Category Archives: david

Thursday 23rd April 2026 – HERE I AM …

… running hours late yet again, but tell me – if you had the choice between coming inside to your miserable, depressing life in here or standing outside in the absolutely glorious evening sun, chatting to friends and neighbours, what would you do?

That’s right, it’s been the most beautiful day of the year today, with not even a single cloud in the sky to put a damper on the proceedings, so naturally, I had to spend the afternoon in dialysis, didn’t I?

Still, at least last night wasn’t as bad as some have been.

By the time that I’d finished my notes etc. and was ready for bed, it was just about 22:00, later than I would like but never mind. I was soon under the covers, all nice and comfortable, and although it took, as usual, quite a while to go off to sleep, I was so comfortable that it didn’t really matter.

However, a few hours later, also as usual, I was awake again. No sign of going off to sleep so I ended up counting sheep. I had quite a flock but eventually I must have fallen asleep because when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual, it awoke me.

And, also as usual, it took an age for me to struggle to my feet and go into the bathroom, where I had a good scrub-up and even a shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Not hot drink this morning – just a small mouthful of orange juice to wash down my medication – and then back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during what little night I’d had.

At some point, I dreamed that I was helping a girl who used to live in the Auvergne move her crockery and things like that. We had to be very careful with some of it because the handles could easily break. She sent a mail to me to tell me that someone else was coming along to help, and I should give him the same warning too. Then, in the dream, my alarm went off and I leapt out of bed and put on some football gear that was lying around in my room, as if I were going to be playing in a football match. Then, I found myself back in the bed and I wondered what happened to the alarm and me dressed in – that I was still in bed in my night clothes.

That’s something that I’ve done a few times, helping people move house, and I’ve done more than just a few of those in the Auvergne. But I’m sure that some people will recall who this girl might be if I were to mention that it’s par for the course for her to disappear as soon as the work starts.

The nurse turned up as usual, and I mentioned that I had a taxi coming for me at 08:00 so he’ll need to be here beforehand to sort out my legs and feet. His response, quite typically, was “go to bed tonight in your socks. I won’t be able to make it”. No surprise there.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re talking about religion, and here’s a surprising thing. Our author tells us "Over the left shoulder of Saturn is a sickle in form of our modern bill-hook, Sol wears a radiated crown, Luna, a crescent, Mars is helmeted and carries a shield, the head of Mercury is winged, the bust of Jupiter has been injured, and his emblems are not clearly to be recognised, Venus carries a mirror. Other museums in Germany, I am informed, contain sculptures of the planets similarly arranged."

In France, and in many other places too, I would imagine, it’s the custom, and has been for hundreds of years at least, to draw and sculpt images of the saints, each with his or her own particular emblem. One saint is always seen with a child, another with a loaf of bread, another with a dog and so on. I wonder if this dates back to the very early years of Christianity and is a reflection of adopting the practice from the Roman gods.

While I was sitting at the table, I crashed out yet again, and while I was away, I was off on my travels.

While I was having another little doze at the breakfast table, I dreamed that I was playing with the Spencer Davis Group at a festival in Greece. After we’d played, we took a boat and went across the strait to an island to look at the lighthouse there. However, we weren’t impressed so we came back. However, we didn’t land near our hotel but at a secluded beach about a mile down the coast. We came ashore on some kind of jetty and one of our party threw a plastic bottle into the sea. We found a place to spread out and lie down, but I went for an explore. I came across another hotel that was being used for concert performers and crew, so I went in. For some reason, I came out of the lift at the second floor and walked along the corridor, looking at the names of the occupants, and down at the far end, I saw the name of a former girlfriend from school. I knocked and went in to say hello, and she was delighted to see me. Her room had a window that tilted horizontally in the middle, so I tilted it wide open and flew outside for a good look. Back in the room, we were discussing her career. I told her that honestly, only one person in a thousand at this level makes it to the top. She replied that she was determined to work as hard as it takes so that the one person in a thousand would be her.

Dreams about me flying are very rare indeed. I’ll have to go back probably twenty years for the last one.

But as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, we went to GREECE in 2013 and spent a happy week on Anxios, one of the Sporadic Islands, but not with the Spencer Davis Group. And I didn’t meet a girlfriend from school there either.

Back in here, I spent a little while sorting out a few things and then attacking the radio programme. It’s still been a struggle tracking down the music that I want, and one day, I hope that I will have what I need.

My cleaner turned up as usual to help me with the anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi to arrive. Bang on time he turned up, but with all of the roadworks and having to go to pick up someone else, we were late arriving at Avranches.

Late arriving means late being plugged in and with the machine playing up, I was resigned to it being a long session. One of the doctors (not Emilie the Cute Consultant, unfortunately) came to see me, and she told me that they were going to reduce my dry weight. “At long, long last!” I said to myself. “Now we can go about doing this properly”.

When I’d finished everything, I was next-to-last leaving but my taxi driver, one of my favourites, was waiting for me and we had a good chat as she drove me home. But once again, we were caught up in the roadworks so we ended up being late back. And after my neighbourhood chat, it was even much later when I came back in here. But it was worth it, being out in the sun.

After my cleaner left, I had half a piece of chocolate cake and home-made ice cream and then came back in here to finish off everything. And in a short while, I’ll be off to bed. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow, as you can imagine.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about counting sheep … "well, one of us has" – ed … out on a ranch in the Australian outback, the ranch owner asked a farmhand "how many sheep do we have?".
"No idea" said the farmhand.
"But I’ve sent you out three times now to count them."
"I know, but every time I reach ‘six’, I fall asleep!"

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Friday 27th February 2026 – WHAT A DAY …

… I’ve had today. And if I did crash out for fifteen minutes towards the end of the afternoon, I can only put it down to the after-effects of some very hard work.

Last night was quite hard work too. Once again, despite my best efforts, I didn’t seem to make much progress, and by the time that I’d finished everything and was ready for bed, it was 23:30 and how I wished that it was an hour earlier.

Once in bed, though, I was asleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until the alarm went off at 06:29. Surprisingly, when I awoke, I found myself in exactly the same position as I had been when I went to sleep, so it’s not a surprise at all that I remember nothing at all. I can’t have moved a muscle all the way through the night.

When the second alarm went off at 06:33, I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor – which is what counts for “beating the second alarm” – but that’s a long way short of saying that I was actually up and about.

The first thing that I have to do is to wait for the room to stop spinning around before I can even think about standing up. That can sometimes take a good few minutes.

Eventually, though, I found my way into the bathroom, and after a good scrub up, I went into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone, but to my dismay, there was nothing at all on there. It really must have been a deep, sound sleep. I had to find a few other things to do to fill in the time before the nurse arrived.

But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … not having any dreams to which to listen is extremely disappointing. It’s just about the only excitement that I have these days.

