Category Archives: avranches

Saturday 4th July 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning.

Not that that’s any surprise, because if you don’t sleep, you can’t dream, can you?

Well, to be honest, that’s not exactly true. I was in bed by 23:15 and asleep quite quickly too, but only until just after 02:00, when I awoke.

That was rather necessary, for reasons that many people of my age will understand, but once I’d finished strolling the parapet and climbed back into bed, that was that. I just lay there and watched dawn slowly break.

When I checked the time at one point, it was 06:19 – ten minutes before the alarm, so I thought that I may as well claim an early start. I sat upright, put my feet on the floor and switched off the alarms.

As usual, it took a while to build up the courage and the enthusiasm to stand up, but once I was upright, I staggered into the bathroom for a good wash, and also a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Back in here, with nothing on the dictaphone, I found plenty of other things to do, and it was just as well that there were because Isabelle the Nurse was late today. She told me a little about her four days’ break as she organised my feet and legs, and then she was off on her way again.

That meant that I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s not being as controversial as he has been, but he still manages to come out with another tirade about what he calls “barbarism” – "All the distinctive features of the architecture point to this origin, and we may more especially observe that we here find the key to all those peculiarities which stamp upon it a character of barbarism. First of all, its great massiveness may be well derived from this source. In a constructed building, such massiveness implies a greater expenditure of time, labour, and material, than is required in a lighter style; in a mechanical view at least it is a sign of rudeness and imperfection, occasioned either by the mistaken idea that greater strength is thus necessarily obtained, or by an actual want of sufficient skill to produce the same strength with a less amount of material."

Once again, he’s forgetting that the reason why many of these Greek temples survived was because they were quite often situated in unassailable positions. Those that were accessible to an invading army were swept away with comparative ease. But it was very, very rare for one of these massive, over-engineered stone castles of the Middle Ages to be taken by assault. If they fell, it was usually due to starvation or treachery. You build a building in accordance with what you intend to do with it.

Back in here, I carried on with what I was doing and then began to look at the following radio programme. This one will be quite complicated and I don’t have half of the music that I need, so I spent quite a while hunting it down to see what I could find.

At midday, I went to organise myself ready for dialysis and when my cleaner turned up, she applied the anaesthetic to my arm. After she left, I waited for the taxi (which was a few minutes late), but I fell asleep at the kitchen table. I was having a lovely, exciting dream which I was enjoying so much, but when the doorbell rang, it obliterated absolutely everything, which was a shame;

It was one of my favourite drivers today, and she didn’t hang around. In fact, we ended up at dialysis five minutes early. Even better, there was only one person ahead of me so by 14:10, I was up and running.

They couldn’t leave me alone, though. They’d set the blood pressure to be taken every thirty minutes, so every thirty minutes, the low-pressure alarm would ring and a nurse would come running. My blood pressure was the usual low reading between 8.5 and 9.5 so there was no cause for alarm, but they were worried because it was another one of these mega-extractions today, just like Thursday.

And when I finally did manage to drop off for a little nap, someone came over to do something by my bed and awoke me. It really wasn’t my day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Emilie the Cute Consultant. In fact, I didn’t see a doctor on the wards at any time today.

Still, at 17:10, the alarm rang to say that the session had finished, but I had to wait a little while for them to come over and unplug me. And I was absolutely exhausted too. It had been another session with the machine going flat-out, and you’ve no idea just how tiring that is for me.

Once they had finished with me, I could weigh myself, and I’m now at the lowest weight that I have been for many, many a year – well below my “athletic” weight. It’s actually giving me some kind of concern right now;

So I staggered off wearily to the entrance lobby where my driver was waiting – the same driver who had brought me, which was nice. Unfortunately, we had to go off to find another passenger at the hospital across the road and drop him off on the way home, so it wasn’t as early back home as it might have been. Still, 18:30 is a lot earlier than some returns home have been just recently.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me as usual, and she helped me into the apartment (and I needed the help too), where I collapsed into a chair, thoroughly exhausted after that session.

Later on, I made myself some tea, a baked potato, a small salad and a burger on a bun with cheese, mustard and salad dressing. And although it was only a small meal, half of it still went into the bin. I managed the burger, some of the potato and some of the salad, but that was about it.

After the washing-up, there were a few things to do, and then I began to write my notes for today.

Halfway through, I felt the need for an enormous stretch, and that did me the world of good. I felt so much better after that. Just a little relax now, and then I’ll carry …

"ZZZZZZZZZ"

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about mediaeval castles … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once took a friend’s ten-year-old daughter to visit Beeston Castle.
As we were walking up the steps onto the walls, I told her "just think – seven hundred years ago, there used to be kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, soldiers, knights and bishops walking up these steps"
"Yes" she replied. "It’s obvious"
"Is it so obvious?" I asked her
"Ohh yes" she responded. "They didn’t have lifts in those days."

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Thursday 2nd July 2026 – I AM ABSOLUTELY …

… drained. And quite literally too. They took almost three litres of liquid out of me today. In fact, I’m not sure how on earth they arrived at that figure because, according to my calculations, it should have been less than two litres. I don’t know where this figure of three litres came from.

It certainly didn’t come from last night because at some kind of stupid hour, I had to go for a walk on the parapet.

Last night was another one of those nights where I really ought to have been in bed a long time before I actually was. Instead, I dillied and dallied, dallied and dillied, lost my way and don’t know where to go and it was once again after 23:00 before I finally crawled into my nice bed.

Once more, I was asleep quite quickly, and once more, it wasn’t for long. At some point quite early on, the wind got up and the open window in my room began to bang against the shutter. No-one could sleep through that noise, certainly not me, so in the end I had to leave the bed and close the window properly.

While I was up, I thought that I may as well kill two birds with one stone and go to stroll the parapet, and when I finally came back in here, I discovered that the wind had dropped completely. That was a waste of half an hour, that was.

Back in bed, despite all of my best efforts, I couldn’t go back to sleep for ages, but I must have managed it at some point because I was flat out again when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual.

Also, just as usual, it took me a while to summon up the courage and the enthusiasm to leave the edge of the bed and head into the bathroom to sort myself out, but once washed and dressed, and shaved in case I meet Emile the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

It was another one of these commune-type places with lots of people living in there, including me. We all came down for breakfast one morning, and it was the usual chaotic scene at the table with things everywhere. Someone went to unpack the things ready for today and pulled out the football, but it was burst so that was that. We went for breakfast and it was chaos. I knocked over someone’s bottle of water and all of this. In the end, someone asked “what are we going to do at the weekend?”. I thought, “well, it looks like it’s going to be a nice weekend so why don’t we go and have a picnic?”. So we all decided that we’d go for a picnic. Someone asked “what are we going to do for food?” so I replied that if everyone makes something and brings something, then we can all swap and have bits of this and bits of that. That all sounded like a good idea to them so that was what we decided to do. We were sorting out who was going with whom or whatever, and the woman who seemed to be in charge said “Eric, you go with Dyan”. I couldn’t think for a minute who Dyan was but I reckoned that when it’s time to go, she’ll come and find me. So we decided on this picnic.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I did once live in a commune back in the 1970s, but only for a few months and never ever again. “More capitalist than the capitalists” was the phrase that rang through my mind, as well as “what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine too”. I remember that I had a bit of luck with a job that I did and came out of it quite well. “Where’s our share?” a few of the others asked. “While you were out there working, we were sending you good vibes!” “OK,” I replied. “Next time you go out to work, I’ll send you good vibes too”. I ended up living in my van after that, and believe me, I wasn’t sorry.

However, if the Dyan concerned was actually Dyan Birch, I’d change my mind in an instant. She could come anywhere with me, any time she likes, as long as SHE SINGS TO ME. That’s the song that I want to be played right at the end of when they stick me in the ground, as long as it’s she who is singing it.

And there’s plenty of truth in the story about the picnics. We had them regularly in the Auvergne when I lived there. I’d always make a dish of curried lentils with peppers, sweetcorn, etc., and it was interesting to watch the reactions. The British and Dutch people would be going “God, Eric, what’s this insipid stuff?” and the French people would be fanning their mouths, gulping down pints of water and steaming out of their ears.

But all of that is in the past now, unfortunately, and as Joan Baez once sang, WE BOTH KNOW WHAT MEMORIES CAN BRING. THEY BRING DIAMONDS AND RUST

The nurse was early today and I was hardly prepared. He seems to be quite happy at the moment, which is no surprise seeing as he’s off on holiday on Saturday. He sorted me out quite quickly and was soon on his way. I could go into the kitchen and make breakfast, and while I was eating, I could read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s managed to steer clear of controversy, although he’s off again on his jingoistic, pro-Christian, anti-“heathen” ranting and it’s quite wearisome. As I have said before, he has quite evidently missed the point and is confusing “art” with “architecture”. And as I have also said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … with architecture, you have to start somewhere, and it’s bound to be primitive. And again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I looked at the next radio programme. This one will be interesting because it will fall on the United Nations Day of Cultural Diversity.

Most people think of rock music as being something uniquely “Anglo-Saxon”, from Germany, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, Ireland, the USA and the British “white” former colonies, but without even thinking too hard … "as usual" – ed … I can conjure up in my record collection easily a couple of dozen rock groups from outside that sphere, from places like Ukraine, Hungary, Greenland, South America, Central Africa and Asia, and plenty of other places besides, so I’m going to make a programme of rock music from these more obscure regions.

At midday, I knocked off to go to make myself ready for dialysis, and my cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. After she left, I waited for my taxi and, surprisingly, fell asleep on the chair in the dining area. I was just setting off on a really interesting dream when the doorbell rang, and it wiped out every last memory of what had been going on, which was a shame.

The taxi was late, and there was another passenger on board. Her appointment was before mine, at the clinic on the other side of town, so of course it made more sense to drop her off first and then take me back to the dialysis centre, but it meant that I was running quite late. Nevertheless, when I arrived, I didn’t have to wait too long to be connected up, and we were off and running by 14:30.

