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I am jealous of the living

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Friday 14 November 2025 at 18:07

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[ 5 minute read ]

 

I am jealous of the living

They have everything I want. They have ideas and discussions and believe in themselves. I don't believe in myself because I have gathered an idea that I once thought was right and strong, yet was fed to me by someone who also thought the same idea was right. In modern parlance we might call a misogynist a toxic male. Describing an old mind bereft of creativity and eschewing innovation yet promulgating a trope consistent to a time, we might also, if he is male, describe him as a toxic male. Perhaps, there are, due to circumstances, (I am not going to go into the rabbit hole of imagined futures TOO deeply) some men who failed, but not as men in any particular times, but as men who use the same template of 'man-ness' (whatever that is) or success, which I suppose is some kind of dominance in a field of existence, to judge themselves as having the same kind of validity in the modern world to the one that they foolishly believed was their own 'in their day', yet fail to get the same approbation today, if they ever did.

I am jealous because the living can change, while the dead are eternally immutable. The living can always be given a second chance. The dead are judged by their past actions and achievements. I am neither one or the other, because, quite simply, I haven't quite decided which one of us, you or me, is alive and which of us is dead or dying. 

I am jealous of the dead because they no longer care about life. It is in living that we are free from putrefaction; from a stasis of thinking that brings about a codification that is not consistent with pleasant co-operation. This is psychology, not religion. 

Why are you kind? Is it because a monster told you to be so? Is it because a toxic person told you that you should be compliant. I think not, while not recognising myself as a humanist, I am certain you are kind because it suits you to be so.

Christians do not highlight the faults of others. 'Hate the sin, not the sinner.' and when they do not understand something or disagree with it they are advised to 'Eat the meat and spit the bones.' This is consistent with not judging others and not bearing false witness. I suggest, at no time have Christians who have received the Holy Spirit, who attack others, including other people's views, shown that they have given way to a greater knowledge that they fundamentally believe in. (In my mind, they cannot attack unless they exercise free-will, in which cases they dont sleep well)

In learning with the Open University, I am learning how to consider other people as valid in their existence and beliefs by understanding different cultures. I can categorically state that I cannot understand how a toxic promulgation of any religion is acceptable and will never subscribe to it. I am completely open to conversation on humanistic or secular ethics in opposition to any religious viewpoint. I believe that attacking thought is just plain wrong; I studied 'Ethics' with the former London Bible College, one of the last, don't you know?

I am jealous of the living.

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Humbled AGAIN!

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Friday 14 November 2025 at 16:07

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[ 4 minute read ]

Humbled AGAIN!

I am so lucky to have a shop keeper that comes from Sri Lanka. I live in the centre of the known world. As Al Murray, 'the pub landlord' says, 'We invented time because everybody sets their clocks by our invention of the Greenwich Meridian, or zero degrees East and West. If I want to, I can go and look at where it is, if I care to walk for fifteen minutes. I am definitely in the best country in the world, where only European history is important, we invented that too! You know, The Industrial Revolution and science and stuff. However, we 'Brits' have the Vikings who settled in Normandy to thank for our 'amazingness' because they came and taught us French and chivalry and things in 1066, and by so invading England killed a tyrannical family. Merci!

Or so I thought. As far as I was concerned, up until recently, everywhere outside of Europe, in the same time period, was a swamp peopled by the same type of people who we think inhabited The Fens in East England who breathed the miasma of putrefaction; a place (Ely) that supposedly harboured 'Hereward the Wake', who rebelled against the kind and polite Normans in 1070, and later reincarnated as Robin Hood in the 12th century.

Meanwhile, in Southern India one of the 'swamp people' built this: 

An ornate 11th century temple built during the Chola dynasty in India

The Brihadishvara temple, built in the 11th Century by King Rajaraja Chola, is a Unesco World Heritage site (Anirudh Kanisett, BBC, 2025) Chola dynasty and Brihadishvara temple (opens in new window)

I have heard of and seen pictures of the Taj Mahal in India built in the seventeenth century, and separately, Angkor Wat in Cambodia, built in the first half of the 12th century by King Suryavarman II. (tourismcambodia.com)

I used to imagine how countries are in the present day from only considering marketing material that travel agents used to tempt people to distant countries for Summer holidays. It was once about getting British people onto white beaches and they used pictures of muscled men in boats with sponsons surfing onto a beach with women wearing grass skirts serving drinks to Europeans wearing white shirts or a one piece bathing suit. (A little bit of extension there, into the 1950's and '60's.

My local shopkeeper is proud of his ancestral past and was keen to tell me about the Chola dynasty of the early Medieval period in India. He told me how they transported elephants on ships to conquer Indonesia and how they were mighty conquerors. The Chola dynasty ended in 1279 (Britannica, 2025) Chola Dynasty (opens in a new window

'The Cholas were as important to the Indian Ocean as the Mongols were to inner Eurasia [...] Medieval Tamil metalwork, produced for Chola-period temples, is perhaps the finest ever made by human hand, the artists rivalling Michelangelo or Donatello for their appreciation of the human figure [...] The Chola period was what you'd get if the Renaissance had happened in south India 300 years before its time.' (Anirudh Kanisett, BBC, 2025) 

Well, I got told. Something else I learnt was that my local shopkeeper, rather than being only interested in retail is a remarkably interesting man who wanted to lend me his book on the Chola dynasty. 

In my head, there are men in chain-mail poking each other in their eyes with arrows, and in my local shop keeper's eyes for the same period there is an empire building temples.

Of course, in England we have a history of Norman expansion back into France and further into the Muslim world. And there, along with the achievements of many other countries, including Portugal, lies a connection between East and West trade. 'Merci', 'Tak', 'Tack' or 'takk'

References

Anirudh Kanisett, BBC, 2025, BBC website https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cm27zn0vl33o on 14th November 2025

Britannica, 2025, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Chola-dynasty on 14th November 2025

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Am I human enough now?

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Thursday 13 November 2025 at 09:03

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[ 2 minute read ]

Am I human enough now?

I have just been party to a conversation on why Grammarly indicates that an original piece written solely by a single real person (These days we have to prefix 'human' with 'real' to mean a human) has a substantial probability that it has been written by A.I.

My crikeyness! Pull yourselves together! Why would anyone use technology to check if they are human? Quite frankly, I ask myself why anyone would even consider using A.I assistance without recognising an inadequacy in themselves. If a researcher is paid to find stuff and they use A.I. assistance, then they are not doing their job. The whole world that has contributed to the vast information that is available to the A.I. search algorithm has done the job in collaboration with the A.I. tool. Wow! And there are actually people out there who are worried that they will lose their jobs to A.I. It is because they have been using A.I. generative text assistance to fool their bosses into thinking they were valuable employees. Strangely, their bosses have let them do this.

If I ever wrote a book and used Grammarly for some weird and unfathomable reason at ANY stage in the process whatsoever, I would need to include Grammarly as a collaboratoring author on the book cover otherwise I would feel like a fraud. The whole world would be entitled to a substantial share of the royalties.

In the conversation I overheard by dint of being able to read it online (I over-read it then) someone was bemoaning that in rewriting paragraphs, Grammarly A.I. checker came back with a higher and higher probability of it being written by A.I. Clearly, the more focus and skill that was put into the rewrites meant that the rewrites were better and better according to Grammarly A.I. checker. 

       'Oh woe!'

       'Oh no! Your own writing is improving! What are you going to do?'

I think I might be able to see the wood in the forest because I don't rely on technology to help me think.

If Grammarly tells you that you are an A.I. assistive technology algorithm it is giving you a compliment; I am just wondering whether it flirts with really good writers. Let's all aim for Grammarly telling us that there is a 100% probability that the piece we have submitted is A.I. generated and then we know we don't need A.I. assistive technology for writing tasks, and we have returned to being a real human again, without technological mutant augmentation. Otherwise we are just one step away from being a Borg in the Star Trek series.

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Stand still and walk about a bit

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Wednesday 12 November 2025 at 11:04

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[ 4 minute read ]

Stand still and walk about a bit

It’s no good, I have made my mind up!’ Well, sort of. How about we, like Germany is trying to do, conscript a hundred thousand young people into the army for a couple of years. This would mean that the jobs that the conscripts would have had in the ‘wild’ can be filled by immigrants who will then contribute to the British economy. The future 'recruits who many employers currently regard as too entitled in their estimation of themselves will learn to live away from their Smartphones, thereby improving their IQ level and learning discipline and how to follow instruction to a satisfactory standard.

I have never served in the military; I regret never being focused enough to do so. At school I paid attention and didn’t get into trouble. However, if my habit of absconding in the later years was a template for my behaviour in the armed forces I would have had to carry around more than a report folder for teachers to sign. Perhaps, I would have been a sorry failure, yet I do consider that a far better future could have been laid out for me if I had understood that discipline from a good and safe source is quite different to bullying by a bad authoritarian in the shape of my brother.

Let’s think this through a bit. Some of us might ‘off the cuff’ expostulate that all migrants should be pressed into service. While others would reason in their own way that we don’t want to teach dissidents how to defeat the British Army by learning its tactics and training regimes. So, if we play it safe by using unfounded paranoia we make sure that migrants never get a chance of military service in the UK. Now, we have a two-tier society: migrants who have no proof that they will follow instruction, and proven young British born people, militarily trained, who have evidence of being not only functional but also evince a degree of teamwork, support and discipline. Hmmm, I wonder which group the employers might pick their future employees from. 

Of course, if conscription was introduced tomorrow and migrants were also included, there would be moaners that these ‘trained’ people are taking the jobs that the earlier, non-conscripted, ‘feckless’ youths were never fit for. 

Would there be a different pay scale introduced for these different groups?

Perhaps employers could instead poke into job candidates’ childhoods.

       ‘Where you in the cubs, brownies, Girl Guides, the Scouts or were you ever a cadet?’

       ‘No.’

       ‘Next!’

       ‘How did you arrive in this country? Excellent! Good negotiation skills, evidence of teamwork, personal resilience and perseverance. You are over-qualified, We won’t be able to control you. Next!’

As an employer, I would ask this: ‘When you was at school did you sit facing the front or around a table, and did your teacher call you by your nickname or not?’ Then, I would be able to bypass the military training and the childhood evidence of discipline and recognise one type of person from another and employ them accordingly.

10:36 Wednesday 12th November 2025: 
Germany inches close to agreement on contentious military service but questions remain

https://www.euronews.com/2025/11/12/germany-inches-close-to-agreement-on-contentious-military-service-bill-but-questions-remai

The link above is complete though it does not appear so.

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On Culture

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Tuesday 11 November 2025 at 06:30

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[ 4 minute read ]

On Culture

Of course, marketers cannot control customers’ cultural, social, personal, and psychological characteristics, yet these characteristics are of huge interest.

If there is an hierarchy of customer characteristics then culture would be firmly at the top; it has the broadest and deepest influences on customers, and is the most basic course of a person’s wants and behaviours.

According to Bogachevsky, a friend to Georg Ivanovitch Gurdjieff, one should not allow oneself to adopt any conventions, either those of one’s immediate circle or of those of any other people, he said. ‘From the conventions with which one is stuffed, subjective morality is formed, but for real life, objective morality is needed, which comes only from conscience’.

Culture, as a state of consciousness or predilection to perceive in a particular way, (see the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis) comes from observed and learned values that pertain to achievement and success; activity and involvement; efficiency and practicality; progress; material comfort; individualism; freedom; humanitarianism; youthfulness; and fitness and health. These, however, are not universally found, particularly so in large cities.

It is true that different cultural distinctions are found across the world, yet many cultures also exist in any Western city.

Enculturation (noun)

  1. The process by which an individual adopts the behaviour patterns of the cultures in which he or she is immersed.

  2. The adoption of the behaviour patterns of the surrounding cultures

Acculturation (noun)

  1. The modification of the culture of a group or individual as a result of contact with a different culture.

  2. The process by which the culture of a particular society is instilled in a human from infancy onward

  3. The process of adopting and assimilating foreign cultural elements.

*Enculturation is a process of social, psychological, and cultural change that stems from the balancing of two cultures while adapting to the prevailing culture of the society.

*Acculturation is a process in which an individual adopts, acquires and adjusts to a new cultural environment as a result of being placed into a new culture, or when another culture is brought to you.

