Category Archives: France

Wednesday 24th July 2024 – MY LITTLE COMMENT …

… yesterday about the “Evening Sentinel” awoke a few memories.

Going back 60 years, the bus that ran between leek and Hanley on the outbound journey used to drive without stopping, past hordes of potential passengers

There were regular complaints about this and on one occasion it was brought up in a meeting of the City Council.

Being questioned on the issue, the Councillor in charge of the City’s transport, Arthur Chollerton, replied "but if the bus stopped for the passengers it would disrupt the timetable!"

70 Years ago, you could imagine the kind of scathing comment that a remark like that would have attracted in a leading local newspaper with a wide circulation.

Eighteen months ago, they re-opened a new railway line in Devon. However, they only re-opened some of the previous railway stations, despite a considerable demand for hem all to be re-opened and even some new ones built.

Se despite the fact that there were passengers ready and waiting to be carried by the train, they were being left behind.

When asked why, the result that I received was that "we couldn’t fit those stations into the timetable"

It seems that the satire of the previous couple of generations is becoming the reality of the current one, and consequently I am waiting for the day that strange women living in ponds distributing swords becomes an acceptable way of choosing your leader.

Let’s face it, compared with a system that chose Johnson, Truss, May and Trump, it can’t be any worse.

But going back to trains in Devon not stopping, one day someone will tell the train-operating companies that if the trains didn’t stop at all for passengers and ran light between different termini they would have a much better chance of keeping to time.

And once they realise that, we’re all snookered.

But to give you a better example of how screwed-up railways in the UK are, there’s a railway station at the back of Coventry City’s football ground.

At the final whistle the platform is swamped with fans trying to catch a train back to town and the train is overwhelmed. The railway company’s response – “let’s not have the train stopping there after the game. The fans can go on the bus”

Of course, why should the railway company care about passengers? It makes its money from the subsidies off the taxpayer so it couldn’t care less whether there are passengers or not.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, last night was another late night when I ended up going to bed long after 23:00. But nothing new there. It seems to be the current trend, to go to bed later and later.

But once more, once I was in bed I didn’t need much rocking at all and once I was asleep I stayed asleep, right the way through to when the alarm went off at 07:00. and it’s been a long time since that’s happened.

When the alarm went off I was being involved in the situation at Sparta Prague where they were having to be relegated for a certain reason. They’d just made a 0-0 draw with a Polish team in the European Cup but something had obviously gone wrong and I was in the middle of trying to sort it out and untangle it when the alarm went off.

Don’t ask me what I’d be doing with Sparta Prague because they haven’t come up in any conversation any time. As for “a Polish Team”, Caernarfon are to play against Legia Warzawa in the next round of the Europa League

So having had a good wash and transcribed the dictaphone notes, such as they were, I waited for the nurse to arrive.

When he turned up he saw to m legs and then attended to my arm. Even though it hurts and is quite tender, he didn’t have anything to say about its condition. So no news is good news as far as I’m concerned.

After he left I had my breakfast and then Liz came on line so we had a chat. And it was a Rosemaryesque chat too, that went on for one hour and twenty minutes. But it was different in that we actually had a lot to discuss. It wasn’t just an aimless, meandering chat.

So having sorted out a few things Liz wandered off for a coffee and I started work.

One of the things that I’ve been doing is to download and reformat a couple of concerts from a Canadian group called “Black Mountain” (thanks, Amber). They featured at a Hawkfest a while back and they recorded a live concert for German television

Despite everything, I’m trying to add to my repertoire of concerts and other live recordings, and I’m trying to encourage other artists to send me recordings of their concerts. It’s my aim to broadcast them on the radio on the anniversary of their taking place.

There’s still a lot of good music out there somewhere but it is difficult to find.

And then I’ve been choosing music for another radio programme and have even begun to write up the notes. Let’s crack on while I still can.

My cleaner came round today and we had a good chat. I’d actually finished my tac return so I gave it to her to post next time she’s at the Post Office. She also told me something about what is (or isn’t) happening downstairs and which confirms a suspicion that I’ve had for a while.

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry with naan, and the naan was perfection itself. I seem to have found the knack of making those now which is quite satisfying.

So now I’m off to bed, later than expected. I scratched my leg earlier and you wouldn’t believe the amount of blood that went everywhere. I’ve had to plaster myself up and wash the floor of the office round by where I sit.

My leg is still bleeding now, about an hour after it started. But with the blood being so thin what do you expect?

It does remind me of the time a short-tempered doctor and a nurse with only an imperfect grasp of English went to see the patient in the next bed to me who had come in from a road accident.
"The patient, nurse. How is he?"
"Him footballer at Crewe Alexandra" replied the nurse. "Him bleeding terrible"
"Never mind his qualifications" roared the doctor "How’s his condition?"

Tuesday 23rd July 2024 – THESE LATE NIGHTS …

… and early mornings are slowly beginning to catch up with me.

After all, I can’t keep on going to bed at midnight and getting up at … gulp … 06:15 night after night and morning after morning without something giving in the middle.

This evening I should have been searching for an anonymous VPN somewhere to which I could have connected the computer so that I could have watched Ferencvaros v TNS but I was simply too tired to concentrate on what I was doing.

That’s a shame because in order to enable me to do it I’d rushed through the evening’s chores and had tea prepared and cooked on the tray ready to eat all within 28 minutes flat and if that’s not a record in recent times, I don’t know what is.

Actually, it wasn’t midnight when I went to bed last night. It might not actually have been 23:00 but it was a much more reasonable time nevertheless

And I was asleep quite quickly too. I don’t seem to need much rocking these days once STRAWBERRY MOOSE has tucked me up and read the bedtime story

However, I was awake yet again at some kind of silly hour. By 06:15 I’d given up any thought of going back to sleep and was actually up and about yet again.

After I’d had a wash and a shave I came back in here to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And what I dictated, verbatim, was Round about the early part of the morning I awoke from quite a deep sleep. A picture rolled into my mind that I needed to go to hospital to have my bandage re-fixed because it had slipped. However the district nurse managed to make it look a little better. When I went to hospital the first thing that they did was to ask me about the dressing so I explained what was happening about it so they set to to undo it to have a closer look. They had actually taken all of the bandage off before I was able to turn round on my heels all the way to the (… fell asleep here …)
So whatever is the significance of all that, I don’t know.

Next task was to write a letter.

Well, it wasn’t actually. It was to track down the siège social or “registered office” of a certain company and the name of its Director General. And then to write a letter.

It concerns the affairs at this hospital last week. I’ve decided to fight the good fight at the top of the tree by writing not to the hospital but to the Director General of the company.

Not that it will do much good. I don’t expect any results or anything at all to change, but seeing as I don’t have a spleen to vent these days, I have to find other ways of expressing my displeasure

The nurse was in a rush this morning. He gave me my injection, dealt with my legs and that was basically it. He didn’t hang around much at all.

But I wish that he’d put things away when he’s finished with them. My life is totally chaotic and disorganised and the only way that I can cope is by having a place for everything and everything in its place.

If something isn’t where it’s supposed to be or where I expect it to be, then I’m sunk. I can fall into some enormous depths of chaos totally on my own without any help from anyone else.

After he left I had a leisurely breakfast and then came in here for a nice, slow start to the day.

There’s been some good news this morning, which is nice, because as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

The recorded devilry letter to my tenant telling her that the lease isn’t to be renewed has been delivered and the receipt returned to the agent. And so it’s official that, barring any last-minute hiccups, I shall take possession in about 10 months time.

Mind you, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, there’s many a slip ‘twixt cup and lip. “Never be sure of the bird on your plate until you have your fork stuck in it”. I’ll believe all of this when I’m actually unlocking the front door with the genuine set of keys.

Although I feel bad about ending someone’s tenancy, it has to be said that firstly, if a property is offered for sale it has to be offered first to the sitting tenant. It’s changed hands twice since she’s been in there so she’s had two chances to buy it.

Secondly, this apartment in which I’m sitting right now is more-or-less identical to the one downstairs, apart from the 25 Steps it takes to climb up to it, and I have offered to swap accommodation so that she can move in here, but she’s turned down that opportunity

Once I’d come round into the Land of the Living I carried on with where I’d left off with the notes for the final radio programme that I dictated on Saturday night.

That’s all done now, the programme is prepared, the final track has been chosen and the notes for that written ready to dictate on Saturday night.

It took me long enough but I wasn’t in a hurry, and besides, I had a little … errrr … relax here and there while I was doing it.

Making tea tonight was a mad scramble to be ready in time for kick-off. Nevertheless my rice and taco roll were cooked to perfection and were delicious. But I couldn’t concentrate on trying to configure the computer for the football.

However we did end up with a football match, and what a match it was.

One of the biggest rivalries in football is in Ireland between Dundalk and Drogheda. Drogheda are bottom of the table, having been soundly beaten by Dundalk a short while ago in a match that triggered off all kinds of nonsense reminiscent of the worst days of the 1970s

And so we had the Irish Cup, where Drogheda were at home to … errr … Dundalk.

With a whole town itching for revenge in a packed cauldron of a stadium with an atmosphere you could cut with a knife this game was played at 100 miles per hour and ended with Drogheda having their revenge, winning 2-1.

The Dundalk fans were contained within the stadium by an enormous force of police until long after the Drogheda fans had dispersed and so the worst excesses of the previous match were avoided.

Which was a shame because it’s much more exciting when most of the action takes place on the terraces. We all need more passion in our lives. I know that I do.

There was something else that I saw earlier this afternoon that reminded me of the 1970s.

This modern habit of “playing the ball out of defence” that has led to more loss of possession and more goals conceded than I could ever imagine has been getting on my nerves this last couple of years.

But this afternoon I watched the highlights of a Scottish Cup game between Spartans and Bonnyrigg Rose where we had two goalkeepers really travelling back in time, launching enormous clearances out of their own penalty area into the opponents’ penalty area.

Modern players have forgotten, or never learned, how to deal with this kind of tactic and there was all kinds of chaos going on at the back. Nothing wrong with a return to the good old days of 6’5″ Ross Jack of Crystal Palace leading the line against battle-hardened centre-halves like Ian Ure and Gordon McQueen

So on that note I’m off to bed. It’s too dark for any more football anyway.

