Category Archives: cleaner

Thursday 12th December 2024 – IT SEEMS TO BE ..

… confirmed that the X-Ray that I’m going to suffer on Monday is in fact on my right foot. I was handed the summons and it definitely says pied droit so there we are.

But having said that, I’m not sure if it is in fact my foot. I know that that sounds strange but I had a colleague once who lost a leg in the war and he still had severe pains in the foot that he no longer had.

In the end, in his case, it turned out to be a trapped nerve and that what makes me suspect that I have something similar going on.

Rosemary came up with a good idea the other day too, and that is that your foot is controlled by the same nerves that control other parts of your body, and it might be something to do with the other part of the body rather than the foot.

Intrigued by this, I had a look to see what I could find, and some reflexologist has posted a map of the foot and which regions of the foot, he thinks, are related to other parts of the body

So I found about one hundred maps of the foot, and about one hundred different plans. So if the reflexologists can’t agree, what chance do I have?

But seriously, if it’s not one thing which me at the moment, it’s another and I’ve no idea when it’s going to end, if it ever will. I seem to be fighting a losing battle.

Going to bed before 23:00 is also a losing battle. I’d finished everything quite early but once more, I was side-tracked by a concert that came round on the playlist so I stopped up to listen to it. And one thing inevitably leads to another, and once you start, you’ll be surprised at how many other things there are.

Once in bed though, I slept the Sleep of the Dead all the way round to about 06:55 this morning. And just as I was wondering what time it might be, BILLY COTTON told me.

In the bathroom I had a good scrub and even a shave to make myself look pretty, and then went into the kitchen to make a drink and take my medication, remembering not to take the medicine that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a new female nurse starting to work in a castle. Her job was to look after this tribe of Europeans who were settled near her. She had to go out to inspect the health of one of the leaders of the people, some young guy who was big and powerful. He hadn’t met this girl before. Quite naturally he became attracted to her while she was busy trying to do her job. He was asking her all sorts of questions such as “how long have you worked there? Where did you come from originally?” all of this. She was aware of what he was trying to do and was also very careful not to give any sign of any particular encouragement because that could only lead to complications amongst tribal people like this but she wondered how long it would be before some kind of approach is made.

Some nurse once told me that on average she received about one proposal per patient per week. Proposals of marriage were quite frequent too. It became quite an art to side-step them. I’ve also heard that someone from some medical establishment that I’ve visited (and shall remain nameless for the purpose of this discussion) whose job it is to make home visits to the elderly and infirm has had more than just proposals, which only goes to show that these people aren’t as elderly and infirm as they pretend to be.

Later on, I was back in work again. It was a Thursday and I was finishing at 16:00 because I was driving to Munich in my old Mercedes to go to my birthday party which was on the Saturday. As I was going to be away for a couple of weeks I tidied out my drawers, made sure that there were only about half a dozen files in there that needed work, and everything was all ready with about an hour to go. So I found the “post out” pile and decided to review that. I was reviewing the “post out” and came across a letter where the typing had typed over several lines twice. I took it back to the colleague who had dictated it and explained to her that it couldn’t go out like that. Could she retype it? But the boss was there chatting to her so I had to wait until after he left. When I finished explaining to this girl I walked back to my desk. The boss came up to me and said “I hear that you’re on the move tonight”. I explained to him that I was off to Munich in the old Merc. He said “you should have a good time”. I replied “I know, because it’s not where you are or what you are doing, it’s who you are with that counts”.

It’s quite a change for me to dream that I’ve finished my work. When I was going through that series of dreams about work, it was always about retiring spontaneously leaving a huge pile of work behind. And as for my old Merc, that’s festering down the field back on the farm along with a Ford Cortina and an old diesel Transit for company. The final sentiments of that dream are sentiments with which I concur wholeheartedly. That’s why I’m happiest on my own. Not even Percy Penguin could change that, and how she tried!

The nurse came early again and having ordered twelve boxes of plasters that he wanted, he’s now decided that I don’t need any at all. Judging by the piles of unused medication around here, the Social Security would save a lot of money if they were to dispense it in smaller amounts.