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Dogs with typewriters

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Tuesday 11 November 2025 at 05:58

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[ 4 minute read ]

Dogs with typewriters

First the BBC tricks us into thinking that Trump meant that everyone should fight at the Capital and now Sky News is being lazy with their news. On their website they ostensibly tell us where the worst areas in the UK for uninsured drivers are. Yet, their list is for defendents per 1000 residents. Surely, there is a question on whether there is adequate police coverage to catch uninsured drivers and what percentage of residents even have access to a car or motorbike, in any given area. Certainly, if a whole city is below the poverty line we can expect that whenever we see a private motorised vehicle on the road there is a strong probability that the driver is uninsured. Lets face it just keeping a car legal for driving 165 miles a week on the road can cost about sixty pounds a week for many people, when we consider insurance, road tax, fuel and repairs to meet MOT requirements. Can we expect people solely reliant on benefits to shell out three thousand pounds a year for driving locally? Should we expect the police to prosecute uninsured drivers beyond a certain number? I mean, if there are only a few police officers in an area they can only catch so many uninsured drivers before they need to go and do something else, right?

I suggest that road users are not considering the number of people in a city as a threat to their safety; they are instead considering other roads users, including cyclists, horses and pedestrians (who – the latter three, by the way, would never be defendants in a prosecution for having no insurance unless they previously drove and got caught).

I cannot help thinking that Covid 19 made everyone think, ‘Well, my effort is good enough’ without them recognising what good actually is. It seems that, nowadays, mediocre is good enough and ‘good’ today, is what would have been considered to be not enough to get a second interview for a job prior to 2019.

I know The Guardian a few years back had an article that stated that studies had shown that frequent use of a Smartphone temporarily snips up to 15 % of the user’s IQ. When the average IQ is 103 today, with a 15% reduction we have an IQ (87.5) that is only just above the AVERAGE IQ of a dog; 70. Some dogs have a higher IQ then that. 87.5 is halfway between an average human without a SmartPhone and a dog!

Find a clever dog and give it a typewriter and a job at Sky News or the BBC and we might just get some sensible and varied content.

09:07 Monday 10th November 2025: https://news.sky.com/story/worst-areas-for-uninsured-driving-revealed-as-hit-and-run-victim-says-he-was-left-for-dead-13465600

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Chicken suited aliens

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Monday 10 November 2025 at 05:58

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[ 6 and a half minute read ]

Chicken Suited Aliens

When I was little, my parents would make an Easter egg hunt for us kids; my brother, sister and I. We had a big garden and there were a lot of places to hide people, animals, farm equipment, spiders and rats and chocolate eggs. There was always a possibility that going into one of the barns we might find someone sleeping off one of our parents parties the next morning; you know it was Saturday before it was Easter Sunday. We never had to go into the Billy Goat shed and who would, he stunk. Equally, the dog kennels right at the bottom of the garden was also not where we might find sweet treats or colouring books. The spinney left wild at the very furthest from the house was also not a place where any of us were expected to go, and in any case our parents didn't want us to fall down the well covered only by a sheet of steel (just a hole that went down, down, down).

Usually, we kids never had to go much more than sixty or seventy feet from the house and dig somewhere under loose soil. Being the youngest and littlest and having a psychopath eldest brother meant that I had to run as fast as I could, and only in the same direction he ran in, to stop him finding one hoard and then claiming a second one while my sister claimed the third. It didn't help that my mum would say 'Go!' and then call me back to tie my shoe-laces.

These days, zoo-keepers try to stimulate the animals under their care. On really hot days they might give a block of frozen fruit to the fruit eaters like bears or badgers or something. They hide lumps of meat halfway up trees and under logs for lions and tigers to 'hunt' or search for. At the safari-type zoos the staff also don't make sure the visitor's car doors are locked to give the animals something to think about. Bears, lions and tigers might have accidentally opened a car door in the 2010s and still try to get in another car in 2025. It gives them some anticipation of a moment of mild ferocity, something they are good at, followed by something new and tasty for lunch.

I found some more eggs on my doorstep yesterday morning; half a dozen again in an egg box. Sally, my immediate next door neighbour left some in response to me leaving tomatoes on her doorstep in the Summer. But now she has  twice left half a dozen eggs unsolicited, and not in response to being surprised by random tomatoes I left her. Yesterday, the eggs were among the strawberry plants and near the garlic. That is how my path is arranged. The previous time she left some was on All Saints Day, when all the saints are honoured (usually restricted to the Anglican and Catholic faiths) the day after Halloween or All Hallows Eve. It took me a while to figure out the occasion and why Sally might be giving gifts. I think that she hopes that some kindness will stick to her gift. She is that kind of woman; a little mysterious and quite enchanting. Beneath her clever and calm demeanor is a cheeky and fun person. Quite delightful, if you can catch her unawares with one of her thoughtful pursed lip smiles.

When I found the eggs yesterday I felt like a bear finding a block of frozen mixed fruit. 

       'Where did this come from? Who left it here? Why is it here? How should I respond?' I don't think bears really think that but they do have their curiousity piqued.

Another one of my neighbours told me that another woman in our road sometimes leaves eggs on his doorstep, so I had to consider the probability that it was the same woman. I don't think so. Now I went down a route of thinking that the previous gift, on All Saints Day, follows a religious bent or at least an observance of a religious date as a reason to give a gift without initiating embarrassment in the recipient I am sticking to that theory. With that in mind I thought that I would look at some dates to try to understand how it, the 9th of November, might trigger a moment of generosity.

I fully believe that we should all be able to give gifts to people, even strangers, without causing them to have a guilt that is only dissolved by reciprocation. Unfortunately, this seems to only be allowed on someone's birthday or wedding day but there is a note written in the spirit world that there is a debt to be repaid. There isn't really, it is a note that adds to the collective understanding of a person's life. Immanuel Kant, the philosopher had ideas on debt when he discussed 'Ethics'. He disappointingly doesn't mention spirits though. He did mention that we are compelled to visit people in hospital even though we don't want to.

I, however, need to know who the gift giver is and why I have gotten a gift. I never got unsigned Valentine cards from secret admirers so I have no practice in wearing a mantle of arrogance and believing that eggs or cards fall from the sky because I deserve them. I am pretty certain Sally left the eggs, but the Sherlock Holmes in me is playing the video tape of my perception in the moments preceding my discovery to watch for any aliens or someone in a chicken suit running away and clicking their heels in the air in unsuppressed delight and glee. Reality has it that I washed some clothes and never did look out of the window before I stepped out with the dripping items and discovered the eggs.

I searched the internet for a special occasion on November the 9th. There were 52 days left until the end of the year. Neither Sally or I are 52. Some actors, whom I have never heard of, were born on that day in the past. I couldn't find anything relevant. Finally, spent from looking at two websites and exhausted by my search I relaxed. Then it hit me: Remembrance Sunday was yesterday, and it just happened to fall on the 9th of November this year. Now, it makes a bit more sense. All Souls Day is the 2nd of November, the day after All Saints Day. It is a religious date in the Christian calendar.

Sally, is way brighter than she might first appear to someone who doesn't care to notice her. I had already worked out that she didn't leave the eggs late on Saturday, because she knows the rats will be able to work out how to open the egg box. I rather fancy that the rats near us read books and watch us with binoculars.

An identical gift given twice on two consecutive days is worth more on the first day. The Diminishing Margin of Utility in economics tells us that. As a foodstuff, a dozen eggs in two days invites over-consumption. Sally doesn't want to contribute to my death from blocked veins caused by too much cholesterol. So, now I am wondering if I am still alive in all my capacities. Perhaps Sally bewails my demise in some way and she honours me on Remembrance Sunday instead of All Souls Day. Perhaps I was a better person last week or last year. 

I am glad I am a curious bear looked after by considerate keepers instead of a morose camel or frentic zebra poking my head through open car windows mindlessly munching on popcorn. Now I am even more curious because Sally made me notice myself because I notice her.

Thank you Sally for making my Sunday morning interesting.

The day after All Saints Day is All Souls Day when the dead are honoured.

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Cultural Relativity

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Sunday 9 November 2025 at 07:48

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[ 4 minute read ]

It's all relative

I spend a while watching YouTube videos, searching for the meaning of life! Now that YouTubers can make serious money out of posting videos there are a lot of ads in some videos. Because I never sign in to any Google, MicroSoft or Amazon product it is inevitable that the non-tailored ads are going to be a bit random on a 'hit or miss' basis. Of course, Google knows all about me somehow because there does seem to be a common theme to the rubbish ads I get. It seems though that they have no idea on my attitude towards climate change, and I shall not open myself up to discussion by sharing those views with anyone. In any case I always, always skip the ads as soon as I can but there is invariably something that gets through. Here is the opening statement that I heard yesterday morning, at the beginning of an ad : 

       ‘All the problems with the planet, bar natural phenomena, are caused by human beings.’

What does that even mean? Take away humans and there would only be problems caused by natural events. I think the animals would like that but they wouldn't celebrate because they wouldn't realise that there are no humans to mess them up, because quite simply they don't have measuring devices, the internet and SmartPhones to compare environments with their family or friends abroad. Effectively, Earth would be merely a terrarium; nice to look at and discuss with visiting aliens.

I can't help thinking that we bash humans over the head a bit much sometimes. With square eyes I blundered into my local Co-op and mentioned to the checkout person that the mild Autumn in the UK is contributing towards 2025 being considered to be one of the warmest years on record. He may have thought, 'CLIMATE CHANGE!' and alarm bells may have rang. I realised my crass attempt at conversation wasn't working well so I offered him, 'It means that we are all using less energy to heat our homes.' Maybe he then considered humans in a more favourable light.

With two tins of tomatoes in my bicycle basket I went home and the YouTube algorithm sprang QI on me. You know, that quiz show hosted by Steven Fry and latterly Sandi Toksvig. Steven Fry told the studio that Ghengis Khan killed forty million people during his violent expansion. This, we heard meant that land that was formerly farms reverted back to forest. Ultimately, we have a murderous hero to thank for saving the planet (a bit).

Nature gets its own back to save itself in a different way than raising the temperature so we end up using less energy to heat our homes and thereby reducing carbon emissions. It releases its own carbon emissions so we don't have to. The volcano (Eyjafjallajökull) in Iceland that went off a few years ago (2010), I think spewed 300,000 tons of carbon into the air but by creating a huge ash cloud prevented aircraft flying, which would have contributed three million tons of carbon into the air. The numbers are not really important to me because this is not about climate change, aviation, or geological or Black Swan events. It is about relatives.

I have seen posts that express dismay that the contributor has missed an important historical site simply because they didn't realise that they were in fact standing at the important historical site. They did not 'perceive' the site. However, they have the photos, but only because something else interested them and so they took a photo. I also have experiences of reading modern opinions used as templates to understand historical customs. I can't discuss them though because everyone is doing their assignments.

Whenever we get off a plane, bus, or boat in Greece we are landing on a piece of land that is steeped in history; a history that is only relevant if we care to be interested enough to learn about it. I lived in Piraeus, Athens area of Greece. I think I might have been able to see the Acropolis from there but I also might not have; I remember seeing something but it might have been a picture in a book. I really wasn't interested at the time and can't remember ever going to it. I was more interested in the deer in a pen that had really long hooves that needed cutting years ago. Fortunately, I had the addresses for animal protection organisations in about nine different countries in my address book when I first came across the animal. (The French police scoffed at me after they threw my belongings across Forbach railway station and went through my address book on the French - German border, weeks earlier).

I hitch-hiked from Cambridge to London a long time ago, and got a lift from someone with a PhD in Romano-Britain. Somewhere around Royston on the A10 he suddenly said. 'There was a Roman settlement here.' All I saw were fields. Obviously, he saw something else. I didn't waste the opportunity though. Well actually I did because I didn't know enough questions to make good use of my time. I asked him why when the Romans went back to Italy the local populations here reverted back to living as though the Romans had never arrived.

       'The Romans were really good at organising people.' he told me. We might have thought the oppressed people were merely stupid but it turns out they just weren't good at making plans. Maybe, sunny weather would have helped them figure stuff out. Or maybe, the damp Summers allowed ergot to grow on the rye they ate, and they were 'tripping' all the time, and pretending to be witches.

The point I am trying to make is: if we have no knowledge of something we can't overlay our sentiments on a circumstance or event. And yet, here in Britain we are surrounded by history that only the descendants of the original immigrants that went to Americaland now appreciate. I lived in a very picturesque village with a camp-site and one day met a girl from Clacton, a sea-side resort in Essex, England. i asked her why she came to my village for a holiday and she basically threw the question back at me by asking why I would go to the sea-side for a holiday. In growing up by the sea in a holiday resort she eschewed its attractiveness and sought countryside and river, and a slower pace to relax. It is all relative. 