But that reminds me of the time Port Vale moved to their new ground at Burslem in the mid-1950s and they had their floodlights installed – one of the first grounds in England to have floodlights.
They wanted to have some sort of showcase occasion to celebrate the switching-on of their new floodlights and, according to the headlines in next day’s Evening Sentinel "Neighbours Stoke City did the honours with a match"

Monday 22nd July 2024 – I HAVE NO IDEA …

… what on earth is going on right now with my flaming body.

It’s quite obvious that whatever time I decide to go to bed, it’s making no difference whatsoever.

For example, last night I FINALLY made it into bed at something like a reasonable time

However, I was wide awake at 05:15 (not OUT OF MY BRAIN ON THE TRAIN unfortunately) and up and about at 05:45, long before the alarm went off at 07:00.

You really can’t make up a story quite like this.

To complicate matters further, although I did crash out this afternoon at one point, it was for just about 20 minutes or so, not several hours like on Saturday.

So I dunno. But I wish that I did.

Last night I’m not quite sure what happened either because for some reason or other I’d finished everything that I’d needed to finish by 22:10 and that’s certainly a new departure for me. As a result, I had a leisurely stroll through the evening and at 23:00 I was already tucked up in bed with STRAWBERRY MOOSE

It didn’t take me long to drop off to sleep either which was also nice. But regrettably, I was soon awake again, as I mentioned earlier.

There’s no point lying in bed tossing and turning and being unable to sleep. I may as well be sitting on my chair unable to sleep watching Clyde stuff five goals past a hapless Edinburgh City at Meadowbank. That’s not exactly productive either but with a mug of instant coffee for a change, it was rather nice.

At the final whistle I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was working in a design bureau, working on some kind of design for a hovercraft. We’d had some kind of office party the previous evening and everyone had had quite a lot to drink and it had all passed off really well. This afternoon they sent me to tidy up. I began to collect up bits of drinks etc and taking them downstairs for people to finish off. Someone noticed that there was a bottle missing. It was the Nuits St George wine that someone had brought. I said “if it’s that ‘Jeux Sans Frontières’ stuff I didn’t bring that down because it was pretty awful rubbish” and everyone agreed with me. They all wanted to know what was happening with a bottle of Special Brew lager that I’d brought down. I discreetly, but with a bit of a show to give them a bit of a laugh, smuggled that up to my desk. One of the girls there looked at one of her colleagues and said "that ought to make his hovercraft go a little faster".

Apart from the fact that it’s been over 30 years since I last drank any alcohol and it will be another 30 years at least before the next one, working in a design bureau on a hovercraft is yet another string to my rather comprehensive night-time bow. But anyone who knows anything at all about me will know that it’s a total waste of everyone’s time expecting me to tidy up anything anywhere, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall

I’m not sure if I’ve dictated this … "you didn’t" – ed … but we had some kind of office meeting that ended up as a football match between two teams. It was quite fiercely contested but at the end it was a 2-2 draw. While this had been going on there had been some tidying up in the office. Someone found some files that should not have been there – they should have been filed away in the ‘distrained’ for years. They’d been extracted from the main run and were waiting to be taken downstairs to the storeroom. While I was there I volunteered to go to do that. That caused a few raised eyebrows because there was a Government propaganda film on at that time too that we had to watch. Downstairs, I found that all the cupboards had been locked and, even worse, the handles had been taken away so that you couldn’t open the door (… fell asleep here …) it was some kind of murderer

And putting things away too? I don’t understand this, just as I don’t understand the significance of the final couple of words. I’ve obviously missed something somewhere.

(I found myself dictating into my hand again). I needed some work doing. A company came and gave me a quote but they needed to record my bank account details it wasn’t possible to do so I told them to make a charge of £5:00 and I’d pay it with my credit card. That way the card details would be entered on the file and they’d be there ready for use. On the final invoice, make a deduction for the £5:00 that I’d paid at the start. That way everything would be all nicely arranged. They’d have all of my details on the file anyway which I thought was an easy way of resolving the situation but for some reason they wanted to make it much more complicated than it ought to have been for this question of the £5:00 and the question of the bank account details.

The simplest solutions are quite often the best, but sometimes they seem to be the most complicated for some people. But in this respect, I suppose I ought to begin thinking about the work that I need doing on the apartment downstairs, like the bath ripping out and a walk-in shower installing. Only about 10 months and if the agents have done their job, I can move in.

When the nurse came round he organised me quite quickly which was difficult because there was a lot to do. He thinks that this wound in my arm is weeping blood but it’s clean and not going septic so there’s no cause to worry.

However, I suppose that that’s why the hospital wants it checked every couple of days.

On that subject, there’s going to be some kind of “issue” tomorrow. I’ve had a letter inviting me for an appointment wit ths surgeon – at that private hospital. And as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I have vowed never to put a single foot on the premises of that maudit établissement ever again.

So tomorrow I’m going to ring him up to tell him, and to tell him why. Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice, shame on me.

After the nurse left I had breakfast and then a leisurely start to the day.

Once I’d awoken properly I made a start on the fourth of the five lots of dictation that I did on Saturday night. That’s now completely edited, the programme is assembled, the final track is chosen and the notes for it written, awaiting dictation.

And then I waded into the fifth one and that’s over halfway through. Hopefully I can finish that by tomorrow lunchtime and I can get on with other things. I have something in mind for this week that’s quite exciting.

My cleaner stuck her head in here to drop off the letter from the hospital and for a chat. She seems to be quite cheerful and perky today which is good news.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with pasta and veg. And I think that at some point this week I may have to send off a food order. supplies are holding up but you can never allow yourself to run short when you are in no position yourself to go and stock up.

So let’s see if I can have a decent sleep tonight and a nice lie-in tomorrow morning

Not much chance of that though. I’ll have to keep on bashing away at this until I move downstairs. And then I’m going to buy the biggest microwave oven that I can find.
"why would you want to do that?" – ed
"So that I can put my bed in it. That way I can have my eight hours sleep in just twenty minutes."

Sunday 21st July 2024 – AFTER YESTERDAY’S LITTLE …

… commotion, it’s been a much better day today.

To my surprise, and probably yours as well, I didn’t actually fall asleep once. Not even for a minute.

And not only that, firstly it was a late night again last night and I was actually up and about early this morning before the alarm went off.

So don’t ask me what’s going on because I don’t have a clue.

Last night after I’d finished writing up my notes I set about dictating some radio notes. For two programmes there were just the notes for the additional tracks but then in a mad fit of enthusiasm I dictated no fewer than three lots of completed notes.

One of them was complicated by the fact that there was a track in there that shouldn’t have been. It seems that I copied and pasted it into the wrong place several weeks ago and had been looking for it ever since.

Well, I’m glad that I found it.

When I finished dictating I slowly unwound and then eventually headed off to my nice warm bed. And I can’t say that I was sorry to hit the hay because regardless of how comfortable my chair here might be, there is absolutely no substitute for being underneath the quilt on my lovely mattress.

As you might expect, it took an age to drop off to sleep but I wasn’t too concerned as long as I was in the warm. But sleep I must have done eventually because I awoke with a start at about 07:30.

With an 08:00 alarm on Sundays I had half an hour to wait but instead I raised myself from the dead and set about sorting myself out. There was even time to check the dictaphone before the nurse came. Joining the list of unlikely heroes is Richard Jones. When he came onto the field his only contribution was touching the ball once and saying “it’s OK” but the fact is that that touch of the ball has been crucial and he’s just won the game for his club – coming on as substitute, touching the ball once and that was it. We could do with a few more subs like that I should say throughout the year to be going on with.

This dream about this footballer went on and on. I must have dreamed it about three or four times because it was still circulating around later on when I awoke, so I’ve no idea why it would be such a thing of significance at all. It seems pretty strange to me.

There was something too about me having an idea for a Gothic horror novel and trying to contact an established female author who wrote that kind of thing so that I could tell her my ideas and she could help me prepare something. I eventually tracked her down and we arranged to meet. Unfortunately when we met she was on her way somewhere else and didn’t have very much time. I could only give her the briefest outline of what was in my mind and she could only give me the briefest reply. I felt in all honesty that it had been something of a waste of time, this meeting, which was a shame because I would have liked to have discussed my idea at great length with her in order to give her an opportunity to consider it and then come back to me to prepare a plan but by the sound of things, after this brief meeting nothing at all like this will ever happen. I felt really disappointed

And quite honestly if I had a good idea about a story I wouldn’t be hawking it around anywhere. I’d be writing it myself. In fact at the moment I have several ideas for good stories but regrettably they won’t ever be written. I only have so much time and all of that is dedicated to other things.

The nurse was late this morning. She was pleased to see clean puttees but not so pleased to see the tangled mess that the bandage on my arm had become. Of course I blamed it on STRAWBERRY MOOSE which will have to do. IN the olden days I’d blame things like that on the cat.

After she left I had breakfast and then watched Stranraer lose gracefully 3-0 against Hamilton Academicals in the Scottish League Cup

In fact, we had something of a footfest throughout the day as other clubs posted online the highlights of their cup games. No exciting or unexpected results though which was a shame.

The rest of the day has been spent editing the radio notes that I dictated. The notes for the two “additional tracks” have been edited and those programmes have now been prepared. That takes me up to 27th December incidentally.

And then I edited the first of the three longer notes and prepared the programme as far as I could. I’ve worked out how long the 11th track needs to be, chosen it and remixed it, and written the notes for it. I’ll do the other two during the course of the week.

Yes, I’m cracking on with this. I need to leave behind me a nice big batch ready for broadcasting after I’ve gone.

After my salad sandwich for lunch I took some pizza dough out of the freezer and it had been defrosting during the afternoon. I kneaded it and rolled it out this evening and made myself a delicious pizza. The dough rose beautifully to help me make one of the best pizzas that I have ever made.

So now I’m off to bed. It’s the male nurse again starting tomorrow. Isabelle is on her week off. So what is he going to find that’s wrong, I wonder.