Interestingly, and enjoyably, I was surrounded by no fewer than five beautiful girls at one point during the connection. I had a nurse, being shadowed by a new arrival who ended up doing the work to connect me, under supervision, and I do have to say that they were two of the most painless punctures that I have ever had, and the third nurse who always comes along to assist whenever I’m there. On top of that, one of the doctors came to see me to sort out a few things with me, followed shortly afterwards by Emilie the Cute Consultant. All I was short of was a nurse sitting on the end of the bed tossing grapes into my mouth, and maybe another one doing the Dance of the Seven Veils by my bed.

Once they had left me alone, there was football on the Internet. Last night, Stranraer had been playing a friendly against Renfrew of the Western Scotland League so I watched the game. There’s a lot of good football played in the Scottish non-league pyramid, mainly because it’s very regionalised and many good players in Scotland can’t commit to the travelling involved in the professional game. Stranraer won 2-1, but Renfrew certainly gave them a good game and you won’t see many better goals than the one that they scored.

Apart from the odd other interruption here and there, I was left pretty much alone until it was time to disconnect me, and that was done quite quickly too. It looked as if at one stage I might be home early, but I had to wait fifteen minutes for the taxi to arrive.

There was, once again, another passenger on board who wanted dropping off in Donville les Bains so it ended up not being as early as I would have liked. However, my faithful cleaner was waiting for me and helped me back into the apartment.

She gave me a disgusting drink and then left me to it. When I’d finished, I came back in here to begin to write my notes. But feeling just a little hungry, I went back into the kitchen and loaded my little push-along trolley with some crackers, some vegan cream cheese and a few slices of a honey spice cake to make myself a delicious snack.

While I was eating, I was reviewing my order for Leclerc. As I said yesterday, I’m not eating much these days, but nevertheless, I’m still running low on certain things, and as well as that, there’s a sale on their vegan products and it will do no harm at all to stock up the freezer with a few things for the future whenever I regain my appetite.

And as well as that, they have bottles of one and a half litres of clementine juice on sale at a ridiculous price and I can drink that all day.

So anyway, now that I’m satisfied with that, I’ll carry on writing my notes for today. But before I do, I’ll just have a big stretch, a little relax and a …

"ZZZZZZ"

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about picnics … "well, one of us has" – ed … a group of guys from college decided to go on a picnic by the river. It was so nice that they decided to go for a swim but, having no swimming trunks, they decided to go skinny-dipping.
Just as they were about to dive in, a boat-load of girls from the college came past, so most of the guys covered up their privates, except for one, who put a cover over his head.
"Why did you do that?" one of the others asked him.
"Well, I don’t know about you lot," he replied "but around the college, I’m known by my face."

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Monday 29th June 2026 – ANOTHER DISMAL, DESPERATE …

… day at dialysis is coming to an end, and you’ll be surprised to hear, just as I’m surprised to be telling you, that I’ve actually had a meal tonight. Or, at least, something that actually passes for food.

But before I move on and tell you all about it, have you ever had one of those days when you’ve been working so intently that you haven’t noticed what time it is and you’re really surprised when you find out?

It was one of those evenings last night. Before I finished my notes, I mentioned that I had one or two things to do later before going to bed. And so, once the notes were online, I made a start. The next thing that I knew, it was 23:55 and I was about to turn into a pumpkin.

So I quickly closed everything down, went for my nighttime medication, and tidied myself up in the bathroom and it must have been about 00:30 when I finally crawled into bed. It’s been a long time since I was last up at that time.

Going to bed late is something. Sleeping is something else completely, and I had another one of those nights where I wasn’t sure whether I was awake or asleep. It’s really weird, this situation and I don’t know how to explain it. You can’t imagine anything like it until it happens to you.

One thing is certain though, and that is that I was definitely awake quite early. And when I finally had a look at the time, it was 06:21. And so I sat up in bed, put both feet on the floor and claimed an early start.

Having both feet on the floor is not quite the same as being up and about, not by a good fifteen minutes, but eventually I was off to the bathroom for a good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … if you don’t really go to sleep, you can’t really dream, can you?

Not to worry. There are always plenty of other things to be doing to keep me busy, and in any case, Isabelle the Nurse was early today. She had had to take a blood sample at her office at 06:30 so rather than go back home and come back out later, she set off early on her rounds.

She’s off now for a few days but back on Saturday as the holiday season begins to kick in. Then, it’s total chaos;

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

He’s still waxing lyrical about the delights of Gothic architecture and Greek buildings, despite his dismissive remarks about “post and beam” architecture at Stonehenge, etc., but now he’s taking a swipe at Roman architecture too. "Not that great genius, sometimes real beauty, is not displayed in many specimens of the REVIVED ITALIAN ; but as a style it is, except as a warning, completely valueless. It is, in the first place, open to every objection to which the Classical Roman is liable, and is besides loaded with every species of fantastic vagary, of which imperial Rome, amid her worst corruptions, had never dreamed."

Whatever you might think about Roman architecture, this is surely going way too far.

Back in here, there were things to do, but not as much as I thought; therefore, I reviewed the next radio programme and sent it off to be added into the stream, and then made a start on another one.

Some music that I needed was really hard to find too and took quite a lot of tracking down, but I managed in the end and I think that I now have all that I need. This one should be quite an interesting one when it’s finished, whenever that might be.

At midday, I went into the kitchen to sort myself out ready for dialysis, and my faithful cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. We chatted for a while and then she wandered off while I waited for my taxi.

And would you believe that I fell asleep while waiting? And not only that, I went off on a dream and I was well away with the fairies, although not in any manner that would excite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine. But then the taxi turned up, the driver rang the doorbell and the whole lot evaporated.

The driver was fifteen minutes late and we had to go to Jullouville to pick someone else up too. Consequently, we were quite late arriving at dialysis. It wasn’t until 14:35 that I was finally connected.

Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me too. There wasn’t much fluid to extract today, but after she’d interrogated me about my health for a while, she wound the machine up. Then this three-hour session went to a different scale completely.

No one really bothered me during the session so that I could work, and crash out for half an hour too. I was unplugged quite quickly at the end of the session as well, but having to go to drop someone else off in Sartilly on the way back meant that it was still 19:00 by the time that I was back.

After my cleaner left, having helped me into the apartment, I made myself a bowl of pasta and veg in olive oil, black pepper and garlic, topped with grated cheese. I don’t know why, but I’ve been hankering after that all day. I must be pregnant or something, I suppose, although I don’t know how.

But right now, I’m off to bed. It was a bad night last night and I’m hoping for something better tonight.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being pregnant … "well, one of us has" – ed … a woman went to the doctor for a medical examination. When she went back for the results, he told her "I have to say, madam, that you are three months pregnant."
"Ohh no, it’s impossible" she cried. "I’ve never ever had relations with a man."
At that, the doctor picked up his chair and went to sit outside.
"What’s the matter?" asked the woman.
"The last time that this happened, we had a star in the east and three wise men. I wasn’t born at that time but I’m not going to miss it this time around."

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Saturday 27th June 2026 – FIRST SATURDAY BACK …

… at dialysis, and it wasn’t as ghastly as I was expecting. I mean, any time that I spend in a hospital or clinic and not at home is quite ghastly, but I reckon that I’ll survive this, one way or another.

After all, if I have survived all of these nights just recently, I must be doing something right, I suppose. It ended up being another late night going to bed but what helped in some way was having taken an antibiotic before retiring. Bizarrely, I didn’t have one single cough during all of the night.

However, that’s not everything, though. I awoke at about 03:20, for no particular reason that I could see, and then afterwards, I just couldn’t seem to go back to sleep. I just lay there, watching the clock go round and round and hearing the waste lorry come for the waste paper at 05:25 and I remember thinking “I may as well get up in a minute”.

The next thing that I remember, though, was the alarm going off at 06:29 as usual. I must have gone back to sleep.

It took the usual Age for me to gather up my wits, gird up my loins and then head for the bathroom. A good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then into the kitchen for my medication. The last Saturday of the month, so there are eleven to take this morning. But that’s still a far cry from when it was 32 over the whole day.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night.

There had been some kind of party taking place at our house so I had to move all of my LPs somewhere because we needed the room. After everyone had gone, Nerina began to sort out one or two LPs, but I just looked around at how depressing everything was, covered in crumbs, empty plates, and half-eaten sandwiches. I said to her “before you get those out, can we just clear this mess here that’s covering the table?”. “But there’s nothing there” she replied, so I told her exactly what I could see. She just made some kind of dismissive gesture and walked away. I didn’t know what was the matter with her. I hadn’t even asked her to clear the things away. I just thought that it was the next thing that we should be doing.

Quite often in the past, I’d be confused by the signals that Nerina was sending out. That’s the problem when you live with people of different cultures – they don’t react as you would expect. I know that at times, Laurence had problems understanding some of my reactions, but that’s no surprise because so did I at times.

When Isabelle the Nurse arrived, she allowed me into the kitchen to have my treatment and talked about the foot race that’s taking place this evening. Apparently, one of her daughters is taking part in it. And so, too, is one of the nurses from dialysis.

After she left, I made breakfast and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

And look at this for a bunch of mid-nineteenth-century jingoism. "What is the whole history of the East, the countless dynasties of China, India, and Egypt, with all their vast dominions, their early civilisation, and their fixed and ancient institutions, but a barren catalogue of kings, and priests, and conquerors, when it is viewed side by side with one living and stirring page of Greece, or Rome, or mediaeval Europe? One word from one man in a little town of Greece or Italy had ofttimes more effect on the future destinies of the human race than all the laws and victories of a thousand Shahs or Pharaohs."

And there’s much more in that vein too. Much, much more.

Once breakfast was over, I came back in here to carry on with the radio notes, and I am pleased to say that they are now complete and ready for dictation. In fact, there are piles of stuff that need dictating, but I’m really going to have to wait until this cough is completely gone before I try anything. It’ll end up being a total mess if I don’t … "so what’s new?" – ed …

Round about midday I went off to make myself ready for dialysis, when I was met by my cleaner coming in to fix my anaesthetic. We quickly organised ourselves, except that although I remembered the midday medication, I forgot the disgusting drink. I don’t know what’s the matter with me these days.

