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Strange World

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Saturday 12 September 2026 at 16:31

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

or search for 'martin cadwell -caldwell' Take note of the position of the minus sign to eliminate caldwell returns or search for 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser. There is a space between my name and the minus sign and NO space before 'caldwell' to eliminate the name 'caldwell' in the Google listings

I am not on YouTube or social media

Cadwell NOT Caldwell

Strange World

[ 5 minute read ]

Opinion 

Just saying

I did not know that moths are water-proof. If you throw water at them when they are in your bath they don't get wet! And here's another thing. If you pull a leek out of the ground because it went to seed, leave it in a drought for months in a bucket and then it rains, the 'dead' leek grows bulbs at the base from which new leek plants grow. Who would have known?

I don't think moths are  waterproof, because if they were, Mr Macintosh would not be known for rainproof coats; and I am pretty sure we can open our windows on a rainy night and not have tickles around our legs when we are naked, exotic men and women with feather dusters and boas aside.

I still have no explanation for the woodlouse in my bathroom which no matter how many times I rinse it away in the basin or down the bath plughole seems to make its appearance the next day in the bath or basin. Oh! perhaps my suspicion that visitors to my home leave insects and creepy crawlies behind is not a wild fantasy. I have long thought that they have packets of insects that they release in clean homes for some nefarious reason. I think I get it now; maybe.

I had a van that rust had rendered awkward for the MOT testers to pass. The wheel arches were pretty much destroyed and the holes left there were full of mud; the type of mud that mud huts are built out of. The mud that won't wash away and has the benefit of having hydrocarbons, and plastic and rubber particulates in it. MOT testers were not allowed to remove the mud or any other type of filler, no matter how ugly the appearance, while they were doing their tests. My understanding was that all they could do was run the back of their hand over afflicted areas, repaired or otherwise, to feel for sharp and scratchy areas. One time, my van failed because the wheel arches were scratchy. The MOT tester had dug out the mud. He advised me to take it to his cousin who had a repair shop and he would fill the arches with, well, filler. What a scam! I am quite surprised the tester did that because I was 1.85m and weighed 100kg (220 lb or 15 stone 9 lbs in old money) with no visible fat. Perhaps my reputation preceded me and the whole town knew I was a donkey without a decent bray; it was, after all, a town of boasts and posturing. You know, it is sometimes expensive to be considered to be benign (or stupid).

Of course, I am merely fantasising about people coming into my home to do repairs with boxes and packets of insects that I might report to a pest controller cousin. It does though, make for good entertainment when you follow them around your home with a microscope in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other. Frowning and raising your eyebrows adds to the tension too.

My doctor phoned me a couple of days ago.

       'Are you alright? I am concerned.'

       'I am fine.'

       'You haven't picked up your prescription for two months.'

I had picked up my monthly prescriptions. I know that without checking the stuck-on labels for dates, because I haven't run out of eye-drops or acid-reflux inhibitors. The surgery's dispensing chemist had appropriately texted me to tell me to collect the issued medication and they duplicated the prescriptions and didn't text me to tell me about them ones. On Thursday last week I got a text fro the pharmacy saying that there is two months worth to be collected so I collected them on Monday this week. I got another text on Tuesday saying this months prescription is ready for collection. On Wednesday, the next day, my doctor called me to ask why I haven't collected my prescriptions. I told her I have been collecting them but she wouldn't believe me. She even expressed her concern that the September prescription will just add to the build-up of medication the pharmacy holds for me. Give me a chance, Doc, I only got the message about the September prescription the day before your telephone call. The pharmacy messed up but I am the one who is mistaken or lying in bed crying, lying at the bottom of a cliff with barked shins and a skinned knee while surrounded by hungry baboons, or hypnotised into immobility because I discovered Netflix ?

Isn't it crazy that when you have information you can't share it? Sometimes I am just plain fighting to help other people save time and show people stuff. I don't think I am an advocate for micro-managing, I just want to say, 'X marks the spot, me hearties!' and 'Look under this rock to see what crawls out into the undergwowth.' However, one has to be really careful not to write an opinion in a forum about a chapter in an OU text book when the moderator is the person who wrote that chapter. It is so, so easy to be shut down. It is not too far from insubordination as far as I can see. Just saying!