There is of course some kind of upset going on here with the nurses. My neighbour asked the nurse "what do you think I should do about this mole that’s suddenly appeared on my cheek?"
"Don’t worry about it" replied the nurse. "Next time you go outside it’ll find its way back to its burrow."

Saturday 20th July 2024 – I’VE HAD ANOTHER …

… horrible, miserable, depressing afternoon curled up on my chair in the office fast asleep, totally out of this World and I’m totally fed up of all of this as well.

It’s reaching the state where I just can’t seem to accomplish anything, because I’m either too tired or fast asleep. And there’s so much that I have to do with so little time left to do it and I’m going to run out long before I’m ready to go.

It’s not as if I’m having any devastatingly late nights that are making me this tired. It’s quite true that being in bed by my target time of 23:00 is more of an ambition than a reality, but it’s not as if it’s 02:00 or 03:00, or anything like that.

And then, if I were so tired, why would I awaken at 06:00 and 06:15? Surely the situation would be that when the alarm goes off at 07:00 I couldn’t find what it takes for me to leave my bed.

In fact, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s not unusual for me to be up and about before the alarm goes off.

Last night was another night that was later than I would have liked – but not all that late. And once more, it didn’t take long for me to go to sleep once I was curled up under the quilt.

And there I stayed until the alarm went off at 07:00. Mind you, I had awoken at 06:15 but thought “sod that for a game of soldiers” and curled up under the quilt again for a final 45 minutes.

When the alarm went off I went into the bathroom for a wash, and then washed some of my clothes – the shorts that I wear in bed, my trousers and my undies. I try to hand-wash stuff like this on a regular basis to keep up the habit.

Years spent living out of a suitcase have taught me the necessity of keeping o top of the washing when I can.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I had a summer job on a farm. Basically, they’d given me a Series I Land Rover, an ancient thing that was dropping to bits, to run around, fetch and carry stuff all over the farm and all over the neighbourhood. I was having a great time that summer doing all of that. It came down to the last day. I’d parked up the Land Rover, found everyone and went to say “goodbye”. I asked them where they put the diesel. They replied “in the tank down at the bottom of the yard but they didn’t have the time to do it at the moment”. They asked me where the diesel was. I replied “in the tank of the Land Rover”. We had a chat, and the subject of the Land Rover came up. They said that they were going to scrap it. I told them that I thought that a crazy idea to scrap it. Even if they daren’t risk running the Land Rover around on the road with no tax, no insurance and no MoT, running around the big farm that they have from one end to the other a Land Rover is an ideal vehicle for that. But there was some guy with some ancient 1940s saloon who was doing pretty much the same thing, he looked rather distressed at the idea that they’d scrap his saloon instead but I said that there’s nothing better than a Land Rover for this kind of work, fetching and carrying around a farm. In the end I said my goodbyes and set off for the railway station on foot. I thought to myself “what a really good summer I’ve had doing this”.

In actual fact I did have a Summer job working on a farm back in 1972. After our school exams finished, we were excused attendance so while we were waiting for the results I found a job on the harvesting. Hardest work that I ever did but at 18 you can do it, and I was saving up money, desperately, because once I had my results in my sweaty little mitt I was escaping from that madhouse in which I’d been living. I preferred to take my chances in the big wild World. I ended up in Chester working in an insurance company with a little bedsit in Hoole, and I was incredibly happy, as well as being totally broke.

When Isabelle came I passed on the congratulations from the clinic yesterday for what she and my cleaner had done to my arm. She checked the wound and changed the dressing again, and then dealt with my legs. She told me off about the state of my puttees and ordered (yes, ordered) me to prepare the clean ones for tomorrow, and gave instructions on the best way to clean these ones

after she left, I had breakfast, and then had a busy morning, which was just as well seeing as how the rest of the day panned out.

The radio programme on which I’d been working was first, and I finished that off and that’s all ready for dictation at some point (minus the final track of course)

Next task was something that I’d been meaning to do for a while, and that was to unwrap the Genz-Benz.

When I was in Ottawa I saw a beautiful 200-watt Genz-Benz bass combo in a pawn shop and fell in love. It was on sale for peanuts and at the time I had aspirations of going back on the road, so it found its way into the back of Strider.

Of course, Canada is over so there was no point in leaving it there so when I was in Canada in 2022 I wrapped it up and posted it to Rosemary. She brought it up the other week and it’s been sitting in its protective coating in a corner of the apartment ever since.

So now it’s unpacked and it looks just as beautiful as it did in 2019 when I saw it. Unfortunately, the voltage selector has been blanked off so I can’t switch it to 230 volt, and so I was tracking down a power transformer on line. I’ll have to wait a little longer to listen to how beautiful it sounds when I can run the Gibson EB3 through it.

This led to a little tidying up and rearrangement of the apartment, and a desperate search for a power cable because it seems that the one that was with it has been lost somewhere in transit which is a shame.

One thing is certain though, that is if I ever want any packaging doing ever again, a combination of my niece’s husband, Rosemary and Mr Ukrainian would be totally unbeatable.

For lunch I had a salad sandwich made with my beautiful fresh bread. My loaf yesterday is an absolute masterpiece and is by far and away the best bread that I’ve ever made. Apart from the fact that my mould is somewhat flexible and makes strange-shaped bread, this loaf would pass muster with the best shop-bought bread.

It was at this point that everything started to go South, and with all of the things that I have to do, I jus slept. I managed to make it into the kitchen for my mid-afternoon hot chocolate but I was soon back to sleep again where I stayed until 19:00.

Tea tonight was baked potato with vegan salad and one of my favourite breadcrumbed quornburgers that I like.

So now my puttees are soaking in warm water as per Isabelle’s instructions and the clean ones are rolled up waiting for the morning. I’m in my clean shorts about to do some dictation before I go to bed

That’s enough about today. Here’s hoping for a better day tomorrow. But let’s see where I get to with these radio notes. I can’t dictate more than a couple of programmes as my voice starts to break up after a while.

With these bad throats I have to be careful about the medicine that I take. Lemon juice used to be recommended but it’s fallen into disrepute after the incident at the Catholic School, the Blessed John Sheard High School, in Crewe a while back.
One of the girls went into the Mother Superior’s office and said "Mother Superior! Mother Superior! I think that I’m pregnant. What can I do?"
"You can suck the juice of six lemons" replied the Mother Superior
"Will that stop me being pregnant?" asked the girl
"No" replied the Mother Superior "but it’ll wipe that silly smile off your face!"

Friday 19th July 2024 – "SMILE!" THEY SAID.

"things could be worse!"

And so I smiled. And sure enough, things were worse.

It’s difficult to believe just how things are unravelling here right at the moment. Getting ready for bed last night after finishing my notes, I fell over.

It was another one of these “falling over backwards” things like I had in the kitchen the other day. This time though it was in the bedroom.

What is hard to believe and it’s true all the same, that despite all of the rubbish, mess, guitars and everything that clutter up this place, I actually hit the ground on my back without hitting anything on the way down. And the chances of that happening must have been extremely remote, to say the least.

It took me about half an hour to make it to my feet. Some kind of weird gyration from a sitting position into being able to crawl onto the bed with the aid of a well-stuffed suitcase as some kind of half-way step

But what a state to get into. I had visions of pulling the quilt down and sleeping on top of the carpet until Isabelle the nurse would rescue me in the morning.

However I struggled back upright, finished what I had to do and then rather happily crawled into bed with a sigh of relief.

After all of the exertions I was totally surprised to be wide awake at about 06:15 and I was actually up and about before the alarm went off

This morning I had a good wash and scrub up as well as a shave and change of clothes if I’m going out. And then waiting for Isabelle the nurse, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was with my taxis last night. We had a town, we had a plot of land so we decided that we’d set up something there and run the taxis from it. I had a nice little garage and a couple of cars but while I was talking about setting up everything I awoke in the middle of it and lost all of the momentum in the dream that I was having which was a shame

Not really a shame. I might have enjoyed running a taxi business 40 years ago but the gloss soon wore off and I wouldn’t go back to doing it again, not even during a dream, thank you very much.

And then I was expecting to slip into the estate of a relative of mine who was dying. What was important about this was that there had been another relative who had died under mysterious circumstances abroad and his body had been in a deep-freeze for years while people argued about where he was to go and what he was to do etc. I suspected that the British Coroner was unwilling to accept the body because he’d have to perform a post-mortem on it. There had been this huge campaign for years to bring this person’s body and that of several other people in similar circumstances, to bring them home and lay them to rest. The first thing that I did when I inherited the estate was to contact some firm of undertakers and make arrangements for this body to be brought back to the UK. I was expecting to be besieged by the Press and by news reporters but no-one actually came to visit me last night about this. The only person who set foot on my premises was my brother and I didn’t really know what he wanted. It was certainly nothing to do with this particular thing but after all the fuss and bother that had been made when the relative who died had refused to repatriate the relative from abroad, the fact that I issued repatriation instructions immediately that I took over the estate and that passed unnoticed, it was totally bizarre.

My greatest wish is that no-one repatriates me to the UK. I own a burial plot in the cemetery at Ixelles in Brussels where Marianne is interred but I don’t want to go there either. I want to be put in a natural cemetery and a tree planted on top of me. That’s how I shall live for ever – being absorbed into the roots of a tree that will grow and grow.

Finally I was living at home and wanted a bath so I stuck my head in the bathroom. My little sister was in the bath and my two younger brothers were drying themselves so I thought “never mind – I’ll have a bath again”. I went off to do something or other. On the way back I heard some noise in the bathroom so I went to see. Now my sister had left the bath so I thought “ahh, here’s a bath full of water free”. My brother said “the shower by the way is totally useless but the bath is wonderful” so I thought “I’m really looking forward to getting into the bath at last and having a good wash. I certainly need one”.

Ahhh the good old days – all in the bath, oldest first while the water is hotter. If we are lucky there might be a bit of hot water left in the baby burco water boiler – careful not to scald yourself when you pour it into the bucket and tip it into the bath.

All the smaller kids in the bath together. “ohh look, a bubble-bath” – yes, it was baked beans on toast for tea

Apart from the fact that I don’t have two brothers, anyone who goes on about “the good old days” will receive a smack in the mouth. There was nothing whatever that was good about them.

