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Inexerienced

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Can't get on with it

[5 minute read ] 

Opinion

I have just finished reading Oscar Wilde's, 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. To me it is overly mellifluous in its flowery word content. The best bit is the end when Dorian Gray just gets on with action and Oscar Wilde has stopped waffling on about how the character's thought processes unfold. I have a book list and bought four of them at the same time despite the four not being relevant at the same time in my studies. Oxford University Press charge £5.50 delivery charge for a single book or a number of books, so since four of the books on the book-list are published by Oxford University Press I bought them together. 

I am not one for reading introductions, but I know I shall have to at some point. However, I opened Mary Elizabeth Braddon's book 'Lady Audley's Secret' and read a bit in the foreword or introduction section which alluded to why there is a sort of glossary or list of explanation at the end of modern Oxford World Classics books. Incidentally, having read a paragraph or three, I know I shall immensely enjoy reading 'Lady Audley's Secret'. Mary Elizabeth Braddon was clearly a clever woman, just as Oscar Wilde was a clever man, but she, I feel, didn't pontificate about 'Classics' as Oscar Wilde did in 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. I can't help but feel that gentlemen of his time were judged by how well they might orate, and on what subjects. Thankfully, it seems that women of the same time were not expected to do so, and this may be why Mary Elizabeth Braddon was considered, no doubt by prominent men critiquing her work, as being somewhat unruly and even 'second-rate' in her writing, but good at being so. My kind of writer, to be sure.

The explanations in the Oxford Classics are there to, let me quote, '[...] Each edition includes perceptive commentary and essential background information to meet the changing needs of readers.' (From the second page of the first leaf in 'Lady Audley's Secret') 

Initially, having read that, I thought 'I can understand pretty much all of the words or sections selected for explanation in 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. I have a good bit of healthy experience of reading and an avid curiosity that compels me to learn, and a number of years that have been available to me to indulge myself in learning. I immediately understood that many younger people have not had the same opportunity as I to tap into the same resources I have been able to do; the most obvious and crucial is, of course, time. So, fine, without having links to people to whom many of the archaic expressions were familiar to them, young people may be clueless as to the shape or depth of an expression and not have ready references to fill in any blanks; which is how we all learn; we have to make leaps of insight, and try out our expectations of what we think something means. We can't do that if we are isolated by our learning and knowledge (no-one nearby can understand what we are saying or trying to say). For example, I know what a 'mullion' is but only when I read it in the appropriate context. 'The windows were uneven; some small, some large, some with heavy stone mullions and rich stained glass; others with frail lattices that rattled in every breeze; others so modern that they might have been added only yesterday.' (Mary Elizabeth Braddon, 'Lady Audley's Secret' p7). I wrote that section at length, such as it is, because I love semi-colons and many people are confused by them. Here we can see how they are used as separators between sentences that are fundamentally linked as one following sentence adds to the content of the previous one, AND they are used as may be substituting bullet-points in a list. 

After a little more consideration, I came to think that these Oxford Classics would not be read for the joy of reading them so much as being used as study aids for studying English Literature. One of the important messages I have received of late is that good story-telling must flow, sentence after sentence, and not cause the confused reader to leave the text to discover its meaning. In other words, it should not be disjointed or confusing or jump about too much from scene to scene or time to time. The Oxford Classics by dint of necessarily including the explanation for the perceptive explanations, must recognise that they fall into the category of poor writing for the modern world. This however, is not the fault of the writer, who wrote for their period comtemporaries. 

I, myself, adore the Victorian-style written speech in Thomas Hardy books; its complexity, respect and manners. I should like to emulate such speech patterns in my everyday life. In truth, I changed something in my speech some years ago. A Columbian girlfriend, who had like so many non-native English speakers learnt English differently to me, an England national, introduced me to a different option. Indeed, the beginning of the previous sentence shows it. Instead of saying or writing 'I would like...', I say and write, 'I should like....' Breaking it down, effectively I might be saying I am compelled to think in a particular way but I reserve the right to negate what I am saying with an explanatory following clause: 'I should like to thank my esteemed colleagues (but I owe the nothing).' Nonetheless, I am wholly comfortable with 'should' instead of 'would'. I don't use it with any reserve. I even think it shows a smidgeon of education. 

Just like it takes me a little time to get used to the Victorian speech patterns in Thomas Hardy books simply because I am so time-distanced from people who may have spoken so, I am also, in the same way, saddened that the same erosion is continuing and younger people than I need to be coached in understanding words, expressions and meanings that I find quite easy to fathom. Perhaps reading books by Victorian writers is as difficult for them as reading books by 17th and 18th century writers would be for me without translation into modern English language. I haven't seen a Jonathan Swift (1667–1745) 'Gulliver's Travels' book, but I am certain the ones I have seen, using modern English, can be easily read by both young and old in the modern world. It may seem that there has been considerable ironing out of the archaic text to make it acceptable. Shockingly, the story has the protagonist weeing on a burning castle. Try putting that in an animated film for infant children! But I am talking about language, not actions.

'Robinson Crusoe' written by Daniel Defore, was published in 1719. It can be easily understood in modern English and it for me distinctive because it is just a story, like Swift's 'Gulliver's Travel's'. The author is not trying to show off their word-smithery or classical education. But as I said earlier these aspects may have been essential in the kind of world that Oscar Wilde either did live in or aspired to live in, even if he imagined he did or didn't. I suspect there was a good deal of fantasy and falsehood abounding in the higher levels of Victorian society that the poor found utterly shameful. 

Normally, I find books written by many modern women follow a distinct rule for writing; 'Show and don't tell.' This is a writing technique, that I find abhorrent and is currently taught as being essential in Creative Writing courses and degree modules; I can easily do it, and I think quite well, but I definitely won't do it through my own volition. I find it wordy and boring. Having detached emotions most of the time, my enjoyment in reading books is not heightened by reading, at great length, about other people's emotions. I certainly don't want to waste time scrutinising my emotions to get someone else to feel the same way. If my emotions are bubbling to the surface then fine, here they are, otherwise make them up yourself.

The approaching storm on the horizon means people are going to get wet and the trees and shrubs will continue to live. It never means, to me, that one of the characters is in for some personal trouble. I suppose, just like inexperienced readers of Oxford Classics, I don't have the internal tools to help me 'get it'; to make appropriate association and connections when I read books that freely utilise the 'Show and don't tell' technique. I do, however, seem to enjoy books written by Victorian women. If I am honest, I just now questioned myself on why this might be, and briefly considered that it might be that they were bound and circumscribed by their circumstances; circumstances that, I understand were largely created and ordained over by men. I am not a sociologist and had to dispel any notion that I had hit upon something that may be slightly significant. Yet, I cannot dispel an idea that Mary Ann Evans, who used George Elliot as her pen name when she wrote 'Middlemarch' had to be believable as being a man. I think I am supposed to understand a little more about English Literature to even hold this notion in my mind. It is, I should add, not my considered opinion or even a suggestion that there is any validity to my thoughts; they are just questions. As questions they are interesting. As premises for an argument much less so.