After he left I made my breakfast, and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

He’s now left the First-Nation and Native American encampments, and his final words on that subject are not too encouraging. "The filthiness and wretchedness of their smoky habitations, the nauseousness of their common food to a person not even of a delicate palate, and their general uncleanliness, would be sufficient, I think, to deter any one from going to live amongst them from choice, supposing even that no other reasons operated against his doing so. I had fully determined in my own mind, when I first came to America, not to leave the continent without spending a considerable time amongst them, in the interior parts of the country, in order to have an opportunity of observing their native manners and customs in their utmost purity ; but the samples I have seen of them during my stay in this part of the country, although it has given me a most favourable opinion of the Indians themselves,, has induced me to relinquish my purpose. Content therefore with what I have seen myself, and with what I have heard from others, if chance should not bring me again into their way in prosecuting my journey into the settled parts of the States, I shall take no further pains to cultivate a more intimate acquaintance with them."

Having said that, however, he’ll probably change his opinion somewhat for on his departure down the Great Lakes, his ship was driven onto the rocks by a storm and he came within an ace of being shipwrecked. Luckily the wind changed round just as the ship was about to break up, so that they could steer it down from the rocks

There’s no doubt that he’s having some serious adventures on his travels.

Back in here I had things to do and was so engrossed that I hadn’t noticed the arrival of my faithful cleaner who had come to fit my anaesthetic patches

After she’d done that, I collected my plastic bottle and waited for the taxi.

It was one of my favourite drivers today. She helped me down past the broken handrail and outside into the car, and then we shot off to pick up our other passenger who comes with us on Thursdays and Saturdays.

The drive down to Avranches was rapid but uneventful, and for a change, I wasn’t last into the ward. In actual fact, I was connected quite early but it was still just as painful as it usually is.

However I went to the bathroom on the way in and on the way out of the smallest room, struggling to open the door, someone outside opened it for me. And it was none other than Emilie the Cute Consultant. Had she known that it was me, she probably would have leaned against it to keep it closed.

According to the nurse who connected me, the doctor wants to discuss the follow-up to the examination that I had the other day in the hospital. However, no-one came to see me. If Emilie the Cute Consultant is the one on duty, she’ll probably leave off talking to me and send an oppo on Saturday.

No-one interrupted me at all today. I could sleep for half an hour (which I seem to be doing every time the machine starts up now), revise my Welsh and carry on with my LeClerc order. In fact I was so engrossed in that that I was taken unawares by the end of the cycle.

Uncoupling me was painful but straightforward, I only had to wait five minutes for the taxi, and it was a quick drive home. Once more, we had another passenger in the back whom I didn’t notice at all until she said “hello”. It’s a good job that I didn’t commit any indiscretion when I climbed in.

Back here my faithful cleaner was waiting and she watched as I climbed up to the lift. I’m going up in the lift from the first half-landing and then coming back down on foot as I can’t do the second flight of stairs with this handrail hanging off.

Tea tonight was steamed veg and vegan sausage in a cheese sauce, all of which was cooked to perfection and was delicious, especially now that I have some cauliflower, broccoli and sprouts. The ginger cake and soya dessert were delicious too. My meals may not be exciting but they really are delicious.

Right now though, I’m off to bed. Tomorrow there ‘s nothing of any importance except the cleaner and in the evening, Connah’s Quay Nomads v Mold Alexandra in the Welsh Cup

But Isaac Weld is still struggling with his ship in the storm. All the masts have been torn away so the ship is powerless.
The captain comes on deck with a pile of planks and says "I’m going to give out two planks to each passenger and you’ll have to do your best to row to the nearest port"
Isaac Weld turns to one of his friends and says "this is going to be quite an oar deal"

Wednesday 11th December 2024 – I HAVE BEEN …

… a busy boy again today and accomplished quite a great deal of stuff. So it’s hardly surprising that I’m feeling pretty much whacked right now.