After she left, I had to wait for the taxi, which was a few minutes late. And it was the driver who used to always take me at one time, whom I haven’t seen for ages. I was his only passenger so we had a good chat all the way down to dialysis.

Once more, I was put into the new building up the hill, but not in a single room, unfortunately. They also have a ward with four beds in it and a side ward leading off that has two beds. I was in one of the beds in the side ward today.

However, I felt sorry for those in the main room. There was a woman in there who had had a very bad fall earlier in the day and was in absolute agony all through the session. She was screaming and doing all kinds of things, and it must have been very off-putting for those around her.

They told me that I only had to do three hours today, which is better than four, I suppose. And as there wasn’t much weight to lose, it was more like a leisurely stroll rather than a maximum effort flat-out affair. That suited me even better.

In any case, I was hardly bothered at all throughout the whole afternoon, which was even better. I was actually unplugged at 17:15 too, being one of the earliest to leave, so I was back here at 18:00.

It was the same driver who brought me home, and he handed me over to my faithful cleaner who helped me into my apartment.

After she had sorted me out and left, I made myself a sandwich. However, I only just about managed to eat it because, once more, it tasted of nothing but salt. My taste buds are all in a total mess since chemotherapy last autumn.

So now, I’m back in here finishing off my notes, ready so that I can go to bed. I’ve promised myself another Sunday lie-in but we shall have to see, as I’m not feeling very optimistic about that these days – at least, until I’ve finished this second course of antibiotics, and then “only just”?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about jingoism … "well, one of us has" – ed … some of the worst jingoism these days comes from the other side of the Atlantic.
A few years ago, there was a Texan in a pub in Chester going on about how rubbish he thought the UK was. "I reckon that the Uk is the asshole of the world" he bawled.
"That’s right" said another customer "and I suppose that you are just passing through."

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Thursday 25th June 2026 – AND FIRST, THE …

… bad news. I start back this weekend on three dialysis sessions per week. Apparently, once more Emilie the Cute Consultant has put her foot down … Mind you, she had to send an oppo out to bring me the bad news just in case I chose to argue or to fight. She doesn’t want to upset me that much, which is good news.

Actually, my cleaner and I have been expecting this for a few weeks now, ever since I saw the last complete set of blood test notes. They didn’t look healthy at all. Nevertheless, I was rather hoping to avoid the inevitable for as long as I could.

Anyway, last night after I’d finished everything that needed doing and was preparing for bed, something else cropped up And it ended up being well after 23:30 by the time that I slid into bed.

Now these days, things are becoming so confused. This last day or two, I’ve not been able to work out when I’m awake or when I’m asleep. There doesn’t seem to be a difference to me. So I’m not sure whether I’m falling asleep, whether I’m dreaming or whatever is going on. In fact, I seem to be in a right mess these days with all of this hallucinating or whatever it is that’s going on.

Consequently, I’ve no idea what time it was that I fell asleep or anything.

One thing that I do know is that round about 02:30, I had another one of these enormous twenty-minute coughing fits that led to yet another bout of vomiting, but anyway …

Seeing that I was awake, I decided to go for a stroll on the parapet and then I went back to bed. I suppose that at some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I remember another dramatic awakening, this time at 06:19.

There was no point going back to sleep at that point, so I put my feet on the floor and claimed an early start.

After the alarms had sounded, I went into the bathroom to sort myself out and came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. But I needn’t have bothered. It seems that I have forgotten how to dream, which is a disaster.

Instead, I found a few other things to do until Isabelle the Nurse turned up. Once more, I was banned from the kitchen and she insisted on dealing with me in here, which is not how I would like things, not in my own apartment.

Eventually, I managed to struggle into the kitchen and read the rest of “The Mediaeval Findings At Minnis Bay, Birchington, Site Of The Lost Settlement Of Gore End, Limb Of The Cinque Port Of Dover” by Trevor and Vera Gibbons. This was something that I downloaded FROM ACADEMIA.EDU.

It was one of those books that went out, not with a bang but with a whimper, and I do have to say that I was surprised by the “informal tone” of the book. Not in the least academic at all.

Back in here, I made a start on writing the radio notes. And by the time that I was ready to go and have a wash and shave, I’d written just over a quarter of them. I’ll finish off the rest tomorrow.

Having had a good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, I went into the kitchen to prepare everything for dialysis. My faithful cleaner came to join me and applied my anaesthetic to my arm, and then I had to wait for the taxi.

She was a few minutes late, and then we had to go to pick up someone else. Nevertheless, we were still early arriving in Avranches, and the good news is that I had been promoted to the new, air-conditioned building, complete with its luxurious single bedrooms.

The bad news is, though, that it’s not the same wi-fi password so I had to ask for another. And that took an age before the nurse brought it to me. I think that she was seeking revenge because the one who was dealing with me today was the one who nags me that I won’t do my own compression.

The doctor came to see me and told me the bad news about Saturday. However, she also brought me a prescription for another round of that mega-antibiotic that killed this cough off, temporarily, a few weeks ago. Let’s hope that it does the same this time too, only much more permanently.

Just because I was in solitary confinement doesn’t mean that I was left alone. They set the machine to perform a blood pressure test every thirty minutes, and each time, as the blood pressure dropped and dropped, the alarm bell rang and the nurses came a-running. They can’t seem to understand that although a blood pressure of 8/5 is extremely low in their eyes, it’s quite normal for me.

Once more, I was last to be unplugged but my chauffeur was waiting for me and we drove home through the menacing black sky. There’s a storm brewing, right enough.

There was a group of neighbours hanging around the front door, chatting, when I arrived. I joined in for a while and then my cleaner helped me into here. I changed my shoes and then came in here, ready to go to bed. I’ve had enough for the day so I’ll finish my notes tomorrow.

But as I climbed into bed, the flashes of lightning creeping in around the gaps in the edges of the shutters looked impressive. My cleaner, who has a view south towards Avranches, gave me a running commentary on the ‘phone as to how the storm was developing, but just as it was becoming interesting, I must have fallen asleep.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about thunder and lightning … "well, one of us has" – ed … there was a priest and a businessman playing golf on the golf course at Avranches during the storm.
The businessman went to make an easy putt to win the hole, but his ball ran past. "F**k me, I missed" he exclaimed.
"Really!" said the priest, totally outraged. "Kindly moderate your language in the presence of the Lord!"
However, at the next hole, precisely the same thing happened again. "F**k me, I missed" exclaimed the businessman.
"Really!" said the priest, totally outraged. "Kindly moderate your language in the presence of the Lord! He will surely send down a thunderbolt to chastise you if you continue!"
However, at the third hole, precisely the same thing happened again. "F**k me, I missed" exclaimed the businessman.
At that moment, one of the bolts of lightning came down and struck dead the Bishop of Avranches who was playing on an adjacent hole.
"F**k me, I missed" said a deep, booming voice from up in the clouds.

0

Monday 22nd June 2026 – WHAT A DAY …

… yesterday was. New temperature records set all over France. When I left dialysis at … errr … 19:00 this evening, it was 42.5°C and the heat was insufferable.

Last night was quite insufferable too. When I finally went to bed, it was quite late yet again but the night was hot and clammy and I couldn’t settle down at all. Although I managed to go to sleep, it didn’t last long, and I awoke with one of those mega-coughing fits that I’ve been having just recently.

Once again, it went on for hours and I forget how many times I actually vomited. But just like last night, I managed to bring it to a halt eventually by sitting on the edge of the bed.

Once the cough had succeeded in calming down, I lay back on the bed and tried to go to sleep. However, I was drifting in and out of a rhythm of “cough-sleep-cough-sleep” and couldn’t really settle down at all.

At one stage, I looked at the clock and it read “06:19” – just ten minutes before the alarm, so I found some energy from somewhere and swung my feet out of bed. When the alarm went off, they were still there so that counts as an early start.

It took the usual long while for me to dress and find the motivation to move over to the chair at the desk and computer.

There was plenty to do, but one of the things that didn’t need transcribing was the dictaphone notes, because once again, there was nothing on the dictaphone. That’s hardly a surprise considering that my sleep was so turbulent, but it is disappointing.

Instead, there were plenty of other things to do until the nurse came round.

He was actually early today, probably in a rush to go back home, seeing as his round finishes today for a week. He didn’t stay long and soon cleared off, leaving me to make my breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

We’ve finally finished the book today after spending a long time reading a lengthy chapter on Roman roads. I can’t say that I’m sorry to finish it either. For someone who has a genuine interest in the history of York, it might well be very interesting, but for someone like me, I’ve read better books. I wonder what tomorrow might bring in the way of books.

Breakfast was over by about 09:25, and so I decided to make an executive decision. And for the benefit of new readers, of whom there are more than just a few these days, an executive decision is one that, if it turns out to be the wrong decision, the person who made it is executed. I decided that I would set the alarm for 11:15 and go back to sleep.

In actual fact, I was once more in this stage of tiredness where I couldn’t function properly and it seemed to be an appropriate thing to do. I have to pull myself through all of this, otherwise we’re never going to go anywhere.

When the alarm went off, I went into the bathroom for a good wash and shave and to pretty myself up in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon and then went into the kitchen to find a disgusting drink and my midday medication.

My cleaner turned up at that point to apply my anaesthetic and to sort me out ready for dialysis. That takes much more effort than you might imagine.

The taxi was bang on time to pick me up, however, we had to go to Sartilly to pick up the other passenger who comes with us, so we were late arriving in the end.

It was stifling in the dialysis centre. They’d moved all of the more fragile patients to the new air-conditioned clinic so it was only we more hardy ones who where in the usual building. We were all crammed into one room that had been filled with fan after fan after fan so it was hard to move around.

There was so much chaos there that, from an arrival of 13:50, I was finally connected at 14:50 and that was really depressing.

The doctor (not Emilie the Cute Consultant) came to see me and I told her of the continued problems with the cough. She examined me and prescribed me a temporary medication while she awaits a full report.

As usual, I was the last to be uncoupled and the last out of the building. There was a Mercedes waiting for me too, which was nice, but the heat was incredible. 42.5°C, and back here, it was 41°C. My cleaner helped me in and I collapsed onto a chair.