The nurse didn’t stay long today. He was being harassed by one of his boys about some clothes to wear at a paintball rally in the firing range and so needed to return to sort them out. That meant that I could start my new book, THE DEBATABLE TERRITORY WHERE GEOLOGY AND ARCHAEOLOGY MEET by A Lodwick.

This is a book that re-examines the excavation reports of Calleva Atrebates of 1909 and the collection of new evidence for the flora of the site in the prehistoric age.

Although I’m not much of a botanist (regular readers of this rubbish will recall that the only reason I passed my Biology ‘O’ levels was thanks to the helpful drawings on the walls of the Gentleman’s Rest Rooms at Crewe Bus Station) this is a fascinating book, as it talks about the expansion of the British crop pool during the Iron Age and early Roman period and suggests that many seeds common in the modern era were actually introduced into England by the Romans.

After breakfast, I started a new project. I went to make vegan ice cream.

In the fridge, I’d found some banana-flavoured milk and some coconut cream. So with some maple syrup, a pinch of salt, vanilla essence and a pile of chopped chocolate from the slab of cooking chocolate that I found, I went to work, whisking all of the ingredients together.

While that was doing, and in between going into the kitchen every hour to give the ice cream a stir to stop it freezing in one solid mass, I was editing the next lot of dictaphone notes.

There was an interruption when my cleaner came round to do her stuff. And a discussion. Apparently, Mme la Presidente of the Residents’ Association had had the engineers round to install her fibre optic system, but the engineers had declined, for the same reason that they had declined at my place.

Perhaps they’ll all believe me now.

Anyway, it led to a flurry of e-mails, and I couldn’t resist throwing my weight in.

However, I’m appalled by all of this. The conduit for the telephone, through which they’ll be passing the fibre cables to the apartments, has been blocked for over twenty years, and everyone knew this.

Nevertheless, the estate agency that manages the site gave everyone the go-ahead to apply for the installation. I was the first to apply. I had the engineers round who couldn’t install the cable because the telephone conduit is blocked, so on the 21st January I wrote to the Estate Agency to tell them.

Since then, nothing has happened. The estate agency hasn’t sent out a letter to people telling them of the problems, and as a result, there have been countless hours of technicians’ time lost, countless frustrating hours of residents’ time lost and the fabric of the building, a listed building of the “Patrimoine de France”, has been irreparably damaged by the two impatient residents who had technicians drill through the listed walls of the building.

Later on, a couple more technicians turned up to see me, to make a written report as I had asked. However, there was no need. I grabbed hold of another resident and Mme la Presidente and sent them off to speak to the technicians.

And surprise! Surprise! The technicians said exactly the same thing as those this morning and those who came to see me twice before.

Perhaps they’ll all believe me now.

After everyone left, Mme la Presidente came in for a chat and a piece of ginger cake, and once she’d left, I finished off editing the notes, assembling the radio programme, choosing the joining track and writing the notes for it.

This week, I’ve only actually written one programme instead of the two that I’ve been trying to do, but I’ve prepared two others, and tomorrow, I’ll try to prepare a third from the notes that I’ve dictated in the past. Then next week, I’ll go back to writing two more.

The stress and effort today were such that I crashed out in my chair as soon as I’d finished, and so tea was late. Beans with vegan cheese, chips and sausage followed by ginger cake and homemade ice cream. It’s not much of a success, texture-wise, but the taste is terrific, and I’ll make some more like that if my faithful cleaner can find some more of that banana-flavoured soya milk. The ground chocolate really added something special to it.

And that made me start thinking … "which is dangerous" – ed … I have some of these fruit cordials here of the type that you use to make fizzy drinks. How about a coconut milk-based one with chocolate and a stream of mint cordial running through it? There must be plenty of mileage with stuff like that, if the cordial won’t curdle the milk.

But that’s tomorrow. Right now I’m off to bed, to sleep, perchance, to dream. Or, as Lee Jackson put it, YOU WOULD GIVE A SMALL FORTUNE TO GET BACK IN YOUR DREAMS

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about ice cream … "well, one of us has" – ed … at the ice cream van at the park where I used to take Roxanne on Sundays, an old man hobbled over, obviously in great difficulty walking.
"An ice cream cone please," he asked
"Certainly, sir" replied the vendor. "Crushed nuts?"
"No" replied the old man. "I always walk like this."

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Friday 13th February 2026 – DID YOU KICK …

… any black cats today? Or break any mirrors? Or walk underneath any ladders? Today was, of course, one of those days when you don’t need to do any of that to bring bad luck upon yourself.

Take my faithful cleaner, for example. She walked out of the building this afternoon at 14:30 only to be drenched in a torrential downpour that began ten seconds later.

My bad luck today … "so far – the night is still young" – ed … has been with this perishing fibre optic cable installation, but more of this anon. Let’s start with last night.

And last night was bad enough. I forget how many times I fell asleep trying to write my notes and doing everything else that I needed to do before going to bed. As a result, what should have been a reasonable time for going to bed turned into a rather late one, much to my regret.

Once in bed, though, I was asleep quite quickly and that’s all that I remember until the alarm went off at 06:29. And what a time I had trying to haul myself out of bed. It’s definitely becoming more difficult as each day goes on.

Anyway, I was eventually in the bathroom having a good scrub and a change of clothes too because I’m going to run the washing machine later.

In the kitchen, I made my hot drink and had my medication and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

I was round at a woman’s house. She had a son in his twenties who was one of these manic depressive types. This woman and I were talking, and she pulled out from underneath her pillow a box which had a collection of gold coins. She called her son up and he came, and she showed him this box. She asked “what do you think of these?”. He looked at them and he was completely disinterested, and in the end, he went away. His mother said “I told him this morning that I was going to have someone round to knock a few nails into the foot of your bed but he’s obviously not made the connection and he doesn’t know what these are” so we carried on talking. A while later on, the son came back in. He told us a story that he’d met a famous actress. It was while he was canoeing on a lake with a friend. The wind rose up, and these two girls in this canoe were feeling very uneasy and wanted to be helped, so he and his friend helped them. He’d been on a date with this woman once or twice but this affair was in the throes of petering out because he wasn’t willing to take things any further. His mother tried to encourage him but it didn’t really work and he couldn’t seem to generate a spark of enthusiasm. Later still, we were in her room again and her son was there. He was a guitarist, quite well-known with a recording contract who’d opened one of these fundraising events for charity along with a few other big names. Again, he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic but he suddenly realised what this box contained and he’d come back up to talk about it again and to talk about the money that he has that he hardly ever spends. His mother gave him a huge box of chocolates but instead of eating it, he just took a few and said that he didn’t want the rest so the woman ate a few and gave me one or two too. We were then going to tidy up around her bedroom so I pulled a pile of paperwork down from a shelf on the top. It was all her university coursework with exams, assignments and everything. I noticed that a few were in different names so I asked her about them. She replied that her mother was a typist and her mother had intended to type all of them out so that they were neat and proper but unfortunately, her mother hadn’t survived.