It remains that I abhor flowery and wordy messes in books that seem to be there for only three reasons, to show off; or because the writer is inadequate to succintly explain; or because they had fun immersing themselves in an imagined scene. The last is the one that scares me the most since I cannot help but feel they likely live their lives the same way, just as it seems to me the Victorian gentleman lived in a fantastic theatrical sphere that required him making clear his education to all and sundry. If I was better educated I would fit right in, I feel.

Martian Politicians

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Those Martian Politicians

[4 minute read ] 

opinion

Dogs will roll over onto their backs and expose their bellies as a gesture of submission, or in the case when the pack leader is a human with no teeth on their hands, when they are happy or want to be tickled. Different strokes for different folks. My brother had a dog that would smile at me because I often saved her from attacks from her vicious sister. A dog showing its teeth, in their dog-world, is usually a threat or warning, yet they show their long canines outside of a closed mouth to smile at humans. I suppose they have learnt that humans smile without opening their mouths but do show their teeth; and that is the difference. Dogs exposing their under-bellies are trusting that they will not be attacked while in an indefensible position. 

       'Don't run, we are your friends!' The Martians say in 'Mars Attacks!' holding a translator in one hand while shooting with the other. 'Don't run, we are your friends!' Have we heard that before? Did we instead translate something similar into 'Trust in me'? such as Kaa, the fictional snake from Rudyard Kipling's 'Jungle Book' stories, says to Mowgli, the man-child.

I can think of so many instances when a confident person has tried to impose their opinion on others and caused them to act inappropriately, Husbands do it to wives and wives do it to husbands. Adulterers do it to other people's partners; and bored people try to impose new ideas on themselves, by justifying their behaviour with inadequate information.

Every time the American Government, run by Jack Nicholson as President in 'Mars Attacks!' charitably forgives the Martians for killing swathes of people because there may be a cultural misunderstanding , the aliens apologise and say 'Quite right! We come in peace, we come in peace' and then they kill a whole bunch more people with their ray-runs. They do this at least three times in the film before Jack Nicholson gives a heart-warming speech of togetherness. The listening alien ambassador sheds a tear and immediately kills him.

I am reminded of a fable of a scorpion and a frog, which Wikipedia tells me first appeared in writing  in Russia in the early 20th century. Hmmm. I might not believe that as the origin. I think the scorpion wants to cross the river but it will drown because it cannot swim so it asks to be carried across on the frog's back, but the frog is frightened that the scorpion will sting it. The scorpion swears it will not do so, and the frog agrees to carry it across the river. Halfway across, the scorpion stings the frog despite knowing the frog will die and itself will drown.

       'Why did you sting me, you will drown?' asked the frog.

       'It is in my nature. Sorry.'

The voice in the Wikipedia says: 'The fable teaches that vicious people cannot resist hurting others even when it is not in their own interests and therefore should never be trusted.'

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Scorpion_and_the_Frog

I am not at all comfortable with that conclusion; not one bit. It is the use of the word 'vicious'. I can't help but think that the voice belongs to a wounded and biased person. Scorpions are not vicious. They sting to survive; defensively or to kill prey. I am pretty sure they have no intent to injure just because they are psychotic or psychopathic. Scared or hungry fits a scorpion sting I suggest. I realise that the fable is warped to present a message not dissimilar to 'A leopard cannot change its spots.' which has the same moral message to it, but a scorpion is not vicious.

       'Thank you, Martin. let's go to Roget's Thesaurus to see what word could be better used.'

       'What do you have?' asked another.

       'Starting with the word 'vicious' the index has 'furious'; 'evil'; 'disobedient', 'malevolent', 'wrong'; and surprisingly also 'vicious' ,' 

         I had to butt in, 'None of those words are right. We are imbuing sentiment on a scorpion; anthropomorphising it in ways that are only applicable to humans when they find themselves in the direst of circumstances. You know, cannibalism when they are starving, and the like. We might as well say it is vindictive and hates all frogs for some prehistoric affrontery. I might say, there is a huge difference between stealing food because the thief or their family is hungry which is to survive, and stealing luxury goods to sell to gain riches, which is vicious.'

       'What word would you substitute for 'vicious' in the Wikipedia entry, then?'

       'Well, the entry in Wikipedia might be more accurate if it says that people who act instinctively and hurt people should not be trusted to act benevolently or be considered to be benign. This talk of vicious people being unable to resist hurting others, is nonsense.' 

Psychiatric problems may lead to having no compunction to refrain from violence but that is a different kettle of fish to something like accidentally drowning the rescuer by climbing onto them. The drowning person is acting instinctively. So it is a question of rationale and reasoning in a time of extreme stress or utter terror that overrides all sensibility. I wouldn't trust the same drowning person to not accidentally drown the next rescuer, but I might trust them with my family at a picnic; even if there is a nearby pond I would not expect them to throw my family into it and sit on them. I would expect them to stay well away from the water and wild horses would not get them near. No, the person who wrote the Wikipedia entry has a vindictive axe to grind, or at best is extremely clumsy with their words. The third option is 'sensationalism'. This is vicious in that the writer cannot resist 'bigging' themselves up by writing in a manner that is exciting and divisive, and in so doing disrupts other people's understanding of something that is really quite simple to understand. The fable is about instinct not cruelty.

A little further analysis of the Wikipedia entry reveals an obvious flaw. In the first paragraph it says the fable originated in Russia in 1933, and then in the third paragraph it says the earliest known appearance, which means written, was in Russia. The fifth paragraph mentions a story called 'The Scorpion and the Turtle', which appeared in Persian texts in the fifteenth century, as a precursor to the (Russian) Scorpion and the Frog. (Note I used the word 'precursor' and note how many websites on the subject also do). The whole entry is suspect and rather than being factual is, it seems, initially written in an emotive way. This catalogue of significant deviance is not instinctual, it is either by design for which 'evil' might fit, but 'wrong' definitely does; or it is clumsy and offered as fact which is 'wrong' but not malevolent; or the writer is viciously attempting to pervert the course of a transference of knowledge.