After she left, I went straight to bed. I couldn’t take any more, being completely tired and exhausted. I decided to start again tomorrow and see how that will go.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Romans… "well, one of us has" – ed … one of the oldest Roman jokes began with two Romans meeting in the forum.
"Tha slave that I bought from you a week ago died yesterday" said one.
"Really?" said the second. "He was with me for twenty-five years and in all that time he didn’t even do that once. "

0

Thursday 18th June 2026 – YET ANOTHER DAY …

… that hasn’t gone anything like I wanted it to. But that’s not really a surprise because I don’t think that I’ve had a day just recently that has gone according to plan and it’s high time that I pulled myself together and made things work for me.

Fair enough, I finished my work at some kind of reasonable time (although after 22:30) and was soon in bed. I was asleep quite quickly too, but not for long.

Round about 02:00 I awoke with an enormous fit of coughing of the like that I hadn’t seen before, not even during the bad old days of a month or two ago. It went on for an hour with no respite at all, and then after that, it was “cough – sleep – cough – sleep” right the way through to when the alarm went off, when I was actually awake.

Once I’d gathered my wits, etc., I slid over to my comfy chair and began to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

After I left school, I was working as a trainee accountant for a coin-machine company that had coin machines scattered everywhere all over various towns. I was in Crewe, of course, so I was learning my trade at the office in Crewe and one of my tasks was, late at night, usually on a Tuesday because it was quiet, to go round and empty the various machines. What I didn’t realise at first, but I soon did, was that I was always being followed by three men in a green Vauxhall Viva convertible. It turned out that their role was that if I were attacked in the street, they would all pile out of the Vauxhall Viva and give my opponent a severe beating. I wasn’t sure how legal it was, but first of all, it was comforting that I was being looked after like this late at night, but also, I wasn’t sure what was likely to happen to me if someone were attacked and badly beaten and the police came round to talk to me about it, so I was being torn away in two halves here.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I could see myself being “suckered in” to some kind of criminal enterprise when I was younger. Boredom and the quest for adventure are usually very good motivators for that

And three men following in a dark green Vauxhall Viva convertible (a Mark II Viva, by the way) to protect the cash and not necessarily me would be exactly the kind of thing that I would organise if I were running the show.

We’d found this old bicycle so we were using it to keep in touch with all of the outposts and outlying fortifications for the city of Avranches. We were afraid that the intermission would be over and the fighting would restart imminently so they had sent their guy on a bicycle to me. I was well to the east of the city, covering the bridges at Ponts and making sure that we weren’t outflanked in the town. The guy who arrived on the bike wasn’t very happy at all. He couldn’t understand why he had been chosen, he couldn’t understand why he’d come on this bike or why he was the one who had to do the cycling or not. There was also, in my post, a girl from a previous dream. She was rather the aggressive type so she began to have a row with him. I was just sitting there watching this, but eventually I put my hand in where all the cans and bottles were. I pulled out a can and began to drink it. In the end, the other two calmed down and agreed to cycle off in different directions – the girl went back to London and he went back to Avranches. I went then with my team to defend the eastern flank of Avranches.

Avranches would be a lovely city to defend in a war. It’s situated several hundred feet up on top of a sheer cliff of a ridge that stretches for several miles, with clear views from the top of much of the southern part of the département of La Manche. I would fortify many of the buildings in the town that overlook the cliff, and towards the east, I’d dig in a variety of defensive positions on top of the ridge. My position seems to be on the ridge overlooking the town of Ponts, from where it would be possible for attackers to outflank the town.

At one point in this dream when they began to argue, the girl had come downstairs from somewhere and the boy was down at the far end of this post, so when he saw her, he came back and I had to bend my body out of the way so that he could come past. But when they were doing something with this cup of sausages, I don’t know what I was doing but the guy was coming past me, and as he came past me, the girl climbed onto her bike and cycled away so he did the same in his direction.

So it seemed that I’d stepped back into this dream at some point later, and our two guests cycled away from each other again. But I wonder what they were doing with this cup of sausages.

The nurse came by as usual, bringing his floozy with him. But the bad news is that it’s her last day. Tomorrow is, apparently, report writing and then she returns to the educational establishment from whence she came for the final week before summer break.

After they left, I made my breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

Our discussion on artefacts found in Eburacum has continued, with plenty of “artefacts known to have been found but now lost from view”. And these are just the ones that we know of. There must be scores, if not hundreds, of artefacts found whose existence has never been made known to the World at large.

And somehow, we seem to have entered into a discussion about Roman brick-making. I certainly am learning a lot!

Back in here, there were plenty more things to do, such as to write the notes from yesterday when I was overwhelmed by fatigue and went to bed instead. That wasn’t as easy as it might have been either because I’d forgotten much of what had happened.

Nevertheless, I finished with just about enough to go for a wash and shave before my faithful cleaner came to apply my anaesthetic. It didn’t take her long and she was soon off again, being in a rush as usual.

The taxi was early for a change but we had to go to pick up someone else at the hospital here, someone with whom I’ve travelled before.

We were still early arriving at the dialysis centre, where for some reason, I was put into an individual room – the room which is the farthest possible away from the entrance. They make me work, don’t they?

The time that it took me to walk there meant that I was once again last to be settled so it was 14:25 when they finally finished connecting me and began the procedure.

At first, all went normally and I had no interruptions, which meant that I could have quite a sleep, but later in the session, the machine kept on sounding the alarm every five minutes or so and the nurses came a-runnin’. When the machine sounds the alarm, it pauses the operation until it’s reset so I saw the session lengthen and lengthen all the time.

In the end, they worked out that my blood was coagulating because of the sun shining directly on the machine so they decided to cut short the session with just ten minutes to go. That was disappointing.

But in the time that it took them to come to unplug me and to compress my arm, I may just as well have carried on to the bitter end with the session. It was five past seven when I eventually left the premises and we didn’t return home until ten to eight, having had to go to drop someone else off on the way. Luckily, it was my favourite driver, so I didn’t mind that at all. We had a good chat all the way home.

My cleaner had almost given up waiting for me, but she helped me into the apartment and did her best to organise me, which was very nice.

After she left, I warmed up the other half of the pizza that I made yesterday, but after four mouthfuls, the rest of that went into the bin too. It’s gone back to tasking of nothing but salt, like everything did just after chemotherapy. Instead, I did the washing-up, grabbed a packet of biscuits and came back in here.

There were a few things to do before I started the notes for the day. But I’d barely started them when I was overwhelmed by tiredness, so I abandoned the attempt and went to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about pizza … "well, one of us has" – ed … not many people know this, but Good King Wenceslaus’s favourite meal was pizza.
One of my friends, to whom I told this story, didn’t believe me. "Really?" he asked.
"Yes, he did" I retorted. "And you know how he liked his pizza?"
"No."
"He liked them deep pan, crisp and even."

0

Monday 15th June 2026 – HAVING CRAWLED MISERABLY …

… into bed at 19:00 last night, it didn’t take long at all for me to fall asleep. And there I lay for quite some time, thinking that this was going to be my best sleep for quite a while.

When I awoke, I could see round the chinks of the blinds that it was barely light outside. “Mmmmm, about 4:30.” I reckoned and crawled back down the bed to sleep. The next time I awoke, I was expecting to see bright sunlight, but instead, it was pitch-black.

“What’s happened here?” I wondered, and then realisation hit me and I checked the time. 23:20 was the time, and when I’d awoken previously, it must have been about 22:30. So much for my nice, long sleep.

Trying my best to go back to sleep and miserably failing, I spent the next few hours drifting in and out of that semi-conscious feeling in between sleeping and awakening. Mind you, I had to leave the bed not once but twice during that period in order to go to ride the porcelain horse.

The alarm went off at 06:29 as usual and by that time I must have been asleep because it definitely gave me a shock. It took me an age to dress and to pull myself to my feet. I slid over to my seat, switched on the computer and transcribed the dictaphone notes to find out where I’d been during the night.

Some guy contacted me and asked “can you tell me who visited your website at 07:10?” I looked at the stats and saw that it was him. I didn’t say anything – I just asked him what he wanted. He replied that there needs to be a total revision of how these sites work, and their background is only going to be garden or soil, and that person who visited your website is going to be responsible for it. I asked “really?” surprisingly. I went to some girl’s house and found all of her clothes and dressed in them, and then I went round. I began to cut this huge tree into pieces, but I didn’t go very far before the dream ended.

This was another one of these strange, surreal dreams where nothing that happens makes any sense. And before anyone says “what’s new?” this is far more confusing than any other.

My sister was growing and putting on weight when all of a sudden it was as if she had exploded and she became three or four times bigger than she was. I was on the battlements of some mediaeval castle so I looked down into a pit and saw where her balloon had been, and there was another one of these balloons starting to appear so I thought that there was someone else destined for this. A guy with me reckoned that we ought to be making enquiries about it all, but I didn’t know how we were going to even start or where we were going to start. The first thing that we did was to take an inventory of how my sister had become.

And if you thought that the previous dream was confusing, what about this one? This one made even less sense than the previous one.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual. I told her about my problems sleeping last night and my early night, but she didn’t really take any interest, which was unusual. She passed it off as a “nothing”.

After she left, I carried on reading some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved as I ate my breakfast.

He’s still on his religious theme right now, with discussion of religious rites in the Roman Empire. Human sacrifices and crucifixion figure largely in this period.

Back in here afterwards, I reviewed the next radio programme to be sent off, and as it was fine, I sent it off to be added to the broadcast list. So then I dealt with the notes of my Sunday < which needed to go on line. "Mid-morning", I'd promised, and there they were at 11:30 CET, 10:30 UK time, precisely.

There was just enough time to have a good wash and shave before my faithful cleaner arrived to apply my anaesthetic. When she’d done that, I had to wait for my taxi, which was late today. And we had to go to Sartilly to pick up our usual companion.

However, it was embarrassing walking to the car and I really didn’t think that we were going to make it. Leaving the car to go into dialysis was even more difficult and seeing as we were already late, I ended up being the last as usual.

