Snake Oil and Fake Promises


With time on my hands I see, every day, people pass by my window, I am oblivious to most, some are elderly, some are infirm, and some are carrying pain that isn't immediately visible. I see them moving slowly, heads down, faces marked by that particular look that comes from years of enduring more than they ever talk about.
Some are battling failing joints, worn-out backs, aching hips, and knees that have carried them through a lifetime of work and responsibility. Walking frames, sticks, and mobility scooters have become part of their daily lives. They're not symbols of defeat, just evidence of how much adapting they've had to do simply to keep going.
Others are fighting something less obvious. Personal struggles. Anxiety. Confusion. Old wounds that never quite healed. They move through life carrying burdens that most people around them never see. Sometimes those burdens come from their past, sometimes from neglect, and sometimes from nothing more dramatic than the slow wear and tear that time can have on the mind.
When I watch them, I don't feel pity. What I feel is a kind of sad frustration. Not because they're struggling, but because so many of them could be living better than they are.
We live in a time when help exists. There are doctors, support services, charities, community groups, treatments, equipment, online resources, and people whose entire jobs are centred around helping others live more comfortably. Yet so many still carry on as though none of that is available. A phone call. A GP appointment. A request for assistance. Sometimes those first steps can make a world of difference.
I often think about how different life used to be. There was a time when there were no effective treatments, no modern surgery, and very little support for either physical or mental health problems. People suffered because there simply weren't any alternatives. Many lived and died in pain because that was just the reality of the age they happened to be born into.
And then there were the false cures. The miracle tonics. The travelling salesmen with their bottles of snake oil and promises of impossible recoveries. Desperate people spent what little they had chasing hope because genuine help simply didn't exist.
That thought often brings me back to my own health, in particular my eyes.
One day my vision seemed perfectly normal, the next, I couldn't tell one cat from another at arm's length. I couldn't draw properly. I struggled to read. I couldn't even trust my eyes to follow a line across a page.
In another century, that might have been the end of my sight. I would have become one of those people feeling my way through a world that was steadily disappearing from view.
Instead, I made a phone call.
I got an appointment. I entered a system that worked.
Now I'm sitting here with an intraocular lens in one eye, typing without glasses and waiting for the next operation. I feared to never see the world as I once did, but I can still see it. That's the important part. Had I been born in another era, there is every chance that vision would simply have been lost forever.
When you stop and think about it, the modern world has improved life in ways that would have seemed miraculous to people living a hundred years ago. Medicine, technology, home deliveries, internet access, support services, mental health care, and instant communication are so normal now that we barely notice them. Yet each one removes a little hardship from everyday life.
At least that's true for those of us fortunate enough to live in a relatively stable and peaceful society.
So when I watch the people passing my window, I often find myself wondering how much better life could be for some of them if they reached out for the support that's already there. Not every problem can be solved, and not every burden can be lifted completely, but many can be made lighter.
Life doesn't always have to be as hard as we think it does.
The difficult part is taking that first step. Making the call. Asking the question. Accepting the help.
And sometimes, as I watch people walk past with their heads down, I can't help wondering how many will do exactly that, and how many will continue carrying burdens alone that could have been shared long ago.

Popular posts from this blog

A Quiet Return It’s been a few years since anything new appeared on this blog. No dramatic exit, no crisis, no grand story — just life unfolding in its own quiet way while I wandered off into a long stretch of creative exploration. I didn’t spend that time chasing expectations or trying to produce anything impressive. In fact, it was the opposite. I let myself make things without pressure, without anticipation, and without any need for an audience. It was a good kind of absence — the sort that gives you space to breathe and rediscover what you enjoy. Along the way, painting slipped out of my hands. Not abandoned in frustration, just… released. It had carried me through many chapters, but eventually it felt like a language I’d said enough in. So I turned to sculpture, almost by accident, and found myself on a long, meandering tour through every material within reach. Papier‑mâché came first — messy, forgiving, and strangely liberating.Foam followed, stubborn but full of possibility.Cardboard had its moment too, proving far more architectural than I expected. Each material taught me something different about form, weight, and patience. And then, gradually, I settled into polymer clay. It felt right — structured but flexible, expressive without demanding perfection. It opened a new path, and with it came another journey: exploring genre, tone, and character in ways paint never quite allowed. So yes, I’ve been away. But not idle.Just quietly occupied in the kind of creative work that doesn’t need announcing. Now the blog returns — not as a relaunch, not as a promise, but simply as a continuation. A place to share what I’ve been shaping, learning, and enjoying along the way. If you’ve found your way back here too, welcome. Let’s see where this next chapter leads.

  A Quiet Return It’s been a few years since anything new appeared on this blog. No dramatic exit, no crisis, no grand story — just life unfolding in its own quiet way while I wandered off into a long stretch of creative exploration. I didn’t spend that time chasing expectations or trying to produce anything impressive. In fact, it was the opposite. I let myself make things without pressure, without anticipation, and without any need for an audience. It was a good kind of absence — the sort that gives you space to breathe and rediscover what you enjoy. Along the way, painting slipped out of my hands. Not abandoned in frustration, just… released. It had carried me through many chapters, but eventually it felt like a language I’d said enough in. So I turned to sculpture, almost by accident, and found myself on a long, meandering tour through every material within reach. Papier‑mâché came first — messy, forgiving, and strangely liberating. Foam followed, stubborn but full of possibili...
Read more

Polymer Clay 01

Image
While searching through the archives I uncovered this snippet from 2016/17. The occasion near my discovery of polymer clay. After two years of watching tutorials, trawling websites, reading fact sheets, gathering tools and materials, and generally soaking up everything I could find about polymer clay, I've finally reached the point where I have a dedicated workspace set up. Which means the real learning can begin. Up until now it's all been preparation. Now I get to make my own mistakes, discover my own solutions, and work my way along a learning curve that, at the moment, doesn't seem to have an end. Over those two years I've come across some incredible artists, particularly those working in jewellery and biomorphic design. One artist who has consistently kept me inspired is Melanie West. Her work has captivated me from the beginning and continues to do so. The incredible work of Melanie West One of the things that immediately drew me to polyme...
Read more

grounding

Image
since 10 March I have been in my own little world, pondering and pottering while the world and its mother, passed me by. I have little need at this moment in time to move at the same pace as everyone else, and, while youngsters on their bikes, supported with stabilisers, and by animals with far less purpose than even I at the moment, I have reorganised my life, sorted out the wheat from the chaff as it were and broken my workload down to a point where I am able to move forward, both as a person and as an artist. My current fixed projects are as varied as they are separated by simple geography, the Glass House restoration and the Film company, Dog Tag Media both based in Scotland and my Autumn Show here in Kendal. My recent contact with Melvyn Bragg is now at an end though not without my realising that there really was no connection between us sufficient as to reap the full benefits of being in contact with such a genuine person, the lack of contact simply of my own making and borne of ...
Read more