Not that it’ll make much difference as I have a great deal to do tomorrow and Friday, and maybe even Saturday morning too. It’s all go here!

What I need is another early night like the one that I had last night where I was in bed a good few minutes before 23:00, and when I can do that, things are looking up.

Last night, for some reason or other I was finished by 22:20 and even hanging around for a while didn’t make it too late. I was asleep quite quickly too, with the hatches battened down until the morning. I don’t think that I moved at all

At some point during the night there was a young girl who was living on her own and having attendants, rather like the juvenile Queen of a country somewhere. I don’t remember very much and I can’t have gone very far into this dream when the alarm went off. However it was another one that could have been extremely interesting and it was a shame that it finished so abruptly.

It took me a while to gather up my wits – I can’t believe that they spread out so far so quickly – and when the room stopped spinning round I could stand up and head to the bathroom.

After the bathroom I headed off to the kitchen for my morning drink and pile of medication, which doesn’t seem to be shrinking any

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what happened during the night. I was back in the early modern era. I was in bed and trying to rise up but every time I tried to dress something came along to interrupt me, like a visitor or something like that so I had to dive back into bed as they came. This happened two or three times with someone like that coming along and me having to dive back into bed

Later on I was out walking with someone last night (so I’d obviously managed to finally leave the bed) and we’d walked miles. We’d been in the hills and had slowly started to come down out of the hills, just following a map. We hadn’t really all that much idea of the terrain at all or of the route except that which the map showed us. There was a path shown on the map so we followed it as best as we could. We didn’t meet anyone at all until we’d come down quite low when we saw some people wandering around. They took a track which led down into the valley. I asked my friend if that was ours. He replied “no, it’s the next one”. Then we had to think of a way to cross the motorway. We looked down and there was a motorway along the floor of the valley. We pushed on and when we were a little further down we saw a path that branched off from our farm track or cart track and this went straight down to the valley. There was a fence and then a footbridge over the motorway. We thought “we’re obviously not the first people to have come this way and to have found the utility of there being a bridge across the motorway here”. This bridge took us to the railway station which was on the other side of the motorway. We said to ourselves “well, when we arrive in town we’ll deserve a really fine meal. We’ll have a right slap-up nosh at tea-time after all our exertions”.

There was also something somewhere about going back to the family (as if that is ever likely to happen), wondering how long it’s going to be before they actually notice that I’m walking without using my crutches and things are all back to normal but I don’t know where that fits in at all

My long-term ambition, whether it’s feasible or not, is to recover the use of my legs and walk again. No-one seems to be able to work out what’s happening to my legs, or if they have, they haven’t told me. But every six months, as regularly as clockwork, they change the medication in the hope that they stumble on something that works, and who knows? One day they might!

The nurse was early again today. Of course, he doesn’t have any blood tests or injections to do. His poor oppo has been loaded with all of that and so she runs about half an hour behind.

The first thing that he did was to grab hold of my bread with his fingers, so he departed quite quickly with a flea in his ear. I couldn’t believe that he did that and he won’t do that again and walk out of here unaided.

After he left, I made breakfast and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK

He’s still shacked up with the First-Nation people, observing their habits. He notes that "It is a very singular and remarkable circumstance, that notwithstanding the striking similarity which we find in the persons, manners, customs, dispositions, and religion of the different tribes of Indians from one end of the continent of North America to the other, a similarity so great as hardly to leave a doubt on the mind but that they must all have had the same origin, the languages of the different tribes should yet be so materially different. No two tribes speak exactly the same language; and the languages of many of those who live at no great distance asunder, vary, so much, that they cannot make themselves at all understood to each other."

That’s something that I could readily understand. When I was in the Arctic I tried to learn some Inuktitut but it wasn’t really helpful because the Inuit in one bay would speak one language, you’d go 100 miles into the next community and they would speak a different form, and then a third further on, and then a fourth and so on. I was always one bay behind.