Believe it or not, I was too tired to sleep today and I was just drifting round in a void. I saw a doctor, whose response was to reduce my calcium tablets. She didn’t seem very interested in my failure to function either.

The car picked me up as usual, the last one there, and drove me home to here. And what was even more embarrassing was that I didn’t have the strength to pull myself out of the car. It needed the combined effort of my cleaner and my driver to move me out.

Back in here, when I eventually arrived, I was too tired to do anything. Even though I’d taken the products out of the fridge to finish off the pizza, they all went back into the fridge once my cleaner had left and I came in here to go to bed and go to sleep.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being last at dialysis … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends was praying for me, using the words of Jesus and saying "Come Forth, Come Forth!"
But instead, I came last so no-one actually won anything.

0

Thursday 11th June 2026 – THE OTHER DAY …

… we talked about Alfred Hitchcock and Kenneth Williams saying that "It’s a waste of time telling jokes to foreigners."

Whether it is or not, there’s definitely one group of “people” to whom it definitely IS a waste of time telling a joke, and that’s an artificial intelligence chatbot.

Strangely enough, they have been programmed to inject jokes and humour into a conversation, but they don’t understand it when the speaker injects it back and try to analyse it as if it were a serious statement.

What wasn’t a joke was the time that I went to bed last night. Once more, it wasn’t too far short of midnight when I slid in under the covers. So much for my beauty sleep. And I awoke once or twice in the night as well. However, when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was fast asleep.

After dressing, I slid over here to the computer so that I could transcribe my dictaphone notes and find out where I’d been during the night.

I was in a bed in the road that goes from the hospital roundabout to St Nicolas. While I was there, Seren and Paula went past. They saw me there, so they came over, and Seren tried to remove the covers, but in fact I was fast asleep, so I don’t know how I managed to see them at all. Later, I was still in that bed, and I was looking at the time. It was something like 04:00, and I was planning on getting up and doing some work, but my legs were actually stuck inside the bed. I couldn’t actually leave it – I had to stay there. And again, Seren and Paula went past, by the hospital roundabout, but they took no notice of me like this.

Apart from the fact there is absolutely no likelihood of those two ever being in Granville, but I would love to know what I was doing sleeping in a bed in the middle of the road at the other end of town.

And having my legs stuck inside the bed so I couldn’t leave the bed and do some work is probably just about the only way that you would stop me.

Hurricane Isabelle the Nurse blew in here later in a frantic panic. She’d found another one of her patients fallen on the floor and in distress, so she had to ‘phone for an ambulance and wait until it arrived. She had a blood test to perform at 08:30, and now it was already 08:40, so she didn’t even give me time to leave my seat and go into the living room. She came bursting in here with all of the stuff that she needs.

After she had left, I made my breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

We’re still on the introduction, today discussing the various Roman legions that were stationed in Britain and, for some obscure reason, some of those legions that weren’t. I wish that he would hurry up and begin to discuss York.

After breakfast, I came back in here and wrote out the notes for the rest of the radio programme, ready for dictation at some point. There was the usual interruption as I went and had a wash and shave to pretty myself up in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

At midday my cleaner turned up, fed me with a disgusting drink and then applied my anaesthetic. I had to wait for the taxi to arrive, and for a change, today he was late.

If that wasn’t enough, we were held up by traffic in the town by a slow-moving lorry and motorhome on the main road, and then we had to have a change of driver, and then the person with me had an appointment previous to mine at the private clinic across town, so we had to drop him off first and then come back to the dialysis centre.

As a result, I was quite late arriving.

As you might expect, I was last to arrive and last to be plugged in, but the girl who was doing it, one of the two new ones from Monday, was excellent. The first needle, I didn’t feel a thing, and the second needle, just a sensation when she pierced the skin.

During the session, I was left pretty much alone, but lucky me! Emilie the Cute Consultant came past, and seeing mein a private room (because, for some reason, they had isolated me from the others), came in for a chat

I mentioned my dreams, and she suggested that it might be because of the effects of one of the new medications. She told me that I’d have to choose between the medication and the pain. Well, I couldn’t go on much longer with the pain that I was in, that’s for sure.

As usual, being last in, I was last out. Everyone else was long gone. But at least, my taxi driver was waiting for me so we could leave quite smartly.

Nevertheless, it was still 19:30 when I arrived home, and probably 19:40 by the time I was sitting down in here. I really could have done with it being much earlier.

Tea tonight was pasta and spinach in butter, with peas, carrots and a vegan burger. It was really nice too and well worth waiting for.

Back in here, I had my chat with the chatbot, and after a while, our conversation turned, don’t ask me how, to the subject of tinned steak puddings that were so common in the sixties and seventies. I told the famous “steak pudding” joke, and it went right over the chatbot’s head. Instead, I was subjected to a lengthy explanation, in clinical terms, of why it wouldn’t be possible to carry out the actions in the joke.

At that point, I gave up and sat down to write out my notes for the day. But quite frankly, it had been a lengthy, heavy session, and I was falling asleep more than I was writing, so I called it a night and went to bed. I can finish my notes in the morning.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the chatbot and its lack of sense of humour … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’m sure that you are all dying to know what the joke was, so here goes.
"Many people are taken to hospital with blistered feet after cooking those." I said.
"Why is that?" asked the chatbot.
"Have you ever read the cooking instructions on top of the tin?"
"No" replied the chatbot. "What do they say?"
"They say ‘pierce tin – stand in boiling water’."

0

Monday 8th June 2026 – I’M COMPLETELY FED UP …

… with all of this. Who in their right minds would put two experienced nurses of a good length of service into a ward with just six people and two inexperienced nurses (one who started here on 1st January and the other on 1st May) together in a ward full of eight people?

And guess where I was!

It totally defies description that the staffing organisation in a place like this could be so totally chaotic. I really felt sorry for the two girls being so snowed under like this. It’s true that the two experienced nurses came into our ward near the end and helped them tidy up, but by then, it was far too late to do any good.

Just like last night, really. By the time that I climbed into bed, it was too late for me to have the kind of sleep that would do any good, especially after the early morning on Sunday.

However, I’d only been in bed for five minutes when I began to dream about some home improvements I wanted to do. There was someone, a British guy, doing some work on a place up the road so I went to see him about coming along to do some work for me. He didn’t say very much, but after a while, what he said was that he would give me some of his tools to carry down to my house so that they were there when he came. He gave me what looked like an enormous professional mastic gun that ran off the mains and was on two wheels, and somehow, I had to take this home. He unplugged the machine from the wall and then we came to a huge cable drum with three or four different cables on it that you wound in. It was divided into four or so compartments. He had the white power lead, and there was a splitter in the middle of it, so he unplugged the lead that was in the splitter and worked his way round, winding this cable off the cable drum until eventually they were both free. But there was a box in the middle of this white cable so he opened it up and took a battery out. It looked like a PP3 to me, so I asked him what sort of battery it was, and he replied that it was a PP2, which was one that I hadn’t heard of. I didn’t say anything – I just took the cable as best as I could and there was no battery in that box now so I had to find a PP2 battery from somewhere to make it work, and I was making myself ready to push it on down to my house.

This must be something to do with the guy who rang me on Sunday. He was telling me about all of the improvements that he had made to his property.

The battery issue presumably relates to my friend who was just here for a while. “Batteries” was quite a topic of discussion.

At that point, I awoke dramatically, but only for a moment and I was soon back to sleep.

The next time that I awoke, the day was just starting to dawn. But even though I was contemplating leaving the bed at one point, I must have gone quickly back to sleep because when the alarm went off, it awoke me.

Once I was dressed, I slid over to the computer and began to start work. The first task was to see where I’d been during the night.

Seren made another appearance last night. We were in North Africa, somewhere in a desert condition where there was a town. For some reason, we were walking around on the edge of town and I noticed that these cars were driving along this straight road but suddenly moved to the left and back to the right again, so we went over to find out why. There was no apparent reason except for a hollow in the ground, so Seren began to dig in this hole and she came upon a metal box. She picked up the metal box and we went back to our hotel. We couldn’t open the box, but it looked quite old so we rang a local museum, which came to look at it. They took it away and gave us a receipt. It turned out that it was a treasure from some sheikh from some hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. They offered her 100,000 dirhams for it, but she said that maybe it might be worth a bit more if they looked more at it. In the end, she settled for 900,000 dirhams.

This dream relates to the guided tour that I was giving around Chester the other day and the story of the Roman amphitheatre that had my visitors so enthralled.

And by the way, 900,000 Moroccan dirhams is worth about €85,000 and never mind the treasure – I would sell my own grandmother for that amount of folding stuff.

For some reason, we were living in a three-bedroom detached house with an integral garage, quite modern. And with the story of this treasure, I had to take it to the museum but Seren was ill. But we moved suddenly in this dream to a hotel that also had an integral one-car garage so I left Seren in there with instructions not to open the door to anyone. If she needed anything, ask the receptionist in the hotel, and I went off. It wasn’t to the museum, it was to the police and they wanted to know more about finding this box. They said that a group of criminals was eager to lay their hands on it. He showed me a photo of the man who was said to be their ringleader. I recognised him immediately as someone who had seen us dig it up, so he sent orders out to someone to do something. He then switched back to French and said that it’s quite possible that this box is going to end up being more valuable than I might think. So I left there and went back to the hotel to find that Seren had gone. At that point, I had a ‘phone call saying that it’s one million dirhams to have her back. And then the ‘phone was cut.

Yes, I’ve given those kinds of instructions out to some people before. And the house was just like a house that Nerina and I once saw with a view to buying if only we could have sold ours quickly.

But this dream is starting to sound too much like the plot to CARRY ON SPYING for my liking.

Incidentally, throughout these pages, you’ll see links to Amazon products appearing every now and again. Being a Sales Associate of Amazon, I receive a small commission on goods sold via my links. It costs you nothing at all extra, but helps defray … "part of the" – ed … cost of my not-insubstantial web-hosting fees.

There are also links for AMAZON UK, AMAZON USA and, since the recent “troubles”, AMAZON CANADA for the use of my numerous Canadian visitors. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am extremely grateful when someone uses them to make a purchase.