I suppose it is unbecoming of an undergraduate to give away secrets; after all, aren't we all trying to get ahead? I think it might also have something to do with plagiarism. If I share my research with others, and they include the results in their assignments, my own assignment might be rejected for plagiarism; or far worse - if someone independently comes up with the same results as I, and my results were published before the corresponding Tutor Marked Assignment deadlines, other people cannot disprove any plagiarism. It is only that which saves me from an agonising demise from lack of sleep induced by any astringent juices that are the by-product of metabolising and re-absorbing my bound and circumscribed generosity and helpfulness. I mean, if I was a veterinarian I would need to fit spectacles to the short-sighted badgers, and maybe rhinocerouses (rhinoceri?). It is  octupi and not octopuses, isn't it?

Plagiarism, don't do it kids! It will ruin your life! The vultures that seek decay will find you and signal to all the other carrion-eaters where they can gorge themselves. Sell or trade your soul at your peril, or the honour and integrity of your descendants. I truly believe that we are given 'toys' to distract us from progression. I would readily be a 'fire and brimstone' lay-preacher given the chance. Television! SmartPhones! Money! Optional and discretionary goods! Luxury! Tinned and frozen food!  Lies! Dishonour! Sneezing and Itching! Yes, anything that distracts anyone from an interesting or unusual train of thought or takes their hands away from a computer keyboard. I even consider lying to be deliberately dotting the 'i' in your handwriting after  the 'i' to give graphologists the impression that you are progressive.

Unfortunately, my sizzling preaching might spill over onto a hot bed of contention. 

       'You won't worship a Supreme Being but you would bow down to an alien race from another planet that wipes out entire cities? If you want the second coming, then look to the skies and be afraid! You! Yes you! Stop that child snivelling!'

Waterproof moths, leeks that produce offspring when they are dead, information that must be kept secret, and doctors who won't believe their patients. It all adds up to a strange world.

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Wordsmith

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Sunday 6 September 2026 at 09:27

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

or search for 'martin cadwell -caldwell' Take note of the position of the minus sign to eliminate caldwell returns or search for 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser. There is a space between my name and the minus sign and NO space before 'caldwell' to eliminate the name 'caldwell' in the Google listings

I am not on YouTube or social media

Cadwell NOT Caldwell

Every word you say is your victory

[ 3 minute read ]

Opinion Mental Health

       'Every word you say is your victory.' Why would the ALDI checkout person say that to me? Here's how the full conversation went.

       'Sorry, I realise you might want to pop off and do something different but I haven't checked my bank balance and it is easier to fail here than it is with the self-service tills.'

       'They are getting better.' He then scanned my choices and told me the amount, which I successfully paid with a card. 'Do you want a receipt?'

       'Yeh, why not? It tells me where I have been. You never know I might have Alzheimers or some other memory problem and not remember it.' It was supposed to be taken as me making light of a condition, but I really do have memory problems. Later, I checked my bank balance and I had oodles more money to spend but I simply could not remember not spending much; I might have been on a spending spree and left my purchases in a taxi in a foreign country.

       'Every word you say is your victory.' This he said in a drawling monotone.

Was he being ironic, derisive even? Was he mocking me? I have firmly accused family members of doing something I disapproved of when it was me who did it all along; but I have no memory of doing it at the time I made the accusations, and in also having no memory of a reason to act in a particular way, have on the face of things disapproved of the action. It completely supports a theory that if you saw yourself coming towards yourself on a pavement you would cross the road to avoid the meeting. That is a theory, but the glaring truth is that it seems that I have acted in ways that I would normally avoid. Clearly, I didn't think things through and find better solutions at those times.

Perhaps it was crass of me to highlight memory problems and I should have just said yes to the receipt. Perhaps though, I don't subscribe to the bovine attitude of chewing the cud while being milked. Perhaps I am not inclined to be a sheep and instead see myself as a goat. In any case, the checkout person's declarative statement, however he meant it, has affected how I will present myself in future.

Talking to checkout people has always been fun for me and I have always thought that it gives them some light relief from the tedium of their work. I have also understood that I may be inadvertently waking them up from a comfortable snooze during which, with practice, they can just pass things past the scanner without waking. They may surreptitiously look at me with a jaded eye and be seeking a way to press the snooze button on me. But, just like getting up out of bed to get some water or take a leak, the damage is done. Beta waves are replaced with Alpha waves in the head and the return to Theta waves may not be possible before the alarm goes off. Deep sleep is in the past and dozing is the only route to oblivion, and no amount of scrabbling for the fast disappearing tail of beneficial slumber will bring it back.