It was quite astonishing really that even in the 21st Century there has been so little mixing of the different Inuit communities up there in the Arctic. But I suppose that with the rapid warming of the climate, so evident up there in the North, it’s even less easy to move around than it was, as the ice doesn’t freeze over so much.

Once my leisurely breakfast was over, I came in here and began work. And by the time that I’d finished for the evening, I’d bashed out all of the text for the next radio programme, ready to dictate on Saturday night for editing and finishing on Sunday. That was some work, I’ll tell you.

There were several interruptions too. A friend of mine from school who now lives in the Orkneys wanted to test whether or not he’d configured an on-line video program correctly so we’d agreed that he could use me as his test bed.

Sure enough, he’d done what he needed to do and we had a really nice video chat, seeing each other for the first time for about 45 years. It’s really nice to see and talk to old friends, and new technology makes it oh! so easy.

Lunch was next – a slice of flapjack and some fruit, with water to wash down the midday medication.

My faithful cleaner turned up too, of course, to do her stuff. And that included helping me to have a shower. That was lovely of course and I can’t wait to be downstairs in my own place with a proper walk-in shower where I can shower whenever I like

After she left I went one better than Dave Crosby, presumably because it’s getting kind-of long. I could have said it was in my way. But I’m not giving in an inch to fear, because I promised myself this year I feel like I owe it to someone

And then Rosemary rang for a chat. And we’re definitely losing our touch. That chat was just 46 minutes long. More like a nod and wave across the street rather than a chat.

As far as the Christmas cake goes, I tried to explain to my cleaner what sugar I needed to make the icing for my cake, and Rosemary helped me out too. So hopefully, next week I’ll end up with what I need. It’s really awkward when I’m not able to go out and about.

Tea tonight was a leftover curry and naan bread. And for once, the naan was deliciously cooked to perfection. I think that after all these years I’ve finally cracked the method of cooking them. You fry them, of course, but on a low heat, neither too low or too high. And don’t over-fry them

The ginger cake and soya dessert were lovely too.

So now I’ll loiter around for a short while before going to bed. I might even read some more of Isaac Weld.

He talks about religion and the conversion of various tribes to Christianity but notes that "some of the tribes have much less devotion than others; the Shawnese, a warlike daring nation, have but very little fear of evil spirits, and consequently have scarcely any religion amongst them. None of this nation, that I could learn, have ever been converted to Christianity"

Missionaries have been sent among the Shawnee and, commenting on another vice of the First-Nation and Native American people, "great pains have been taken, both by the French and English missionaries, to represent to them the infamy of torturing their prisoners;"

However, even the missionaries were not spared this. Amongst the Shawnee the first missionaries who went there ended up in the cooking pot hung over the fire.
The Shawnee performed a ceremony of dancing around the fire and the pot to celebrate the arrival of their next meal, but every few minutes one of the Shawnee would break off to slap the missionary across the face.
After a while the chief called him over and shouted "Stop that! We don’t humiliate our captives in that way!"
"But chief!" exclaimed the brave
"What’s the matter?"
"It’s that missionary!" said the brave. "Every time your back is turned he starts to eat the potatoes!"

Monday 9th December 2024 – THIS TOWN IS …

… slowly waking up to face the destruction that took place during the weekend. Winds gusting up to 160 kph, with an average 24-hour speed of 102 kph, have caused devastation and in a lovely, ironic turn of phrase, the local newspaper reports that "le chantier de la place de Gaulle ressemblait à un lendemain de carnaval. " – “the construction site in the Place de Gaulle looks like the day after the Carnival”

Apart from signs blown down onto cars, flower pots, slates and aerials everywhere and 16,000 houses that at one moment or another with their electricity cut off, there was the roof of a garden shed making a bid for freedom along one of the streets up here on the Pointe du Roc and we nearly collided with it on the way to dialysis.

Trains won’t be running for a few days as there are trees down everywhere and all kinds of damage to the railway installations.