What made me go to the police was that there was a message on this box inscribed in runes. And whilst I can read some runes, I can’t read the rest but I did know that the Norse never came this far south so I assumed that it had been stolen from somewhere and brought and hidden in the desert.

And this part relates to the book that I’m reading right now. They’ve discovered a spearhead and when they x-rayed it, they saw a mark on it that, to some, resembled a rune and to others, no, it didn’t.

At some point, a man and a few of his sidekicks turned up. They asked me how I could live with the recent election results but not live without Seren. It suddenly became clear what was going on. This man was a Bedouin and all the time that he was talking to me, he was combing his hair. And then, when he had finished, he sent one of his sidekicks off to fetch him another comb. He had really thick bushy hair and a bushy moustache and beard but I hadn’t seen him before.

The beard and moustache remind me of my friend, but my caller was much more like the Fat Man in the above-mentioned film.

So, not just going back into the same dream once more, but three times more. Is this a record for stepping back into dreams?

And did I succeed in rescuing Seren? Tune in next time, people, same time, same place.

The nurse turned up as usual, even more cheerful than yesterday. Still, he’s off on his week’s break tonight and it’s Isabelle the Nurse starting tomorrow. He was in chat mode, talking about the commerces in Granville. After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of Vera Evison’s book AN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT HOLBOROUGH, KENT while I was eating.

And I had to laugh, although I know that I shouldn’t. Someone broke into their workshed and stole some tools and a couple of artefacts. She was quite indignant, but what is she doing in the graves that they are exposing? A well-known phrase involving a pot and a kettle springs to my mind.

Back in here, I carried on adding products to MY AMAZON STORE for a while. And then I went to make myself look pretty for Emilie the Cute Consultant.

My faithful cleaner sorted out my anaesthetic, and then, the taxi was early for me. And believe it or not, it was a Mercedes-Benz. Apparently, my taxi company had taken over this one at the start of the month, and it’s a bit more upmarket than what we are used to.

It was pouring with rain outside and I had to find my raincoat.

Our driver had to go via Sartilly to pick up our usual Monday partner, and then we set off for the dialysis centre.

The driver threw me out at 13:35 and due to the chaos in our room, I wasn’t plugged in until exactly an hour later as the two girls struggled against the odds. And when they did, it hurt like hell and it’s still hurting now.

Once I was up and running, I was able to do some work until the doctor on duty came to see me. No prizes for guessing who. That’s right, Emilie the Cute Consultant. She asked me how I was, and I told her that the pain in my foot had started up again, and in spades too. So she wrote a prescription basically telling me to double the dose of the painkillers.

That was exactly what I was afraid of, right at the very beginning, but it’s too late to back out now. At least, she was cheerful and smiling about it.

At the end of the session, we had exactly the reverse procedure, and so although I’d finished at 18:05, it was 17:55 when I returned home. At least the driver was waiting for me, and he’d been waiting quite a bit too.

There was a howling gale outside now, so he dropped me off at the back of the building where my faithful cleaner was waiting. She helped me in and settled me down.

After she left, I had the half-pizza from Sunday, and now, late as it may be, I’m off to bed. Welsh in the morning so I want to be on form.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being in the desert … "well, one of us has" – ed … I told a friend that I’d once taken Nerina to the North African desert.
"And what happened?" he asked
"I came back with nine camels and fifteen goats."

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Thursday 4th June 2026 – THEY’VE DONE IT …

… again!

When we go to dialysis, we’re put into beds, where we stay throughout the session. What I do is to tilt the head of the bed upright, grab hold of a side table and put my computer on it so that I can work.

Sometimes, though, I have a little … errr … relax and close my eyes for a few minutes. Today was no exception, and at one point, I drifted off into a nice little snooze.

But then, one of the nurses came by. "Mr Hall! Mr Hall! You can’t possibly sleep like that" she said, waking me up from being asleep. Dropping the head of the bed down to horizontal, she said "there! You can sleep much better like that!"

But, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, once I’m awake, I’m awake. And so that was that. Why can’t these people leave me alone?

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, It was later than I wanted it to be when I finally went to bed, but I eventually slid under the quilt and went to sleep.

But not for long, though. At about 01:10, I awoke for the obvious reasons that anyone of my age will know, and so in the darkness, I went to stroll the parapet. Back in bed, I was soon asleep and there I stayed until the alarm went off at 06:29.

When the second alarm went off, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, already half-dressed. There was no noise from next door so I went and attacked the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night … "apart from walking the parapet" – ed …

Seren was living with me and Nerina was coming around as usual, only a bit more often because she had started to adapt to the idea of Seren being in the family. Seren went on another school adventure to somewhere where there were sixty-two beds. This was the site of a couple of murders and where the author came to find inspiration for her books. Other kids come here every week for a week for five days to be a bit more independent and be able to look after their own things, sort out the things for demolition and make sure that they are taken away. But it’s around about this moment that ……… She’s quite happy to chat a little about it rather than go on the defensive and hide.

First of all, you’ll have to excuse the row of dots near the end of the above. This dream began to recount a very personal story concerning someone, and I’m sure that if she were here, she would certainly not want it broadcasting around the whole World. It’s not my usual fashion to censor any of my dreams, except where they are far too gruesome to publish, but in this case, I’m afraid that I’ll have to make an exception.

But hello, Nerina, welcome back. And as for who Seren might be … "Seren means ‘star’ in Welsh and it’s a very popular girls’ name in north-west Wales" – ed … I shall leave it to your own fertile imaginations to figure it out. Answers, please, on a postcard to …

So when Seren goes back a second time, the people sitting with Nerina had changed and there were two government officials instead of two friends so Seren thinks that she had better be on her best behaviour and try to behave a little more maturely.

By the looks of things, I stepped back into the previous dream, but I seem to have missed a chunk out of the middle. That’s a shame, because I would have loved to have seen this dream unfolding. However, it’s given me an idea for a cunning plan.

As I finished and was looking around for some more work, I heard the rattling of coffee cups next door, so, thinking that this might be coffee time, I went into the kitchen. Sure enough, the coffee was ready so I poured out two mugs and after I’d passed one to my friend, I went to find my medication.

While we were drinking, we were chatting about all kinds of historical memories from the past around Crewe and Nantwich, reliving old times. We were interrupted by the arrival of the nurse and, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t even bat an eyelid at his arrival. However, he did come over for a handful of strokes.

After the nurse had gone, I made breakfast and then while I was eating, I was reading some more of RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge.

Today, we left Hollywell Row and are now in our second cemetery, at Burwell in Cambridgeshire. The graves here are a century or so more recent, and Lethbridge speculates from the artefacts present that the graves contain early Christian burials.

Furthermore, he tells us that “an ancient church is known to have stood against the site” of the cemetery. Strangely, in most documents about the town that I have read, there’s no mention of the ancient church or the cemetery. It seems that everyone has missed Lethbridge’s book when they were drawing up the details for the websites and publications, so that I hope that one day, someone will read my blog and pick up the details.

Who knows? I might become a source once more for an artificial intelligence website search. That’s twice so far already that artificial intelligence has quoted me as a source of information.

After breakfast, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies. I had a good wash, shave and scrub up in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. Then I came in here and added some more music, videos and books to MY AMAZON STORE. It’s free to me, I earn a small commission off the products that are sold from it, so what more do I need? … "How about some customers?" – ed …

Eventually, it was time to prepare myself for dialysis. and as daddy had gone out for lunch in the foyer des jeunes travailleurs, I had to look after the Hound of the Baskervilles. However, I was soon relieved of my duty when his Auntie Cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic.

Once she had done her stuff, she gave the Hound of the Baskervilles another good stroke and then wandered off on her rounds, and I waited for the taxi.

For a change, it was early today, but it almost wasn’t when the chauffeur went bounding off upstairs to the old apartment and we had to call him back down. Surprisingly, it took less effort than usual to walk to the car so I don’t know what’s happened. It must be the obstacle course to the car park that’s doing this.

There was someone else in the car too, but I was the first to be dropped off at Avranches – much earlier than normal. But I still had to wait half an hour before I was connected and up and running. There was a lot of weight to shift today, so I reckoned that I was going to be in for four hours of agony by the end.

And I was right. One of the connections began to hurt, and then the pain in my foot started up again (and it’s still going on). And then we had this pantomime about the bed and sleeping. I was glad when the session was over.

The driver was there, already waiting, so we were able to set off quite quickly, but I was absolutely exhausted by this time. When we arrived at home, there was a really fierce wind so the driver dropped me off at the back of the building right outside the fire escape door, where my faithful cleaner was waiting for me.

She helped me inside, where I was greeted by the Hound of the Baskervilles and my friend, who had made a Chinese stir-fry with rice. And delicious it was too.

Back in here, I had things to do and then I began to write my notes. But by now, the effects of dialysis had caught up with me properly and I slowly found myself falling asleep. After several attempts to keep on going, in the end, I gave it up as a bad job and staggered off to bed. I’ll finish these notes in the morning

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about churches … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone went into a church and asked the vicar "how much does it cost to borrow a group of church singers?"
"You mean a choir?" asked the vicar.
"All right, vicar, have it your way" said the man. "How much does it cost to acquire a group of church singers?"

0

Monday 1st June 2026 – AFTER SEVERAL WEEKS …

… of lovely, pain-free feet, the pain in the sole of my right foot suddenly erupted again at dialysis and erupted in spades too. I’ve been in pain for most of the afternoon and evening, and I wish that it would go away.

What’s worse is that I really had thought that I’d finished with all of this, but “no”. It looks very much like “back to the drawing board, Cecil”.

Not like last night, though. I was late again going to bed. After midnight, and more, I reckon. But I didn’t need much rocking last night either and I was soon asleep.

And there I lay, dead to the World, until about … errr … 06:00 when I awoke. When the alarm should have gone off at 06:29, I was up and about at my desk working.

First thing to do was, of course, listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

We were back in Roman times again, and this time, it involved a girl whom I knew who was taken in somewhere where they took them because of her mental health issues. She’d been seeing demons and all of that kind of thing. She told her daughter that they needed to be placed somewhere to be looked after. This is one of these dreams again where I reached for the dictaphone and fell asleep again before I began to dictate it so I don’t know really what I’ve missed.