Whenever we step out of our homes in the UK, Britain, or one of the countries in the UK, we step onto historical ground, we just don't appreciate it as such. I have been to Norwich countless times and driven alongside the Roman wall that partially surrounds the city. I have been to London thousands of times and ignored the Barbican, and the Tower of London; the latter built by William the Conqueror. I ignore them because I grew up seeing them and I am not a tourist. My modern outlook sees them as just part of the scenery. The Tower of London was built to scare the locals and now it is a fun place to learn and visit.

In the picturesque village I once lived in with the camp-site, I saw a man walking quite quickly across the pasture field that was next to the camp-site; obviously a tourist. Nobody who lives in the countryside walks quickly across a field. Quite simply, there is only one reason a villager is in a field and it isn't to get to somewhere else in a hurry; we have cars now.

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Don't patronise me

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Friday 7 November 2025 at 05:58

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[ 4 minute read ]

Don't patronise me, you sexist pig

Good Crikeyness! I have just had another revelation at the kitchen sink this morning. I get sudden clear memories of instances and conversations from the past, but disappointingly only my past. I will never get rich from your past, or someone else's. While doing the washing-up this morning I was in a past situation with my sister, two past situations actually.

A long time ago, I bought my sister a set-top Freeview box to sort of bring her into the modern world of more rubbish to watch on the telly. Our niece was living with her at the time (our brother's daughter) and they excitedly decided to set it up straight away while I was still there. Surprised, they called out some channels they discovered which I jokingly pooh-poohed.

       'Boo! Rubbish! What you really want is football!' I have never expressed an interest in football. 'Blimey! No! You need car programs!' I have never expressed an interest in cars. Clearly, if they knew me they would know I was joking. Perhaps to some very sensitive people it might be considered teasing. But I thought they knew me as benign. Not so.

       'If we can only watch channels that men like, then you can take it away,' cried my sister. I was hurt. i meant nothing of the kind and I didn't even live there. That moment stuck with me.

Some time later, I was visiting my sister again and our niece was there. The tumble-drier was on full heat power and it read that it would run for forty minutes. I mentioned that a breeze past hanging clothes is highly effective in drying clothes and an electric fan would be cheaper. My sister was always complaining about not having enough money.

       'We don't want to do that', cried our niece.

       'Why are you so sexist, Martin? Just leave us alone to do what we want!' snapped my sister.

Like most people I think I am different to how I actually am. But, I am pretty sure I am not sexist. I believe in meritocracy. (Potentially moving into dodgy ground here but it is not intentional). Because I am thoughtful, and have PTSD, I record snippets of conversations and they jump out at me when I am not looking.

I used to deliver timber on a lorry and some of the timber would be pressured-treated with preservative. Part of my job was to deliver the timber to the treatment place and then collect it when it had dried. The drying facility was a long shed with a big fan at one end. I remarked that there was no heat, and the response was that the cold (Winter) air moving through the tunnel-like shed was sufficient. My sister did not have that information so I shared it with her to help her save on energy costs, except I shortened the experience into a pithy statement that cold moving air is still very effective in drying when compared to hot air.

       'Sexist!' This, solely because to her, I patronised her as though she, being female, was less intelligent than any male. The truth is her IQ is, like 97% of all males in the world, lower than mine and her experience in the world is entirely different. I believe she might have allowed my experience, memory and problem-solving aptitude to complement her life and reciprocated by sharing her experiences so I could learn from her. I know I would have.

My sister read, 'Women are from Venus, and Men are from Mars.' It was her Bible on how to hate men. A dangerous book to read if you want to use it to attack a partner, and not ameliorate a disruptive relationship. 

Bluntly, with a quite high IQ I cannot distinguish between male or female when it comes to not seeing thing clearly; I 'mansplain' to everybody. I also understand that circumstances will inevitably bar many people from achieving their goals or even equanimity. I should also confess to hardly ever seeing thing clearly; they jump out at me at the kitchen sink when I am not looking.

       'Hiya!'

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Don't follow me I am lost too

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Friday 7 November 2025 at 04:35

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[ 4 minute read ]

Don't follow me, I am lost too

I am vegetarian, actually not, because I eat fish, so pescatarian (sic) then. I like to try new stuff though and some time ago bought some quite expensive ground cassava (manioc). Cassava is a little dangerous if it is not prepared properly, including rinsing and thorough cooking. Something I didn't discover online was that you shouldn't eat it with ginger. The shopkeeper in the neighbouring village told me that. For some reason I think that 'The Shopkeepers Wife' has more intrigue attached to it, but she is a shopkeeper. I would like to imagine her as a fount of knowledge that is rarely tapped but use of her knowledge can have significant effects. I think that recognising her as a shopkeeper limits her capabilities to merely shopkeeping. She is way more than that.

Cassava is a great thickener much as cornflower is, or potato starch. That is how I have been using it; to hold together quite dry shredded vegetables and rice or beans into a pattie which I can fry. My brother went from omnivore to vegan overnight and got very ill. Unfortunately, he was the sort that didn't experiment and preferred to go online for his ideas which he then believed and promulgated as his own. Like I say, he was very unwell from his diet and this affected his already poor mental health. I wanted to help but couldn't find any decent recipes for vegans that were nutritious and interesting. I did find a recipe for a vegan sausage but we don't always have cornflower, or better still, potato starch (which has a better taste and texture) and he with his poor vegan diet soon became allergic to the solanum family such as peppers, tomatoes and potatoes, and gluten intolerant.

However, I made the vegan sausage fifteen years ago and am still experimenting. I am getting there but I have relied quite heavily on cassava, which has its own unique 'tart green' flavour. I can hide that though.

Sometimes, I forget stuff that is quite important but wasn't at the time. I put ginger in a lot of my vegetable 'slurry-type' meals. You know, vegetable curry, ratatouille, and vegetable chilli. I batch-cook to save time but mostly money. It also makes eating at random times a crucial factor in a busy life-style. I have been experimenting with cassava as a thickener and binder for lunch-time meals and eating the thawed batch-cooked portions of vegetable slurry at tea-time. Whoops!

There are supposedly three ways to develop temporary atrial fibrillation. You might call it 'heart palpitations'. Usually, most people experience just a couple of mis-beats and then everything is fine and forgotten for perhaps years. It isn't a problem, don't worry. Temporary Atrial Fibrillation (lasting more than a few minutes to weeks - see your doctor if it lasts more than a minute) can be caused by stress, caffeine and alcohol. I get a lot of stress and can't get started in the morning without a lot of coffee, but I don't usually suffer from a heart problem. However, cassava does give me atrial fibrillation, though only until I have initially metabolised it within the first hour. 

Unfortunately, I have recently taken to baking a large quantity of food that contains cassava and have eaten them as snacks throughout the next few days. Stress from having to complete assignments and caffeine for more focus has set me up to be more susceptible to the cassava. Ironically, if you have atrial fibrillation concentration is very much impaired and one tends to drink more coffee to compensate. Atrial fibrillation also makes exercise very uncomfortable because oxygen levels to the brain are negatively impacted by a misbehaving heart. Toxins build up in the body and especially on the large muscles like the thighs, and my body reacts with more atrial fibrillation. I haven't even been able to go to the shop to buy something else to eat because when I started to walk or cycle to the shop the toxins were released and I couldn't continue. I weighed up my food supply against the need to finish an assignment, and went with finishing the assignment when I could concentrate.

Happily, I have now removed the stress of completing an assignment on a subject in which I have zero interest so I can go to the shop. The last couple of days I went up and down my stairs and then lay down until the headache passed and I got my breath back, to get rid of the toxins.

Don't follow me, I am lost too.

DO NOT do what I do: Atrial Fibrillation increases the risk of a stroke by 500%

My atrial fibrillation is known by the NHS.

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Eggshells and me

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Monday 3 November 2025 at 13:47

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[ 5 minute read ]

Eggshells and me

Sally, my next-door neighbour left half a dozen eggs on my doorstep again. This time she was not reciprocating my gift-giving of tomatoes though. That's alright; good neighbours experience that special kind of relationship that others do not. I 'get' the weeds on my other next-door neighbours drive when he is not there; it stops him using weedkiller. Getting his weeds is easy; I just run a shovel along his concreted drive. After a few years of this treatment the weeds have learned to be obedient and don't put long roots down while I am still being vigilant. That special relationship might mean not talking to each other for a year or so.

Sally, is an enigma to me. She is the sort of person that can make me feel foolish and at the same time interesting. She intrigues me. But often I over-think things; simply because I have spare capacity to dwell. Maybe that is why people think I am a dim-wit: I follow too many rabbit-holes.

I don't know what to do. When I left tomatoes on her doorstep twice she left me eggs twice. Now there is a third half-dozen on my doorstep but I didn't give her tomatoes, did I...did I? It is the date of the egg-surprise that troubles me. 

A few years ago, I was thoroughly schooled in manners by a Chinese woman; from the mainland, I might add. To define her a little more, she spoke Mandarin as her first language. I have had dealings with the former Hong Kong Chinese; a little experience is enough to have an expectation of what to expect from the next encounter. However, the Mainland China Mandarin-speaking woman shamed me. 

I used to own a Europe-wide home and business relocation entity (business). Many of the moves would be international. I met the Chinese woman at Cambridge University for her move to London. She had just finished her final studies and was going to her London home. The arrangement was for the evening with a 8pm start in Cambridge. She was very polite and respectful; but Cambridge students invariably are because they know they do not have full control of the situation. I was always very respectful in return because no-one likes to be in a new situation with limited control. I knew I was in trouble when, once we were on the M11 to London she asked if she could ask me a question.

       'Uh oh!' I thought. 'What's this?' I wasn't worried about what the question might be but I recognised the measured and deliberately polite approach.

Years before I met the calm and polite woman, I had just returned from working in Greece and thought I would relax in the Republic of Ireland. At the time, I had an ear for accents and dialect and soon, because I find such things fascinating, integrated the Irish approach to asking for something into myself. Think respect for someone's time, attention and effort and you will be on the way to at least a peek through a hole in a fence at the wonderful Irish character of musical politeness. 

When I came back from Eire (Republic of Ireland) to my home village in England I, one early morning, went to the village newsagent to buy some tobacco. The woman behind the counter was busy doing something, but I didn't really want to wait. What should I do? 

       'Would you happen to have, and if it is not too much trouble, half an ounce of Golden Virginia? And would you mind, when you have the time, selling it to me, please?' I asked.

She stood, rising from her crouched task and briefly stared at me.

       'That is the most polite request I have ever heard', she looked at me in wonderment.

       'I have just come back from Ireland.' Further explanation was unnecessary.

So, I know that extreme politeness can be both a mark of respect and a mask for impatience, but how was the calm Chinese woman asking for permission to ask a question? I don't remember the question, because it wasn't even remotely close to invasive or weird. I only mention her extreme politeness because it was evidence of her culture. 

Once we had finished unloading her things, and I had met her mother who was also warmly respectful, the Chinese woman offered me some food. It was late and I needed to get home to rest because my team and I had a big job the next day. She insisted. I refused. She looked upset and insisted again, so I reluctantly acquiesced to eating with them. Her brother arrived with some food in those Chinese Takeway containers. he worked in a restaurant. I again told them that I cannot stay long. She insisted I take some with me but there were no more containers because the flat / apartment was empty. I reluctantly accepted, by now a little impatient to leave. 

Most people will recognise an honour thing going on here. Finally it occurred to me. She offered me all the food and so I took it just so I could go. I had no intention of eating it but by now I was intent on getting home where I would still have to spend another two hours working on the office stuff. My head was about work while hers was about relationships.

At the time, I felt like I had pulled the wings off a butterfly, carelessly picked the only flower from a plant that only flowers once every ten years or once in its lifetime. I felt like I had walked with muddy boots across a child's painting. I was a vandal, a brute with no sense of what is important in human relationships. If you understand cockney rhyming slang, a berk.

I don't always remember my crassness in London but I am glad that I can and gratified for the experience and that It is important to me today. The time in Ireland and the meeting with a remarkable Chinese culture through the fine Chinese woman and her family make it difficult for me to know how to deal with the eggs left on my doorstep by Sally, my next-door neighbour. They are not a reciprocation of a gift. Neither are they solicited. They were left on All Saints Day (1st November).

I don't know what to do. I thought about carving some little wooden figures and leaving them on her doorstep, like saints or angels or something, but......