"Malgré tout, " the local newspaper continues "d’intrépides randonneurs et joggers arpentaient le bord de mer dimanche matin, au risque de se faire heurter par un objet volant pas toujours identifié" – “despite everything, some brave walkers and joggers went to the edge of the sea for a look around on Sunday morning, risking being hit by ‘an unidentified flying object'”

By the time that I went to bed last night, late again as usual, the wind had died down somewhat. There was still quite a bit of noise but it didn’t bother me one bit. Once I was curled up, head and all, underneath the quilt, I didn’t feel a thing. It was totally painless.

When the alarm went off I was still miles away from everything and it was quite a haul to drag myself out of bed before the next alarm. But once I was up, I staggered off to the bathroom to make myself ready for the day.

Leaving the bathroom I went into the kitchen for my drink and medication, remembering not to take the medication that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day.

As an aside, I can take my medication prior to the arrival of the nurse because all blood tests these days are done at the Dialysis Clinic and it doesn’t seem to matter a jot whether I have or haven’t eaten.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, and to my disappointment the dictaphone was blank. That’s really sad because, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I have these days is whatever goes on during the night.

When Isabelle the Nurse came we had a good chat about the storm and the damage. But she’s going off now for her week of rest to wrap Christmas presents. I don’t think that I have any to wrap.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

Weld is now firmly esconced with the First-Nation peoples and his remarks à propos the American settlers of European descent are becoming more and more warm. I should perhaps mention that “Native American” is the term preferred by those people who were happily settled in what is today the USA before the arrival of the white man. In Canada, the preferred term is “First-Nation”. And when I mention “European”, what I imply by that term is for people whose ethnic origin is predominantly European, even if some of their ancestors might have been on the shores of Massachusetts to greet the arrival of the Mayflower.

Anyway, Weld holds no punches back in his discussion of the American settlers of European descent . "A large portion of the back settlers, living upon the Indian frontiers, are, according to the best of my information, far greater savages than the Indians themselves. It is nothing uncommon, I’am told, to see hung up in their chimney corners, or nailed against the door of their habitations, similarly to the ears or brush of a fox, the scalps which they have themselves tom from the heads of the Indians whom they have shot; and in numberless publications in the United States, I have read accounts, of-their having flayed the Indians, and employed -their skins as they would have done those of a wild beast, for whatever purpose they could be applied to. An Indian is considered by them as nothing; better than a destructive ravenous wild beast, without reason, without a soul, that ought to be hunted down like a wolf wherever it makes its appearance,; and indeed, even amongst the bettermost sort of the inhabitants of the western country, the most illiberal notions are entertained respecting these unfortunate people, and arguments for their banishment, or rather extirpation, are adopted, equally contrary to justice and to humanity."

He goes on to say "O Americans ! shall we praise your justice and your love of liberty… ? Shall we commend your moderation, when we see ye eager to gain fresh possessions, whilst ye have yet millions of acres within your own territories unoccupied ? Shall we reverence your regard for the rights of human nature, when we see ye bent upon banishing the poor Indian from the land where rest the bones of his ancestors, to him more precious than your cold hearts can imagine; and when we see ye tyrannizing over the hapless African, because nature has stamped upon him a complexion different from your own?"

It’s probably just as well that he didn’t live to see such atrocities as Sand Creek and Wounded Knee, never mind the current treatment of the ethnic minorities in the USA.

Back in here I had things to do and then I did some of my Welsh homework. And I can’t believe how much I’ve forgotten from what I learned last Tuesday. I really wish that someone could do something about my teflon brain.

My cleaner came along as usual to fit my anaesthetic patches and then I had to wait an age for the taxi to arrive. Once more, we were three passengers, all going to different places in South-West Manche, and I had a nice little chat with the little old lady sitting with me in the back.

At the Dialysis Clinic I was last to arrive so I was last to be wired in, and for a change none of it hurt. That was a surprise. However, once the effect of the anaesthetic wore off, then I knew all about it.

While I was there, I read my Welsh and then started to read THE BOOK ON THIS FRENCH SERIAL KILLER.