In the past, I actually knew a guy like that, but there would have been no chance of him dating a famous actress, and neither would he have been a guitarist. And any romance of his would have petered out sooner rather than later.

The pile of university paperwork is extremely familiar from the past, and the gold coins are presumably something from the various excavations described in the books that I’ve been reading.

A few of us had in the past been talking about buying an island. While I was chatting to someone on the internet, it turned out that he owned an island off the coast of Newfoundland and was interested in selling it. I found out some more about the island and said that I wanted to talk to my solicitors, to which he agreed. However, I realised that I was in no health whatsoever to do that kind of project, but I would still have a share in it, simply as a foothold if I were able to recover, which would be nice. So I started to tidy up everything away and found some things that I’d bought from the shops, a loaf of bread, some carrots, things like that, and began to reorganise everything. I’d realised that I’d paid over the odds for carrots because there was a flood on the market and the price was coming down, but everyone is keeping the price high for the moment. I also sent a letter to my friend in Newport telling him about this island and expecting a few comments coming back. I’d finally sorted out everything that I needed, and then I had to change. I had some scruffy clothes lying around and also some much more tidy, casual wear that I could wear while I was getting dirty rather than my best clothes. I put that on and then had a look at the map to see where I would have to go to drop off some of these things, but the map wasn’t very clear and there was a printer’s error down the centre of the page that confused everything so I had to look very closely to find out where all of this was going to go. Then I could go out to the van ready to load it up, put some petrol in and do these deliveries.

Buying an island is actually something that several of us have been considering. It would have been a good plan fifteen or twenty years ago, but not today, unfortunately.

The story about the carrots seems to relate to a news item that I read the other day about potatoes. It’s been such a bumper year for potatoes that Europe is awash in them and prices have tumbled dramatically.

There’s also an ongoing project involving my friend from Newport too.

Did I mention that a group of us had decided to go to Edinburgh for a wander around? … "no, you didn’t" – ed … I’d been doing something with my Welsh, like cutting and pasting a few exercises which in part talked about Edinburgh. Then someone decided that we’d go. We all met up, and I had a big picture under my arm. It was something that I’d seen in a shop that I thought would be really nice in my apartment so I was carrying that around. Everyone was interested in the fact that it was quite heavy and we’d probably planned a whole day out, and this was going to be something of an obstacle but we carried on and we were walking around a couple of shops, looking at different things when the alarm went off. There was something in the middle of this dream about meeting up with cars and because there were so many of us, we’d have to use two cars but we could park them up at the top end of the city somewhere

Edinburgh was a city that I used to visit often with Shearings. Shearings had an arrangement with National Express Coaches in the past and occasionally ran a duplicate service overnight from Manchester to Edinburgh via Motherwell, Glasgow, Airdrie and Falkirk, with the return the following afternoon. If I didn’t have anything better to do, I would volunteer for it and I went up there quite a lot. It was a lovely run through the night.

It beats me, though, where the cars and the picture fit in with this, but the shop reminds me of the dream a couple of weeks ago … "22nd January" – ed … about being in Montreal.

The nurse was early today. He had a lot of work to do, so he said, so he couldn’t hang around. That suited me fine, because I had things to do too. For a start, I went and made breakfast and began to read my new book.

It’s called MAIDEN CASTLE EXCAVATIONS AND FIELD SURVEY 1985-6 by Niall Sharples. It related to further archaeological excavations that were carried out at Maiden Castle, to re-examine and develop the work by Mortimer Wheeler.

They aren’t just excavating the hill fort but are also casting their net much wider into the surrounding farmland and chalk downs.

And after reading the first few pages, I regretted having criticised Wheeler’s rambling preamble because it has nothing on the preamble in this book.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve commented in the past … "and on many occasions too" – ed … about the criticism that Wheeler received about his claims of battles and war cemeteries taking place at Maiden Castle, with people denying that there are traces of battle up there.

However, one of the comments in Sharp’s book is that, examining the sites of arrowheads discovered up on the chalk downs, "the distribution of arrowheads in the present survey can be seen to cluster around Maiden Castle", which you might expect if the place had come under heavy attack.

One interesting fact about this distribution that, surprisingly, he seems to have missed is that there’s another concentration of arrowheads around a ford over a river down in the valley. He seems to think that this was the site of a settlement and they may have been lost by the inhabitants over a period of several centuries.

However, it also seems to be possible that any attacking army coming from the north would try to cross the river wherever there was a ford and any group of defenders would do their best to stop them crossing. Hence the concentration or arrowheads.

That was something that I would have loved to pursue but I was interrupted, and before I’d finished my breakfast too. The man from the fibre optic turned up to have a go at installing the cable. And just like the first one, he was confounded, and at exactly the same point too.

The person at the estate agency who manages the building had given me her ‘phone number to ring if there is a problem, so we rang it. And as you might expect, there was no reply. Consequently, I telephoned the President of the residents’ committee and let her speak to the technician.

This question of fibre optics isn’t my problem. It’s a problem relating to the infrastructure of the building and that’s a problem for the residents’ committee and the estate agency to resolve. And it’s a problem that has been known for years, apparently, and no-one has lifted a finger to resolve it in all this time.

Over this past couple of weeks, I’ve wasted enough of my time, enough of the technicians’ time and enough of my internet supplier’s time. It’s long past the time that the people who have stood for election and the people who are being paid to manage it should have taken it in charge so they had better make a start before I become completely fed up.

This is the kind of thing that I’ve seen happen so many times before, and I know exactly how it’s going to end up because it all follows the same pattern. This time, however, I’m too ill to take on the running of the show myself, as I have done in similar circumstances in the past, but I’m not too ill to deliver a few hefty kicks into the nether regions of a few people and propel them into action one way or another.

So still seething after yet another good rant, I came back in here once everyone had gone, and begun to work on the next radio programme. And by the time I was ready to knock off, I’d finished it – at least, to the point where I’d written all of the notes. The next time that I have an early start, I’ll dictate them.

There were a couple of interruptions to my day, though. Firstly, I filled the washing machine with all of the clothes that were lying about, and set the machine off to wash them. Secondly, my cleaner came along to do her stuff and she brought with me another neighbour who wanted to know how things went. And had I still had a spleen, I would have vented it at that moment, but I managed to restrain myself.

Once the neighbour had gone, my cleaner hang out the washing. That’s another job that I can no longer do unfortunately.

Tea tonight was chips, sausage and baked beans with cheese and black pepper. It was the tin of French baked beans that I’d bought last week, and I do have to say that they aren’t a patch on British baked beans. They use these large beans that I tried but didn’t like.