It all started with a single misuse of a word, 'vicious'. It should be noted that there quite a few websites that are closely similar to the Wikipedia entry in their content; 'AmericanLiterature' being one of them.

'Don't run, we are your friends' and then shooting the people if you are a Martian, is no different to deliberately giving false information to anyone, as far as I am concerned; but only if you are a Martian.

Fact or fact-based

English courts long ago recognised that it is the value of the theft that is the tell of the character of a thief and stopped hanging beggars but not highway men or burglars and robbers; as is suggested in an interesting article 'The History of Judicial Hanging in Britain 1735-1964' under the subheading, 'Multiple executions at Newgate in 1820.' https://capitalpunishmentuk.org/the-history-of-judicial-hanging-in-britain-1735-1964/

Hungry thieves were sent to America, and then Australia after the American War of Independence. 

From another Wikipedia site:  '[...] before abolition of the death penalty for theft in 1832 [...] In 1808, the lawyer Samuel Romilly KC successfully had the law changed to remove the death penalty for pickpockets and lesser offenders, starting a process of reform that continued over the next 50 years. The death penalty was mandatory (although it was frequently commuted by the government) until the Judgement of Death Act 1823 gave judges the official power to commute the death penalty except for treason and murder.' 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capital_punishment_in_the_United_Kingdom

From Hansard, 'ABOLITION OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENTS', HC Deb 27 March 1832 vol 11 cc948-55: 'Mr. Ewart rose to move for leave to bring in a Bill abolishing Capital Punishment in the cases of horse-stealing, sheep-stealing, and cattle-stealing, also in cases of stealing in a dwelling-house, no person being put in fear therein.'

https://api.parliament.uk/historic-hansard/commons/1832/mar/27/abolition-of-capital-punishments

Ribbons of peculiarities

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Ribbons of Peculiarities

[5 minute read ] 

Opinion Mental health

I think one of the most difficult things in life is not only keeping track of all aspects of our lives but managing them successfully. I like to think that we have streams of existence; not so much as running bodies of water, more as ribbons of peculiarities. 

I think I am on fairly safe ground when I assume that most of us will happily stereotype successful people; some time ago it was bankers who were widely portrayed as being ravenous and uncaring beasts who set out to make personal financial gain at the expense of the known world and all its inhabitants. Yet, I feel we should understand that the only people who are devastatingly affected by 'bad actors' are those who have formed a fantasy world around themselves that has links to the same resources as the selfish and greedy monsters of the same world we draw our resources from, or even other worlds. Take for example having a mortgage on a home. What is the purpose of incurring a debt such as this? Somewhere and at some time in someone's thinking a fantasy was formed. Perhaps it was similar to this: 'If I buy a small house with a mortgage I can upsize as my family grows and eventually I will have no debt to pay, so when I retire I shall have more spending power and even downsize and have a lump sum to spend on holidays.' Pretty common I should think. But we might note that there are a lot of 'I's in there.

That is just one stream of existence, one ribbon of peculiar activity; although more accurately it is commonly called a lifestyle. To whit, the style of someone's life is devoted to securing sufficient money to pay debts, usually through work. To be honest, I am quite reluctant to use the word 'lifestyle' because to me it denotes a style of living that encompasses a whole life from beginning to end to the exclusion of everything else, and I am trying, here, to not only separate life into streams of existence, but also dissect it into manageable chunks. 

Single-mindedly aiming to pay a mortgage has opportunity costs; family time is reduced or fractured; deep relaxation is denied; and crucially to my mind, creativity is compromised; it might still be there but the outlet of it may be held in check. These are some other streams of existence. 

It doesn't have to be a mortgage, or a goal to feather a nest in another way, or even paying off a large debt. It might be attaining a degree or working towards self-sufficiency or aiming for owning a large business that is the goal. The overriding factor needs only be ambition. 

Ambition is one of the positive attitudes to have in life. Personal positioning in some kind of hierarchy is quite another. It is no wonder that fans of pop stars and actors express surprise that their idol seems really down-to-earth and friendly. There is an assumption that the position of the star has only been made possible by ruthless barging and guttersnipe tactics, including negatively framing other people. It should, of course, be noted that pop stars and actors are ambitious and  creative people. Meeting a multi-billionaire, on the other hand, might reveal some entirely different traits that were used to accumulate such huge sums of money. A loose conclusion to this paragraph might be that the accruing of wealth somehow attributes a positional stardom, at least among their peers. Taylor Swift - nice; Elon Musk - not so nice, perhaps. It is personal choice built with inadequate information, of course, that determines our feelings towards any other person.

I am a big fan of 'Black Swan' events. At risk of over egging the pudding because I am certain we all know what a Black Swan event is, I will just say it is an expected set of circumstances that directly affects our lives in an extreme form. Another way of seeing it is; any unforeseen event that disrupts our plans. And here is the nub of my thrust. Plans, and moving on from plans: 'systems'.

       'What would you like to be when you grow up?'

       'A refuse-collector!'

       'And how will you go about becoming one?'

       'I will go to school and learn about recycling and environmental issues.'

Its a plan but it needs a system for the plan to be implemented. 

John Gall, a systems theorist, (1925-2014) came up with the theory that all complex systems are derived from simple systems that worked, and that a complex system will never work without it first evolving through real iterative tests. That is why prototypes are made. Unfortunately, we humans cannot prototype our lives. How often do we hear the wail of regret: 'If only I could go back and start again?' Probably not often enough I cry; not that I embrace the idea that people should regret their actions or decisions.

It is easy to devote oneself to a simple system. Get educated while living with our parents. Get a job. Get a mortgage. Keep working to pay the loan. Retire. What a wonderful life! A psychopath might find that rewarding, but it really does demonstrate an empty mind to me. Where is the love and the social interaction? These are ribbons of existence most of us have that disrupt our simple systems of achieving a soul-less ambition.

I think, somewhat belatedly, modern businesses in the UK have determined that their employees need a good work/life balance. That attitude would be an absolute bane to me in job interviews because I don't have a plan with a system that is disrupted by work. I am so flexible that running water is positively solid when compared to me. My current constraints are only human fallibilities; I need to eat and sleep, and I cannot disassemble my molecules and reassemble them at any other geographical location.

There is inevitably something else that disrupts our dedication to our system; social hierarchy. We need to feel powerful. Most of us need autonomy. One of the first things we give up is indeed autonomy when we get married or have a romantic partner. We have to consider the feelings of the 'significant other'. How many of us ever considered how disruptive those emotions will be to our simple system? With emotional intelligence there comes a cost. 

Complicated and Complex are not the same.