It’s quite well-written, and draws on a lot of the evidence that was introduced at his trial. And it includes a lovely phrase that I shall remember and use at every possible opportunity – il a une araignée au plafond – “he has a spider on the ceiling”, meaning someone who doesn’t have both paddles in the water.

The doctor came to see me today too – the one who has little interest in his profession. And we went through the same performance about the pain in my foot that we have had on several previous occasions.

While he was with me I asked about the arrangement for my trip to Paris, but he’d lost interest a long time before that point. He doesn’t listen to anything anyone tells him – he just answers what he thinks that he hears and then wanders off out of earshot before you can correct him.

Of course, being stuck in a bed with a series of pipes and tubes plugged in, you can’t run after him and slosh him one. If you could, I’d be making sure that he understood what I was trying to tell him by using Morse Code by the medium of a wooden mallet on his skull.

Last in, and last plugged in, means also that I am last out. And so it was. And then I had to wait for an age until the taxi came. It was 19.05 by the time that I returned home to my faithful cleaner.

Tea tonight was a delicious stuffed pepper with pasta and veg followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. And now I’m off to bed, ready to Fight The Good Fight in my Welsh class tomorrow.

But the reason why the doctor is in such a bad mood is because he’s still smarting over being fired from the fertility clinic.
One of his patients came in and asked him "have my test results come back, doctor?"
"They have indeed" he replied "and I have some good news for you, Madame DuPont"
"It’s Mamzelle DuPont actually, doctor" she said
"In that case, Mamzelle Dupont" he replied "I have some bad news for you."

Saturday 7th December 2024 – IT’S NOT THE …

… bells on her toes that matter. It’s the ring on her finger that counts.

It only seems like yesterday when I was bouncing a bonny, tiny baby on my knee as her mother wrestled with the controls of a GMC “Jimmy” through masses after masses of snowdrifts in the foothills of the Appalachians in Canada

That was in late December 2003, and here’s that bonny, tiny baby now, 21 years later on, proudly displaying her ring.

"One ring to rule them all
One ring to find them
One ring to bring them all
And in the darkness bind them"
it is not but it’s just as hard to find. The wearing of this ring signifies that the wearer has completed a degree course at Canada’s most prestigious (in my opinion) University, Saint Francis Xavier University in Antigonish, Nova Scotia

Our family isn’t all a load of tat as you may think, judging by what I have a tendency to write. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, my maternal grandmother was one of Canada’s leading singers in the period 1915-1924. Even though her father (my great grandfather) re-enlisted in the Canadian Army after retirement, one of her distant cousins was SENTENCED TO DEATH IN WORLD WAR I as a conscientious objector (I have in my possession some of the letters that he wrote in prison).

And going even farther back, that distant side of the family is related in some way to Edward Kenealy, the barrister who defended the Tichborne claimant so vigorously that he was struck off.

It’s obviously that side of the family where all the brains are, because my great little niece (or is it my little great niece?) is now the second member of our family to qualify for her St.F-X ring.

So well done, Ammie. I’m proud of you!

Not so proud though of the time that I went to bed last night – or, rather, this morning. I’d finished quite early what I had to do last night but as usual, finishing work is one thing. Going to bed is quite something else. I hung around for quite some time trying to summon up the courage to pull myself out of my chair.

Once more though, once in bed it took an age to go to sleep but once I did, I was gone for good and the howling gale outside didn’t disturb me at all, which is surprising.

When the alarm went off it took quite a while for me to stagger to my feet and head to the bathroom, rounding up a pile of clothes on the way because, having changed the bedding yesterday, it’s washing day today.

After I’d had a good wash, I had a shave and then loaded up the washing machine. And believe it or not, there’s still a pile of stuff that wouldn’t fit in. This is becoming ridiculous.