The only answer then is that if no-one is going to come over from the UK in the near future to visit me, I shall have to bite the bullet and buy some online.

But that’s something about which to worry another time because I’m going to bed ready for tomorrow; And for once, I’ve already finished all of the work that I needed to do so I can have a weekend catching up on the arrears.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Friday the 13th and good and bad luck … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a club that I visited once, many years ago, and there was a bingo game going on.
The caller was on the stage calling out the numbers
"clickety-click, sixty-six"
"two fat ladies, eighty-eight"
"the Brighton line, fifty-nine"
"unlucky for some …"
"HOUSE!" shouted a voice from the assembled multitudes.
"House called on ‘unlucky for some, number twelve’" said the caller
"What do you mean?" roared the voice. "’Unlucky for some’ is number thirteen! Twelve’s not unlucky!"
"It is for you, madam."

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Sunday 17th August 2025 – GUESS WHO …

… fell down the stairs this morning? I must admit that I have been wondering how long it has been going to be before I had a calamity like that. Anyway, I need wonder no longer.

It looked as if it might have been a good day today too. Last night, although I didn’t actually make it to bed before 23:00, there wasn’t much in it and was reasonably happy for once with that.

And not only that, I was asleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until 07:09 precisely, although I do have a few vague memories of awakening at some point during the night.

07:09 may well be after the usual alarm time of 06:29, but it’s a Sunday when the alarm goes off at 07:59, so I suppose that it qualifies as an early start. But whichever way you look at it, it’s not far short at all of eight hours sleep, and when was the last time that I managed that?

Movement from the comfortable sofa in the living room told me that my friend was awake, so he made coffee while I went to have a good scrub up. And we were still drinking coffee and putting the World to rights when the nurse came.

The Hound of the Baskervilles was quite quiet about it today so the nurse could go about his business without any barking or growling (from the Hound, not from any of us) and after he left, the Hound dragged his master off for walkies.

While they were out, I transcribed the dictaphone notes from the night. I was in some kind of class for doing something like 3D design. Before the class began, there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, there was a young girl, speaking with a Scouse accent, like a certain girl whom I knew in Winsford. She came in and we had quite a chat, then it ended up with the two of us flirting around for a short while. However, I couldn’t stay as I had to go to this class. In this class, we were all in bed just like in the hospital and we were being taught like that. After the tutor had done three or four examples, she moved over to the far side and saw this girl in one of the beds. She told the girl that she couldn’t stay there because she needed the bed. And so I beckoned the girl over to mine. She came in, and the lesson carried on like that. At the end, we had to empty away all our waste so I emptied mine into a pile that another woman had been creating just as everyone else had done, although I’m sure that it wasn’t correct. I made myself a coffee, and then this girl appeared again. I thought “I suppose that I’d better make a coffee for her too”.

What a moment to awaken – here I am with a nice young girl (because that girl from Winsford really did exist. She worked on Saturdays at the big supermarket and she was really nice. I made a point of doing my shopping then and there and she came round to my house once or twice) and just as things are about to become interesting, even exciting, my subconscious drags me right out of the situation. There can’t be too many things more disappointing than that.

But as for learning 3D design, I did study a course on Open Learn about animated 3D film making. When I had more time back in the old days, I used to do quite a lot with a 3D program, but I’ve not done anything constructive or significant with it for years. By now, I’ve probably forgotten all that I knew.

There is no prize for guessing where these hospital beds might have been situated either. That is certainly becoming an obsession with me these days, which is hardly a surprise.

When everyone came back, we made breakfast and continued to chat for a while, but moving house doesn’t do itself, more is the pity.

The first thing that we did was to strip the contents out of one of the book-cases and stack them away in boxes. We then had a look at dismantling the book-case but I must have been deadly serious when I assembled them because this book-case was never ever going to come apart.

In the end, my friend took the fifth CD column downstairs and then began to move downstairs the boxes that we had just packed. I tried to go downstairs on my own, with the result that I have mentioned a little earlier.

It wasn’t all twenty-five stairs that had the privilege of feeling my arm and shoulder as I passed by, but as Nick Gravenites sang, FOUR FLOORS OR FORTY, AIN’T NO DIFFERENCE WHEN YOU’RE FALLING DOWN.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t raise myself up and neither could my friend. In the end, we had to drag my faithful cleaner out of her cosy Sunday morning to help me rise to my feet, bruised and shaken but not hurt all that much.

By now, we had quite a crowd gathered so I gave people a guided tour of my new abode, and then my cleaner helped my friend bring down the book-case, without dismantling it, and a neighbour carried some boxes down.

The first thing that I did was to pack the CDs and DVDs in the correct order, and there were so many that it took quite a while. Then I started to fill the book-case with the books that we had taken out upstairs.

After three hours on my feet though, I was totally wasted and couldn’t do any more at all. I had to sit down for an hour, but still wasn’t feeling up to much so in the end, we decided to call a halt to the proceedings.

The tiredness had a lot to do with it, but what didn’t help is that all over the floor, there are still piles of stuff that the plumber uses. If he finishes tomorrow, the room will be much less cluttered and everything will be easier – I hope.

But we’ve certainly learned a lot today, the most important fact being that we aren’t twenty-one any more, no matter what we think.

Coming back up here was an adventure in itself, and once I’d sat down, there was where I stayed for quite some considerable time. I really couldn’t move.

Eventually I summoned up the courage to stand up and made a loaf of bread and a pizza. The pizza was excellent, with the base nice and crispy for once.

However, I am really looking forward to my new oven next weekend, wondering how that will work out. My table-top oven up here is quite inaccurate. The cooking time and the temperature are extremely variable. I’m hoping for much better results from my new oven, with cooking time much closer to the time in the recipes.

So having finished my notes, I’m off to bed. Tomorrow, I’ll be dismantling the office and my recording studio, and while I’m at dialysis, people will (hopefully) begin to take it all downstairs. The bedroom downstairs is totally empty and the plumber doesn’t need to go in there, so it should be easy to put things safe, tidy and ready in there. Mind you, you’ve heard all that before.

But before I go, huge congratulations to my great little niece (or little great niece), Hannah, who FINISHED THIRD IN THE NATIONAL TRACTOR-PULLING CHAMPIONSHIPS OF THE USA at Bowling Green, Ohio, the other day. A perfect straight line pull too.

One way or another, and for various reasons, there is quite a lot of talent in our family.

But seeing as we have been talking about tractor pulling … "well, one of us has" – ed … it’s an extremely noisy sport.
Once, when I was photographing a tractor pull at Clinton, Maine, standing about three feet from the starting line, one of the marshals shouted over to me "how can you stand so close to that racket?"
I replied "pardon?"