On their website, the Simon Fraser University, a public research university in British Columbia, Canada,  offers 'Simple or Complicated' to be 'predictable; controllable and designable'. It gives 'Complex' as being 'Unpredictable, Self-organising and emergent'.

https://www.sfu.ca/complex-systems-frameworks/applications/complex-and-complicated-are-not-the-same.html

I would suggest that being in a romantic relationship instantly makes one's life complex, and 'complicated' and simple, has left the building. Only a divorce or dumping the partner brings autonomy back, quite simply because planning for a separation has a large degree of predictability and is indeed designable. For example, 'You have the kids at the weekend and pay x  amount of money for their upkeep.'  That is not what we want though, until we actually do. But that is the Best Alternative To a Negotiated Agreement (BATNA); the tacit agreement was that child-rearing would be shared in a single home. Unfortunately, the goal of paying the mortgage to attain an imagined freedom, and positional wrestling for power in the workplace, or even in a social hierarchy, get in the way of another imagined happiness. Why imagined happiness? If one of the partners envisioned a mortgage-free home, there is usually a fantasy that the other partner will share in the fruits of long years of hard work. In other words the simple system, although it is not consciously considered to be changed has a different outcome. And there it is, really. A change in an imagined outcome is the driver for a change in a simple system. 

Life is unpredictable. Our needs change as we get older; other people change as we get older; the environment changes as we get older; our values change all the time - we decide what is worth more or less of our time. 

Maintaining equilibrium in a changing world is difficult. One of the prerequisites for good mental health is the ability to deal with, and adapt to, change. I find it incredibly difficult to understand many aspects of the modern world, not least is that I have never desired or sought to be rich or popular. I have never really had a simple plan with an absolute outcome. Some might call that feckless. I have to consider that I don't make plans because I know things will change and I will find it difficult to adjust. I am, in that respect, quite unforgiving.

So many books

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So many books

[4 minute read ] 

Opinion

I have so many books to read; fourteen! It is not a lot over the six month academic 'year'. Yet, they are not books I would read for pleasure. I absolutely have to forget that they cost me more than £125 otherwise my resentment will interfere with my focus on why I am reading them. I am beginning to think, though, that I don't like the omniscient point of view; a narrative that allows the thoughts of characters to be written in stories. I know that it helps to develop characters in the readers' minds but I am an action kind of reader.

Having detached emotions by default I tend not to put much effort into connecting my emotions to moments of relaxation; not that reading these fourteen books is relaxing for me because in the absence of OU guidance for my module I have to make copious notes on anything I consider to be remotely relevant. I am just wildly guessing, but I suppose I am focused.

Having been steeped in marketing and logistics for many years, studying with The OU is like a crash-course in a different subject, even over four or five years. Even during summer, which is not my academic term, I cannot realign my studies back towards marketing, economic and logistics. These subjects which are really a bunch, are so familiar to me that I feel so much more comfortable wallowing in those text books than the ones I now find myself compelled to read in a preliminary fashion. 

I probably have a different style of learning to most people. It is one that I established when I think I was about eight or nine. back then we had BSA (I think) assignments to complete that tested for comprehension. There was a little story of perhaps one hundred and fifty words and and then some questions that related to the text. I would read the questions first and then read the text, mentally marking where the answers were. Then I read the questions again and write my answers one by one. It was efficient to do that and it had no negative effect on my secondary school achievements. Given an outline of what I am supposed to learn in October onwards I would be able to make notes much more efficiently. In fact, by October, I think I might have finished the modules before I even start them. Achieving a good degree is secondary to understanding the wider scope of the subjects, to me. 'Getting it right' is key in contrast to proving academic ability to others; at least it is for me. 

       'Yeah, I got a third, but I know the subject inside out and back to front. I spent a lot of time reading outside of the scope of the degree modules. I find that not being constrained by bindings and circumscription allows me to approach my work and social life with a fresh attitude that brings with it some novel questions. Can I have the job? or do you want me to just keep my head below the parapet and nod when you speak?'

It would never be a good thing to say that, I propose. I approach my future in a bipartite way though. Everything I study can be applied to both PAYE employment or self-employment. So, I am fairly flexible in my speech. Some might say, careless. Hmmm, I suppose so; too much free-reign and hedonism in the past perhaps. But, I was left to my own devices when I was sixteen and two months old so what can we expect of me? Should I have run away from my bullying enabler older brother guardian and put myself in care? I think, in retrospect, that is precisely what I should have done. I did run away from him once at 5am, to live in Sherwood Forest. I was a bit of a romantic fool then. I got tired and hitch-hiked back again; more fool me! However, it was around this time that I bought my first thesaurus and set me on the path to autodiadatic education and then further education at night school, and then daytime college. Who knows what I would have become if I had been in care? A misogynist? A plagiarist and cheat? An invisible banality? A kind and thoughtful community leader? I am none of those, but I do get my emotions in gear sometimes now my fraternal tormentor is dead and I help my community.

I am inclined to rewrite history in my head and imagine different futures lately. I like my imagination, no, I love it! But it is intangible and ephemeral and having no substance and there being nowhere to direct it, it is an invisible gim-crack, a bagetelle, a folly. Oh, I frame it so negatively with blunt but tasty words. It is almost believable that I am distracted by my disdain. That is not so; but most people might chuck a reality-checking statement at me such as, 'You have your head in the clouds', or 'You are off with the fairies again.' or 'Daydreaming won't pay the bills!' Because I know all this I have to check myself and manifest something tangible from something intangible if I am to deny opportunities in other spheres of my life. Most people, I think, would immediately think of writing for a living. I shan't be doing that though; there is a reason why not, but I can't quite see enough of the future to know precisely what it is just yet.

I can't help thinking that I have wasted enough time and i really have to leap to the capstan and haul my anchor up. Yet, I also feel like I am still on a lee-shore (wind blowing onto the shore making sailing away extremely problematic for square-rigged ships - like HMS Victory).

I suppose my imagination is a sailing ship with no engine and since I espouse modern assistance, a metaphorical engine, I shall find myself becalmed and adrift. I really don't like the trail and impact that modern technology has though. Analogue books are on the verge of obsolescence and only those who plan for the world to be knocked back to the same kind of existence the people of the 1960s and 70s had, can be inclined to honestly believe that publishing only analogue books will provide sufficient money for the opportunity to write to be viable in the near future. 

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Animal Party

[4 minute read ] 

(slightly graphic content in the second full paragraph - brief allusion to torture)

The badgers and the Muntjac deer had a party in my garden last night. There were plant pots scattered over a wide area. If these creatures had opposable thumbs I am sure I might have found a few half-smoked joints among the yellow grass. The temperature overnight gets as low as 14^oC, where I live. A good time to throw your body around in time with nature's beat. 