Isabelle was late coming. There’s all kinds of chaos going on all over the place this morning apparently. She didn’t wait around long because she was in a hurry so she cleared off quickly and I had a rather late breakfast.

The taxi was late coming too. All of their computing system and radio control has broken down and they are driving around with pencil and notepad with a list of jobs. Just like back in the 1960s before radio control in fact. Nothing seems to be working this morning.

They were all working at the Nephrology Clinic – at least, the people who saw me were. Unfortunately Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there to soothe my fevered brow but her sidekick was and I told him my tale of woe about being held to ransom at the clinic down the road.

He had the decency to be upset and apologetic, but I made it quite clear that I wasn’t going to set even one foot ever again in that maudit établissement

And it turned out that while Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there, she’d been talking about me to the others and some of my little secrets are now in the public domain.

Still, there’s only one thing worse than being talked about, and that’s NOT being talked about. It’s nice to know that Emilie the Cute Consultant thinks that I’m worth talking about.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … Nephrology Clinic, the consultant there admired the work that my cleaner and Isabelle the nurse had done. He considered that I’m lucky in having such good and attentive people around me.

There’s localised swelling but the wound itself is healing, it’s not septic and he’s pleased with the progress.

He can’t explain the panic the other night because there were no obvious signs. If we hadn’t imagined it, which I assured him that we hadn’t, he reckoned that my little team of helpers had resolved everything on the spot in the nick of time.

While I was waiting for my taxi back his secretary went off in search of an orange juice. And just as she came back with apple juice, the taxi arrived.

On getting in I texted my cleaner to say that we were on our way back, only for him to announce that we had other pick-ups.

So eventually with a full car of passengers we headed back to Granville. The driver asked if he could practise his English on the way home so we had a very interesting chat on the way home

Back here I had a salad for lunch and then came in here where I promptly crashed out. And how. I was dead to the World. I hadn’t even noticed that my cleaner had been and gone.

Rosemary rang me for a chat and it must have been a very strange chat at first as I struggled to awaken.

After she’d finished I had my hot chocolate and then made a loaf of bread. While that was proofing i made some naan dough

And then I could finally have the leftover curry that I should have had on Wednesday.

Tomorrow I have lots of work to to, catching up with radio stuff. I should have finished off that radio programme today but what with one thing and another I didn’t.

So don’t forget, Saturday night, my Hawkfest at LE BOUQUET GRANVILLAIS at 21:00 CET, 20:00 UK Time, 15:00 Toronto time.

But thinking of all of the kids in the bath together reminds me of the noble Lord being attended to at his bath by his manservant, Wibble.
Suddenly the noble Lord breaks wind in the water. And the manservant dashes off and comes back with a hot water bottle.
"Why have you brought that?" asked the noble Lord
"You asked for it, My Lord" said Wibble
"I asked for it?"
"Yes, my Lord" replied Wibble. "I heard you clearly. You said ‘what about a water bottle, Wibble’ "

Thursday 18th July 2024 – LAST NIGHT I FINISHED …

… my notes with "Which way did it go?"

So which way did the early night that I promised myself go last night?

It ended up being long after midnight with the cleaner and I mopping up blood yet again and I tell you that I’m thoroughly sick of all this.

When I took off my jacket while undressing there was a blood-soaked bulge on my arm where a plaster was supposed to be. Of course I’m not touching anything like that (I really am nesh) so in the end my loyal cleaner came down.

It’s really lucky that she’s here. She has all of the first-aid certificates and the like so she was able to clean everything up, inspect the arm, consider that there was no real damage and bandage it up again.

It took her long enough but she did a really professional job and bound it round with a long strip wrap to hold everything in place until the morning so that at least I wouldn’t bleed to death during the night.

After all of that I could go to bed.

But not to sleep. I wasn’t in the mood which was hardly any surprise. All in all, things were pretty miserable and there was nothing on the dictaphone of course. Zero didn’t come back to continue part II of our voyage which was a disappointment.

When the alarm went off I staggered into the bathroom and a cursory inspection showed no signs of anything unusual or out-of-the-ordinary, no trails of blood anywhere so I had a good wash and came back in here to wait for the nurse.

When she came, she had a look at my arm. She changed the dressing, commented on the good job that my cleaner had made, and remarked that she thought that my wrist was swollen.

She did a check of my fingers to make sure that everything moved as it should but she still wasn’t satisfied. She urged me to contact the hospital as soon as she left.

Not quite as soon as she left though. I wasn’t going to do without my breakfast.

When I was sipping a mug of coffee afterwards I rang them up. Apparently the surgeon is only there on Tuesdays, but his secretary will tell him that I called with a problem. So I can’t see what use this “24-hour number” is to anyone.

Meanwhile, the nurse called me She’d had the same irrelevant response when she phoned them so she went to see my doctor who has his office in the same building where she is.

He’s away on holiday, of course he will be at a time like this, but he has a locum and she will come round at lunchtime.

Meanwhile, my cleaner came round. She’d brought back more supplies, and wanted to know how I was getting on so I gave her the good news.

This locum – the first thing that she did when she came round was to hold my hand and feel my pulse. And I’ll tell you – she can hold my hand and feel my pulse any time she likes.

She thinks that my wrist is running a temperature but she didn’t want to disturb any of the bandaging as there doesn’t seem to be a problem as far as that goes.

She made several ‘phone calls, gave me a couple of phone numbers that are more likely to produce a response than the one that failed so miserably, and told me that if all else fails I mustn’t hesitate to telephone the emergency services.

She then wrote out a prescription for yet more dressings, which my cleaner came down to fetch.

An hour or so after everyone had gone and come back, I had a ‘phone call.

The neurosurgeon’s secretary called me. "we’ve heard from your doctor" she said. "We’re all quite concerned here. Can you come tomorrow at 11:30 to see the neurosurgeon and have an echograph?"

So that’s the taxi booked for 10:45 then. I wonder at just what point the Social Services will become fed up of paying for me to go gallivanting across northern France at the taxpayer’s expense.

In between all of this I’ve been trying to prepare a radio programme. I’m chosen all of the music, paired it off and begun to write the notes.

Not that I’ve gone very far, and I could have done much more had it not been for a little wobble at one point. But with no sleep last night it’s hardly a surprise.

There’s been no food tonight either except a bag of crisps and some biscuits. I’ve been watching the football, and watching hearts break all over Europe

Caernarfon clung on to win through to the next round but Bala were cruelly denied progress by a very late goal in Estonia and Connah’s Quay in Wales by two very late goals, one right at the end of normal time to be pegged back and then a killer punch right at the end of extra time.

But the fact is that there’s a wealth of difference between teams in Europe and teams in the UK, in style of play and in temperament too.

British teams tend to ride their luck instead of relying on technique and fitness. There’s too much of the “it’ll be all right on the night” about them.

When I interviewed Granville’s manager a while back about fitness levels between full-time teams and part-time teams, I brought up the subject of part-time teams running out of steam.

He poo-pooed the idea, and then Granville conceded three very late goals after matching Olympique de Marseille toe-to-toe for 75 minutes.

After tonight’s results, I’m more-than-ever convinced that there’s something in what I said to him and one day I’ll produce some statistics.

But not tonight because I’m going to bed in the hope of a decent sleep and some pleasant dreams, preferably in the company of Zero if she comes back after the other night.

But on the subject of statistics, and vital statistics at that,; I remember a civil servant friend of mine who went to buy a new bra for his wife
"what size, sir?" asked the shop assistant
"Sixteen and a half" he said
"Sixteen and a half?" repeated the shop assistant, rather puzzled
"That’s right" said the customer "My bowler hat is size eight and a quarter …"

Wednesday 17th July 2024 – I CAN’T BELIEVE …

… the nerve, or cheek of some people.

Highway robbery at the point of a pistol is a fairly common phenomenon, but highway robbery at the point of a card reader is something else again.

But anyway, more of that anon. Retournons à nos moutons as they say around here. Where was I?

Ohh yes, finishing off my bread and carrot purée and going to bed.

But not to sleep, unfortunately. It was a long, long night listening to my neighbour snoring away and waiting for the inevitable 06:00 stampede as the nightshift dashes to finish off its tasks before the day shift comes on at 07:00.

They gave me a diabetes check and it went off the scale, so no orange juice for me which was a shame. But I’m convinced that their reader must be wrong. How could it be off the scale when I’ve had next-to-nothing to eat for 36 hours?

After breakfast (which included jam despite the diabetes check) a doctor came to see me. She didn’t have much to say for herself but I managed to winkle out of her that I’d be leaving at 10:30

With that news I contacted my faithful cleaner but she told me that she wouldn’t be home until 13:00. And so I asked the staff here if I could postpone my departure but I was told in no uncertain terms to sod off and like it.

With that news I sat down to transcribe the dictaphone notes from the night while I was waiting. Some doctor here was looking for an e-mail about my health but he’d filed it away somewhere on line and when he’d gone to fetch it back it had disappeared so he was found rounding up all of his colleagues to come and look, to see whether any of them could help to try to find out how to fetch it back

That sounds about right for “cloud” storage systems. Everyone else can access the document except the person who posted it there. I’m afraid that I still favour the old traditional method of copying to USB key. There’s one plugged into this computer into which I back up every night, and there’s a “travelling key” on my keyring that I use for moving documents about between the big desktop machine and the portable that I take with me when I go anywhere.

And then Zero had come to see me during the night. She was in something of a bad mood, saying that she had to go to see the physiotherapist a week on Monday. Her step-father insisted, so I wanted to find out why. She told me that it was to fetch the results, the “results” she said in inverted commas, so I imagined that it was something to do with an incident that had happened a couple of weeks earlier in respect of which a complaint had been lodged. I thought that this was going to be the decisive moment but for some reason or other she was clearly not happy at all about having to go and I couldn’t understand why

How lovely to see Zero again after all this time. Wasn’t it nice of her to come to see me? But it wasn’t very nice to see an unhappy Zero, that’s for sure. I much prefer the lovely smiling face, puffy cheeks, green flashing eyes and all those miles of vibrant red hair. But a “step-father”? What’s become of her real dad? That’s worth a story all by itself. I wonder if I’ll have part two of this episode any time soon.