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Monday 28th July 2025 – YET MORE TORTURE …

… at the dialysis centre today. The mattress on my bed has collapsed and there’s a big hollow right where my left hip fits. And so, after about ninety minutes, with two hours still to go, I was in total agony. And so it dragged on throughout the entire session.

It’s bad enough being poked, prodded, stabbed with needles, awoken when I’m trying to doze, but this is the final straw. I shall telephone them tomorrow and tell them that if it’s not fixed by Thursday, I shan’t be coming again. I reckon that i’ve had quite enough.

Especially after last night. Chatting with my kitchen fitter after he’d finished seemed to take hours and all that I wanted to do was to eat my pizza. It was stone-cold by the time that he went, I was royally fed up and in the end, it was some quite ridiculous time when I finally managed to haul myself off to bed. I really can’t take much more of this.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I was totally flat out in bed. It was quite a battle to raise myself out before the second alarm and had there not been a second alarm to encourage me to leave the bed, I probably would still be in there now. I was totally shattered.

In the bathroom, I went for a wash and a shave and then into the kitchen to sort out the medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night but there was nothing thereupon. I must have had a really deep, intense sleep. And if so, why aren’t I feeling much better than I am right now?

There were a few things that I needed to but I was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse. He was in and out in a flash, seeing that he’s off on his holidays this evening. I could push on, make breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK.

We’re still on our perambulations of course, but today he tells us that "on the River Thames, of late years, was placed a corn mill, upon or betwixt two barges or lighters, and there ground corn, as water mills in other places, to the wonder of those who had not seen the like, but this lasted not long without decay, such as caused the same barges and mill to be removed.". I would have loved to have seen that in operation. It must have been a fantastic machine.

We’ve also had another rent payment made in flowers. This refers to one of the towers in Baynard’s Castle, which Edward III gave "to William, Duke of Hamelake, in the county of York, and his heirs, for one rose yearly.to be paid for all service."

There’s also a movement inspired by the Bishop of Rochester and several others to provide aid for the poor, and many men "moved liberally to grant what they would impart … and what they would contribute weekly for their maintenance for a time.". Where is the church today when it should be leading the same kind of campaign amongst the wealthy and privileged?

And yesterday, we had a fight amongst a couple of priests. To day, he tells us of a rather incendiary confrontation between the Archbishop of Canterbury and his retinue and the canons of the Priory of St Bartholomew. Tomorrow, we’ll probably find the Pope in there somewhere having a helping of violent disorder.

Back in here, I had a radio programme to review ready to broadcast. But once more, I didn’t like it so I re-edited it and remixed it. The programmer is off work on holiday in August so I’ll have to review the programmes for that month tomorrow and send them off.

There wasn’t much time to do much else before my cleaner arrived to fit my patches. When she had finished, we went downstairs with a few boxes to empty out. And I did take a photo of the bedroom but I’m so whacked that I really don’t have the energy to post it. I shall do it tomorrow.

The driver who took me to dialysis was the young, chatty guy and we had a very interesting chat all the way down there. We were early arriving too, but it did no good seeing that so were several other people and as usual, I was last to be plugged in.

They gave me a prescription for an x-ray on my chest, which is arranged for tomorrow. That is just crazy. I’m not having a moment to relax, with yet another climb back up the stairs when I should be resting. Why couldn’t they arrange it for a day when I have dialysis?

The disinterested doctor was on duty today and he didn’t seem too interested in what I had to say. He did, however, inspect (at my insistence) my catheter port and pronounced it healthy. But there’s a bruise that is causing the pain that I am feeling.

Apart from the mattress, which has totally annoyed me, nothing much else happened. Being late coupled up, I was late leaving. It was the young Asiatic girl who brought me home and we talked about Italian food all the way home.

Back here, we went into downstairs and began to make a list of the work that needs doing, but it ended up being something of a building meeting with a group of us outside my door chatting.

It was a real struggle to climb back up here. I feel that I’m going backwards with this chemotherapy and losing whatever mobility that I had. There was another barrage of messages from the kitchen fitter but I’ll reply to them when I’m in a better humour.

Instead, I made tea – a burger with pasta and veg. I couldn’t be bothered to do much else.

So right now, I’m off to bed, hoping that I’ll awaken in a better frame of mind tomorrow, although with this trip to the x-ray and the climb back up here, I doubt it very much.

But seeing as we have been talking about flowers … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of one of those “Mr and Mrs” quizzes in which Nerina and I competed.
The presenter asked me which was Nerina’s favourite flower. And Yours Truly, completely misunderstanding the question, replied "Homepride self-raising, I think."

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Saturday 26th July 2025 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

… when the alarm went off at 06:29 this morning, I was still flat out, fast asleep in bed. And that’s something that hasn’t happened too often recently.

What I put it down to was the miserable night (if you can call it a night) that I’d had the night before when I’d had just about two and a half hours’ sleep, and odd cat-nap during the day. In fact, looking back on it, I’m surprised that I kept on going for as long as I did yesterday without too many signs of fatigue later in the day.

It wasn’t as if it had been a very late night either. I wasn’t sure what time it was when I finished my notes, the stats and the back-up, but it can’t have been many minutes after 23:00, if at all. And once again, I was asleep almost straight away, so tired was I.

But when I awoke this morning, once more I was drenched in sweat as all of this chemotherapy stuff that they pumped into me in Paris slowly fights its way out of my body. This is not a pleasant situation in which to be.

It was a struggle to leave the bed before the second alarm but I managed it, and then headed off to the bathroom for a good wash and shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant at the dialysis centre.

Once more, it was quite a leisurely start to the day and it was about 07:40 by the time that I finally finished my medication and made it back into here.

Once I was settled down at my desk, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was at a match between Ayr United and Morton last night. At first, Morton had no kitchen. They had positioned a couple of players in the kitchen area to defend the space but it wasn’t very easy without any furniture in there at all. They were conceding ground regularly. Then the furniture began to arrive and they began to assert themselves much more strongly as the trainers took more charge of the players, gave them more instructions and told the fans basically to no longer try to coach the team so that they would be able to manage and do a better job of it. The place where this was taking place was called “Canada Hall” – a huge one-storey building on top of a tunnel under which the railway ran. It belonged to the tunnel. There were all kinds of jokes going around talking about what would happen if it were to change its name to another railway company in another particular set of circumstances.

There was something else though about animals and pets in this dream but I can’t remember anything particular about that.

It’s no surprise that I can’t remember anything about the above because when I was transcribing these notes, I had no recollection of ever having dictated them. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I am in fact usually asleep when I dictate these notes. However, when I’m typing them out, a light usually switches on in the back of my mind with a tiny spark of recollection, but there was nothing whatever about any of the foregoing.