       'Hey Babe! Wanna dance?'

       'Forget it, Buck! We are two different species!'

None of the usual slugs and snails were there so none of the four-legged animals got sludge between their toes or over their freshly shined hooves. Actually, all the badger girls were safe from the Muntjac bucks because deer wait until autumn before they start their hunt for a partner. It is then that their awful bark rings out. Females (Does) also similarly bark. There is a Muntjac that lives in the undergrowth just beyond my back garden fence in a neighbouring pasture. Muntjac barking, to me, sounds like the agonised screams that humans having their skin pulled off might sound like. It really terrifies me.

On occasion, I have been camping in autumn. years ago, when I was awakened and first heard the muntjac bark I ran away from my tent into the the nearby village square; from my  tent, through a dark spinney, along an even darker tree-lined lane thronged by more trees, and finally into the light of old-fashioned street lamps where thatched cottages had been for generations. It was probably a full mile of hearing the 'tortured humans' in the dark woods and fields behind me. I stayed awake the rest of the night, cold under the clock in the village square. Dawn brought me back to some sense of reason and that awful ragged buzzing feeling of poor or no sleep. 

I have hitch-hiked across Europe and slept on frozen snow in minus 10^oC in France with no kip-mat or anything under me and not cared if I froze to death because I was so tired. I have had hypothermia and hitch-hiked the wrong way as a consequence; and threw away expensive stuff to lighten my load, even pens and pencils, but kept heavy books. Nothing makes sense with hypothermia. I have slept in forests that I know have wolves in them and expected to wake and find a wolf breathing into my face. I have remained seated and not turned around when a knife fight broke out behind me outside a Greek restaurant, while my companions all leapt up and ran a distance away. I was only irritated that I had to shout for them to be able to hear the end of my story. I have climbed cliffs freestyle and had to reverse my journey back down; a much, much harder feat that takes three times as long to move the same distance. I have taught myself to sail, with no engine, in the rapid tidal waters of the twin River Medway and Thames estuaries, even sailing near to the sunken liberty ship SS Richard Montgomery that is so dangerous with its WWII explosives still leaching away that it might spontaneously explode. I have been visited by aliens and spirits in dreams and I am fairly sure in real life. But I have never been more terrified than when I first heard that Muntjac deer for the first time in the 'dead' of night. Go on YouTube to hear one.

If there was such a body as the Society for the Protection of Cellar Spiders, it would be annoyed with me. I used to have quite a collection of them scattered around my home. These harmless and seemingly dead spiders, due to their stationary positions, when they do move are quite simply the most graceful creatures I have ever been fortunate to witness. They move incredibly slowly and it seems they place one leg gently down and then think which leg to move next and carefully lift it and move it forward. If any creature reminds me of ballerinas, it is this spider. The reason SPOC, if it existed, would be livid with me is because by leaving windows open overnight I have let Garden Spiders in. Garden spiders are fast predators and meditative spiders stand no chance against them. They are eaten before they have finished a single phrase of their mantras. There are now no cellar spiders on my ceilings. I am really quite disappointed. I am not sure why though, because I have only ever seen one move, so they don't provide me with much entertainment. 

I think the housefly that has lived with me for the past five years has finally died. I have used about six cans of fly-killer during that time and it survived them all, even if the moths, driven crazy by the added flowery smell did not. I know my tongue has suffered from exposure to the active ingredient permithrin. I have to say I don't miss the affections of the housefly. Briefly touching my lower legs is just too intimate for my liking.

Sally's cat that lives next door is still wary of me and won't let me near it. It did, however, blink at me three times yesterday to say I recognise you are stronger than me. It might have meant 'Hi!' though. Because I keep my reading glasses on outside (they are a really low prescription level) I can out-stare any cat; they all think the glasses are the edges of my eyes; which means, to them, I am the dominant creature out of the two of us. I also have to be mindful that whenever I come across curious dogs being walked by their pack leader that I do not look directly at them when I hold my hand out to be smelt, because I wear the same reading glasses wider afield in my village, recently finding long sticks for my garden.

I keep forgetting to look out for the bats that should be flying outside my home. Perhaps there are no flying insects for them anyway. I am fearful that my neighbours will think I am a weirdo if I just hang around and stare out my front door. Once they start hurrying past the damage is already done. I would need to run after them down the road to tell them I am okay.

        'Wait! Come back! I am not weird. Come back! Stop running! Wait!'

There is no other way out of my road than past my home. I think it might be prudent to have someone with a starting pistol further up the road if I wait outside to see the bats. I might have to disguise myself as bags of rubbish or get in a big cardboard box so the neighbours can't see me, just to see the bats. I really don't want the neighbours to know I am in a big box or pretending to be a pile of rubbish.

I'm not weird. Honest!

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Prestige and Status

[6 minute read ] 

Reading a news story on Sky news online this morning about a man who pretended that his Jaguar I-pace electric car was malfunctioning and kept accelerating on the motorway, I thought I might have a look at the cost of such a vehicle. Apparently, this chap ran into finance difficulties and still had £5,000 to pay on his, so he faked a dangerous malfunction hoping to somehow get relief from the debt. A used I-pace might cost £13,000. 

I went to Jaguar's own I-pace website. Just like all television adverts for cars there is no information on the car, just pictures. I was also struck by the focus on allowing the customer to 'build' the car to the customer's specification. Do people really buy only the skin of a car, the look and the prestige that is associated with the name? I think yes. But many people also choose potential partners on the same basis, including the name.

My perspective as far as I know has always been from a functional position. Crudely, this means will the car go from A to B? How much does it cost to run? How reliable is it? Probably the most important factor which likely draws me to a vehicle is, is it suitable for the job I have in mind for it? Much as it might be fun to use an American school bus for the school run, it just isn't practical in the UK, if only because parking is an issue. Ripping fun though. Some girls might like to be delivered and collected to and from school in a pink Sindy or Barbie styled car, as might some boys. Some boys might like being dropped off in a tow truck, just as some girls might. Realistically, the safe bet is probably an expensive SUV though, isn't it?