While all of this was going on, someone from the admin office came to see me and asked about my Health Insurance. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I don’t have the State insurance system. I have a private health insurance paid for by the European Commission so I gave them the form and also a copy of the form that they can use to seek direct billing.

The above is quite important, as you’ll see as the story unfolds.

The taxi turned up for me bang on time so we went to the Admissions Office to collect the paperwork for leaving, and this was where I was “held up” with the card reader

"That’s One thousand five hundred and seventy two Euros and 68 cents please"

"You have my Health Insurance details there" I said "and a form to apply for direct billing"

"It’s an assurance that I don’t recognise" (like, the European Union and she doesn’t recognise it) "so you’ll have to pay"

She was totally and utterly intransigent, apart from being too utterly bone-idle to scan my documents and send them off.

So eventually I made it home and as the taxi driver was helping me up the 25 Steps the phone rang. It was Isabelle the nurse. She’d heard that I was back on the loose and would I like my legs seeing to?

A cheerful word and a smiling face is always welcome so I told her to come round. By the time she arrived, so had I and she was able to sort me out.

She wasn’t impressed with what the hospital want her to do. She didn’t think that it was her job but with a good grace (which was nice to find someone with good grace after this morning) she agreed to do it.

She needed a lot of equipment and material so she wrote herself out a prescription and said she’ll leave it at the pharmacy. My faithful cleaner can pick up the articles this afternoon.

When my cleaner came round later we went through the medication, worked out what we were short of, and she went down into town to do the business. Poor thing – she had a struggle to come back with all of the supplies for the nurse. She’ll have to bring some back tomorrow, bless her.

So in my nice clean kitchen I made a taco roll for tea with rice and veg. It should be “leftover curry” night tomorrow but it’s also football so it’ll be pasta and veg, with the curry on Friday. It’ll probably walk out of the fridge on its own by then.

So having washed my puttees tonight, I’m going to bed nice and early, still fuming about today’s events but hoping that if I’m lucky Zero will come to console me. Good news is hard to find and, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

But going back to the hospital, my room-mate had a rather bad habit of … errr … breaking wind. And it was quite embarrassing at times.
At one moment, whilst being examined, poked and prodded by a doctor he let out an extremely loud raspberry
Obviously, to save his embarrassment, the doctor turned to his nurse and said "stop that, nurse!"
"Certainly, doctor" she replied. "Which way did it go?"

Tuesday 16th July 2024 = I’M STILL ALIVE …

… but in indescribable agony I’ve a feeling that I’m going to regret this. In fact, one way or another I’ve not had a very good day today.

Just like last night actually. Once more it was a very late night, not that I was bothered because if I’m tired I can sleep at the hospital. I won’t have much else to do there.

Nevertheless I slept right through until the alarm went off at 07:00 with just the odd bit of tossing and turning here and there

But as the alarm sounded I staggered off into the bathroom to sort myself out, completely forgetting that I’m supposed to be using this special shampoo detergent stuff.

While I was waiting for the nurse to arrive I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I went during the night. This competition is now coming down to a knock-out between clubs rather than based on a league performance. There aren’t too many clubs or teams left and newspaper reporters are interviewing. They are astonished at how much has been spent but someone seems to think that it’s worth every penny and brings an enormous amount of revenue from advertising. And everyone doing this would have a team of his own racing in these races considering that it would put his town on the map. There were several other chairmen who thought it important that their team climbed onto the world stage and played this type of event for the attraction of the World all looking on and making sure that they did all their best

Where that came from, I don’t know. But it certainly seems to be true. I remember when Llandudno surprisingly won the Welsh Cup and qualified for Europe, the town council sponsored the club’s shirts for the European games and paid the travelling expenses of the club simply for the reason that the club’s presence on the European stage would attract enough tourists to the town to make it a financially viable proposition. And who am I to argue with Llandudno Town Council?

What I found was that there were too many small, tiny shopkeepers or market traders standing on this market each selling very high turnover goods which meant that there was no speciality or anything like that. It was all pretty much the same. There was nothing to choose between any of them. Where you bought your magazine from was by random and it made no difference. They weren’t sufficiently skilled in the products that they were selling. One of the shopkeepers was trying to market some kind of typing course but admitted that he hadn’t managed to work it himself . He had no idea how he could actually make it work but was still trying his best to sell it on to members of the public. I thought to myself that people with just one or two racks of magazines in a place like this just aren’t going to make any difference whatsoever. It needs one or possibly two major sellers to come in to reorganise it with a much wider range of goods and know much more about their product and generally go out to sell the stuff instead of being haphazard, hoping that someone would come along and buy it. I thought that it was very depressing and dismal that they were just sitting back letting the World roll by. They should have been out there selling their wares. But definitely half a dozen people with one magazine rack each trying to make a living in a place like this was never going to be a possibility. It just needed one or maybe two major players who could go for the variety of product and go all-out to try to grab hold of the passing trade.

So as well as fighting wars and inventing machinery in my sleep, I’m now running some kind of Cost Accounting and Business Planning service. I’ve definitely been doing something wrong all these years if I can think of all of these exciting and satisfying ways of earning a living while I’m asleep. The sad part about it is that not only am I asleep while all of this is going on, so are my clients. If they were awake and paying me good money for my services and advice, I’d clean up.

There was also something about a friend of mine asking me why some other friends of ours who had been in France as long as we had, hadn’t succeeded in accumulating more resources. She pointed out to her house, the holiday cottage and so on that they had managed to accumulate without too much effort and wondered why they hadn’t managed to do the same.

And that’s true too. In the Auvergne you can have as much property as you like. The place is littered with all kinds of tiny farms that are abandoned and available for next to nothing. The mechanisation of agriculture in France after World War II and the industrialisation of the country led to a flight of all the young people to the towns. All the old people died off and the houses were simply left to abandon.

The nurse came and did her best to cheer me up which was nice, seeing as I’d lost yet another clip for my puttees. I was expecting an argument. She’s given me a few tips about the hospital and then wished me luck.

No breakfast for me this morning. I have to be without food so instead I checked over my packing and made sure that I had everything that I needed. This requirement about “medication in the original boxes” is ridiculous, especially just for one night’s stay.

Next was to make some sandwiches because, without doubt, the food, if in fact I receive anything, is going to be rubbish. And if I’m without food all morning, I’ll be needing something.

Back in here I had a few letters to write and things like that but I was taken by surprise by the taxi that turned up a good 20 minutes early and I was nothing like ready. Nevertheless, we went with what we had.

It was a lovely drive down to Avranches and how I enjoyed smelling the open countryside for the first time since I don’t know when. It’s a shame that there wasn’t more of it.

It’s the Polyclinic, not the hospital, where I’m going. And finding my room was rather complicated as we turned up at the lunch hour. Eventually someone directed us to my room, which it seems I’m going to be sharing.

A nurse checked me in and asked me a load of questions, most of which I answered wrongly. She had to fetch an electric razor to shave my arm – what did I know about doing it – and then she wandered off.

They gave me a load of paper clothes to wear and once I’d changed, they wheeled me away in a wheelchair as far as surgery where they put me on a trolley and took me into a corner of the room.

While I was waiting, I fell asleep. I was dreaming that I was dreaming and dictating the dream into my dictaphone but someone snatched the dictaphone from me, threw it onto the bed and wheeled me off somewhere. There I was for hours hoping that at least they would be able to take me back to wherever it was that the dictaphone had landed and that it had been switched off so that the batteries hadn’t gone flat

It was another panic attack but with everything that’s going on right now, that’s not a surprise. I’m surprised that I’ve not had more of them just recently.

They moved the bed across the room (waking me up). “Hold out your arm” said someone, so I did.

Next thing that I remember, it was a couple of hours later, there was a big white plaster on my arm and a pain going all the way up into my shoulder. But at least the worst is over (I think) and it was done exactly as I would have liked it – no fuss, no explanation, no nothing. Knock me out and get on with it.

They took me back to my room and put me to bed where I slept for an hour or two before gradually coming back round into the Land of the Living

And then I had to hassle them for my meal. They seemed quite reluctant to bring it, although I can’t see why. I made sure that I had plenty of bread for my soup and my main course of carrot purée (and that’s it), thinking that I’m glad that I made my butties. I’ll need those if things don’t buck up.

One of the nurses asked about the pain. It’s been increasing all the time as the anaesthetic has worn off. When I mentioned it to a nurse she came back immediately with some Doliprane. Which I refused, of course. The whole of France is awash with Doliprane.

Seriously though, if you have a pain, it’s for a reason. And if you hide or mask that pain and put effort on joints that really need time to relax and recover, you can do more harm than good

So gritting my teeth, I went to bed.

And my arm in a sling reminds me of the well known Austrian who invented the brassiere, Otto Titsling

Monday 15th July 2024 – SO H-HOUR …

… is 13:00 tomorrow. At least, that’s what time I’m expected to be present and standing by my bed. The operation will presumably be rather later than that.

and that’s a shame. I was hoping for an early start, while the knife is still sharp, but it’s not to be. The taxi is coming for me at 12:15 and then it’ll be “panic stations” for the next God-knows how long.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I have a horror of hospitals, tubes, pipes and the like. Since all of this began in 2015 I’ve been living my nightmare almost every single day and believe me, it’s not made me any more accustomed to it.

Something else to which I am not accustomed is “going to bed early”. It won’t be happening today but it did last night. Being in bed before my target time of 23:00 is a very rare event these days indeed.

And I slept the Sleep of the Dead too, all the way through until 06:15 when the glass lorry came to collect the glass from the recycling bin across the road.

And if you want to know a good definition of “noise”, stand outside here when he drops the contents of the bin into the back of his lorry.

