature of someone’s voice are clipped off, I think. Instead of hearing a voice ‘in the wild’ we hear a voice that has been cleaned up.

Obviously, a child learning to draw and paint cleans up their eye to hand movement, and applied perception, as they get older. A question arises as to how much creativity is suppressed by following rules. Watercolour paper, being heavy and not smooth, is ONLY for watercolours. Oil Pastels and wax crayons work really well on such paper. Oil Paint on such paper is a waste. You can be told this by someone with an indoctrinated opinion; an experienced person; or you can find out for yourself.

A wise woman offered to me, ‘What is normal for the spider, is chaos for the fly’. I have no idea if that is her own or it is borrowed or regurgitated. It really doesn’t matter, because this person is inspired to think in a particular way that embraces uniqueness; difference; opposition; understanding; consideration; pondering; free-thinking! Ultimately, unfettered creativity. I am confident though, that local environmental conventions, such as national sentiment is a consideration for this person, just as it is for almost all of us. Don’t go there; this is not about expressing oneself in public streets. I recognise this person also stated her desire not to offend.

While I recognise that I often lean on other people’s work, I am not a reviewer of their work. I would be ashamed to read someone’s words and then reconstruct the theme according to my way of thinking. I would feel as though I have violated the intent behind their work; stolen their art in leaving gaps for the reader or viewer to fill in with their own mind, and robbed the reader or viewer of sensation. I would feel that I am emulating A.I. that already emulates humans. Think for a moment: If we all use A.I. to improve our writing before we publish it and then A.I. takes the content as being examples of human creativity what would we eventually end up with? There is a technique that relies on this kind of reiteration to produce some quite interesting artworks; but, for me, only in glancing. They are no Renoirs or Delacroixs. ‘Spiders and flies’ I suppose. I think there are sayings that used to have ‘horses for courses; and ‘different strokes’ in two of them. There has always been a recognition of differences and it has been celebrated.

I believe we should all be creative, and come up with our own themes, concepts and ideas. Not all of them might be appropriate for public airing but they can be shaped with technique and conflation with other themes, concepts and ideas. If we find that we are following someone else’s mental position, I suggest that we should never attack it, or expand on it, or dissect it, unless we are instructed to do so for an essay or something. I am aware that in some forums, students have to comment on other students’ efforts; a most ugly task that somehow is awarded points towards a personal achievement, such as a certificate, diploma, or degree. A most awkward tangle of selfish convergent thinking being used to comment on someone’s divergent creativity. A sorrowful episode indeed!

In any environment, there could be a voice such as this:

Most of us believe this, and we are so sure we are right, you should be like us otherwise you are a fool, and we will hound you until you join our independence-stripping group and help us bring others down, (because we are weak)!”

Homogenisation or homogeneity, and hegemony, I suggest, are the hammers that crush creativity on the anvils of doctrine and dogma.

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