This is about prestige, not pride. In a world that puts fashion before function I pride myself on repairing my clothes, where I can; and riding a bicycle whenever I can. I pride myself on using only old bicycles that I fix up and haphazardly repair. There is no prestige attached to wearing a pair of shorts with a patch over a back pocket where the habitual placing of house-keys has worn a hole. But I am the sort of person who will just up and go to the local Co-op still wearing muddy clothes from digging the garden. There are no people I want to impress by wearing clean and tidy clothes. That is not to say that I only wear dirty and scruffy clothes. I live in a village and we have two allotments. The only people who I might try to impress are the ones who grow vegetables and cook from scratch. But that is just me. There are plenty of people in my village who are convinced that manicured lawns and perfectly creased clothing is paramount to demonstrating their success. They, credit willing, might see a car in a television advert and think to themselves, 'I like the shape. The maker has a good reputation. It is suitably expensive to be considered an item of prestige.' Just how the television ads ends with a couple of facts, these people might, as an afterthought, recognise that the car will go from A to B when B is 500 miles from A. 'Ah, Jolly good!'

It might seem that I am pillorying these types of people. I am not, Each to their own. I just wouldn't want to be married to one of them, or have one of them at my wedding reception or birthday party. These types of people perceive different problems than I do from the same set of realities. I grow tomato plants in the local clay soil, some people in my road say there is nowhere for them to grow tomato plants. These same people put all their food-waste, grass clippings and hedge trimmings in the green recycling bin, while I put mine on the garden. I fail to understand why people with gardens are allowed to have green bins.

       'Gardens are for enjoying. They should have emerald green manicured lawns and a six foot fence all around so no-one can see in. They are private places where the family can relax.'

       ''Gardens are where food can be grown and relaxing takes the form of nurturing plants and providing a safe place for insects and spiders.' I would counter. 'It is a place where we can dispose of our compostable waste and by doing so improve our environment.'

Plainly, I have a different attachment to my environment than some other people do. I can not fathom why anyone would sweep away the detritus they produce by living a life that realistically is shaped to impress other people; other people, mind, who are carefully selected and have similar values; namely they shape their lives to impress other people who again are selected according to specific criteria, one of which might be for example - they do not take their kids to school in an American school bus. I know, it is me that is weird and not them. They are the modern normal.

My tomato plants have all flopped over and true to their form lie across the ground. They naturally do this and readily grow roots from anywhere the stem or stalk touches the ground. It, however doesn't suit the grower which is why we stake them upright. Usually, I cut the straight young trunks of young ash trees bordering my garden to use as stakes but I have so many plants this year that I have had to forage from wider afield in the village. 

       'If you are looking for the raspberries and blueberries they are further up that way.'

I had no idea what the dog-walking woman was on about. It is highly unlikely that blueberries are growing in our village and I have never seen wild raspberries. 

       'No, I am collecting waste branches to act as stakes for my tomato plants, but thanks.'

       'Oh, I have just cleared my garden. I had to make three trips to the tip with branches and clippings.'

Oh well, I thought. Chalk and Cheese.

Yesterday, outside ALDI, my favourite place for meeting people, I had a quite long conversation with a woman about why people in North Africa have air-conditioning and we don't in the UK. The conversation moved onto humidity and how her Council had fitted extractor fans in her social housing home that automatically come on when the interior humidity is above 60%. This is the weirdest thing for me. I had already primed myself by previously looking into the efficacy of having these types of extractor fans fitted in our UK homes. 

       'The average outside humidity level in the UK is 67%.' I told her. 'Simply opening a window will cost you money.' That is almost true in Summer.

       'They are constantly on.' she despairingly replied. Well, they would be, Anyone with any sense opens their windows first thing in the morning and in the mid evening to let the cool air in. Right now at 07:29 am, the outside humidity level where I live is 72%. However, I should say that my windows have been open for hours now and the inside humidity level in my living room is only 54% and 4 degrees higher than outside. So, it is not as straightforward as I would like it to be to be able to make a strong point. However, I do know that de-humidifiers used to be really expensive to run. ScrewFix have one for £79.99 that uses 300 Watts per hour (a bit more than a large plasma television). It is programmable. The extractor fans Councils fit in their houses are a similar price. But here is the puzzling bit. A four inch (10cm) hole has to be made for each fan in the wall or ceiling of the home, which work is contracted out to a third party (expensive). I suspect that the cost of this might be close to the price of enough solar panels to charge an appropriate battery that would run a dehumidifier which does not need a huge hole in walls to run. The drawback, of course, is wholly within the scope of my rant. The person who buys a car for the prestige it imbues upon the owner is the same person, I suspect, who just wants to shunt warm air out along with moisture because they cannot lower themselves to manual work such as emptying the dehumidifier of water once it is full. Just like just shoving garden and kitchen waste into green bins is easier than providing a specific area in the garden for its decomposition, forgetting about humidity levels is desirable in the same way. 'Job done, I no longer have to think about it'.

       'Empty the water out? Perish the thought, dear!' For me though, that is water I would put on my plants. I would not feel guilty about that since I would have made the water myself. We should consider heat-waves and drought to be the new norm, I hear.

According to https://qualityindoorair.co.uk/how-much-water-should-a-dehumidifier-collect-in-a-day/ a small dehumidifier might collect between 4 and 9 litres of water a day. That in old money is about one to two GALLONS a day for watering tomato plants in a drought! The cost with no solar panels for me would currently be 300 Watts x 24 hours = 7.2 kW x £0.24 per unit = £1.72 + £0.50 standing charge = £2.22 per day. Plainly, I need to seriously think about getting solar panels.

So, are Councils pandering to a modern value that negates concern for the environment? Are they deliberately avoiding supplying efficient methods of reducing damp and mould in homes? We might need to understand that all landlords became directly responsible for damp and mould control in October 2025, and the Councils are still in catch-up mode. I cannot expect someone to have any inclination to come up with a good solution when any solution will do. 'It will do' is, after all, the modern way of doing things.

I think the black Jaguar I-pace in the drive means that guests are not expected to be told to 'mind the dehumidifier' when they go to the bathroom. It really is a status thing, isn't it?

Jaguar's 'Build your car' feature on their website plays on our desire to be in control while being creative. There are video and computer games that were quite successful that use this aspect of humanity, such as 'The Sims' and games that allowed interior home design. It is a modern fantasy-made-real scenario.

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Cadwell NOT Caldwell

mental health

More mental health

[3 minute read ] 

I have PTSD. I didn't have many of the symptoms I think i have until a psychiatrist told me I have PTSD in 2016. Everyone suffers PTSD in different ways and childhood trauma is much different to trauma experienced as an adult. Think how you might describe every wave in every ocean and you get some understanding that each of us, sane, insane, troubled, smoothly happy, angry or at peace is experiencing life in vastly different ways and at different speeds and volumes too. 