Badinage, or 'light playful banter' to the builder's mate, is something I have never been able to accept from anyone who is not a close friend or a well-known acquaintance. I am, in almost every circumstance when I am targeted, reduced to a small boy shivering in the frigid air of acute embarrassment, and I simply will not compete in the leg-pulling, the chaffing, or the clowning of other people; activity that makes up a pseudo-competition that even the competitors do not realise they want to win. Surely, it is an ego thing. Certainly it has to be one-up-manship that in the presence of a romantically desirable person is conducted with a good deal of smugness and an expectation of favour. 'If I verbally crush this person I might get a secret clinch. I only have to show my intellect to be superior to the other person's and the prize is mine!' 

At least it is done on the open. At least the poking fun is not secretly done in dark corners. At least it is not back-stabbing; a wound that everyone else perceives except the victim; surely the cruelest cut of all. Emotional doors are slammed when they were once open and friendly faces are turned away, yet the victim is unaware of this and is left sadly wondering what is wrong. It isn't a conscious thing. It is a hidden drain on resources; a sucker of energy, and a malevolent source that inhibits progress. Indeed, it is the cruelest cut. Only a coward or a cheat would wield the sword that slashes the unwary in this way, or push the dagger forward from a hidden recess or heavy shroud. The cheat by maligning others hopes to gain favour when comparisons are made. By inference the message is, 'I would never act in that way' and paradoxically, 'You can trust me.' The coward is afraid of rebuke from someone they feel may be admirably able to defend themselves and, in the cowards mind, gain a victory over them; and this done publicly; for the coward, the worst scenario of all. For them, it means they inflicted the wound but they must bear the suppuration and the stink of putrefaction. For them, ringing bells will precede their movements and cries of 'Unclean! Unclean!' will be heard.

I shall pull my head back into my protective tortoise shell and warp some words to satisfy myself:

       'Every word you say is your victory.' Why, thank you kind sir. I shall up-cycle my wife's angry words, 'You're a wordsmith!' and take your donated words to feel confident that my intention is clearly and evidently good and I have spoken wisely.

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Tell the Truth

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Friday 12 June 2026 at 15:47

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

or search for 'martin cadwell -caldwell' Take note of the position of the minus sign to eliminate caldwell returns or search for 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser.

I am not on YouTube or social media

Cadwell NOT Caldwell

silhouette of a female face in profile

Tell the truth

[ 6 minute read ] 

Come back, I haven't finished

For many years, I have been aware and wildly frustrated that people I am talking to take snippets of my words and run with them; off into a wilderness who knows where. As a teenager, I became aware of this, and bought a Thesaurus to help me try to explain my teenage angst, or whatever it was at the time that meant I had to try to make someone's mind stand still long enough for me to poke my own thoughts into. Really, that is so close to taking their mind hostage as to make me feel more than a bit queasy.

Realistically, I really did want the other person to stop thinking and just listen to what I am saying and then with all the facts, premises and other vastly important information I had elucidated, let their mind start working and process what I have said. Control was NOT in my hands!

Personally, I have a slight problem with making direct declarative statements. I think most people do.

       'Just say what you want to say. For Goodness Sake! Spit it out!'

       'Promise you won't be angry.'

But I never have those kind of conversations any more. If anything, the first person speaking, in that little conversation, is at fault. Their words show impatience, a lack of focus, and an inability to hold information in their heads. The second person might be scared, confused, or just not able to summarise what is in their head.

I suppose it takes training and a will to learn how to listen, in order to not make any judgement on what we hear. We should, I feel, wait until the other person has stopped speaking; interrupting is a sure sign that we are processing information, when we should probably just be listening, because most of us only pass information obliquely.

       'Does my bum look big in this?'

       'Does this shirt look good on me?' (Buttons straining just above the waist).

The second question could well be the perfect answer, under the circumstances, to the first question.

I was weirdly curious to know if anyone was using any of my old business names (dissolved now) so I Googled one. Actually, I 'Ducked' it (DuckDuckGo). I was amused that the returns, on the first index page, were all on how to write essays. I wish I had found those sites two years ago, when I started having to write essays. 

It has long irked me that The Open University doesn't have a unit on essay-writing and a unit on arguments at Level 1. Instead, I feel, that I had to fumble in the dark, guessing what I was supposed to do, and having no checks on my progress until the feedback from the first assignment comes back. For me, there is a huge lack of available information. Essay writing is not like riding a bike; none of us need to get a feel for it; there are hard and fast rules and personalising essay formats is just not tolerated. 