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Check your behind

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Sunday 2 November 2025 at 12:14

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[ 2 minute read ]

Check your behind

Primarily, I am interested in marketing, entrepreneurship, and business. On an A3 sheet of paper, Blu-Tacked to my wall, I wrote about a year ago: 

Positive Transfer Effect The useful effects of past experience are technically known as Positive Transfer Effect. However, people often possess relevant knowledge, but fail to apply it to a current problem. - Michael Eysenck (1996) Simply Psychology, Ch 22, Problem Solving, p398. 

All well and good if we possess relevant knowledge and do apply it to a current problem, isn't it? We should be able to come out smiling. Yet, Mark Twain said, 'It ain't what you know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.' 

I find that tortuous; you know, bendy, twisting? What he is leaning into is the idea that if we know that something is wrong and act as though that thing is right, then we will get into trouble. 

Josh Kaufman, in 'The Personal MBA' wrote,'Paradoxically, one of the best ways to figure out whether or not you're right is to actively look for information that proves you wrong.' (something that I try to remind myself of whenever I am awake). In truth, I have an A4 piece of paper stuck to my wall with writing that says, 'In social science, hypotheses are tested in their negative form. This form of hypothesis is called the null hypothesis. The intent is to prove the positive hypothesis'.

'The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results' I cannot say that Albert Einstein did or didn't say this because the internet tells fibs, in that someone says he didn't say it and then everyone else does, and then by sheer weight of numbers a 'truth' arises. 

Obliquely, I am talking about Confirmation Bias, which is the tendency to pay attention to information that supports our own conclusions and ignore all other contrary information. But this is a case of, 'It worked yesterday, so it will work tomorrow.'

Check your behind. Why did it work?

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Weaving, Sieving, 3D Printing, or Doing Jigsaws?

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Friday 31 October 2025 at 14:59

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[ 9 minute read ]

Weaving, Sieving, 3D Printing, or Doing Jigsaws?

Without exception, I write blog and forum posts without planning anything or editing such as changing sentences or moving paragraphs: I don't have to heavily edit; I can write blog posts from top to bottom without really knowing what I will write, even though I have forgotten where I started (not quite). I ramble on until I remember where the beginning is, and then I love to make the whole writing journey circuitous by finishing where I started. For me, it is fun. Only the subject is important, and despite me just now saying I can't remember where I started, I always remember the subject, so I chuck anything in that vaguely adds to the point I want to make. I never remove anything I have written either. I start writing and then stop when I have finished. I only change typos, spelling and grammar. Absolute truth. Do you know how I can do this? I talk in a very similar way. I know what subject I should be on and I know what has been said and I am listening to any questions that arise from both, what hasn't been said, and what has been said. I only want to stop talking when I, or we, get back to the beginning. For me, that is the best conversation ever!

Of course, I am an Open University student and so I am somewhat constrained in what they want me to write, you know, for assessments and how they want me to write (essays or creatively). Like most people, I struggle because I don't know the subject well enough to use a sieve technique of making an essay. That is how I talk and write, like using a sieve, though many people might say 'using a filter'. I am not unique in this: Men talk differently when women cannot hear them, and women reciprocate. Adults don't swear in front of their bosses or children, etc. So, I have just highlighted what results we get from using a filter. But before the filter is applied, sieving must be done. 

       'Wait! What?'

My lexicon is fairly large and I have to select just one word from a collection that are similar in meaning (choice). Incredibly difficult, because it has to fit the context. Everybody does it, though. The point I am failing to make is that a whole stream of sentences are arriving in our heads simultaneously, and we have to get them to fit the previous one if we hope to make sense to someone listening. However, we don't have to make any real sense and random sentences and digressions are not usually trimmed out beforehand. That is how people talk. They expect the recipient to do the sieving. 

       'Here is a whole bunch of junk with some good ideas thrown in. Be a good chap and extract the good bits, would you?'

I don't think I do that as much as many other people. I do a lot of the sieving before I speak. So, I pre-think. People say to me, 'Why do you talk like that?' or 'I knew it was you because of the way you talk.' even though they don't recognise the sound of my voice. That means if I know a subject well enough I can just write stuff on a subject, and THEN edit it to fit word-count parameters. Job Done! So what? I bet you all think that is what we all do, Huh? I don't think so; because I have been thinking, and when I think, y'all better adapt. 

There are other ways to write posts, blogs, and stuff.

Weaving

On a loom there is the warp and the weft. The warp are the parallel pieces of string that traditionally go from the machine towards the machine user or weaver, and the weft is the string that follows a shuttle thrown from left to right. The weave is the pattern made by how the warp and weft strings interact. 

Most of us know how weaving is done on a loom and can imagine that a piece of cloth is woven much as an old printer printing line after line of ink on paper. If I just held one finger down on a single key on my laptop keyboard a repeating series of the same letter would, on my screen, go from left to right and then automatically go to the next line down and go from left to right again, until something else happens. It would just be a normal weave like a 'sheet'. No-one would read it. Lifting only some of the warp strings on a loom would simply be like pressing a different key on my keyboard. But more broadly, in weaving we can create a picture, with different coloured strings and by lifting different warp strings at different times. Yet, we are still working from the beginning to the end of the woven product until we need to stop. The important thing, to focus on here, is that there must be a plan and absolutely no changes can be made after the weave of different coloured strings and the lifting of the warp strings at different times has been completed, or really at any time during the process. 

In fact, so far, this is how I have been writing this post, weaving. However, because there is no pattern; I mean, I really have no desire to highlight any passage, so there is no pattern or recognisable shape; there is only a decision to only use certain colours at specific times in a rudimentary way; at the very beginning, in the middle, and at the very end. In this post, these are the paragraphs that follow headings.

While it is possible to write endlessly like this, sometimes I might get an itching to refer back to something I have already written to strengthen a point. Well, I suppose, make real, a bridge so strong that it becomes a feature. While texture can be created with weaving, and I suppose loops might be made (I think that is crochet or macrame), something more mechanical needs to be used to fabricate a post.

3D Printing

Like an olden-days ink-jet printer going back and forth from left to right and advancing one line at a time, 3D printers do the same, except they go over where they have already been. In an essay that would mean, when we first think of it, repetition, which we all know we shouldn't do. Perhaps, if we think a bit on it we might think of higher and lower planes, which would be areas of greater stress, focus, or emphasis. Making a bridge though is tricky for a 3D printer; it has to add temporary supports and make sure that those supports can be removed in the final edit, by the 3D printer operator. (came back here to edit in 'by the 3D printer owner)

What I am doing now is looking in my memory, while I write, for somewhere in the previous text for somewhere I can bridge back to from here, but I am having no success. Ah, I have it! The title! The word order in the title. Because I just now temporarily wrote about jigsaws in my head in such a way as to be islands of stress, focus or emphasis I can bridge forward. I ruined the surprise or the Wow factor, but I AM just writing as I plan (The only plan so far).

So, with 3D printing a layer of resin is laid, and then layers of resin are laid over each previous layer until the object has reached a certain height and is finished. I am imaging Tower Bridge in London, which to those who don't know it is the one where the span of the bridge lifts in two parts to allow ships to pass underneath on the River Thames. It is fairly functional looking, squarish really, and has an upper span that joins the towers on each side of the river. The first thing we notice that a 3D printer has done when creating a tiny Tower Bridge would be two square islands of resin. Later, these will need to be linked to create the spans of the bridge, or the road of the actual Tower Bridge. As far as I know, 3D printing has to create supports for all the spans. In an essay this is hard to do. Certainly, it would take considerable planning. I hate planning, so I am going to move onto the last section of this post and once done, come back and edit some former sentences in this bit about 3D printing instead. The link or 'bridge' will be 'islands'.

The two sentences in italics were edited in, in the final draft.

Jigsaws

When I don't know a subject at all, I have to take notes. These notes are really in a linear form. I can do mind-maps, but rarely do. Usually, for an essay I will write chunks of text that I know I will need to edit. However, the interesting thing is how we decide which pieces of a jigsaw we group together to make islands of colour and which bits make a frame for all the pieces, you know the pieces with the (normally) straight edges. When I do a jigsaw, like most people I find all the straight-edge pieces first, and link them accordingly, From the picture on the box we can find associated pieces such as the green for some tress, or pinks for the flowers, or something. These form the highlights of the picture on the box in terms of attraction, but in an essay are still as fuzzy as the edges of the islands of associated pieces. Doing a jigsaw means finding, first the obvious pieces, and then looking for connecting pieces. It is completely non-linear and a 3D printer would not be able to do this; one day they will be able to go from one island, or high-point, to another in a non-linear way, let's imagine multiple islands, but right now they have to follow rules that only allow linear movement. Laser cutters with CAD can do this and so can embroidery machines.

Conclusion

I probably use my jigsaw example in a first draft of an essay, but I don't have a picture to look at to tell me where to put the pieces. I suppose, I know where the edges are because there are parameters set by the question. To be honest, it has only just occurred to me to try different techniques. I am thinking that I might try to write freely all I know, sieving as I go, like weaving basic patterns that have areas of colour. This would not be like a jigsaw though, because it is entirely linear. Then, from that, I can see the 'picture', and I know the constraints so I can do a complete rewrite like doing a jigsaw, and then use my idea of 3D printing by going over the essay in a linear fashion, building on the islands of interest and making links and bridges as I go. Then, for the final draft, remove the supports in the edit (spelling and grammar and any superfluous linking sentences)

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Perennial tomato plants

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Friday 17 October 2025 at 07:20

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[ 3 minute read ]

Perennial tomato plants

There's a bunch of plants that bear fruit common to our kitchen that belong to the same plant family; Solanaceae. The potato plant and tomato plant belong to this family; as does the pepper plant and aubergine (Am. eggplant). Belladonna, Henbane and Mandrake, Petunia and Tobacco plant are also in this family.

I recently heard that tomato seeds are going to be really expensive next this / next year because of transportation problems. I like to drink hot chocolate instead of caffeinated drinks but cacao prices have rocketed over the last couple of years, and costs drive me away from cocoa drinks. I don't think England is warm enough for me to grow a cacao tree yet, but I am aiming at producing year-round tomatoes. But I might have to trick the plants into mutating a bit.

I grow tomato plants from seeds each year; this year I tried a heritage variety but cross-fertilisation produced the wrong tomato. 

A year or two ago, I bought cheap tomato seeds from Simply Seeds. Pepper and Tomato seeds look very similar to one another and out of about forty germinations two were pepper plants. One YouTube video told me that pepper plants are perennials - you lift them before the frost gets them and store them in a dark cupboard so they can hibernate, I think. 

I have noticed that the weird weather in the UK fools many of my plants. I have had strawberry plants flowering in October and tomato plants that should die after producing their fruit, stay alive. Tomato plants are either indeterminate or determinate in their growth. Indeterminate, like Money Maker tomato plants, keep growing and growing, like bushes. These are the sort that Grandad pricks out the new shoots from the stems; ostensibly to force the plant to send nutrients to producing fruit. I think it is because frost kills tomato plants.

I have a young 30cm tomato plant that germinated a few weeks ago. The dry air also prevented many of my tomato plants from producing fruit and growing bigger this year. However, this Autumn, some of them are invigorated by more humid air; like, I suppose they had the nutrients but not the intent. Clever plants! I have decided to grown on the young tomato plant and one of the determinate tomato plants that is supposed to die after producing its fruit, which it should produce all in one showing. That showing should have been months ago, yet I picked the last tomato from it yesterday. Strangely, it has recently produced side shoots that are producing flowers. This means that it is, I think, in its second year of life. Did the dry air of Summer trick it into thinking there was a very warm Winter? 

So, I have a pepper plant producing flowers, a young tomato plant producing flowers and a determinate tomato plant, which I know to be a Rio Grande type, making new growth and producing flowers; all at the wrong time of year. I shall bring them in and grow them on, on one of my window sills. (In England, windowsills are on both inside and outside of our rooms. The inside ones are wide and level enough to put things on). I just remembered that one of the heritage tomato plants (determinate) is producing new side shoots, so i shall have to dig that one up too and bring it inside. I am hoping that because it is more wild than the others as in less husbandry, that it will, through cross-fertilisation, produce fruit that has seeds for perennial plants. Already, it didn't produce purple fruit, like it should have done.

I am hoping that I have two perennial tomato plants and a perennial pepper plant but I may have to find and buy another pepper plant to keep it company, despite pepper and tomato plants being in the same family.

Many people bemoan climate change as calamitous but I think they do this very much from their dominant human position. 'I love my planet' and 'Saving the World' means taking the comfort of humans out of the solution, surely.