Just like believing you have the force 'that can' creates the force 'that can', being told you have a reason to feel a bit less than you feel you should be feeling means that we can easily create a self-fulfilling prophecy. Much of my inability to operate at a level that I feel I should be able to operate at is down to poor sleep patterns and a poor diet. I am old enough and ugly enough to know what makes me tick. Saying I get fatigued in the afternoons is a denial that I am a morning person who is unfit and probably skipped lunch. Of course, there are many people who have real diseases that fatigue them; that is a given but I am not one of them unless I want to say my nervous energy drains me. 

the truth of the matter is that I own whatever trauma I experienced. I was handed a poisonous plate and I was compelled to eat from it. That was a series of meals (events) that changed the way I thought and still think. Yet I know this and now everything I do and think is entirely my own doing. I should like to blame evil monsters and psychopaths but at least one of them is dead and another might be by now. 

Getting treatment for PTSD is difficult. I argue that because I have had it for so long it is now a psychiatric malady because the dendrites in my head (we all have them) that connect the axions in my brain and allow thoughts to form are so hard-wired that psychology-led treatment has to first destroy those dendrites in order for me to form new ones; in effect I need to be completely rewired. That, i argue means taking medication that shuts down the highest thinking for a time so the dendrites shrivel and die, then or doing that process psychological work can be done of the mundane day to day stuff such as any misanthropy. Usually, conversations with mental health staff gets no further than that. They won't believe me when i tell them that believing something that is not true is no different to seeing something that isn't there. It is all down to perceiving intangible things. The psychiatrists I have seen disagree with me on every point.

So, I am nuts, crazy, and misaligned. That makes me the same as everyone else; the difference is, I don't fantasise about living a life that I planned long ago. That isn't meant to pillory the public. It really is choosing the red pill over the blue pill in the matrix. 

Here's how I suspect it works:

       'Hmmm. I think I am different to everyone else. I wonder why.' Bingo! the pills are presented. Self examination can only lead to a dual personality state. It can only lead to measured behaviour which isolates an individual from a group if the members of the group act spontaneously. Because they never considered themselves to be different they never had to choose which 'pill' to eat. Watching oneself and comparing oneself to others is the certain course to mental unease, or if you can master it, complete peace and satisfaction.

After years of self-analysis I have concluded that it is my high IQ that separates me from the average person, and not my PTSD. When someone sees in colour and everyone else sees in black and white it is difficult to use the colour of the sky as an example to explain a mystery. Years ago, a friend of mine said, 'I wish I was not so aware'. I knew exactly what he meant and I recognise that he considered his high IQ more as a bane than a boon, just as I sometimes do; but only when I am in the company of others. One lesson I must learn is to keep my mouth shut; hide my light under a bushel, if you will.

Right now, I am deepy troubled that the external examiner plainy failed to perceive the derivation and complexity of a creative writing EMA I recently submitted. That worries me intensely. If they override a tutor's marks I am doomed towards a low degree. Not acheiving my potential because someone else lacks a high IQ will crush me; quite simply because i was held back by a low intelligence psychopath brother who tormented me into self-doubt through public abatement. 

When I say I am control of my PTSD, I was fantasising for a bit; any bully can trigger it and any low intelligence authority can destroy me.

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If you believe in meritocracy, you can leave now.

[2 minute read ] 

The philosopher David Hume held that we are saddened by other people's sadness because other people make us, by their sentiment and action, sad or happy; happy people make us happy. Perhaps this is why I heard on LBC that there is an idea that the CV (curriculum vitae) is considered by some recruiters and employers to be insufficient in securing an interview.

Certainly, whenever I have had job interviews in the last ten years the interviewer seems keener to understand how much I will contribute to the fun factor at work. The LBC radio show host was floating an idea that employers and recruiters are potentially seeking social-media style videos from job applicants. I suppose this provides an opportunity for the candidate to impress upon others their sociability and cheerfulness while gushing about how excited they are about a potential opportunity to work in a field that they would 'just die for'. I don't 'do' social media. I think you can tell. However, if I follow Hume's drift (above) I can understand that it is better to have 'smiley' people in the workplace than moping and morose people who scowl from corners; it is better for morale and that means greater overall work-output. But is that really what is behind the interviewer's incessant probing into job applicant's ability to brighten a room with witty conversation? I think not.

I have been an employer and whenever I conducted job interviews I was concerned about honesty and integrity foremost. Will this person come to work when they are needed? Can I rely on them to do the job? Can I leave them to just get on with it, or will someone have to waste their own time babysitting them? Once that is established I would decide how much contact the potential employee would have with customers and in what fashion. Then I would train them for that specific position, or entreat them to defer any inquiries made by customers to another member of their team. My approach was, if everyone is there to work and not stand around chatting then it really doesn't matter if someone is miserable. Today's employment is mindful of the impact it has on work-sociability. A strange fish to me.

I believe in meritocracy which should mean high quality output. I think most of the UK, today, believe in 'It will do!' so long as everyone is happy, so employ the friendly average-ability person.

       'Yeah! I like this person.'

       'Can they do the job?'

       'They'll learn. They'll have a friendly team around them to show them the ropes.'

       'I suppose you are right. And in any case who wants to come to work and be miserable during the slack periods. No, we must make sure that the workers when they are idle are comfortable; that they enjoy being idle and will divide their attention between productivity and seeking fun.

Well, Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses!  Too harsh? I expect many people would think so. I, however, have worked in a number of countries in which I have not known the languages very well. You just get on with your work and gain satisfaction from that. I am also someone whose parents disappeared when I was sixteen. I can never understand how relevant social interaction is to some people; most people. I forget that people need to feel validated and find comfort in being important to others on an emotional level, and that even at work people cannot put aside their craving for social interaction. 

I fail at job interviews with a single sentence: 'I don't bring my phone to work.' I immediately see the interviewer inwardly scratch their head as they try to process why anyone would not want to be available for an aimless chat; why they have no need to be boosted by the attention of others, or why they would take a job that doesn't bother them enough for them to need to seek emotional succour outside of their own work satisfaction. I watch them leap at the mental hurdles and fall. They only seem to fall once before they make a decision. They don't get up and try again. 'Oh, that doesn't sound like me at all!' they think. 

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Internalised Conformity

[4 minute read ] 

A long time ago, I used to read anything: cereal boxes at breakfast; the ingredients on cake wrappers; even the address on the plastic wrapping on multi-packs of toilet paper. However, I rarely read the little quotes that acted as prefaces or indicators at the very beginning of books. I would just dive right into the story. These quotes were included by the publishers, editors and writers to provide an idea of what to expect in the story. Usually they always seemed to be wistful. Writers might regard these quotes as foreshadows or foreshadowing. 