Later on, I was with Nerina last night and she was wearing the dark blue anorak that she had bought in Luxembourg when we were on our honeymoon. We’d been wandering around together as usual and ended up in some kind of military auction. We were going through some of the goods that were on sale there, having a laugh and a joke about things like “lots of half a ton of gentleman’s battle dress blouses” etc. We couldn’t really see what kind of use a large lot like that would be to everyone. But just as this dream was becoming exciting, the alarm went off and I awoke. But from what I remember, we’d been walking through the countryside on the edge of this town in order to reach this car boot sale and we’d seemed to be fairly happy, although I’m not quite sure why. I can remember us crossing a big, main road. One thing that I’d noticed though was that we’d been on the road for several weeks and I was wearing these jeans that were quite dirty and stained. I wasn’t looking very respectable at all

The only times that Nerina and I would ever be able to relax would be on holiday. We’d wait until September when all the brats would be back at school, and then take off across the Channel, drifting aimlessly around Western Europe from one cheap village hotel to another, eating local food, drinking local wine and generally chilling. Nerina had a map that indicated scenic routes (a green stripe along the side of the road, the thicker the more scenic) and she’d guide the car along as I drove. We neither knew nor cared where we were or where we were going.

They were good times and we had several good stories to tell. In one tiny village in Brittany we had the cheapest wine on the menu – a litre of house red – with our main course. For the dessert we had, as usual, the cheese board.
"Do you know what would go really nicely with this cheese" she said.
"Tell me" I replied
"Another bottle of that wine" she answered.

On the way back to the hotel I had to walk her around the village for two hours to stop her giggling.

The nurse was early once more this morning. He forgot the heat treatment on my knee, which isn’t really important, and didn’t take too long sorting out my legs He soon cleared off and left me in peace.

Once I’d made my breakfast, I sat down to eat it and to read MY BOOK.

We’re still roaming around the churches of London intra-muros and I’m thoroughly impressed by the number of bodies said to be interred in the old Grey friars Church and in the old St Paul’s. I’m surprised that they could fit them all in, what with so many recorded by John Stow.

He also quotes the Charter of St Paul’s, granted by William The Conqueror. "to all his well-beloved French and English people, greeting. Know ye that I do give unto God and the Church of St Paule of London and the rectors and scruitors of the same, in all their lands which the church hath, with borough and without, sack and sock, thole and theam, infangthefe and grithbriche, and all the rights that into them christendome byrath, on morth sprake and on unright hamed, and on unright work, of all that bishoprick on mine land and on each other man’s land. For I will that the church in all things be as free as I would my soul to be in the day of judgement".

He’s also talking about St Paul’s School again, and it’s a veritable tonic for today’s teachers who believe themselves overworked with twenty-five kids. He tells us that the school has been created "for one hundred and fifty-three poor men’s children … for which he appointed one master, one surmaster or usher and a chaplain."

After breakfast I packed a few more boxes with kitchen stuff ready to take downstairs. There are six now waiting to be emptied and we’ll do that this evening when I return from dialysis.

Back in here, I went a-searching for more music for another project and was still hard at it when my faithful cleaner turned up to fit my anaesthetic patches.

When she finished, she took down the boxes while I made my way slowly and gingerly downstairs to my new home. The aim was to begin to unpack but a neighbour came along for an inspection and chat, and then the boss of the taxi company turned up early so we accomplished nothing. However, I might have recruited a couple more volunteers into the moving plan – quite useful since we’ve already had one fall by the wayside.

We were early arriving at the dialysis centre but once more they took their time connecting me. I’m not sure what I’ve done to upset them but once more I was put into the little room at the end – the “naughty corner”.

They left me pretty much alone, except for when my machine gave out an error message. And I crashed out for twenty minutes too. I must have been really tired today.

When my time was up, it took them an age to see to me and as a result, I was no earlier that I might otherwise have been. But at some point, they had run a resistance current through me, recalculated my dry weight, reset the machine, and now I’m the lightest weight that I have been for probably 15 years.

Much as I enjoy the new svelte, slimline me, if I continue to lose weight like this, it’s going to start to become worrying

Late returning home, we had time to unpack the boxes nevertheless, although I’m going to have to sort everything out again when I’m down there permanently and put it away much more tidily.

It was another desperate struggle up the stairs. I could manage two steps before I needed help. This chemotherapy is sending me backwards instead of forwards. Throughout the day, I’d noticed an improvement in my health, but just these two steps were enough to knock me right back.

After my cleaner left, I had a disgusting drink break and then made tea. Baked potato, vegan salad and breaded quorn fillet and not very much of it. I’m not hungry and in any case, I couldn’t stomach it tonight.

So now I’m off to bed. The alarm is set, as usual on a Sunday these days, at 08:00 and wouldn’t it be nice to actually be asleep from now until then with no disturbances?

But before we go, seeing as we have been talking about Nerina and her map … "well, one of us has" – ed … we were driving along one road and I asked her "is this supposed to be a pretty road?"
"Ohh yes" she replied confidently
"Where are we?" I asked
"Somewhere along here" she said, indicating a line on the map with her finger
"That line there" I said, "that’s a canal!"

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Sunday 19th May 2024 – WHAT AN EMBARRASSMENT

this evening I’ve been out and about – and how I wish that I hadn’t. It did not go well.

Actually it all began to go wrong the previous evening. Despite the promise of an extra hour in bed until 08:00, it was actually long after midnight before I finally hit the hay, what with one thing and another. And once you start, you’ll be surprised at how many other things there are.

It was another turbulent night when I don’t think that I may have had much sleep, and I was certainly in no mood to deal with the alarm that rang.

Anyway I staggered off into the bathroom having switched off the alarm, done what I’d needed to do and washed the floor (which was much more complicated than it ought to have been) I was interrupted mid-deshabillé by the early arrival of the nurse. So he had to wait for me to finish.

Once I was ready he did the necessary and departed, leaving me to prepare breakfast.

There was a ‘phone call shortly afterwards. It’s a neighbour’s birthday, the neighbour who was so helpful in putting me on the trail of the apartment downstairs. It’s a “special” birthday and she was having a big party in one of the public rooms here.

She wanted me to be there, which was nice, and se she’d asked another couple of neighbours to help me. They rang me up to confirm the arrangements.

At some point in between one or two of the constant waves of sleep that were overwhelming me I transcribed the dictaphone notes. I was a teacher at school last night talking to a couple of guys. As a result I was late to go to my class one morning. On another morning a similar situation occurred but on a third moment I was just late. I ran into a young teacher who was trying to make an impression who was also late coming into school. I told him to simply say that he had been to see these two other guys who had kept him longer than they should but he couldn’t understand it. He kept on being confused about how he should say and what he should say. When I mentioned a sum of money which was why I was late – I had to go to pay a bill somewhere he asked “yes, do I have to pay these guys a sum of money?” and he started to really confuse himself. In the end I wished that I hadn’t said anything and that he’s just gone in and treated his absence as though without any problem whatever. This was going to end up far too complicated for him to understand which is a total surprise. It was all pretty straightforward to me what he needed to do. The other two guys involved – they were quite happy to play ball with any suggestion whatsoever

That makes a change, doesn’t it? People playing ball and willing to fall in with my ideas.