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Trees of Green

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Thursday 16 October 2025 at 05:58

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[ 6 minute read ]

'I see Trees of Green (red roses too)'

How do you do?

Ooh! Wireless mice! I dropped one of mine and it went wonky. Either that or my neighbour got a booster for his wireless devices and his signal bled into my mouse waves. Every now and then my on-screen cursor would leap off to the side; so for a few hours I had a lot of fun moving it away to the middle again and just randomly clicking the buttons. I was hoping my neighbour was writing an email or putting data into a spreadsheet, or something that requires a cell or sentence to be selected. Eventually though, I decided that it was probably my mouse that was broken and so I bought one with a tail; a wired one. Modern laptops, I have heard, have only one USB port, so I make sure I don't buy new ones. I have four USB ports on each of my machines. Having a wired mouse is no problem because I only use three USB ports anyway.

I see posts on my module forum by students that remark that they fell a little behind on their previous module. I wonder why they are telling people this. Maybe they should study. Not necessarily though. One might ask the same of me. 

       'Martin, why do you spend so much time writing posts?'

I would reply, 'Because I am cheating. I am combining tasks for the early assignments to aid me in the End of Module Assignment.'

Just like some people cheat in actual exams by smuggling in information on their sleeves or written in tiny writing on their arms, or on the inside of the label on their water bottle, I am smuggling all the information I need for the EMA by storing it in my head. Yes, I know that I can access the course books for the EMA but I can transpose a good lot of the information I am learning at the start of the module into later TMAs. There is a huge amount of time from the module website opening to the cut-off time for the first TMA. I scan all the module and keep in mind what I need to know for subsequent TMAs. To someone who uses the internet for finding the meaning of words or as a thesaurus, it may be difficult to understand the efficacy of my method. 

If I need to find the definition or meaning of a word I use an actual dictionary or when I am really excited a Roget's Thesaurus. I usually need a sandwich if I go that deep though. The thing is the internet will give us the meaning of the word we don't know. Efficient! Not best though. There is a website that gives the word listed in a dictionary before the one we are interested in, the word we are interested in, AND the word listed in a dictionary that follows the word we are interested in. That is what a real dictionary does. Yet, the real dictionary always opens on a page that is not the one where the word we are seeking is listed. This means that we are exposed to extraneous words - I usually read those random words and definitions before I find the word I am seeking.

By understanding what the whole module requires of me - such as all the options for all the TMAs and the EMA, I can create a path of study that is closest to the best combination of study. I will then automatically absorb information from one unit to later collate with information from a subsequent unit. Although the information from any other unit at Level One will not fit into any TMA assignment, the information provides a perspective that would otherwise be unrecognised by me. 

So why am I not studying, right now?  Just like Louis Armstrong singing; 'The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky...' is a construct that precedes, 'Are also on the faces, of people going by.' It is there to show variety, brightness and wonder that are evident in people at a particular time in a particular place. Describing my plan for the whole module allows me to add flavour and colour to it; opens me up for accidental information (I currently have one laptop accessing YouTube); and gives me time to subconsciously absorb what I have recently learned, with controlled interference. Many people will be familiar with the idea of meditating by looking at a candle flame in a darkened room. It, the candle flame, is a visual distraction that allows the subconscious to access the conscious and borrow information, shape it and put it back into the conscious mind when it is requested. Reading a dull book when we have something important to think about has the same effect; the eyes are distracted and the words are not consciously noticed, so the story does not distract us from our thoughts.

However, I would never write that I am about to fail at something until I have tried everything in my knowledge to find a way to succeed beforehand. Neither would I portray that I almost failed and then almost fail because I need to reach for comfort.

'I see friends shaking hands, saying "How do you do? They're really saying, "I love you". Comfort for the ones who are struggling at something, perhaps? Yet, I can't quite see any gain from seeking, 'There, there! Don't Worry!' when they need 'Here, Here! Everything is here!' Here, for me, is in my head, stored from previous accidental learning that applies to later assignments. Non-linear learning is, in our modern world, cheating!

'I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than I'll ever know...'  (non-linear)

Lyrics from 'What a Wonderful World' written and composed by George Douglas and George David Weiss, and first recorded by Louis Armstrong in 1967 - Wikipedia. 

Lots of things across the world happened in 1967 which have parallels with today's news; seeking national and personal independence, religion, famine and war. 1967 was also 'The Summer of Love' and the first human heart transplant was performed in December, in South Africa, by Dr. Christiaan Barnard (sic); and chaos ensued when Sweden started driving on the right hand side of the road. 

Contrast helps to cement information.

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The Kent Landings

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Tuesday 14 October 2025 at 07:59

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[ 6 minute read ]

The Kent Landings

Invasion!

Today, 14th October, is Battle of Hastings Day (Well, it is in my head).

On the morning of 14th of October 1066, some Vikings, pretending to be Normans because they had lived in Northern France for a couple of generations, decided that since they were on English soil they might as well attack the Anglo-Saxon Army that came to meet them for a friendly cup of tea. Fresh from fighting his brother, Tostig, and King Harold Hardrada's invading force (more pesky Vikings) at Stamford Bridge near York, Harold, King of England since only the 6th of January, got into an argument with Duke William of Normandy. Their armies joined in and many men died at the scene. William went on an eleven week 'jolly' on the way to visit London, and with a massive hangover, was crowned King of England on Christmas Day that same year. The newspapers had the headline, 'Dire consequences from Christmas prank'.

It could have happened like that but historians are fairly well united in believing that William of Normandy was already intent on claiming the crown of England because there was an agreement between him and Edward the Confessor (reigned 1042-1066) that William should be the next King if England. The problem is, and this is what historians believe, is that Harold Godwineson also believed his own conversation with Edward the Confessor included Edward's wish for Harold to be the next king of England. 

Just to muddy the waters, Harold's outlawed brother Tostig had persuaded Harold Hardrada, a Norwegian king, that England was ripe for the taking. They attacked near York at Stamford Bridge, in the North of England, over 250 miles from Hastings on the South England coast that faces the English Channel. A couple of websites say that the car journey would be about five hours; but King Harold and his army, once intelligence reports reached Harold of a gathering invasion about to invade across the channel, had to walk. We are told that Harold's army met the Norman invaders and William some miles inland from the English Channel (La Manche - 'the sleeve').

The whole period is a story-writers dream for plots, twists, betrayal, fighting, glory, death, punishment, fear and celebration. Yet, the battle of Hastings is an open sore on English pride. I don't really know why. The English language is a mix of French, German, Latin, and a few words from the indigenous people and from overseas conquest. Conquest is entirely English. Perhaps that is why it is so shameful to lose such a monumental battle to an illegitimate man who took advantage of a family problem. 'It just isn't Cricket!'

Harold was son of Godwine, Earl of Wessex. In those days, England was split into a handful of powerful earldoms and a few little ones. Godwine was the most powerful Earl with the greatest resources at hand. Unfortunately, his sons were unruly, and both Sweyn and Tostig were a bit feisty. In those days, upsetting the king through piracy off the English shore meant that you would be outlawed, which meant that anyone could legally murder that person without having to pay compensation to the affected family. You could win favour and return to the English fold, by doing something to please the king, but Tostig, decided to invade with the king of Norway's army, on the 25th September 1066.

Harold, upon the death of his father, who died in 1053, became the leader of the strongest earldom in England. 

Godwine, Harold's father was made an earl (circa 1018) by King Cnut. Godwine dominated Edward the Confessor. Edward outlawed Godwin for not following his wishes. Godwine attacked England and Edward relented. We should also be aware that Godwine was also held responsible for the murder of one of the claimants to the throne upon Cnut's death. After the battering of Edward the Confessor in a battle in 1052 and a subsequent obsequious buttering up of Edward the Confessor, who had after all, married Godwine's daughter, Edith in 1045. The Godwine famiy assumed that they would rightlfully claim the English throne upon Edward the Confessor's death, since he had no issue (rightful heirs). Edward, however, was pro-Norman and had wanted to fill his court with Normans. William of Normandy believed he had been told by Edward the Confessor that he should claim the throne of England. Hence we have a battle in 1066.

I celebrate the 14th October as the day that a bullying family was crushed. I can't stand conniving and snivelling sycophants, who desire to seize power to control others for a menacing gathering of wealth. Bullies, greedy people, liars, cheats and charlatans, I see, in the Bayeau Tapestry, your leader poked in the eye with an arrow 959 years ago. And be clear on this, it is not the arrow of Love that Cupid shoots, that I see.

The Bayeaux Tapestry is an embroidery that shows the sequence of events of the Battle of Hastings as seen by the winners.

I heard that such is the underlying anxiety still felt by the Norman attack in 1066 that there is a monument erected by the English in a French cemetary for the fallen French soldiers of World War Two that reads something like this: 'Despite you attacking us in 1066 we have forgiven you and came to save you in this war.' A little contentious in its thrust if it is true. Yet, there was an underlying current of resentment and scorn that cannot be easily dismissed. If the inscription exists on a monument, it is of its time and for me is indicative of British humour. Again, if it is true, I am certain that there is no real resentment towards the French soldiers of the second World War. Rather, it is a salute to the fallen French who deserved honourable recognisance, but with the dark and stiff upper lip humour of the British of that time. I think it is one of the saddest inscriptions that I can ever imagine coming across. It, if it exists, is a show of comradeship not division; of loss not gain in position. It kind of says: 'We are family, and as family we are loyal'.

Thank you to the French for your wonderful language and your laws that came from the consequences of the Battle of Hastings, particularly from William the Conqueror's descendent King Henry II, (great-grandson) who codified much of England's laws.

The 14th of October is the day that England was rescued from tyranny.

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Weigh the Parents

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Sunday 12 October 2025 at 05:24

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[ 6 minute read ]

Weigh the Parents

This is not about politics. Leon Spence writes a good 'blog' on his perspective on the political climate. This is more about oligopoly; or market power within the hands of a few, which would, given enough freedom, I suggest, ultimately become a controlling force in a wider sense. I provide a link to one of Leon Spence's posts as is fair, since I may well overlap his perspicacious focus with my random fantasy world.  I prefer to write - 'Just Saying!' posts, while Leon writes tidy and clear declarative statements. Leon Spence Saturday 11th October 07:49

I would like cereal manufacturers to no longer add sugar to breakfast cereals. I can't eat them because they are too sweet for me. I lived in Holland, in The Netherlands, for a while, and met an English chap who had an 'English' Shop in Delft. Because I would travel back and forth to the UK, he suggested that I pick up a consignment of Kellogg's Corn Flakes in England to deliver to his English shop in Delft, The Netherlands. 

       'Why?' I asked.

       'English people have a sweeter tooth than Dutch people.' He explained. I think English people have a sweeter tooth than most of the European countries. I think it is also a thing that emerged around about fifty years ago. I think it may go further back to when there were still milk bars that didn't sell Coca Cola. Milkshakes were cool once.

Yet, I have to put both salt and sugar in CO-OP Baked Beans. Clearly, whoever controls sugar controls what the people eat. 

Let's imagine that the Government came up with a law that banned sugar being added to foodstuffs at the source of manufacture. The home cook can do what they like at home; but can't sell their sweetened home-cooked produce. Better still, they can't even give it away at garden fetes, to friends or work colleagues. Cake in shops might have to have a sachet of sugar included separately. But without going too far into the logistics of manufacturers stuffing sugar into the consumer, we will just consider that sugar is freely available, and there are no restrictions on anyone buying it in shops. In my weird market, we might restrict the sale of yeast being bought with sugar though; like you can't buy certain pain-killers together in one transaction.

Eventually, young children would be weaned off sugar. Feeders of children would be more closely aware of how much sugar they need to purchase to satisfy their addicted family. The new conundrum would be: Heat, Eat, or Buy Sugar.' Sooner or later, because sugar is not a dietary requirement in a healthy diet, it would soon attract a premium price set by the oligopoly of sugar refiners, that we currently have, I suggest that no Government would want to be known by the opposition as a party that encourages obesity by capping the price of sugar.

There is a problem though. Have you ever had one of those 'one in a million' cups of tea when everything is in the perfect quantity and it is the right temperature? There are a lot of variables involved to get a cup of tea just right. Likewise, spooning sugar onto unsweetened corn flakes or bran flakes or coco-pops will eventually lead to applying too much sweetness rather than too little. Most of us can stand something that is just a little too sweet, but are disheartened when it is not sweet enough. If the 'sugar-bowl' (bag) is to hand, might as well chuck a bit more on the cereal, eh?