He made such a racket that I was thinking of getting up to face the day but discretion is the better part of valour and I curled up under the quilt again to have my money’s worth

When the alarm went off I headed to the bathroom to sort myself out and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were having some kind of holiday, people who were handicapped or disabled in some way or other had gone to a holiday camp. There was a compere there trying to introduce everything. He was dressed in sandals and socks, and his sandals were far too big for him. He was generally crooning away there and I thought to myself “look at the state of him”. I happened to mention it to a couple of other people who wee in one of the rooms that they should have gone to look at him but they thought that there was nothing happening in the other rooms so I told them that they’d be surprised. There were about 20 people altogether milling around in the three or four different rooms. Things looked as if they might be starting to liven up, and not before time. While I was back there with my head stuck in the door looking at what was happening in that room someone noticed me and said that they had an invitation here for the Duchess of Claibourne. I told them to pass the invitation to me because I knew all about it. She’s being asked to prepare to appear on a TV programme, something like “Tomorrow’s World” or something like thzt and I know all about it. Even so it was still surprising that they’d asked these people to look after the Duchess of Claibourne when their own meeting was pretty poorly attended and there wasn’t a great deal of anything going on with the proceedings and last night it wasn’t until 23:00 that they could go to bed (… fell asleep here …) so in one of the rooms with some of the people in it there was a room with a drinking container with a handle on it for people who needed it. There was something going on in there but I fell asleep while I was trying to line it up to see what was happening so I missed the beginning of what was going on with all these uninspiring people being here and being in charge of the organisation.

As for who the Duchess of Claibourne is, she’s a character in a series of books written by someone called CS Harris and I can safely say without fear of contradiction that I’d absolutely no idea that there ever was such a person, real or fictitious, and I’ve never read a book by the aforementioned author. Where the name has come from in my dream I have no idea. But there was a lot of talk about 15 years ago about these holiday camps for disabled people, so it’s taken quite a while to come round to feature in a dream. Quite frankly, I can’t think of anything more ghastly. I’d rather stay at home, I reckon, the presence of the Duchess of Claibourne notwithstanding.

When the nurse came round she bandaged me up, had a little chat and then left. I have the impression that she’s trying to raise my morale right now which is nice of her. I could certainly do with it. It’s a shame she won’t be there in Avranches to hold my hand.

After breakfast I came back in here, and then had to track down the details about my next Welsh course. I have to sign up before the end of the month so I thought that I’d do it today.

With a little help from one of my friends I managed to find the correct course (at least, I hope that it’s the correct one) and while I was at at, I found a week’s course with another provider that starts when my next Summer School finishes and goes over what we (should have) learned this year.

One of my plans was to redo this year because I’d missed most of it with my various appointments and to do it with another provider to save embarrassment, but this seems to be the best of both words. Not to mention that it’s only going to cost £15:00 and I even have 50% discount from that.

In the future I’ll be looking out for a few more short courses like this. I’ve probably done half a dozen or so at least and it keeps me off the streets.

My cleaner put her sooty foot in the door too. She’d been into town this morning and they had the disinfectant stuff that the nurse needs so she dropped off a packet. I need to keep the nurse stocked up with supplies. But this place, there’s so much in the way of medication around here that I could open a pharmacy.

The hospital rang up at this point. They want me there standing by my bed at 13:00 and they gave me a whole list of “do’s” and “don’t”. But frankly I’m past caring. They want me to have a shower, but that’s out of the question of course.

They want me to not only bring my medication but to bring it in its boxes. For God’s sake, I’m going in a taxi, not a blasted lorry.

And then they want me to shave my arm ready. I don’t even know where they are going to make the incision.

My general, habitual lack of preparedness means that I’ll probably get it in the neck when I arrive, especially if the Beast from the Hôpital in the Baie is on duty but I don’t care.

This afternoon I was dealing with the fourth lot of radio notes that I’d dictated. They are all edited now, the final track has been chosen and I was on the point of writing the notes when Rosemary rang for a chat.

She’s back now from gallivanting around Italy and wanted to tell me how she got on so we had another one of our phone calls. Rather a short one today – only one hour and twelve minutes. We’re losing our touch.

After the call I stretched out for a minute and as a result was way late for making tea tonight; hence my lateness tonight.

We had stuffed pepper for tea again, with plenty of stuffing left over for the next few days. So for those of you who say that I want stuffing, I now have plenty, thank you. It’ll do for later in the week.

But not tonight, Josephine. I’m off to bed, ready for my appointment with destiny tomorrow. I mustn’t forget to pack my things, for I’m supposed to be staying the night. But as for that, we shall see.

One of the things that Rosemary and I discussed was adoption. We have some very strange conversations sometimes.
But it did remind me of the little boy who asked his dad "daddy, am I adopted?"
"Of course not, son" replied the father
"Really, daddy?" insisted the boy
"Absolutely" assured the father. "Why, out of a whole orphanage full of abandoned children, would anyone have chosen YOU?"

Sunday 14th JUly 2024 – I’M UP TO …

… my neck in paperwork again. Ahhh! The good old days!

And not only am I up to my neck, I’m miles behind where I ought to be thanks to a
recalcitrant printer than only works when it feels like it and a Credit Agricole website ditto.

As well as that, I’m supposed to be completing my on-line registration for the hospital on Tuesday but the hospital website doesn’t recognise my “Withdrawal Agreement” carte de séjour and when I’ve finally managed to make their mobile app work on my ‘phone, it tells me that I don’t have an appointment.

So in the end I’m not much further forward than I was before I started. It all has rather a familiar ring about it.

Last night had a pretty familiar ring about it too, with not going to bed until long after I ought to have done. Nevertheless, I didn’t mind too much because I’d been dictating and that’s another pile of stuff all saved ready for editing. It was nice and quiet for an hour or so outside so I could crack on.

One thing that I did though was to change the microphone, and that seems to have made a difference to the quality of the recording. Two identical mikes, yet the quality is so different. It’s quite surprising.

The one big advantage of going to bed at that kind of “late” is that I don’t need much rocking

And so there I was, dead to the World until all of about … errr … 06:15.

But I didn’t make “that” mistake again. I curled back up under the bedclothes and there I remained until 08:00 when the alarm went off and I fell out of bed

There’s not much time to hang about on a Sunday morning as the nurse will be here at 08:30 (or thereabouts) so a quick scrub up in the bathroom was all that I had time to do.

Isabelle brought the sunshine with her when she came. She soon had the plasters on my legs sorted out and my puttees on my legs. But these wounds are still weeping and I despair. When are they likely to stop?

We had time to talk about my general condition. She seems to have noticed an improvement, although it doesn’t seem like it.

She thinks that this fatigue might be due to the fact that my kidneys are struggling so much to work that they are exhausting my metabolism, or words to that effect.

Basically, despite what I might think, it’s a physical tiredness due to te effort that is going into my kidneys. And she’s a nurse, so I suppose that she knows more about these things than I do.

After she left I had breakfast of cornflakes, toast, coffee and grapefruit juice and sat and relaxed for a while, reading my book on the siting and location of early Medieval churches

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night. We were doing something with a music studio at work. I was actually some kind of huissier or “messenger” on the top floor. I went down to the canteen to fetch a coffee. It was crowded in there and you couldn’t hear a word that someone was saying. I had to fight my way into the queue to pick up a coffee. Eventually after t’d battered him a couple of times I said to the guy behind me “I’m not hurting you, am I? I’m really sorry”. He mouthed something back at me but I didn’t have a clue what it was because I couldn’t hear him so I just smiled, thanked him and walked away but I thought “I wonder what it was that he said. Whether it was polite or whether it was difficult or whether he wanted me to sit down and talk”. I’d no idea. But I took my coffee and began to climb all the steps back to the office. One or two of my workmates kept on coming downstairs going for their coffee. They kept asking me “who is this coffee for?”. I replied that it was for me. They looked with some kind of astonishment as if “what would I be doing with a coffee at this time of morning?”. But I checked the time and it was only 09:05 so it would be correct. We were waiting for something important to happen in the office but I can’t remember now whether it was a group or a piece of music but we were all waiting there for this but it all seemed to be tremendously important and was going to change all of our lives and all of our routines

Nothing like that ever happens to me these days. Wouldn’t it be nice if something were to come along and change my life and my routine. It’s pretty monotonous right now. When I was working, it was quite lively, but then in a building of 2,000 people and each one waiting for something earth-shattering to happen, a simple event could trigger a chain reaction that would reverberate around the building in no time flat. It would be like a snowball of excitement, gathering its own momentum. And I was convinced that there were people who would spend the whole day walking around with a tray of coffee and not doing any work whatsoever

I was driving some kind of bus or motorhome in the Midwest USA. We were going through these small towns. There was one where we had to climb a hill in this town. This hill was tree-lined with all the old Nineteenth-Century saloons and so on to the side of it. I thought to myself “this is really mid-west America here. This is typical USA. We kept on climbing up this hill and I thought that we’d never have enough steam to make it but eventually whatever I was driving managed to climb to the top. I found that we were on some kind of dirt track instead of the main road. I followed the dirt track for a while and it came to a castle where there was a notice from someone asking for partners for table-tennis so it was quite obvious to me that I was in the wrong street somehow. I had to stop and try to think how I was going to return to the main road because continuing to drive down this track was clearly out of the question

On my travels around States like Wyoming and South Dakota I came across plenty of towns like this. I remember in 2018 being in a town that proudly advertised “Population – 9”, and every one of those 9 people came out onto their porch to watch me drive through the place.

Some of the day has been spent editing some of the radio notes that I dictated last night. There are now two full programs completed and third is just missing the final track. I would have finished it and even done the fourth program except that the fatigue caught up with me and I was out like a light for an hour or two this afternoon.

And then I’ve been trying to print off a sheaf of paperwork but when the printer doesn’t work the website does and vice versa. And then there’s trying to make sense of this mobile app that tells me that I have no appointment lined up

There was however time to make tonight’s pizza. And a good one it was too. I’ve no idea what happened but for the first time ever the oven cooked it correctly. That’s a first.

What’s also going to be a first, at least for a long time, is an early night. I seem to have finished earlier than usual and I don’t know why.

But all of this technology and its accompanying issues makes me hanker for the old days. I didn’t have this trouble in Crewe.

But then again, whilst in Crewe they may actually have tablets for their own personal use, they also have the hammers and chisels that they use to carve their hieroglyphics on them

Saturday 13th July 2024 – IT LOOKS AS …

…. if we’re back on these rally long, difficult afternoons when I’m fast asleep for several hours, totally unaware of what’s going on around me.