And then I vaguely heard the alarm go off at 08:00 and then vaguely heard the doorbell – when he came I was still flat-out asleep in the bedroom. He had to come and hunt me down and do all the things that … fell asleep here …

Of course, that was the phantom alarm sounding and it wasn’t the nurse to come in to awaken me either. There are some strange things going on in this building.

When the alarm went off I was busy teaching someone some French. We were at a strange kind of house party last night with lots of excitement going on. Down in the garage outside was a builder mixing cement who had developed a way of doing it automatically. He showed me round and showed me how it worked. It looked quite an interesting way of doing things – you could certainly mix a lot of cement quite quickly in this way. He was the one asking me the French for all kinds of different phrases as we were going along

There are so many things like this in my dreams that if I could remember them correctly and patent them, I’d make a fortune

While I was asleep at lunchtime there was something about two girls being here. It might even have been Percy Penguin and someone else. I’d made a big plate of salad and given them a side plate each so that they could help themselves to some, but one of the girls complained that the side plates just weren’t big enough and they wanted dinner plates.

At the rate that I’m breaking crockery here, they should think themselves lucky that they were offered side plates. It was probably all that I had.

So continuing on with my struggle after a rather late lunch I chose all of the remaining music for the next radio programme and paired it off. For some reason that took a lot longer than it ought to have done.

And so did putting on my shoes. I had to take off my puttees of course but the subsequent battle with my shoes took almost 45 minutes and was the most depressing moment of my life – so far

When my two neighbours called and helped me downstairs, you’ve no idea how depressed I was. It was clear that my health has deteriorated badly since the last time that I went out because it was such a struggle. I was beginning to think that it was the wrong decision to come out because I’ll never get back up the stairs again.

As I hadn’t been out for ages they took me on a guided tour of the town to see the sights, which was very nice of them. It’s ages since I’ve had a good look around.

At the party I fell in with a very nice group of guys and gals and eventually a chair with arms was produced so that I could sit down outside, enjoy the sun, talk music and eat a big plate of crudités

Eventually we had to go inside for a main meal, and this is where the fun began – I couldn’t get out of the chair, no matter how many people tried to help me.

Four guys had to carry the chair – and me, like some Roman emperor, I suppose – inside the hall and drop me at a table. Surprisingly there was nothing arranged for me to eat. someone eventually produced a plate of green beans followed by a plate of cherries.

We were there until about midnight and then we had the same trouble. It was impossible for me to leave the chair.

In the end they carried my and the chair to the car and bundled me inside, and that was not without mishap. I fell over a couple of times trying to go from the chair to the car.

At the other end, outside here, they helped me from the car, put me in the chair as I still couldn’t stand up, and they carried the chair and me up the stairs and tipped me out on the bed.

What an ignominious, humiliating way to spend an evening. I should really never have gone out but it’s as well to find out my shortcomings while there were plenty of people to help. Heaven alone knows what it will be like when I have to go to Paris.

But at least my experience wasn’t as humiliating as for someone else there. A rather large lady, who took up a lot of space, appeared at the party and wanted to sit down
"Three chairs for this lady, please?" asked our host
"Hip! Hip! Hooray!" roared the crowd.

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Saturday 14th October 2023 – BETTER LATE THAN …

… never. And it doesn’t get much later than this.

As I begin to type out these notes it’s 01:48 tomorrow – if you see what I mean. And there is no reason whatever for this lateness because, as far as work goes, I’ve done nothing at all. I didn’t even begin to type out the dictaphone notes until about 00:30, and I’ve not had any food this evening either.

The day started off as it meant to go on, with a desperate stagger out of bed in an attempt to beat the second alarm. I managed it too, but not by a lot.

After the medication I checked the mails and messages, to find that I’d been invited out for a coffee this afternoon so I’d better have a good wash and a shave etc

Later on, I finished off the soup that I’d opened yesterday. With no bread here today (except in the freezer) I had a go at baking some of this precooked bread in the air fryer.

It worked better than I expected, so when I bake the second one tomorrow I’ll turn down the heat a bit and cook if for a shorter time. But it opens up the door to all kinds of possibilities.

What I have been doing is to resolve a problem with the computer. It performed an upgrade during the night and from then on, I couldn’t log into a site that I use. I had to leap through all kinds of hoops to finally make it fire up properly

Something else I’ve been doing is to do a little research. One of my friends is selling a dual-screen IMac set-up. It’s an old piece of equipment but it seems to be fairly powerful – even with a 1TB SSD

They are reputed to be much better than a PC for working in graphics and one of the screens in the set-up is a whopping 27-inch and that looks interesting, so I’ve been going through the list of programs on it to see what it has and see whether, if I decide to buy it, it will do what I want.

It’s not as if I’m expecting much for my money, but I’m not paying much money for it. I’ve seen the list of known defects in these machines and there’s nothing on there that worries me.

Later on I went upstairs to chat with my neighbour and her daughter who is visiting. We were there for several hours chatting about all kinds of things.

One of the plans, for which I did some research later, was to find out about one of these chairlifts to go up the flight of steps to where the lift is. There are several disabled people in the building and we are all struggling to climb these 12 steps.

On the way up, I was detained by one of the other neighbours, and then a different neighbour detained me on the way down. I seem to be quite popular these days.

No tea tonight because I wasn’t hungry, but it’s not as if I had anything more important to do.

And later on I had the dictaphone notes. I was writing out some notes for some radio programmes last night. I’d come across a song going back to the late 60s recorded by a boy and girl couple. I added it onto the playlist and began to look for some information about them. I came across a whole series of photos taken quite quickly one after the other, one of which was the boy carrying the girl. The caption was something along the lines of “this is how to cherish your pet when it begins to rain”. It turned out that these photos were taken of 2 kids, one of whom was 15 and the other was celebrating her 14th birthday. They had sung together at school and gone on to make records. I couldn’t find out what had become of them, whether they’d married, broken apart or just drifted out of the scene. It was really strange because all the information that I could find about these people stopped at this birthday party

A little further on in the same dream I was doing my Welsh homework and answering a few questions but there were several that had me stumped. I read one of them out loud but I couldn’t think of the verb. The teacher turned to me and asked “do you think that (such a verb) is good to use in that place?”. I replied “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you” so he asked again but I still couldn’t hear. He probably said the sentence to me 4 or 5 times but I still couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, almost as if I was having some kind of blank spell of deafness while he was asking me the questions. I couldn’t understand anything he was saying. It was just a blurred kind of burble when he talked to me.