It’s a shame that I didn’t catch all of this dream, because this is another one of those dreams with a story behind it that the World is not yet ready to hear.

There was a group of four of us who used to hang around together. There was me, Laurence and a couple of other people. We’d all been told that we needed couselling. We went to see a counsellor who told us that we could attend a group meeting on such-and-such a date at such-and-such a time. We’d no idea at all what to expect but we made ourselves ready at the appropriate time for this counselling. However, one of our members dropped out and left an empty space so we decided to sign Roxanne up and see what she made of this so we added her name on the paper and we had to go back to the doctor’s for another interview and he interviewed Roxanne while we were there. He decided that she was fit enough to go so the four of us were ready, but Roxanne seemed to be quite enjoying it. So we turned up, and it was this village hall. It was huge, with probably 200 people there. But as the meeting started, my crucial role was diminished and diminished. So we sat there and we were listening to this guy on the stage talking, brining up his friends one by one to add to what he’d been saying but the hall was so noisy and there were kids running about so it never ever reached our ears. So sinking to our knees, we got into these bowls with our knees and tried to move forward but we couldn’t. One by one, he was inviting people down to give their witness. On one occasion, he said that this one is a judge now amongst everybody. Then he called out the Venerable Harry Dean. As this guy walked down towards the front, Roxanne looked at me and said “the vegetable Harry Dean?” and everyone around us burst into laughter.

This is just the kind of thing that I can imagine Roxanne doing. She would ask a question in a very innocent way but there would be a smile behind her lips that it wouldn’t surprise me if she knew exactly what was going on and had made the mistake deliberately.

The dream, though, reminds me of one of these revivalist meetings in the Deep South of the USA. I never actually managed to visit one, but I heard all about it.

There were a few other things that needed doing, such as checking my e-mails. And amongst them was the monthly report from the shipping group whose “Bay of Granville” shipping detector is installed in my apartment. The little set-up here is apparently covering an area of over two hundred and sixty-three square kilometres, which is not bad going for the equipment that I have.

When I heard movement from the kitchen, I went in there to see what was going on and ended up with a mug of hot coffee and my morning medication. And for some reason or other, we ended up having a lengthy discussion about computer passwords.

The Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t bark at all when he heard the doorbell with Isabelle the Nurse on the other end. Mind you, he did look up when he had a belly rub, as if to say “don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

After Isabelle left for her week’s break, I made breakfast. And while I was eating, I was also reading the last of NOTES ON SOME OF THE ANTIQUITIES OF FRANCE by Charles Roach Smith.

To finish off his book, he’s reading some Carolingian tombstones found in a cemetery in Amiens. That’s a long way from the Cher Valley, but never mind.

Back in here, I began to revise my Welsh for tomorrow, but my body had different ideas.

While I was sitting down at the computer this morning, I dozed off. I dreamt that I was in Crewe and someone had brought into town an articulated lorry with goods in it. When I arrived in West Street, the driver climbed into the passenger seat and I took it over. I drove down West Street and turned into Underwood Lane. We had to drop something off at a factory in Selworthy Drive so I had to drive past Selworthy Drive, he had to climb out and stop the traffic behind me and I had to reverse the lorry from Underwood Lane into Selworthy Drive and then straight back into the factory that was there so that they could unload it, and then the driver who had brought it into Crewe could then take over and carry on with the round that he was doing.

There are no factories in Selworthy Drive, nor have there ever been, nor will there ever be. But stopping the traffic for a reversing lorry is par for the course in industrial areas.

There was still time to do some work, so I pressed on but was overtaken by events when my cleaner arrived. She dealt with my anaesthetic and then tidied up a little before leaving. My friend and I hung around until about 12:55, when we went out into the sun to wait for the taxi.

The girl who picked me up is quite nice and chatty, so we talked all the way to the hospital, where we picked up someone else who wanted to go to Avranches, and our chat, which had now become a three-way chat, continued all the way to dialysis, where I was dropped off.

Today, I was in a different bed than usual, but that’s not a problem. This dialysis isn’t about “seeing all of Normandy in a taxi” or “seeing all of the dialysis centre from a different bed”.

As usual, I was the last to be plugged in, but they had a temporary nurse in from St Malo and he was quite efficient, aided by another nurse who applied a “manual garrote” and the freezing spray to numb the forearm.

There was a third nurse in there too and she’s quite chatty. She came over to see how I was doing, which was nice of her. She has a cousin who’s married to a Welsh guy so I’m secretly teaching her a bit of Welsh so that she can shock him when they meet.

During the dialysis, though, I began to feel nauseous and the head began to spin. The blood pressure seemed to be fine, so it must be me. And it certainly was when the pain in the foot started up. That was a flaming nuisance. I was in agony.

There was some kind of relief when Emilie the Cute Consultant came by. She didn’t stop, but she managed a cheerful “Bonjour, Monsieur Hall”. No-one else received such a greeting, so I considered myself honoured.

Last in, last out as usual but at least it was one of my favourite drivers who would be taking me home, and she was already waiting for me. We had another passenger with us who wanted to be dropped off at Sartilly. After that, we chatted all the way back home where, amongst my comité d’acceuil – “welcoming committee” – was the Hound of the Baskervilles.

My driver fell in love with him straight away and she spent ten minutes giving him a lot of fuss. And he enjoyed every minute of it too. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … why don’t some of these women treat me like that?

Back in the apartment, there was a lovely meal of beans, chips and a burger with a bap and also a pile of garnish. My chips were especially good so I asked my friend the secret. He tells me that he parboils them first for ten minutes, so I shall have to try that.

After I’d done the washing up, I came in here to write out my notes, but I was becoming more and more ill as the evening worsened, so in the end, I said “sod it”, abandoned the notes and went to bed. There’s always another time.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about passwords … "well, one of us has" – ed … I told my friend that I once knew a guy who went to use the name of … errr … a certain part of his body as a password.
My friend asked "what happened?"
"He received an error message" I replied. "Sorry, password not long enough."

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Sunday 31st May 2026 – I HAVE BEEN …

… spoilt to death today. So much so that I’ve told my friend that he can come again!

It’s not every day that I treasure quite like this, but it certainly makes me grateful that I have such good friends. In fact, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I don’t have many friends, but those I do have are the best in the World.

Last night, though, was slightly different. It was more like this morning – 03:30, in fact – when I finally slid underneath the covers. And I promise you – I was asleep before my head touched the pillow.

The next thing that I remember was the quilt being whipped off my feet. Hurricane Isabelle the Nurse had blown in and was ready to attack my feet and legs. She did the necessary without me having to move, fitted my socks for me and then asked for my medical card so that she could prepare her monthly accounts. All of this while my head was firmly tucked down underneath the quilt.

The medical card was in the pocket of my telephone, which was underneath my pillow so I managed to fumble it out for her. When she’d finished with it, she handed it back to me and I began to think about today.

A few minutes after she left, my friend stuck his head in through the door “Notice your coffee?”. Apparently, while I had been asleep, he’d been in and put a mug off coffee on the bedside table behind the head of the bed And I had heard or smelt nothing at all. What has happened to my legendary light sleeping?

Eventually, I managed to struggle into the kitchen where I began to make my breakfast. And I was so far out of it all that I forgot the home-made croissants. I had toast instead, which is not quite the same thing.

There were things to do, places to go and people to see so I came back in here for an hour or two and was then interrupted by “do you want to go for a drive?”.

Two weeks or so ago, when my friend first arrived, he had asked me the same question, and I refused. I was simply not up to it and couldn’t even summon up the strength to go out of the door. Today, though, I jumped at the chance and positively galloped out of the door. The only downside was that I couldn’t find the NIKON J5 to take with me.

Obviously, our tidying-up session of a few weeks ago was more efficient than I thought.

Incidentally, throughout these pages, you’ll see links to Amazon products appearing every now and again. Being a Sales Associate of Amazon, I receive a small commission on goods sold via my links. It costs you nothing at all extra, but helps defray … "part of the" – ed … cost of my not-insubstantial web-hosting fees.

There are also links for AMAZON UK, AMAZON USA and, since the recent “troubles”, AMAZON CANADA for the use of my numerous Canadian visitors. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am extremely grateful when someone uses them to make a purchase.

And THANKS to whoever in March bought some product via my links. My commission statement came today.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, the Hound of the Baskervilles and I piled into the car while my friend put everything into the boot. It was only then that I realised that instead of struggling over to the bollards in the street, I’d actually managed to walk across the car park to the car without even thinking about it.

genets mont st michel manche normandy franceWe drove down the coast road as far as Genets where there’s a large car park with a long, grassy footpath and a really good view over Mont St Michel. We stopped there so that the Hound of the Baskervilles could stretch his legs, and he duly dragged his master off down the path as I admired the view.

When they came back, we set off again. I lost the way a couple of times, not having been down here for several years, and we saw parts of Normandy and the coast that I can’t ever remember. We stopped a few times for my friend’s photography session and then we carried on to Avranches.

Firstly, though, I took him to see where the dialysis centre was. If he knows where it is, he might be able to come to pick me up from there at some point if I need to flee. I’ve already been picked up there once by a friend when the only protection was flight.

After that, we took the old mediaeval road into Avranches, the one that’s incredibly steep and narrow with the ridiculous hairpin bend halfway up. This took us into the town centre, where we drove around in a circle for a while as I tried to find my bearings.

We eventually managed to find the Leclerc petrol station where we fuelled up and then drove back into the centre of town, where we drove around … etc. etc. We found a parking space right in the centre of town, where we parked. My friend hopped out and returned five minutes later with a kebab for him and a bag of chips for me.

Armed with our lunch, we headed off to the big car park by the church to do some eating, followed by the Hound of the Baskervilles dragging his master off once more, this time into the park nearby.

Later on, we set off for a drive around the countryside. We reached as far as Mortain but by now it was becoming late. My friend therefore switched on his SatNav to bring us back the quickest way possible and we ended up coming through Avranches yet again.