Next port of call was the kitchen for a drink, and while I was at it, to take my medicine. And I was so distracted that I took the medication that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day. Still, you can’t take it out once it’s gone in.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out what I’d been up to during the night. There was something strange going on at school. There was a group of us, boys and girls of all ages, who used to hang around together. I suspected that one of the girls was becoming rather too friendly with me – that is, rather more friendly than “just being friends”. I decided that I might encourage it a little and see where it goes but we were interrupted by the bell to go back to lessons. A little later on a few of us met again, including this particular girl. I happened to mention obliquely something along the lines of “girls who seem to find older boys at school more attractive” and “there seems to be one at least who might be tilting her cap towards me”. This girl replied “yes. I’ve noticed that, Eric” and she mentioned two girls, one of whom was a daughter of a friend of mine, and a second one. But the daughter of a friend of mine was even talking about obtaining a marriage certificate. I found that really hard to believe because I hadn’t really noticed anything. This discussion went on, more complicated, until it was time to go back to the lessons so I said to these girls and boys, and in particular to the one whom I mentioned earlier “I’ll see you all at lunch then”. She replied “don’t forget to go to talk to these two girls. One of them is in her Physics class”. I had a bottle of beer with me that I’d opened so I walked up to the Physics class. They were all crowded around a bunsen burner talking about something so I took a piece of kitchen roll, rolled it up tightly and used it as a stopper in this bottle. I smiled at this particular girl and that was when this dream ended.

Imagine that! There I was with the bird on my plate, just about to get my fork stuck in it, and “poof!”. It comes to a shuddering halt. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … there is something going on in my subconscious that is preventing me from Getting The Girl. It seems to happen every time (with just one or two exceptions). So what does my subconscious know about my relationship with girls that it doesn’t want me to proceed any further than this point?

It’s interesting too that this is always the kind of thing that occurs when I’m an adolescent in my dreams. It’s true that my adolescence was not a happy one, for a variety of reasons, and a loyal and reliable girlfriend of the type who would have helped me weather the various storms would have been a very great comfort to me. But my subconscious is not letting me go down that route at all, and in any case, teenage girls like that are very rare birds indeed.

Then there was some kind of confrontation between a Jewish school and the local community. When it came to the end of term the kids had to be taken away by buses to another centre. They had all tried to arrange times with their parents but it was impossible. For a start, the E40 was always blocked on school chucking-out days so people would arrive home quand ils s’amusent – when they could. I was driving one of the buses with someone else and we had a police escort. We reached the school and handed the ticket to the teacher who was on the door. She directed us to the school theatre where a group of pupils were singing some kind of pseudo-religious song from the stage. It really was wonderful. After they finished I turned to my colleague and said “we aren’t allowed to applaud in a church, are we?”. He asked “you thought it was that good, did you?”. I replied “yes”. He said “quite frankly I have never ever heard it done better”

This second dream relates to a concert I’d been watching before going to bed. It was a concert from 2016 commemorating the 100th anniversary of the Battle of the Somme and was taking place in Exeter Cathedral. One of the tributes was from a well-known folk group who performed a musical tribute, a poem by my favourite poet A E Housman with music composed by George Butterworth who was killed at the Somme. And when they finished, everyone in the congregation applauded. And I remember thinking last night as I was watching that applause in a Cathedral shows some pretty bad taste

And the confrontation with the Jewish school presumably relates to something that I’d read, also yesterday evening, about a couple of obscure Jewish sects burning copies of the New Testament.

Isabelle the Nurse came early this morning and didn’t hang about. Not that I can blame her because this storm in increasing in velocity and it’s going to be much worse than this. But I’m glad that she wasn’t here for long, because it means that I can start making breakfast early.

And armed with breakfast, I can go to carry on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

Today, his book contains the longest footnote that I have ever read in a book. It spans four complete pages, and is a really good rant about the peevish relationship that the USA is trying to cultivate with Canada in an attempt to absorb it. He very presciently observes that "there is more reason to imagine that the Floridas, and the Spanish possessions to the east of the Mississippi, will be united therewith" than there is of Canada uniting with the USA, for the "people of Upper Canada are refugees, who were driven from the States by the persecution of the Republican party and though the thirteen years which have passed over have nearly extinguished every spark of resentment against the Americans in the breasts of the people of England, yet this is by no means the case in Upper Canada. It is there common to hear, even from the children of the refugees, the most gross invectives poured out against the people of the States and the people of the frontier states, in their turn, are as violent against the refugees and their posterity and, indeed, whilst Canada forms a part of the British empire, I am inclined, from what I have seen and heard in travelling through the country, to think that this spirit will not die away."