Then there was something back in the dream a third time about (something) beer and bowling makes a great afternoon out. I thought to myself that I should be doing quite well at this sport but it’s not the slightest bit of use whatsoever if you can’t hear anything that someone is saying to you.

We also had a competition between people. I don’t know what competition it was now but my name was pulled out of the hat to be paired with Hercule Poirot. I said “oh no! Not you again!” in a rather exasperated tone of voice

Then a large white cross appeared in the middle of a programme that was going on and I was recording, about your elderly ones being on TV etc. I was hoping that the person whom I was looking after had a great deal to say so I was interested in having her try to go on this programme but I wasn’t doing very well at all.

Finally, I was back in Crewe and had been working on Caliburn. There was a lot of work that needed doing and I’d done most of it. Some of the stuff was quite heavy and I needed some things. My father said that he’d be home at lunchtime and we’d finish it off in the afternoon. So roll round 17:00, 18:00 and I’d been standing there for 5 or 5 hours. There was no sign of him, which was nothing new. I was beginning to think about the wasted holiday. I’d just come over here to see everyone and all I’ve ended up doing is standing in this drive waiting. A few girls whom I knew came round. They were going out to drop some things off on some people. They asked me if I’d like to go so we piled into their car and set off. We stopped at one of the streets off Nantwich Road to drop off something at someone who had a poodle. The girls were making some remarks about these people and this poodle. We all ended up walking along Nantwich Road. I was miles away with my head in the clouds as usual. I noticed that these girls were crossing the road so I shouted and ran after them. They all laughed. We wandered along the road looking at the things in the shops. They seemed to be having a good time but I was still feeling extremely depressed about everything that I’d planned to do, everyone whom I’d hoped to see etc but there I was, just waiting around for things to happen, which seemed to be the usual state of affairs.

So now I’m off to bed to sleep until I wake up. And I’ll have a little think about this computer. The last time that I used an Apple was in 1992 so it will be fun to have a play around with this IMac for as long as it lasts. It won’t last all that long but then again neither will I.

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Saturday 6th January 2018 – I’VE BEEN CHANGING …

… the habits of a lifetime today.

And how!

We started off with another bad night last night. Despite going to bed at something like a reasonable hour I was tossing and turning for ages and spent most of the night watching the clock wind down.

And never mind the alarm going off at 07:30 – at that time of the morning I was up, medicated and thinking about breakfast. And my porridge did go down nicely too.

At about 09:15 I hit the road for the shops and I’ll tell you more about them in due course. But my shopping trip was interrupted by Rosemary phoning for a chat, and we passed a very pleasant half hour or so, with me parked up at the side of the road.

Back here, a late lunch (because I’d been out for ages) was followed by a snooze as you might expect, and then I had plenty of things to do – such as making start on tidying up the paperwork seeing that I bought a binder today.

This was followed by watching Cardiff Met play Aberystwyth in the Welsh Premier League, and then off out I went.

Up to the 3rd floor and Odile’s apartment. She was having a little fête to celebrate Epiphany and I’d been invited, which was very nice of her. Brigitte was there, and Roberte, David, Nicolas and Patrice. We all had a good chat for ages, and I wasn’t the first to leave either.

Not like me to be sociable is it? But then, I was never really invited anywhere before. My reputation hasn’t reached here yet, obviously!

But the shops!

I have resolved to make my life easier and more comfortable, and that includes buying things of a better quality than maybe I might usually do, and also to have one one or two luxuries around the place to bolster my morale.

And didn’t that work in Spades today?

Not that it means abandoning my trips to NOZ of course. IN fact I was there today and another €15 of near-expired food and a few other irrelevancies ended up in Caliburn. And the braderie at LeClerc was hit as well, with a waste bin for the living room and a bucket-waste bin for the bedroom.

But that’s only part of it – and a small part of that.

I seem to only have two towels here and both of them seem to have long-since seen better days. So with LIDL having a sale on and luxury towels reduced to a reasonable price, they had one blue shower towel and one blue hand towel (the bathroom is blue) left, as well as a matching blue bathrobe (my old one is falling to bits).

So they ended up in Caliburn too.

Next stop was NOZ, and then Centrakor for a new wallet to replace the one that was lost.

After that it was to “Happy Cash”, the second-hand shop.

Regular readers of this rubbish will be surprised to hear that I’m looking for a cheap television. I have a DVD player here – the one that I bought in Belgium years ago, complete with hard drive, and I only used it for about 6 months before I moved to France.

It’s been in a cardboard box ever since, and here I am watching DVDs on an old laptop. So I want a cheap TV and the second-hand shop seemed to be the place to go.

No such luck unfortunately, but I did strike gold in a quite unexpected direction.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that when I moved here I went looking for a stereo hi-fi. It needed to meet several criteria, like AM/FM radio, CD, auxiliary input, USB port (for a memory stick or a USB turntable). And how I had been singularly unsuccessful.

And there sitting on the shelf was an old battered LG stereo hi-fi with absolutely everything that I wanted, and as an added bonus, a cassette player/recorder. All powered by a remote control.

A lengthy chat with the manager saw it disappearing into Caliburn for the grand sum of … errr … €49:00.

One very happy little bunny here. I spent part of the afternoon wiring it up and the rest of the afternoon having a nostalgia trip listening to a pile of cassettes from the 1970s. Ohh Happy Day!

And later, having bought a memory stick, I copied a pile of music onto it and it’s running even now in the hi-fi. It recognises 999 tracks, which is quite acceptable

But that’s not all. Ohh no it isn’t!

Still in search of a television, I went, more out of curiosity to LeClerc. They had some televisions advertised at €99:00 and that could have been a possibility. But a 57cm screen won’t go far and besides, no SCART socket – just a HDMI cable, so my DVD player wouldn’t work. And after all of the money that I paid for it (because it was a top-of-the range machine) I didn’t want to throw it away lightly.

But there in the corner in the sale were three or four cheap Chinese TVs – 80cms – much more like it. With SCART and HDMI cable plugs and a USB port. €149:00.

So >copulatum expensium , as we Pompeiians say.

That’s now in the back of Caliburn too and it will be up in here tomorrow.

And if that’s not enough, I lost my carte de fidelité the other week and with this kind of thing it’s important because if there’s a complaint they can track your article.

The girl at the cash desk sent me to the accueil and I had to queue behind another guy. He asked for two tickets for tomorrow’s Cup Match against Bordeaux. I thought they would be sold out but “we only have six left”. So he bought two and that left four.

So badger that for a game of soldiers. I bought two too. And Terry is going to come with me to watch the game.

But shopping did wear me out – the first time for three weeks that I’ve hit the shops. I’ll be hitting the sack in a minute to gather my forces for tomorrow.

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