Schools would need to weigh the pupils to keep a check on the parents. Fat children can only be fat from eating too much sweet stuff or too much ultra-processed foods, I think. So, Mum and Dad must be directly contributing to an unhealthy diet. 

       'All rise!'

       'You did willfully fatten your child with an overdose of sugar over a period of months, thereby inducing an addiction to a foreign substance. A substance, mind, that has long been used as a recreational drug to induce pleasure and the consequent release of dopamine and serotonin'

       'Your honour,' called the prosecutor, 'We should like to add the charge of willfully manipulating the electro-chemical mental balance of the child in question to make the child more malleable to further controlling influence by the parents. This, your Honour is a clear case of child abuse!' Her voice raised sharply in tone and volume towards the end.

       'Weigh the parents!' cried the Judge.

Clearly, no government is going to enact a law that entirely prohibits sugar being added to breakfast cereal. Yet, strangely, Shredded Wheat is 100% wheat.

In my mind, it is cheaper to not add sugar at the source of manufacture. Also, some vitamins and minerals are added to the breakfast cereal. This should mean that breakfast cereal would be cheaper to buy, so more kids get to eat before going to school AND they get iron and some B vitamins, to boot. Unfortunately, without simple carbohydrates like refined sugar, the now slimmer and healthier kids have less available energy in the bloodstream early in the morning to motivate them to walk to school. Best get in the car then, otherwise they will be late (if they don't get up early enough to metabolise the more complex carbohydrates that cereal is).

Oh dear! We simply can't have children getting up early and waking up a bit before school - this simply will not do!

If I was in control, I would pass a law that made it compulsory for every household to have at least one bee-hive in the kitchen. I would also be the owner of the only licensed business to produce a universal spigot that fits all bee-hives so honey is 'on tap'. Imports of Chinese spigots (especially if they are called Chigots on the black market) would be subject to 100% tariffs. I would also send officers to randomly check homes for beehives and foreign spigots. There would, of course, be even higher tariffs set if a foreign spigot was ever found.

       'All rise!'

       'You did willfully tamper with a bee-hive with the intention of promoting the rise of a foreign power that is bent on undermining the sociability of the British Breakfast Table.'

The people in the gallery looked at each other, confused. 'Social?'

       'Your Honour, this person has appeared before you only a week ago for using a phone while peeing.' The prosecutor added.

       'Is nothing sacred, anymore? Weigh the parents!'

While, the theme of this post, 'What would I do if I was a controlling influence in marketing that ultimately controls a country?', was thought up this morning while I was adding sugar and salt to my tinned Baked Beans, there may be parallels with Leon Spence's posts on what UK political parties may do, or try to do. At least, I think so, but not about sugar.

Such is my addiction to sugar that while I was writing this, I ate some Honey Monster cereal with milk. I am actually lactose-intolerant. However, I am a recovering sugar addict because I stopped myself drinking the sugary milk left in the bowl. Yuck! (I only have the Honey Monster cereal because my local shop-keeper gave it to me. I only have the milk because I have the Honey Monster cereal. I am so bad!)

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You frazzled yourself

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Sunday 12 October 2025 at 05:37

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[ 9 minute read ]

You frazzled yourself

Oh me oh my! Everybody is after something all the time. Such dissatisfaction I have never before experienced. I keep banging on about people seeking validity of themselves; because I am amazed at how pernicious it is. I had a conversation with my doctor a while ago and forgot to ask if people were different before the Covid 19 thing. Of course, anyone who followed the rules and locked themselves down will be different to how they should be now. Likewise, anyone who didn't lock themselves down will be different to how they should be because other people locked themselves down.

An expansion: I didn't lock myself down. I just carried on as usual. Oh no! How irresponsible! No, I had no need to change what I do to conform with not spreading diseases. When the UK Government said 'socially isolate yourselves' to the people, I thought, no change there then. I found it interesting that most people were not actually acting normal for themselves, when they stayed at home. Normal for me! Welcome to my world. 

I read somewhere that people have a distorted way of recalling the past. Most people, I believe, cannot remember what the world was like five years ago. I understand that we use selective memory to recall our childhood. It never rained during Summer holidays at the sea-side, for example. I don't think social media chatting platforms have changed much from how they were five or six years ago, except that everyone seems to think that it is entirely normal to use one. I have an email from my tutor that contains a link to an app to be able to make a booking for a one-to-one 'tutorial' initial telephone meeting. Why? Why does the tutor think that students want to meet the person who marks their assignments? And, why an email address to send a link to an app to be able to receive a telephone call? It is really confusing to me. Either I was affected by Covid, or I am one of the few who wasn't. 

The point I am getting at, in a round-about way, which I am only now starting to understand, in the way people now process anything, is that conventional rules for communication are ignored, unheard of, or obsolete. There is a technological reason for that, but it is the human factor that interests me. 

Have technology will use it

I met a woman in her sixties in an ALDI car park, 2021. Just in passing, but I like to talk; you know, to people, not VDUs - like computer screens and phone screens. Let's just separate that out: Typing (texts and emails); looking at a moving picture (face-time, video-conferencing); and telephone calls. Talking to people is none of those. Phone calls is talking to thin air, hoping that we are heard. Typing is moving our fingers and the only response is alpha-numeric characters appear on a screen; and talking to a screen is precisely that. There is no-one there. It is all fantasy. We are all just hoping that someone is there to receive our message. No, we TRUST that there is someone there. We believe it. Believing someone is there when they are not, is so close to being psychotic that most of us would be paralysed with fear if we knew that, that is what we are. That is where we are currently at. We have to get a reply to our cries in the air. 

Back to the woman in the ALDI car-park.

       'I haven't spoken to my grand-children for six months!' she wailed. I inwardly shrugged, 'And?'

This woman, I thought, can remember when we didn't see relatives for years at a time, yet she is emotionally wiped out when real conversation is denied us. I couldn't help thinking, 'Welcome to my world,' when people bemoaned their isolation. 'What!' 'What is wrong with you?' 'What?' 'How needy are you?' At the time, I thought that this woman's grandchildren would probably be relieved that she is absent. I imagined that they would groan when they were called to the phone to face-time Gran. But they wouldn't have been, unless they were previously bribed into liking Gran with sweet treats, or money. The fact is, they were probably brought up to misuse communication devices.

I have a low qualification in Business Administration. One of the things that was taught is what form of communication is appropriate when and why. Phone someone in an emergency. Text someone a burst of information, such as an address, or meeting time. Texts are notes for someone else to read. They are not chatting messages. Email someone with a report or draft contract. Emails are not, definitely not, for chatting. Providing a link in one of these to another form of communication is just plain nonsense. Mixing up communication platforms requires the recipient to switch their attention. It demands something of the recipient that is outside of the form of communication. 

Try this; I got an email containing an app link to arrange a telephone call. Just phone me! You have my number! leave a voice-mail message! Q-U-I-C-K-E-R! Why over-complicate a conversation? Even though I have a SmartPhone, I won't ever be using it for emails or accessing the internet. Why not? Because emails should not be text messages. Emails are opened on computers so links to websites can be included. To presume that anyone is foolish enough to open an app using a computer must mean that Covid fried their brain. 'Use any means to communicate! Break convention! Ignore cyber threats!' The conspiracy theorists must be peeing their pants laughing at this madness. Invent a disease to make people use digital communication with a desperation that causes them to be careless about cyber-security and maintaining security of their personal details. Make them show their faces on phones with service contracts so we can use facial recognition in shops and at airports. Dean Koontz would love this time. We all know of '1984' by George Orwell. Koontz wrote, 'Night Chills' in 1976. (Published in Gt. Britain in 1977 by W.H. Allen & Co. PLC) 

It is not without some dark bemusement that I read about people having their mobile phones stolen right out of their hands. If you have £200 would you walk around holding it right in front of your face?

       'The police won't do anything!'

Why should they? If millions of people decided to walk into brick walls and then phoned for an ambulance, the emergency-call-handlers would be compelled to ask? 'Did you deliberately close your eyes while walking towards a brick wall?' They would look at each other in their office and roll their eyeballs. 'Covid! Another person affected by Covid!'

If someone is instrumental in my immediate future and offers me a chance to 'chat', I have to do it because I am certain that they are ill and will be negatively affected by my puzzlement as to why they want to 'chat'. If they are instrumental in my immediate future, I have to make sure they don't dislike me for blanking their need; because I have to pass through a period that allows me to later distance myself from their confusion. Yes, I am being harsh. I recognise that people have the same universal need, but to satiate it, I have to become an addict, like them, to 'chatting' to thin air or a video display unit (alpha-numeric characters or digital images - it's all the same to me). Of course, this offer of a 'chat' may come from someone who thinks I need to inanely chat.

But I know what most people really want. They want to build a rapport. What I don't understand is why I have to do something to make them feel more comfortable. Personally, I don't need to set up a procedure to build a temporary rapport with someone, because I don't use people and I respect people. Whenever someone needs to build a rapport with me, I am forced to lie to them to make them go away and leave me in peace. 'Yes! Yes! We are getting on fine! There is no need to worry!'  I don't want anything to do with someone that is so insecure as that, without them also knowing they are mentally unwell. Generally, it is professionals that need to know they are doing their jobs right. If they don't know, I suggest they are in the wrong job.

I ran a very successful business a while ago. One learns to separate one's personal life from business. Today though, UK businesses have taken the stupid Americanism of personalising everything. In business and marketing, this is the after-sales service. 'You bought.....Do you like it?' or 'You are important to us, so we will pretend to show that, by making sure we don't have to waste time satisfying our obligations to our duty.' They do this using a universal means. Texts and emails. I think, 'Just sell it to me, or deliver it and I never need to know you even exist.' No, instead, why don't you just waste my time with inane conversation? But in reality they are hoping that their mediocre attitude and incompetence will not be noticed. It is not excellent. Why would it be? All they have to do now is sweet talk people who want to feel valued and validated for being fooled.

I know what cognitive dissonance is. I know why people feel it. How about businesses just doing what they are supposed to do and adhering to a good code of practice so customers do not expect more than is actually available?

I had a valid complaint about O2 services (UK telephone service provider). Their policy is, if the customer asks to speak to a manager, don't quibble, escalate the conversation or complaint. O2 doesn't do that. They have inadequately trained staff trying to sell more services like upgrades or something similarly ridiculous. Why would anyone upgrade? I just get what I need to satisfy everyone else, and then I stick to it. That wasn't true, but it is now; it has to be this way.

I bought some operating systems a while back to avoid MS Windows continual upgrading. The reason for doing this is because I recognised that eventually hackers would find a way in, that I will not be able to detect. In the past, whenever I detected strange software on my computers I simply formatted the hard drives and loaded an operating system from a DVD. The data on a DVD does not change. This means I can run the same operating system on two identical computers and only allow one to access the internet. Any changes in performance is detectable and directly attributable to downloaded updates. Now we have A.I. as a standard feature in our lives. It is even in used for searching the internet. I don't want assistance that favours what everyone else wants. However, at last, I have found an operating system that was created before Unlimited Data plans were a thing. It currently recognises that it uses a 'metered' internet connection, so it has paused ALL updates until it detects an unmetered internet connection. So, it will not download any updates, and most importantly, any that use A.I. to assist me by scanning my internet and computer use, and getting to know me. No updates make it harder for hackers to use Trojan Horses.

Me, measured in conversation; I get it now. 

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A Zoo of Chimeras of Thinking reposted

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Wednesday 8 October 2025 at 11:33

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silhouette of a female face in profile   four highly stylised people facing each other. One is red   Mental Health

[ 6 minute read ]

This post was originally posted: Monday 22 September 2025 and has been reposted for relevance to World Mental Health Day on Friday

There is an open invite posted earlier today at 10:22

 

A Zoo of Chimeras of Thinking

Good Crikeyness! Everything is so monetised these days. I have a website still under construction but active and viewable (hegemo.co.uk) that I get nothing from. I get no money or reward or acclaim. It, I suppose, is an element of social responsibility, or a social enterprise if I want to feel that I am making a positive contribution to the world. I have to pay for stuff now that was free in May this same year (2025). There will be critics to the content, particularly from the mental health camp of supposedly trained and normal-thinking people. I am fairly well convinced, though, that they do not see themselves as negotiators in a hostage-taking scenario, when they should. I suspect, that the first thing critics to my approach will do is fail to recognise that the current content (22 September) comes from a single individual with a mind. A mind that is subject to its environment; the immediate world around the body in which it sits. While isolation, at certain times of our lives is favourable, it is not, I suggest, very helpful, when experienced for long periods, in an environment of increasing social interaction. 