Just like moving home to a new area and not knowing that one end of a road I pass each day in the new town or city would be the best route to take me closer to where I want to be because I never read the street name at both ends, and then one day making that choice to pay attention and discovering a short-cut, yesterday I made a similar link in my head.

A long time ago, I was struck by the title of a Wilbur Smith book, 'The Angels Weep' and on this occasion I read the little quote in the first few pages:

...But man, proud man,

Dressed in a little brief authority,

Most ignorant of what he is most assured,

His glassy essence, like an angry ape

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven

As makes the angels weep

 - Isabella

Act 2, scene 2, 146 - 151

That quote, particularly the angels weeping bit, stayed with me for many years. I couldn't remember the words but I remembered the angels. A while ago, I found that quote as a picture file online and saved it, and read it today. In the Wilbur Smith book the reference was not included. It is from 'Measure for Measure' by William Shakespeare, a play I need to study under the auspices of understanding how literature relates to power and whether it writes back to power. 

While it is not the other end of the 'road' I frequently pass and it does not provide a shortcut to anywhere, it does make me feel more at home in a place I have lived in for a long time. Of course, I am talking metaphorically; the 'place' is of course where I am in my learning, in my education and level of understanding stuff. It is to some extent the elusive 1% that helps to bind many strips of information together into a cohesive whole. Perhaps one day the address on the toilet-paper wrapper will also be as poignant. We know the ingredients on the cereal box is ever relevant.

Well! That was a private moment!

Striving to read and retain information is a self-imposed directive that I ruthlessly impose on myself. On a motorway, I hate missing my exit. There are two reasons for this and the first is by far the worst part for me. Suddenly I am lost; not so lost that I can't find my way back to the correct route but instead in a position of not knowing; not knowing how far the next exit is. The second reason I hate missing the exit is because I was asleep; I never know whether that exit was a restricted exit - can I come back down the other carriageway and still exit at this junction? Do I have to make my way across country, through congested towns? Of course, SatNav would take care of getting me to where I need to be to continue my journey but I eschew technology as being inferior to human understanding. Technology tends to be linear in its approach to providing information. Maps show me both ends of a street and how they link one place to another and SatNav just gives me a route. I cannot learn from SatNav.

In a book on psychology, 'Simply Psychology' by Michael Eysenck, there is a chapter called 'Social Influence and territorial behaviour'. I have the book open on a page that has a section subtitled as 'Kinds of conformity' (p260 Psychology Press Ltd. 1996). There are three main reasons to conform according to Kelman (1958) 'compliance, identification, and internalisation'. Briefly, they seem to be in order of actually wanting to conform. Complying with the majority even if an individual does not agree; Identifying with a role in society that someone has chosen; and conforming when someone is really in agreement with the views of those who are seeking to influence them. 

I suppose I like to conform to my own idea of what I should do. I am, however, not the first to read widely or do it deliberately just in case it reveals the other end of a metaphorical street of learning. My sister bought me a book on Psychology for my thirteenth birthday. I suspect she was thinking, 'Heal yourself, weirdo!' at the time. No matter; it was the best present I have ever received because it provided me with an idea that there is a conduit to understanding. I wrote about nostalgia a while back with a knowledge that we all might conform with a majority. If my family are in agreement about how an event unfolded in which we all attended and it differs from my memory, I have to conclude that any nostalgia I have is fictional. That would be like having the carpet whipped from beneath our feet, I suspect. Scary Monsters!I got the idea of nostalgia needing to conform with the memories of a majority from reading books on psychology. Wide reading has never been wasted. 

I am delighted that reading everything is 'internalised' in me. I continue to conform to my original idea, when I was sixteen, that everything is important and anything could be the missing 1% that provides the key to unlock the bonus prize of making sense of things. 

Indubitably, next year I shall be asked to consider power and corruption as Shakespeare showed it in 'Measure for Measure' with Angelo taking control in the Duke's absence. Just reading the play is like following SatNav for me. It will start at the beginning and finish at the end and it will, despite any sub-plots along the way that Shakespeare intended to enhance the journey, still be quite linear for me. The whole journey I might consider to be run in a train carriage at night. Being able to see anything outside, through the window, is nigh on impossible. Yet, if I re-read 'The Angels Weep', which for me is an easy and very enjoyable read, I am certain I will be able to glean something that will allow me to appreciate what Shakespeare was saying in 'Measure for Measure'.

Of course, I have already started to read about what was going on at the time of writing 'Measure for Measure' and I know where Shakespeare got the plot from. Linking the two will certainly add to my comprehension of the play and its intended audience.

Jumbled and Slow

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Jumbled and Slow

[3 minute read ] 

If you don't get any dream-sleep or sleep that includes Rapid Eye Movement (REM sleep) for about seventy-two hours there is a good chance that you will not be operating within your normal thresholds of satisfaction. No, really!

I am not a sleep expert or an expert on anything really, however, I know a little bit. For example, if you take some of the cerebrospinal fluid out of someone who is tired and put it into someone who is refreshed from good sleep the recipient will be instantly tired and wish to go to sleep. Here is another thing: many drivers micro-sleep which is why they think the driver ahead suddenly braked on the motorway ahead of them; they didn't but it seems so for someone who can actually be micro-sleeping from between a quarter of a second and a full three seconds. Yes, three seconds! At 70mph (112kph) that is 93 metres! The quarter of a second is 7.7 metres travelled. In case you are wondering - in a 20mph (32kph) school zone the distance travelled for the same times are 26.6 metres and 2.2 metres respectively.  Another thing: if we can make 5-hydroxytryptophan in the brain we will feel sleepy. I seem to remember that eating digestive biscuits will do this; just the biscuits. Feeling sleepy at the wheel? Stop for a break and get some energy from seven or eight digestive biscuits. Full? Then let's go! (Best not do that).

A good few years ago the police stopped calling 'accidents' on the road 'RTA's (Road Traffic Accident) and now call them 'RTC's (Road Traffic Collision). I think we know why.

Do you want to be able to hear every word the teacher at school says? According to word-timer.com the average speech speed is 130 to 150 words per minute or, without too much maths, slightly over two words per second. Just two seconds of micro-sleep means four or five consecutive words are missed. 

Here are twenty-two words. If they are spoken out loud which four consecutive words would you prefer to skip? 

Stop for a break and get some energy from seven or eight digestive biscuits. Full? Then let's go! (Best not do that).

Does the sentence make any sense with four consecutive words missing? If not, then skip the whole sentence, eh?