       'Do this, and do that!' 

       'Yes, but how?'

       'Work it out for yourself!'

Does that sound familiar? Now then; I want to be able to have conversations with people who know how to have good conversation. It is entirely useless to me if someone cannot present an argument, or give good instruction. Are there any lessons on how to give good instruction for beginners? Of course, they exist for school-teachers and qualified people, but wouldn't it be fine if everyone could get some kind of instruction on how to instruct?

       'Right then, young school-leaver. Here is where you will be working. Get on with it.'

       'How?'

       'Work it out for yourself' This said under their breath.

The first thing I would do is make sure no-one had a mobile phone they could dive into with the slightest excuse. I was on a forklift training course and there was a chap who had poor English. On the same course as him were two English people. Instead of engaging them in a conversation, he used his phone to translate a word, which he did not understand, in a 'work-book' .

Now, call me a fool, but wouldn't he get a better learning outcome by discussing the meaning of the word?

Anyone who is paying attention, must by now have noticed that I started by expressing my desire for linear conversation, without the bells and whistles; just straight-up honest and direct statements, and now I am promulgating an idea that fuzzy conversation works well for me. Am I confused? Not at all. Both modes of conversation are essential in good social interaction, in my crooked mind. The issue is, do any of us know how to effectively use each mode, and when is the best time to do it?

I can't help feeling that I am outlining the ever-frustrating position we all find ourselves in; there is no manual for life. Why not? Because no-one bothered to write one. Just like at a pantomime, the crowd shouted as one:

       'Oh, no-one ever could!'

Let's look at this from a different angle to how we might have become accustomed to looking at things.

If you have a secret, you use your mental ability to conceal it. If you know a secret, you might find it pleasurable to keep it or reveal it as gossip. In this latter position, of knowing a secret, we reward ourselves by thinking we are favoured to have been told it; trusted. If we reveal it, we hope to promote ourselves in the eyes of the other person, the listener; we are revealing our hierarchical position in another relationship.

This reminds me of a kind of joke I heard some years ago.

A man and Kylie Minogue are marooned on an uninhabited island. Eventually, she and he have sex. The next day, the man walks all the way around the coast of the island and comes back to Kylie Minogue, and says:

       'I just had sex with Kylie Minogue!'

       'I know!'

       'I just had to tell someone!'

Back to my point:

If we keep a secret, we are measured in our conversational approach. If we are clever, we will not have conversations that might elicit any questions on our activities that match the secret we are trying to keep.

       'Who ate my biscuits?' cried the woman holding the cupboard door open. In this case, it was you. You ate them.

A fool might mention biscuits in a conversation in the following week if they stole the biscuits. But, most of us wouldn't; quite simply because we know we would re-ignite the wounded and silent accusations that the victim might be harbouring.

From this, we can easily understand that we can indeed control our conversation if we are properly invested in it; emotionally, financially or academically. So why do we not feel invested in our everyday conversations? Why do we have only passing respect for the people we just shove our feelings at, or carelessly push information towards?

It took me over ten years to stop practicing not lying, and just be comfortable with the truth. It took me the same ten years to be confident that I am honourable. There is a problem though; it scares the heebie-jeebies out of some people. It might even make them feel somehow inadequate. It shouldn't; I chose to make an effort, that's all. If I was fit and energetic, I wouldn't run past people shouting, 'You lazy slug!' It has had a negative effect that Jack Nicholson in the film, 'A few Good Men' brought to the fore:' You can't handle the truth!' I never remember that important point.

A while ago, I had a problem with someone jumping on my 'band-wagon' of what I had written about. I was, at the time, practicing giving just enough information to allow the reader to be stimulated and then ponder the subject. The 'idea-thief', excited by his new thinking, filled in all the gaps in his own subsequent blog posts; effectively giving out 'spoilers'. How crass! In his fervent desire to be relevant, he robbed readers of their own thoughts and any chance of waking up a bit.

'For many years, I have been aware and wildly frustrated that people I am talking to take snippets of my words and run with them; off into a wilderness who knows where.'

https://www.monash.edu/student-academic-success/excel-at-writing/how-to-write/essay/how-to-build-an-essay

https://subjectguides.york.ac.uk/referencing-style-guides/harvard

(includes how to reference all sorts of sources, including Act of Parliament, emails, maps and films, etc.)

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