However, someone used to long or extended periods of isolation is an alien to a planet of chit-chatting. The critics, I suspect, will not see it this way. If there is a planet somewhere in space that is almost identical to ours, but has different realities, a different past, future and present, most of us, I suggest, would be fascinated to learn all about it? While I would not suggest that any one of us humans on Earth with our own national histories is as fascinating as someone from an alternative planet, if anyone indigenous to Earth has a different historical pattern, I think I am safe in stating that each one of us is still uniquely interesting.

Unfortunately, out of eight billion of us on Earth only about one hundred and nine handfuls of us can actually use our languages and bodies sufficiently well to compel people to listen to us. Obviously, I have no idea of the real number of fascinating people with communication skills. They do, however, need to have both something to say and be able to say it well, don't they? I haven't met all of them yet, so..... 

'Nuff said, you get the point.

Confidence is something that grows in us while we are perceiving that others are finding us interesting. Personally, I have had the most anguished times in many conversations in which I have been outlining a position and 'spiralling in' to hone a point, when I get the feeling that the listening person is thinking their own thoughts around the multi-faceted subject, and reached a strong position that is far from the one I am trying to portray.

       'Oh, please stop thinking! Just listen until you have heard my conclusion.'

Too late! My conclusion will inevitably meet a different one. A fight will then occur between the two, and because the alternative conclusion is on home ground, it is likely to be cheered and encouraged, so it almost always wins.

When we meet another human, I suggest, we consider them to be the same as us. 'What is new?' we ask, albeit obliquely. 'How are you?' means 'Hello' politely. There is an expectation that the person we have just met cannot adequately convey anything interesting to us beyond, that is, what we are hard-wired to want. We crave knowing where good food is, and how we can attain it; procreation; and where danger is. It is only recently that we want to know about the Arctic or a desert located somewhere, where we might go one day, but that visit is highly improbable.

Right there in front of us, is someone with a past, living in the present environment, with a hope for the future. "Not interested. Don't care. Just entertain me somehow, because even though I can never remember that I have a past in the present environment with hopes for the future, I absolutely think I am different to you because I am healthy." It is a default position. Overweight, elderly, unfit, and silly, we ignore all of it while our brain seeks some kind of succour from the stuff that ails it; ourselves. 

It is not you that makes me feel rough; it is me. It is me because I forget that you are only putting on a play, an act that serves to protect you; an act that modern society demands from each of us because it is a hodge-podge of all of us that creates an hegemony of ideas and solutions. Today, I had a long conversation with someone who, at the end of it, made sure that I was aware that she would make notes for someone else to get a picture of what was said during our meeting. I told her that she will only promote a conversation between someone else and my avatar; an avatar created from her notes; an avatar that I shall be compelled to comply with. Far better that I make my own avatar and comply with that one, isn't it? 

You might, by now, have formed your own conclusions to my words. 'This idiot is trying to start a revolution! He wants to change the way we think.' Dangerous stuff, when it is spelt out like that, isn't it? But, you are not wrong. Like countless people before me, I cannot fathom a way to hold up a banner that says, 'It is okay to cry' without being hailed as a softie weirdo loser, a soufflé that can stand no knocks. It is true that I have been felled by a cruel axe that cut me deeply with every stroke. I was a young sapling and easily chopped. I grew back, but not as a tree with a single trunk, like every other tree in a forest. I am the tree that hikers, no, not hikers because that presupposes possession of some interest in an environment; I am the tree that passers-by look at and point out to the other passengers in the vehicle that whisks then speedily along. That isn't a car or a train, by the way; it is the way we live our lives and the pace of them.

The hikers, fleeting as they are, tilt their heads to one side and ponder for a short while before they think about where to find food, procreation, and what is dangerous. I mentioned, before, that I want to build a zoo of stories and mental positions for hikers to visit. None of us, it seems, want wild thoughts to be roaming around biting and clawing at the safe thoughts of where to find food, procreation, and what is dangerous, so it seems logical to shape those animals and recognise the shape of them, and then, even for a modicum of validation, show off our own chimeras. In effect, create avatars that individually belong to us and can be re-shaped over and over again, but only by the owner.

       'Look! Look! This one is really weird!' 

We are not allowed to do that! the Government won't let us. How can we ever be able to understand something if the 'something' is always shrouded in secrecy, and no-one can talk about it? I am not suggesting that we pillory people and laugh at their failing or incapacity to succeed, or conform to our idea or version of success. Far from it. I am suggesting that we recognise that it is beneficial to laugh at, be amused, disgusted by, or jealous of, other people's shaped and deliberately displayed chimeras of understanding and perception, as long as we do not do this to the persons themselves. Like pieces of art works like Edvard Munch's 'The Scream' we gawk and gape and try to reach deeper into it, and simultaneously ourselves, by attempting to understand how the image came to be. Many of us might simply glance at that painting and make an off-hand statement such as, 'That's how I feel' or 'That's how I feel when.....' Why do we do that? Why don't we spend some time shaping what we are thinking? I want to 'experience' more fascinating chimera's that can live in a zoo with 'The Scream' painting hanging on a wall.

Samaritans phone number 116 123 https://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help/contact-samaritan/

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World Mental Health Day

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Wednesday 8 October 2025 at 14:01

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silhouette of a female face in profile  four stylised people facing each other. One is red.  Mental Health

[ 2 Minute read ]

World Mental Health Day

Friday 10th October 2025

Samaritans phone 116 123 anytime 24 hour service 7 days per week for someone who listens

It is World Mental Health Day on Friday 10th October 2025. Make no mistake about it, I have mental health issues on a daily basis. For example: I fetched half a bucket of acorns for the local squirrels to save so they can eat on Christmas Dinner, New Year Day, Valentine's Day, and Saint Patrick's Day and the stupid thieves are too respectful to take them. Only I would have honest squirrels in my garden! How frustrating when things don't go to plan, eh?

I have re-purposed one of my websites to be able to accept anonymous comments that can be thousands of words long. I want to provide a space for people to let loose their feelings or explain their condition. 

Rant all you like, no-one will know your name because even though you need to include a name, you can make one up.

As an example of how I have opened myself up to honesty and taken some responsibility for my behaviour I have written about my failings in my posts. I have posted two pseudo-interviews with myself. The statements I make are true at the times of original writing - the questions I ask myself and my responses are more reflective in the present time. You can read those testimonies by searching for 'martin cadwell interview'. Or if you are logged in and on my OU Blog space you can click the tag 'interview'. Or click this link: INTERVIEW which is a link to two of my posts on the OU Blog site https://learn1.open.ac.uk/mod/oublog/view.php?user=852553&tag=interview

Share your story on hegemo.co.uk (my website) as comments in the 'Contact Us' form. I will read them and post them as blog posts under the assumed name on hegemo.co.uk or within my own blog space in the subdomain martincadwellblog.hegemo.co.uk. No-one will be able to comment on any posts or message (except me of course). 

I have no mental health training and will not and cannot advise on any matter beyond directions on where to seek appropriate help on an individual basis. However, I may contribute in an open and general way with my ideas on how I see things might be different but as I say NOT on an individual basis.

I found that interviewing myself gave me power over something that takes me hostage and leaves me weakened. If I recognise how frustration affects me (honestly affects me) I can redirect my energy.

My kitchen is too small; I hate electric cookers; My neighbour is weird; My knee hurts and the doctors think I am unfit; I think I am unfit and feel put upon by my own laziness; Why do people keep complaining all the time? 

Everybody has some kind of gripe.

hegemo.co.uk is a non-profit website solely for expressing opinion. No racism; no political angle and definitely no religious preaching. However, feel free to moan about anything.

Suggestions on how we can all live better lives are welcome.

Comment anonymously on the the 'Contact Us' form on hegemo.co.uk

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Mental Integration

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Tuesday 7 October 2025 at 12:50

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[ 4 Minute read ]

Mental Integration

I can't help thinking that there are people who are diagnosed with something that they don't actually have; mentally, that is. It seems that some people with autism are able to identify someone else with autism. I, myself, have been questioned many times by different doctors, psychologists, and psychiatrists on whether I have autism. First: why did they ask me? and second; why do some people with autism tell me? 

Easy! I present with symptoms of autism. I don't look people in the eye. I work better on my own. I am distracted by other people. I can work, completely solitary, for hours without a break. My focus is laser-like. 

All of those are because I have PTSD and a very high IQ with a good deal of patience and a desire to complete a task before I forget what I have done so far. Not looking someone in their eyes is because I had terrible uncorrected eyesight and looked at the thing I saw moving; someone's mouth. Nuances in people's eyes were not available to me, so I focused on nuances in their voices. This last is why I have no need for video-conferencing and telephone calls work better for me. Looking at someone's face is merely a distraction from their words. I don't trust smiles as genuine. I am trained to smile, simply because I don't as a natural condition. 

There is a single parent woman, down the road from me, who laments that her neighbour blanks her. In my village people like quiet times. This woman likes to shout at her kids because it works for her. It doesn't work for her neighbour. Here is where I get contentious. One of them has a greater mental acuity than the other. That is not indicative of who is right, or righteous, or kind, or empathic, or stupid. I have met PhD graduates that many people would consider to be struggling to find two thoughts to rub together. I am just going to have to put aside that people have diagnosable mental ill-health conditions as a primary source of their difficulties they may exhibit in any particular environment; this is in order for me to be able to introduce 'high IQ' as a source for subsequent mental ill-heath.

We think differently. I am amazed at how much rubbish comes out of some mouths; my own included, and I mean I talk rubbish a lot. The woman down the road likes to worry that her doorbell is not working and she NEEDS to get a new one. I told her that most medieval people never had doorbells; they just banged on each other's doors with pitchforks. Many sensible modern people don't have door-bells. Well, they wouldn't, if the paranoid people didn't. If everyone in my road has a Ring doorbell and I do not, I am the target for thieves. Thanks, you lot!

The 'shouty' woman down the road is scared to drive her car because an acorn fell on her car roof while she was driving it. She told me today that she is at her wits end because her teenage son is running her ragged. If he has three thoughts to rub together he might be impatient with someone with only two thoughts - contemptuous even. See? If her son is super clever, he cannot integrate into a family of mildly clever people. The way he thinks, if it is markedly different to his home family thoughts, I suggest, will make him tempestuous to everyone with less mental acuity than he has. Only someone with a high IQ can recognise a high IQ in someone else. The key, then, is to teach him not to be disrespectful to people with only the same thoughts to rub together. 'That's Life, Kiddo!'

Contempt, misunderstanding, and fear of something different. Sound familiar? Too topical, maybe? 

Now then; the clever lad down the road might want to protest that everyone with an IQ that is less than his, should leave his country. Rather, the other way around; because if his IQ is really high he will not integrate well in an average environment. 

I like to simplify things. Teenagers are sharp because they are trained to use their brains at school. Parents are dull because they stop using their brains after 'Uni' or whatever, or more likely, school. Fit and agile brains hate dull and slow brains, So, if you want to get on with your teenagers, don't send them to school; take away anything stimulating when they are between the ages of birth and eleven, so they don't form strong connections in their brains; and make them watch television. They should then be dull enough to integrate with the average family environment.

Me, I am going to blockade 'skools' so children can't get out and contaminate us with intelligence and knowledge. 

The 'shouty' woman told me that her son is going to be assessed by a mental health team. They will say he has ADHD, autism or some kind of sociopathy, she surmised. If the testing team don't have a higher IQ than him. that is all they will see. I suggest an non-integrated high IQ might exhibit ADHD, autism, or some kind of sociopathy, because they are not properly diagnosed as having a higher IQ than the tester.This is HIGHLY likely, I propose.

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Claim the Bike!

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Monday 6 October 2025 at 21:26

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[ 4 Minute read ]

Claim the Bike!

I had the most embarrassing fun in my village shop today. I went there to buy something specific but on the way I stopped to collect some quince (or quinces) - two units of quince anyway. I have never seen a quince before and was quite puzzled what to do with them. This year, many people are sharing their surplus fruit. I would be pleased if my 'good neighbour' policy has enhanced the desire to share, from how it used to be in my village. 

Realistically, it could only be a better attitude in my road that the residents take with them to other roads. Who knows what futures we change by being friendly?