And not just for an hour or two but I DO mean several hours. I remember it being 14:30 at one point but the next thing that I knew, it was almost 18:00 and I seem to have wasted almost an entire afternoon.

And that’s a shame because I can waste enough time with all my own efforts without actually needing any help.

Last night I fell asleep quite quickly too once I made it into bed and I can’t remember very much about the night.

Mind you, there wasn’t all that much to remember because once more, it was quite late by the time that I hit the sack. It didn’t take long for STRAWBERRY MOOSE to have me tucked up and comfortable.

When the alarm went off I fell out of bed and went off to the bathroom, grabbing a set of clean clothes on the way and rounding up all the dirty clothes and so on in the apartment

After I was washed and cleaned, it was the turn of the clothes. They all went into the washing machine and I set that off on a cycle. A very clever washing machine, mine.

Back in here I had a listen to find out where I’d been during the night. And, more importantly, if any of my favourite young ladies had come with me. But n such luck. It seems that TOTGA, Castor and Zero have deserted me.

Instead, we started off last night giving someone some driving lessons. We were driving around end ended up with me being admitted to the hospital, not because of an accident but that was probably where the car was on its way to take me. I was admitted to hospital and put into a ward. This was when there was a native uprising. Out outpost was attacked about three or four different times and it degenerated into a conflict like the conflict in ZULU at Isandlwhana … "Rourke’s Drift actually, but never mind" – ed …, half a dozen gallant defenders defending the compound of about 30 people against a horde of marauding savages. What happened in my version was that we had half a dozen or so military people and probably twenty civilians. The civilians weren’t all that keen on defending themselves and thought that we ought to negotiate, which, seeing as the tribes had negotiated with no-one else was a strange decision. They were very reluctant to take any precautions whatsoever and we had to force through. In the end we had the buildings fortified but they were so scattered that they were not much use to anyone really

Yes, I can’t imagine dividing your scanty defences and forces to try to defend every building. It was a maxim of Frederick the Great that "If you try to hold everything, you hold nothing" and we would have been much better off to burn all of the buildings except one and fortify that. And trying to persuade civilians to fight is sometimes extremely difficult, as long as there are other people there to do the fighting for them. Could you imagine how these politicians would fare if they had to pick up a gun and go to the Front.

The team from Llansawel figured again later on. They had started to make one or two signings but there was no signing that really impressed me any, just general run-of-the-mill mainstream Premier players. There was nothing there that they signed that indicated to me that they were hoping for a long and successful life in the JD Cymru League that at the end of their first season would see them relegated back to the regional leagues and someone else would come and take their place which of course would be with the gulf between Tier 2 and Tier 1 it’s only unfortunately to be expected.

And that’s a story that we’ve seen time and time again, of teams being promoted to the Premier Division and relegated straight away. It’s not that they are particularly weak, but that other teams are strengthening. This can be measured by comparing the results of Welsh teams in European competition. When they began to compete in Europe 30 years ago the best Welsh teams were often on the wrong end of some embarrassing scorelines but we saw only this week that even Caernarfon, who finished fifth in the table, can give an experienced European team like Crusaders a little lesson in football.

Liz was on line this morning so we had a long chat that went on for an hour or so while the nurse was taking my blood sample. And for a change, the sample was easy to extract and I don’t know why other people have so many issues about it. It was done in two minutes.

Isabelle sorted out my legs and then left taking away the blood and the “other” sample, and I carried on chatting to Liz over breakfast until she had to go off and do other things.

There were other things that I needed to do to but at 11:00 I had a phone call from my friend Robert who lives in the Orkneys (or Shetlands, I can’t remember now). We have a little project on the go and we shall be working on this for a while, maybe with the help of one or two other people.

But more of this anon

After the ‘phone call I hung up my washing and that should be drying nicely now. For a change, everything is up-to-date in that respect, and that’s not something that happens every day

Lunch was a salad sandwich with the last of the home-made bread so I made a mental note to make another loaf. I’ll need bread for the next few days, but I’ll also be taking some sarnies with me to the hospital. I know that their idea of food and my idea of food are likely to be different and I don’t intend to starve.

It was while I was sitting down refreshing myself ready to make the bread that things all went pear-shaped. And it wasn’t until about 18:00 that I began to make the bread.

While I had the oven on for the baking I baked some potatoes and one of those breaded quorn fillets that I like so much. No point in only having half an oven filled with stuff. I may as well fill as much as I can.

To pass the time while I was waiting for things to happen I wrote out some notes for one of the radio programmes that’s on the go at the moment. Every little time spent on it helps in the long run.

Tea tonight was a salad with my things out of the oven and it was quite a success, although I must admit to looking forward to the day that I will be in the apartment downstairs with a proper oven and not a little table-top one like I have.

So now I have some dictating to do, and then I’m off to bed ready to fight the good fight tomorrow.

But thinking about my dream reminds me of a conversation that I overheard at a football match a while back.
One guy was telling his friend "I was playing cards with some Africans last night"
"Zulus?" asked his friend
"No, I won fifty quid"

Friday 12th July 2024 – ONLY HALF AN …

… hour after my cleaner had my kitchen looking as clean and tidy as a new pin, it’s ended up looking like an absolute tip yet again.

And that’s no surprise because I’ve had a huge delivery of supplies from LeClerc.

More than usual because it’s been three weeks since I last had a delivery, and add to that, they had the olive oil back in so to be on the safe side I ordered two litres rather than just one.

There was also yet another addition to the range of vegan products on offer at the home delivery site – a second type of vegan sausage. I had to order a packet because LeClerc’s vegan range is quite minimalist so they need to be encouraged. And the easiest way too encourage them is to buy the product.

It all comes in brown paper bags which I have to save up and hand back the following time otherwise they charge me for them, so they are strewn about the place at the moment. But that’s because I simply run out of steam after a while and can’t carry on. I’ll have to finish tidying up in the morning.

And hope that I have as good a sleep tonight as I did last night. It was horribly late when I finally made it to bed but I slept the Sleep of the Dead and didn’t feel a thing until the alarm went off. And I could do with a few more nights with a sleep as deep as that.

There was in fact a phantom alarm at some point (we seem to be back with those) but I remember recognising it as such and ignoring it. Not like the time a few weeks ago when I actually arose from the Dead for a phantom alarm.

But when the real alarm sounded I made it to my feet and wandered off for a wash and brush up etc.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night and (more importantly) who had come with me. It was the European Cup matches. All of the teams were busy, there had been lots of changes to styles and formats. The new competitions, new rules and everything that people had to learn. Teams were changing place and changing position . There were a lot of other things to do, rather like instead of just being a football match it became some kind of circus with all kinds of entertainment taking place before and afterwards, and different things at half-time with the aim to get as many people as possible into the ground as early as they could to avoid crushes and squashes , things like that, to make sure that everyone was safe, and something to do at the end of the game so that they didn’t all rush home and clog the streets, and here’s hoping that it works and makes a huge success and the teams can go on to do well in it.

Times are changing rapidly and quite often these football club committees of elderly dinosaurs aren’t changing quickly enough. I’ve been to football matches in Belgium where they’ve had cheerleaders and dancing girls entertaining the crowds before the kick-off and at half time, and seen kids’ football tournaments taking place at half-time. Anything to bring in the crowds and keep the fans amused. But it’s the simple thing at grassroots level that’s important. If I want to watch a football match and it’s raining and one ground has covered accommodation and one doesn’t, where will I go? And if it’s a cold winter night and one ground has a pie hut where you can get a hot coffee and the other one doesn’t, which one will have my custom? The days of fans standing on cinder banks in the open air in a torrential downpour dressed in just an overcoat are long gone. And good riddance. I don’t miss the “good old days” one minute.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment Isabelle the nurse came round, her usual cheerful self. She gave me my injection, changed my plasters on my legs and bandaged up my puttees.

There’s a blood test tomorrow morning, so she reminded me, and I need to give “another sample” for which she gave me a small pot.

But heaven alone knows what this blood sample will be like. I haven’t looked at the last couple. Firstly, they make really depressing reading and secondly, what can I do anyway? If there’s an emergency they’ll let me know. If not, I’d rather not find out.

After she left, we had some Welsh homework to do. We had to write a publicity announcement to attract tourists to the place where we are living. It was easy for me, living in a tourist town. Imagine if I’d still been living in The Land That Time Forgot.

The Welsh lesson passed quite quickly today. We had a different tutor and I’m sure that I have had him before somewhere.

We had a little chat about last night’s football

"My friend’s son plays for Caernarfon" said the tutor
"What’s his name?"
"Morgan" replied the tutor
"Morgan who?"
"I don’t know" said the tutor "but he delivers our fruit and veg. We call him ‘Morgan Tatws’"
and that’s the most Welsh thing that I’ve heard for a long, long time.

And if you want to see “Morgan Tatws” in action HERE ARE THE HIGHLIGHTS of the Cofis’ famous first-leg win. Let’s hope that they can hold out in the second leg next week.

Towards the end of the lesson I slipped out of consciousness and hadn’t noticed that it had ended. I came to and found myself staring at an empty screen. I really have to do better than this.

The cleaner was here too. I’d heard her come in but she must have been very quiet. Actually, she’s cleaned the windows in the living room and you can actually see outside now which is nice.

After she left, the delivery guy from LeClerc turned up with the supplies. Tons of stuff all of which has to be put away.

And then there was 1kg of carrots to wash, peel, dice and blanch. I should have bought 2kg but there’s no room on the freezer.

There were peppers to prepare for freezing, other food for freezing and, as I said, in the end I simply ran aground. I can’t keep on going like I used to

Tea was the leftover curry that I should have had on Wednesday but have been putting off ever since. The naan bread that I was going to eat was looking rather suspect so that went into the bin which was a shame because I’d been looking forward to that.

