or search for 'martin cadwell -caldwell' Take note of the position of the minus sign to eliminate caldwell returns or search for 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser.
I am not on YouTube or social media
My best friend's loss
[3 minute read ]
A long time ago, on a lonely planet in a quiet solar system where all the other planets had died, Maureen Lipman said, 'It is good to talk.' This was a time when talk was not about the moon landing only a decade ago. Instead, it was about the BBC MIcro home computer and the Sinclair ZX Spectrum (which had a Zilog CPU chip of 1 megaHz). My ten year old, cheap lap-tops have dual core 233Ghz CPU chips, which by today's standards is fast enough for me, but still incredibly slow by modern comparisons.
Maureen Lipman was advertising the only land-line telecommunication system in the UK. It was B.T. which later became O2, the mobile service provider. If memory serves me right, it was the break-up of the monopoly that B.T. had on telecommunications that gave us Vodafone, Orange, and T-Mobile on our Nokia 3310 'bricks'. I didn't experience that break up; I read about it.
It is good to talk. A conversation I have been having with a linguistics professor has pretty much run its course on a topic we settled on. Don't get me wrong; I should very much like to continue comparing ideas with her but, as with every conversation, things come up as meaning develops, and there comes a time when we start to pull up the drawbridge to our castle of personal privacy. Yet, it is not personal privacy that I am thinking of, because I have a myriad of safety protocols that I can implement whenever I choose. No, for me, on this occasion, I am sealing the castle because, I have to stop myself giving away a crucial aspect in a particular story format that is developing in my mind. Interestingly, the professor thinks that if this aspect in a fantasy world is called upon the readers would get lost. I, however, wholeheartedly disagree; I see it as integral to a plot.
Yesterday, I talked about how we set a Table of Contents for our day, first thing in the morning. The difference between me and the professor is, she is an academic writer, teaching an M.A in English, and I am about as far away from academia as you can get. My first thoughts are not at all linear, and there is no introduction or conclusion that I care to write. There is no goal or end-strategy to consider. In fact, my first thoughts today were about what happened yesterday, which, once I encapsulated the day, I will use as a template to throw over today, except without any torn bits. Of course, I have tasks to complete but they are fairly routine and mun-nal and ba-dane.
Even writing about writing, about my garden, gave enough time for dendrites to form in my brain; and the links gave me sufficient motivation, in the form of reminders, to replant some hedge and accelerate my crop growing activities (I planted some garlic) and I briefly thought about digging up some strawberry plants so the Muntjac deer don't dig them up before me. They really are poor gardeners and leave them uncovered.
Just when a subject gets interesting I have to withdraw from it. It seems then that I am interested in the fine detail, and all the arguments I have on people with PhDs are arguments against myself.
Yet, the Linguistics professor thought that the fine detail I proposed, in a story, would lose the reader. Is there anything else more desirable than to fall into intrigue, and an idea that we have been given an exclusive free ticket to secrets and intimacy? Are we not jealous if our best friend has another best friend, or a new romantic partner that draws them away from us and less time is spent with them? Don't we want to belong to something?
My best friend's loss
All my posts: https://learn1.open.ac.uk/mod/oublog/view.php?u=zw219551
or search for 'martin cadwell -caldwell' Take note of the position of the minus sign to eliminate caldwell returns or search for 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser.
I am not on YouTube or social media
My best friend's loss
[3 minute read ]
A long time ago, on a lonely planet in a quiet solar system where all the other planets had died, Maureen Lipman said, 'It is good to talk.' This was a time when talk was not about the moon landing only a decade ago. Instead, it was about the BBC MIcro home computer and the Sinclair ZX Spectrum (which had a Zilog CPU chip of 1 megaHz). My ten year old, cheap lap-tops have dual core 233Ghz CPU chips, which by today's standards is fast enough for me, but still incredibly slow by modern comparisons.
Maureen Lipman was advertising the only land-line telecommunication system in the UK. It was B.T. which later became O2, the mobile service provider. If memory serves me right, it was the break-up of the monopoly that B.T. had on telecommunications that gave us Vodafone, Orange, and T-Mobile on our Nokia 3310 'bricks'. I didn't experience that break up; I read about it.
It is good to talk. A conversation I have been having with a linguistics professor has pretty much run its course on a topic we settled on. Don't get me wrong; I should very much like to continue comparing ideas with her but, as with every conversation, things come up as meaning develops, and there comes a time when we start to pull up the drawbridge to our castle of personal privacy. Yet, it is not personal privacy that I am thinking of, because I have a myriad of safety protocols that I can implement whenever I choose. No, for me, on this occasion, I am sealing the castle because, I have to stop myself giving away a crucial aspect in a particular story format that is developing in my mind. Interestingly, the professor thinks that if this aspect in a fantasy world is called upon the readers would get lost. I, however, wholeheartedly disagree; I see it as integral to a plot.
Yesterday, I talked about how we set a Table of Contents for our day, first thing in the morning. The difference between me and the professor is, she is an academic writer, teaching an M.A in English, and I am about as far away from academia as you can get. My first thoughts are not at all linear, and there is no introduction or conclusion that I care to write. There is no goal or end-strategy to consider. In fact, my first thoughts today were about what happened yesterday, which, once I encapsulated the day, I will use as a template to throw over today, except without any torn bits. Of course, I have tasks to complete but they are fairly routine and mun-nal and ba-dane.
Even writing about writing, about my garden, gave enough time for dendrites to form in my brain; and the links gave me sufficient motivation, in the form of reminders, to replant some hedge and accelerate my crop growing activities (I planted some garlic) and I briefly thought about digging up some strawberry plants so the Muntjac deer don't dig them up before me. They really are poor gardeners and leave them uncovered.
Just when a subject gets interesting I have to withdraw from it. It seems then that I am interested in the fine detail, and all the arguments I have on people with PhDs are arguments against myself.
Yet, the Linguistics professor thought that the fine detail I proposed, in a story, would lose the reader. Is there anything else more desirable than to fall into intrigue, and an idea that we have been given an exclusive free ticket to secrets and intimacy? Are we not jealous if our best friend has another best friend, or a new romantic partner that draws them away from us and less time is spent with them? Don't we want to belong to something?