I get on pretty well with the local shop keeper. Well, at least he doesn't watch me on his CCTV monitor....I think. I went into his shop and then couldn't remember why I was there, so I went back out. Outside, I noticed a woman go to the bin where the really, really out of date stuff gets, well, binned. I couldn't see what she was doing so I just waited for her to come back out. When she did. I told her where the shopkeeper puts his free out of date stuff in the shop. She didn't want that; but you never know.

She was after a water-butt and a couple of storage boxes that the shopkeeper had dumped. She had gotten permission from the shopkeeper to take them. There was also a cranky bicycle, sullenly slumped in the corner. I wanted that. 

After a long and drawn out conversation with the woman on how to pronounce 'tat'; she had said 'tuurt'. Do you mean 'tut', I asked. She meant, 'tat'. Strangely, she did not have a northern England or Birmingham accent. Glo'll (Glottal) stops and all, I placed her as coming from South London and Sussex. She said she is local. Anyway, she was keen on cornering the shopkeeper and bending him to the idea of letting me take the bike. I knew that I could just ask him and he would say yes, or no. No amount of negotiation or wheedling would change his mind. I quickly escaped her, went into the shop and asked for it. He demurred a bit. I found out why later. The 'Tat Gatherer' woman followed me into the shop and brow-beated him for probably five minutes.

       'It's falling apart!' she claimed. 'You don't need it!' and other pushes, and she never asked an open question.

       'If I give it to you, are you going to give it to him?' he asked, meaning me.

       'Yes! Yes! Him!'

       'You can have it then.'

I have to hand it to him, he entertained all of the woman's strident claims. I couldn't get a word in edgeways, except, 'We don't need to do this.' and 'He doesn't need to hear it!' and finally, 'I'll talk to you in a bit,' before I went to find a jar of Marmite. The woman followed me apologising if she had interfered. I told her not. Interfering wasn't what she had done; She had displaced me. I assured her that everything was fine, so she left, but not before trying to make me put the bike in her open-top car and take me and it to my home. I wasn't sure if she liked me or was just bent on ironing out her stress, somehow. Maybe, she was familiar with the lyrics in The Eurythmics, 'Love is a Stranger' song. (Love is a stranger in an open car. To tempt you in and drive you far away). I taught myself to dance to that when I was in love with a beautiful and exotic Russian woman. No, I wasn't going in this woman's open car, and I certainly wasn't going to show her where I live, even though I don't keep rabbits.

At the counter, the shopkeeper and I smiled at each other. I told him that I didn't need the bike but intended to repair it. I suggested he reconsider giving it to me when he said he was thinking of keeping it, but he added that it had been rusting in the same place for over a year. He said I should take it. The conversation was calm and respectful; just as it should be, and we both expect it to be so. I don't do manic persuasion, and he doesn't do spiteful or selfish refusal.

Half an hour at home with the bike and I had it ride-able, after I rejoined the chain and secured the wheels with spare wheel nuts. I will probably fix it up with spare parts after I have resprayed it, and give it to him as a gift, if he wants it. But it will be in a queue for about a year because I have others to mend, use for donor parts, and just move around my home, until I make a decision to do something more expensive than I can afford to do, with the worst of them. They need a lot of attention.

My local shop is so much fun.

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Don't shake hands, wave instead

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Monday 6 October 2025 at 09:23

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[ 4 Minute read ]

a stylised man standing either side of text that reads, Half Penny Stories

Don't shake hands, wave instead

I have a book open before me. In it, it says that a person with a coarse, clumsy and thick hand, with a heavy palm and short fingers, an elementary hand formation, has the lowest type of mentality.

       'Okay, infants. Come here. Show me your hands. Oh dear! Not one clever one among you!'

       'Now then, children, according to this book, you need long, angular and bony hands. It is a philosophic hand shape. If you have this bony hand shape, kids, it means you will gain wisdom but not money.'

They went back to dipping their hands in paint and sticking them to paper laid on the floor. My bare-footed wife hopped around and trod on each piece of paper that rose into the air, until their hands came free. Some of the cuddly toys had made their paw-prints too. She spared me an arched-eyebrow haughty glance. Hand prints was my idea. She has long, angular and bony hands. She also has opinions, an excellent memory, and a brilliant sense of timing. Which is why later, when I cuddle up to her in bed, I shall make the decision not to buy her a gift tomorrow. She will not have money from selling my gift; that much is true. She doesn't sell them; she keeps them all - to remind me who I am.

silhouette of a female face in profile

During my ambling around the village, I like to cheerily greet the locals. After a while, I notice a strange hand-gesture that indicates that they want to carry on with walking their dogs or something. Their half-closed hand rises from their side and comes up to their stomach, almost reaching their chest and then drops back down to their sides. It is a sign that they are uncomfortable.

A stylised man either side of text that reads. Half Penny Stories

I like to sing and fancy that I might break into spontaneous singing in the street this Autumn. The problem is that too many people still remember what Elvis Presley sounded like and they might think I am a charlatan, a pretender. I am a crooner, so some Country might work. Of course, I shall have to be selling Hot Potatoes from a hand-barrow as a reason to be standing outside. I would be looking for gentlemen in top hats to touch their hats and nod at me, and ladies in long dresses catching their breath with one hand while they hold their wide-brimmed, lace trimmed hats with the other. I fancy a hansom carriage might pass, with a generous and cheery benefactor aboard. 

silhouette of a female face in profile

The locals in my village slowly hurry off. I see it as rude desperation. They, to me, seem ill-equipped to end a conversation amicably. What they have done, I feel, is not given enough effort to the discourse. They have not given enough of themselves into a real-time moment and have lost control of the direction the moment might take. I am, of course, boring them. 

A stylised man either side of text that reads. Half Penny Stories

       'Bravo!' A shower of coins thrown my way. My gaze might leave the blushing ladies and be cast down to the ground.

       'Ah! Hugo, you scamp!' I might expect Hugo, my four-year-old neighbour to be hoping to share in good fortune. He has an eye for serendipity and a quick podgy hand. The twinkling of silver has changed to only brown. He isn't stealing, he has not yet comprehended individual possession. Later, he will swap some coins for caterpillars or something with the bigger boys in flat caps and bare feet.

silhouette of a female face in profile

Alternatively, the village locals are overwhelmed with useless information. I give them information that has no value. It cannot be exchanged for something else. It is non-transferable. 

These are not people who are browsing in a Victorian market lit by candle-light and lanterns, who are keeping an eye out for an amusing gim-crack or gew-gaw. They are instead, seemingly, half-conscious. 

It is odd to me that people want to be asleep while they are awake. When I next see the little hand gesture that indicates that they are about to slam the door on communication, I shall look more closely at the shape of it. Here then, is where the real problem lies. I am reading them like they imagine a psychiatrist might. They don't want to give anything away that might incriminate them, or get them in trouble. Plainly, I missed the lesson on how to make banal conversation that never breaks the veneer of privacy, and the lesson that focuses on never giving facts as friendly conversation. 

Most alarming is this: When I am at home there is no noise from a radio or television, a phone, or music player. When I do answer the phone and have a short conversation, and the call ends, the silence is heavy and pervasive. It distracts me from studying or focusing on anything. That is not to say that I could focus on anything that was not the phone call. No, unfortunately, for a brief time I was awoken from my secret slumber and now I have no noisy distraction again. i am suffering withdrawal symptoms. I, it seems, am a junkie. Worse, I am a pusher. 

That hand that both cheerily and sadly waves goodbye, also uses the same wave to say 'No, thanks!'

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Danger Squirrels

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Sunday 5 October 2025 at 06:10
 

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[ 3 Minute read ]

Danger Squirrels

Hah! I am so glad I that invented sober enthusiasm. I used to hate the wind. You know, that prevailing wind we get from the west. I used to have to cycle against that wind to work each early weekday. I got a job downwind after a  while. Much better. I was a paint sprayer. Sober in the morning and dizzy on the way home from the fumes. I never noticed the cruel wind. The wind and I were cosy friends, just cuddling together in a warm fug. I started on my route to gaining a Masters in invention and set myself on the path for a PhD in avoiding effort; or at least not recognising it. I got dizzily fit cycling against that wind for years.

One day, I was walking past an industrial estate and saw a man with his head down struggling against the wind on his bicycle. He passed me really slowly. If I ran I could have easily overtaken him. It was 12:34. I supposed he was late coming back from his lunch-break. I sympathised with him, and made a pact with myself never to do that. I used to rush back to work and use more energy arriving than when I actually worked. 

After that job I started remembering how the wind hated me, so I bought a boat; a 17ft sailing boat 7.9 metres. Ha hah! Blow wind blow! It makes my boat go faster! Except it didn't; not after it had reached its hull speed of four and a half knots or five miles per hour. The tidal current off the Kent and Essex coast (South East England) can be faster than that. My boat was moored there. I saw a sports catamaran fly across the water in a light wind easily faster than the tide. I sold my boat and bought a bigger one, 26ft, that had a hull speed of six and a half knots or seven and a half miles per hour. That was when I actually learnt what hull speed was. I can't sail a boat single-handed that is bigger than that so I sold it. But for a while I would notice a windy day and be pleased. 'Good Sailing day!' 

So, back to being tossed around by an unruly and boisterous wind for no reason. Such a waste of energy. Para-sailing should have been the next evolution. But no, my skateboarding skills were never going to be good enough to convince me to get wet while I do it tied to a kite. Should have at least practiced though; faster than that catamaran.

No, I have put on a little weight following my food-diet experiment a few weeks ago. Eating pies, butter, meat, and additives in ultra-processed food to see if my creativity changed. My sober enthusiasm granted me an idea. Lots of acorns were blown off an oak tree in my village. I have squirrels that dig up my garlic to bury walnuts in my garden. I gathered half a bucket of acorns and put them in my garden. Now the squirrels will get fat and make me feel better about myself. Job done. I won't need to exercise until Spring.

I might store some acorns for when the ground is frozen mid-winter, and leave them out then.

There is a tom-cat that bosses my neighbour Sally's cat. Sally has to take her cat to the vet sometimes. Perhaps the beefier squirrels will punch the bully cat, if I tip a bucket of acorns over the fence into her garden. They might be territorial. I am sure Sally will understand my sober enthusiasm! Maybe, I should throw an empty Amazon box with a corner chewed off and addressed to 'The Squirrels', over the fence too. 'It wasn't me, Sally!'

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I haven't got a clue

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Edited by Martin Cadwell, Saturday 4 October 2025 at 05:50

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[ 2 Minute read ]

Continuing my theme from yesterday afternoon (15:29) on 'Things aren't quite what they seem' from 'Dangerously Lost in Translation'. click here: The Kate Bush Interview

 or here: https://learn1.open.ac.uk/mod/oublog/view.php?user=852553&tag=Kate+Bush+interview.

I haven't got a clue

I keep bumping into Matt; it turns out that, that is the name of the Don who runs 'The Tomato Plant and Apple Gatherer' family in my road. He looks and talks normal; so normal that I would never guess he has heard of Noam Chomsky or Ludwig Wittgenstein. He launched into a speech on language acquisition. The funny thing is; he says he is interested in their approach to language development in children. He said his interest is in how children pick up language in the home. I mentioned 'prosody' to show him I care! You know, a verbal hug. I then said, 'Aren't we talking about behavioural and developmental psychology?' He wanted to leave then. I suppose, I don't know what I am talking about. I haven't got a clue. 

Interestingly, he said I am soft-spoken. I have never been accused of that before! I told him there is a raging fury inside of me. He didn't blink. 

       'Measured.' he offered. 'You are soft-spoken with us.' He pointed to Hugo, his four-year old. He has already trained Hugo to get as many advantages as possible. I had just bought a four-pack of toilet paper and it was in my bicycle basket. Hugo wanted me to share it. Poor lad desperately wants to have a long conversation with me about really long sweets that taste of strawberry and mango. Bless him! I haven't got a clue what to say about weird sweets. I could tell him what I used to eat but describing something to a four-year-old is like re-learning a foreign language you never knew in the first place, but thinking you are fluent. Slippery language is essential for communicating with infants, I find.

Measured! Slow-speaker! Maybe that's why people walk off from me when I am mid-lecture. My monologues are always crisp, fruity and fun, except, I suppose, if someone listens too quickly. The trouble is, I never talk from my core; only from a solid rampart. I told Matt, the tomato plant snatcher, that my speech is measured because I am educated; I am guarded. I shall speed up my speech. 'Think excited, Martin.' That way people will think I am smarter, I suppose. Slow-speaker!

       'In a good way.' Matt assured me. 'Boring!' I thought.

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