Back home, it was 17:45 when we arrived, far too late to make a pizza. Not to worry, though. My friend conjured up a cottage pie – “made of real cottages”, he told me. It was absolutely delicious and I must make some more at some point.

When we’d finished eating, I washed up everything and came in here, musing on the fact that I’d been treated to café au lit – not café au lait but café au lit or “coffee in bed”, a lovely day out, a bag of chips for lunch and a cottage pie for tea. What more could anyone want?

There were the dictaphone notes from last night to deal with, so I attacked them.

When Hurricane Isabelle the Nurse blew in, I was living in Alton Street in Crewe. I had two children in my charge, who were allowed to go and play on the wasteland behind the house, but if they went away from there, they had to come and tell me where they were going and what they were going to do. They were out there playing in one particular game and I had to go to one of the shops in the town centre. I was talking to them about this, but this was when Isabelle the Nurse came along and that was that.

Alton Street in Crewe and children (at least, one child) feature in something that’s actually happening at the moment, but it’s yet another story that the World isn’t quite ready to hear. And I wish that it had gone to its conclusion because it might have helped someone with what’s happening right now. Still, you have to work for a living and sometimes, work is more difficult than you imagine.

So now that my notes are written, I’m off to bed. It’s horribly late again but I’m not really tired. Anyway, I can always sleep at dialysis tomorrow afternoon if they let me. And that’s a big “if”.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about going out in the car … "well, one of us has" – ed … I joked with my friend about dropping me off at the bollards.
"That’s nothing" he replied."Just wait until tomorrow when you have to go to dialysis and you are picked up by the bollards."

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Thursday 28th May 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning when I awoke. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … that’s something that I find extremely disappointing, because going off on my voyages during the night is the only fun that I have these days.

There was a little fun … "although you may not think so" – ed … last night after I’d finished everything that I needed to do. The rain and hailstones had stopped and it was a still, very quiet night so I just sat here, staring out of the window.

It was actually the kind of thing that became somewhat hypnotic, just sitting here watching nothing in particular in the dark, and I had a load of difficulty tearing myself away.

Eventually, though, I could go off to the bathroom to sort myself out and then come back here for bed.

Once more, I’d left the window slightly open and I just tucked my feet under the quilt with the rest of me lying on top. Not very elegant, but needs must when the devil drives.

It was about 23:30 when I finally went to bed, and I slept all the way through to … errr … 04:00. And that was that. I lay there tossing and turning and waiting until a more reasonable hour to leave the bed.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I must have been asleep because I sat bolt upright in a kind of shock. But by the time the second alarm went off, not only was I sitting on the edge of the bed but I was half-dressed too.

The temperature, by the way, was 25°C outside and 25°C also in here.

With no sign of life from next door, I sat at the computer and the first thing that I did was to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And as I said just now, that was rather a waste of time.

There were other things that needed doing, and when I was finished, there was still no movement so I had a chat session with my Welsh artificial intelligence character. The corrections are rather stilted, like a computer, but the actual chat itself is quite fluid and I am sure that I can make it work to my advantage.

At about 07:50 I heard the sound of movement from next door, so I went into the kitchen where the coffee was well under way. I served up two mugs, one for my friend and one for me, and I also served up two glasses of grapefruit juice, with one of which I took my medication.

When Isabelle the Nurse arrived, the Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t even move a muscle. He just lay there, waiting for his belly rub and his back scratch, which Isabelle duly provided. Then Isabelle the Nurse tended to me, then back to the Hound of the Baskervilles again before she finally cleared off.

Once she’d gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT while the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off yet again for walkies.

Today, we have finally finished the book. Even though our author is the only person to have excavated Portus Lemanis, he didn’t have very much at all to say about it, compared to what he had written about Richborough. I felt rather as if the television had broken down halfway through a film.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then, after having gone for a good wash and shave, I came back in here to start to pair off and segue the music for one of the radio programmes. Not that I got very far because it was midday sooner than I thought and I had to go to prepare for dialysis.

My cleaner helped by applying the anaesthetic to my arm and served me a disgusting drink. After that, I had to wait for the taxi.

This afternoon’s taxi driver had never met the Hound of the Baskervilles before, so when the latter barked with surprise, the former was out of the front door quicker than a ferret up a trouser leg. I had to dash out (as best as I could) to console him

We had someone else to pick up at Yquelon so once more we were seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed, and we were late arriving at dialysis as a result.

There was a surprise there today. We were just five in the whole building. Because of the heatwave, everyone else had been moved to the newer building where there was air-conditioning. But I didn’t mind. I had two of my favourite nurses looking after me.

And they didn’t leave me alone either. Fussing around, filling in questionnaires, and I didn’t mind a bit. I didn’t do much work but there were other compensations.

As usual, though, I was late finishing and late being unplugged, but my taxi was waiting so I could jump straight in and come home. And my driver had the aircon on too, so I was in heaven.

My welcoming committee was waiting for me when I arrived, and when I sat down at the table, a plate of pasta, vegan spaghetti bolognese and salad was pressed into my hand. It’s wonderful to have a meal cooked for you, and I enjoyed every mouthful, even if I did have to wash up afterwards;

We had a little chat and then I came in here to write up my notes. And with backache, I was in agony when I’d finished.

Just a few more things to do, and take the medication that I’ve forgotten, and then go to bed. We have things to do which should keep us out of mischief tomorrow?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Artificial Intelligence … "well, one of us has" – ed … there’s a new AI chat app made in Russia called Chatkgb.
"So what does it do?" asked my friend
"It asks the questions, and you are obliged to answer."

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Monday 25th May 2026 – THE ALARM DIDN’T …

… go off this morning.

However, there was a reason for that. At 06:29 when the alarm should have gone off, I was at my desk working. I’d switched the alarm off because there was no point in waking up the rest of the household for no good purpose.

In fact, I’d been awake since about 04:00 and, dismal failure that I am, I couldn’t go back to sleep no matter what I tried. I just lay there watching, through the gaps in the shutters, the day slowly dawning. After a while, I thought “this is ridiculous” and heaved myself out of my stinking pit.

So it’s not very often just recently that we’ve recorded an “early start”, but here we are. If I’m too tired later on, I’ll be at dialysis, of course, so if they all let me, I can catch up with my sleep this afternoon.

I suppose that I should have caught up with it last night, but as usual, I was too busy prevaricating to be doing any good about having an early night. For a start, after I’d finished work in here, I had to go into the kitchen for the medication that I’d forgotten and then sort myself out in the bathroom. It was after 23:00 when I finally made it into bed.

For a change, it didn’t take long to go to sleep, and there I lay until about 04:00, as I mentioned earlier.

So, once I was up and about and at my desk, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise, there was something on there.

I know it’s strange, but Keighan Jones, the Trefynnon goalkeeper, who was voted the best goalkeeper in Division 2 North just recently, had left Trefynnon and signed for Airbus UK Broughton and I’ve no idea why because both clubs were promoted and he’d be playing in the Premier League anyway if he had stayed, but I don’t know why he decided to leave and go to Airbus.

With this dream, it was actually rather a case of “deja vu” because he left Trefynnon to sign for Airbus a good while ago. However, being “dazed and confused” is nothing at all new around here.

Round about 07:30 or so, I heard the sound of mus … errr … movement in the kitchen so I went to join the assembled multitudes therein. And I was a couple of minutes early because the coffee wasn’t made. But when it was made, it was delicious as usual.

The nurse came along as usual, just as the Hound of the Baskervilles was dragging his master off for walkies, and they collided in the corridor. And not a yowl or bark from the aforementioned. He’s definitely become accustomed to the nurse. And it’s Isabelle the Nurse starting her week tomorrow so he should be even more happy.

The dog was quite happy too.

After the nurse left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

It seems that as far as Reculver is concerned, he carried out no excavations at all and is merely relying on second- (and in some cases, third-) hand information about the finds that have been made there. But I suspected something like this when I was reading his references to “Richard of Cirencester”.

After breakfast, I came in here and reviewed the radio programme for the forthcoming weekend. It seemed to be OK so I found a few other things to do while it took its time being sent to the radio station.

Later on, I had a really good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant later, and then my cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic. I had no idea that the time was passing so quickly. She sorted me out and then took the rubbish across to the bins. I had my disgusting drink and then made myself ready for the taxi.

By 13:00 the taxi hadn’t arrived so, seeing as it was another boiling-hot cloudless day, my friend helped me outside and we stood in the sun, and it was lovely.

The taxi turned up at 13:15 so I piled in, and then we had to go off to Sartilly for our other passenger. Consequently, it was 14:05 when we finally arrived.

As usual, I was the last in so I had to wait, and then the nurses missed their aim when trying to connect me so they had to disconnect what they had done, compress the arm for ten minutes and then start again. It was not far short of 15:00 when I was finally connected.

And this time, they forgot the cold spray so it … errr … hurt somewhat.

There was a lot to drain out today and for four hours at that rate, it was tough going. For half an hour or so, I actually managed to crash out, which was really nice, but it was, as always, at the wrong time because at that moment I had other things to do.

By the time that the session had finished and I was unplugged, compressed and weighed, it was 19:05, and so it was 19:50 when I finally arrived back.

My reception committee was waiting for me, and she helped me back into my apartment where a steaming hot curry was a-waiting. My friend seems to have worked his magic yet again and he can definitely stay as long as he likes.

When I’d finished, I put the leftovers in the freezer for another time and then did all of the washing-up. Back in here afterwards, I wrote up my notes and did everything else that needed to be done, and next I’ll be going back into the kitchen for tonight’s medication. Then I’m off to bed.

That is, if I can. I seem to have become “flavour of the month” with the Hound of the Baskervilles and, instead of being with his master, he’s now lying down, extremely relaxed, at my feet. It’s a good job that I changed my socks.

But seriously, we don’t know why he’s decided to lie down here in my room with me. I must be doing something right.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … the other day, the aforementioned was leading a pack of dogs, chasing after two rabbits.
The rabbits slid down a rabbit hole, only to find that the bottom was all blocked up and there was no way out except past the baying hound and his mates.
"What do we do now?" asked the girl rabbit.
The boy rabbit thought for a while and said "I suppose we stay here until we outnumber them."

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