Tomorrow I have the washing machine to organise and then I’ll finish off tje tidying up. But it’s nice to have full shelves again, and plenty of olive oil

In fact, I’ve plenty to do between now and going to the hospital on Tuesday. And I’m not looking forward to Tuesday one little bit as I’m sure that regular reader readers of this rubbish will recall
The last time I was admitted, the cry went down the ward "there’s a case of cancer just come in"
And someone was heard to comment "well, it’ll make a change from lucozade"

Thursday 11th July 2024 – I’M LATE AGAIN

and if it carries on like this they’ll be calling me “the late Epic Hall” long before I officially earn the title.

And for a change, I don’t mind being late at all for I have very good re son. It’s “Europa Cup” night tonight and while Connah’s Quay travelled to Slovenia and Y Bala to Estonia to follow on from the game that TNS played against some Albanians, Caernarfon made the long trip down the road as far as Nantporth Stadium on the outskirts of Bangor to take on those giants of European football … errrr … Crusaders from Belfast.

Late nights seem to be the norm these days and instead of moaning about them, I’ll just have to say nothing and celebrate the early nights instead, so there was nothing to celebrate last night.

In fact it was long after midnight when I hit the hay and I settled down for sleep for what was left of the night. And I awoke in the middle of it and took an age to go back to sleep again

Mind you, I was dead to the World when the alarm went off and it was a rather ungainly stagger into the bathroom to sort myself out.

There was blood on the floor too, but I’ve no idea where it came from. It could be anywhere.

Back in there I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were all going flat out in pursuit of this monster . We had a good idea of where it would be and where it would strike next so we put a cordon round with people just doing ordinary things, nothing suspicious, hoping that whatever it was would pass within this cordon to pick a victim and we could all close in behind it. I was in charge of course but there were lots of other people who were quite willing to take responsibility. My job was the big tree that was the focal point of this little community, which was where probably the most important person would expect to be and that was where you’d expect the final battle to be so they left that responsibility to watch that area to me. And now we just waited around for things to begin.

This looks as if it’s a continuation of the dream from the other night when we were chasing monsters around. And it’s quite rare to have two episodes of the same dream so close together like this. Usually they are months, if not years apart.

And later on I’d gone down to Virlet for a look around and for something. While I was in the house I heard a noise as if a couple of people were searching around in te lean-to. I picked up a blunt instrument and just as I was going to go outside to catch them in the act a guy came through the door into the house. He looked so shocked to see me so I just said “can I help you?”. He just stood there totally open-mouthed as if I was the last person he was expecting to see.

And it would be a shock too if it were to happen, but I’m not likely ever to go down to Virlet again. That’s a chapter of my life that is well and truly completed unfortunately. Someone else can take over down there when the time comes.

Finally I was making a salad. I didn’t really have all that much to go in it but I was listening to the local radio and there was a bring-and-buy sale taking place at the church at Audlem. Someone was selling picked courgettes. I thought that that sounded interesting for a change but I couldn’t really summon up the enthusiasm to go all the way to Audlem. They kept on talking about one or two other things that they had and it all sounded perfectly tempting to me but there were all these excuses popping up about why I shouldn’t go but I kept on finding out answers to these questions and still pointing out (… fell asleep here …)

For the benefit of new readers, of which there are more than just a few recently, when I say that I “fell asleep” I am actually asleep when I’m dictating. I’ve been working as part of this project for almost 30 years. But when I say that I “fell asleep” what actually happens is that whatever I’m dictating tails off into a mumbled silence and then sometimes you’ll hear a little snore or two and I’m sorry for doubting you about that, Percy Penguin.

But courgettes in the Auvergne – they were the only things that seemed to thrive down there. You’d check your courgettes over, think “they look nice, I’ll pick them in the morning” but you’d have a downpour during the night and end up with half a dozen enormous marrows.

Everyone was sick to death of courgettes after a while. We used to pass around recipes (and courgettes) and I for one don’t ever want to see a courgette ever again.

It’s Isobelle the female nurse for the next week or so and she usually brings the sunshine and warmth with her (although I have seen another side of her once or twice that I didn’t realise existed). She nicely and cheerfully informed me that on Saturday she’s going to take a blood sample.

There’s another sample to be take too, so she’ll leave me a little pot on Friday. I have a feeling that she’ll be taking the p*ss too.

After she left I had breakfast and then a look through the notes for today’s lesson. Unfortunately I didn’t get as far as I would have liked and so my enthusiasm tailed off towards the afternoon.

The hospital rang me up about registering for my operation on Tuesday – right in the middle of a crucial point and so towards the end of the lesson my concentration (such as it was) was broken and I was all at sea.

Mind you, nothing new there. I’ve been all at sea for years, up a creek without a paddle for most of the time.

After the lesson finished I sorted out the music for the next radio programme and began to write a few notes. And then we had the football.

Y Bala didn’t do too well, going down 2-1 to Paide Linnameeskond but Connah’s Quay performed brilliantly, winning 1-0 in Slovenia and being set up nicely for the return match next week.

Then we had Caernarfom playing in front of a packed house at Nantporth. And the Cofi Army burst into song after just four minutes when Morgan Owen picked up a pass 20 yards out from the Crusaders goal and walloped it home

They had even more to sing about after 35 minutes when Danny Gosset found Darren Thomas whose delightful through ball was inch perfect for Zack Clarke to pounce on and slot home for the second.

The game though wasn’t a particular spectacle. It was rather agricultural at times bordering on the desperate at the end as the Crusaders threw everything, including the kitchen sink at the Cofi goal but Caernarfon held out to record a famous victory in their first ever match in European competition.

But these results are really good news for Wales because the more successful they are, the higher their coefficient will be which means that they could have more teams in club competition and maybe even enter the tournaments at later stages.

Not to mention of course the money that’s on offer for doing well in Europe. The prize money from UEFA is well-worth having for a small club. A team that’s defeated in Round One will receive €150,000 and if they make it through to the next round they’ll receive at least €350,000.

And then there’s sponsorship, TV revenue, all of that kind of thing.

After the final whistle I threw some pasta into a pan with some frozen veg and tomato sauce. That will keep the lupus from the porte as they used to say in Ancient Rome.

So on that note I’m off to bed ready to kick off nice and early tomorrow morning.

But talking of courgettes reminds me of the guy in the Auvergne who was determined to protect his courgettes at all costs so one night he slept with them. And instead of the fine weather for which he was hoping, it snowed instead.
They found him next morning and he was frozen to the marrow.

Wednesday 10th JUly 2024 – WHAT A PERFORMANCE!

Swimming around the apartment in a sea of blood last night, up first thing in the morning washing the floors. I’ll tell yuo something for nothing, and that is that I won’t be going on much longer like this. It’s simply not sustainable.

There I was last night, getting ready for bed, and it was late enough already, when in the bathroom I happened to catch my leg against some protruding object.

And that, dear reader, was that. The effects of the Kardegic and the Injection of the Last Resort mean that my blood is thinner than water, and it just erupted.

From the bathroom I had to go to the corner of the living room where all of the medical stuff is, clean the would with some sterile solution and gauze and then apply a plaster. And the time that it took to go from the one to the other, we were knee-deep in gore.

Well, maybe that’s something of an exaggeration, but nevertheless it was a horrible sight. I can’t even stand looking at blood at the best of times, never mind when it’s pumping out out my leg.

There was no point trying to clean up the apartment at that time of night. I’d just be moving wet blood around from one place to another, so I left it and went to bed, very very gingerly. I didn’t want the plaster coming off while I was in bed, with the mess that was likely to follow.

And so as you can imagine, I didn’t have much in the way of sleep last night. I was far too much on tenterhooks.

However I did at one point fall asleep, only to awaken at about 05:00 with an urgent need to go and walk the parapet.

But what was surprising about that was that when I awoke, I was singing Traffic’s JOHN BARLEYCORN MUST DIE to myself for some reason or other.

It’s true that I’ve been playing a lot of “Traffic” just recently but even so THIS TRACK is much more appropriate right now.

Back in bed, I must have fallen asleep again because it was the alarm that awoke me when it rang at 07:00.

Falling out of bed, I switched off the alarm and headed for the bathroom, and once that was all organised and completed I fetched the mop and bucket.

And I’ll tell you another thing for nothing, and that is that it’s not easy trying to mop a floor when you can’t even stand up or walk about.

Nevertheless I did what I could as best as I could and then came in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And apart from going for a walk on the parapet, I must have gone nowhere because the dictaphone drew a blank.

However, even though I didn’t dictate anything I have a very vague recollection of something about Llansawel playing their first game after promotion into the Cymru Premier League and being heavily, and embarrassingly, defeated.

The nurse came round to sort out my legs later and was most unimpressed with me using “his” plasters, even though they are supplied on prescription to me. He had the usual moan about it but cheered up when he saw the two boxes that my cleaner had brought back from town the other day.

He wanted to know how my shoulder was doing, so he ripped off the plaster that the cleaner had fitted to my shoulder to stop the bleeding the other night. "That’s healed quite well" he said

Five minutes after he left, the fountain from the shoulder started up again and we were back to where we were earlier this morning. So he’s another plaster short, my apartment is even cleaner and I’m totally fed up.

With all of this performance today I was late for my Welsh class and then I was totally and completely unprepared.

In fact, I’ve been totally and completely unprepared for the rest of the day. The cleaner thinks that I’m looking quite well, so I’ll have a pint of whatever she’s been drinking because I don’t feel it.

In fact, I haven’t even bothered to make any tea tonight. I’m just not in the mood at all.

There was football on the internet later, Gresford Athletic of the Second Division playing Llanrwst from the Third in a pre-season friendly. The match went pretty much as everyone expected, with Gresford running out 5-0 winners, but there were some excellent chances missed at either end.

But one thing is evident, and that it that the gulf between the Premier League and the Second level is enormous, and mybe LLansawel will be on the wrong end of a couple of embarrassing scorelines before the curtain comes down on next season

But right now I’m going to go to bed if I can without bleeding eveywhere. It’s quite important, because there is what is called the “bleeding time”. That’s the time that it takes for blood to clot once it starts to flow.
It’s important to know it when you’re operating on someone, for obvious reasons
Mine of course being so thin, it’s totally different from everyone else’s so while they were discussing my case and comparing notes the surgeon asked the nurse in attendance "what’s the bleeding time?"
"Quarter to ten, doctor" replied the nurse.