As well as that, I have had a fascinating lecture on how to build a blockhouse, if ever the need should arise.

After breakfast I sorted out the washing and hung up that which needed to hang. In my present state of health where I’m totally unsteady on my feet, that was a rather complicated issue but I managed in the end. Mind you, in this weather it will take an age to dry.

My faithful cleaner fitted my anaesthetic patches for me and then I had to wait around for the taxi. When he arrived I was hustled out into the gale-force wind and staggered as best as I could to the car. The waves on the water were magnificent in this weather, I noticed as we passed by. What wouldn’t I have given to have gone for a walk?

We picked up our second passenger and then headed for Avranches. Strangely, away from the coast, the wind was much less.

In the clinic there were very few of us today. Maybe the wind was keeping the others at home. Julie the Cook fitted my connections today. The first was absolutely painless. I felt nothing at all. But the next one was different and hurt throughout the session.

Once more, I drifted off for a few minutes at the start and once I’d recovered I revised my Welsh and then read some more of Hakluyt. He’s repeating the legend of “King Arthur” and his presumed voyages to subdue the Norsemen, basically copied from Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae. That’s quite a shame, but he had no other sources to use and didn’t have the archaeological knowledge or access to papers in the Danish Royal Library that we have today.

No-one bothered me at all today and I was out quite early. I had a chatty driver bringing me home and she brought me through the town to see the Christmas lights, which was nice of her.

Coming home was one thing – coming to the building was something else. My cleaner was there waiting, and even with two women hanging on to me, I was almost blown over twice. I’ve never known a storm like this one.

To add insult to injury, the handrail fell off the wall so I had enormous difficulty coming upstairs.

Tea tonight was a baked potato with breaded quorn fillet and vegan salad followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. So now I’ll dictate my radio notes and then go to bed for a nice lie-in.

Yesterday though, we left Isaac Weld hunting on the shore of Lake Erie. This morning the wind had changed direction so the captain called him up on his mobile ‘phone
"Where are you now, Isaac?" asked the Captain. "What are you doing?"
"I’m hunting bear on the shores of Lake Erie" said Isaac
"Well, put your clothes back on and come back to the ship. The wind has changed direction and we are ready to sail"

Friday 6th December 2024 – HERE I WAS …

… working on the next radio programme and running aground, sitting here talking to myself as I often do "for I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old: they choose the wisest person present to speak to" as Gandalf said in “Lord Of The Rings”, and asking myself "what am I doing next?"

And having a sudden flash of inspiration "I should be doing Miss Bush". I meant actually editing and remixing a track of hers, but yes, chance would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it?

So guess who has been a busy boy today?

Much better than last night when I was very late going to bed yet again.

The problem was that after all of my exertions during the day, I was too tired to pick myself up out of my comfortable chair and stagger the couple of feet into my nice fresh bed. Nevertheless, when I did finally manage it, it might have taken a while to go to sleep but once I’d gone, not even Jenny Agutter could have lured me back out again.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was still flat out and dead to the World, and it was quite a struggle to rise to my feet before the second alarm.

Surprisingly, this morning I had a thirst that you could have photographed so after I’d had a good wash and scrub up I went into the kitchen and had my morning drink of half a pint of fruit juice with all of my medication. Three different lots of it are powders that are poured into the drink.

And if you think that that is bad, every second Saturday it’s four powders that go into it. As well as all of the regular pills and potions that I have to take every day. I’m surprised that I don’t rattle when I walk.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was at the hospital during the night. It was in Avranches but in North America. I recall some of the Native American tribes loitering around, which made it dangerous for people to go off wandering around on their own during the evening but I can’t remember any more about this except that it was definitely the Avranches that we know and the hospital that we know and the hills that we know,

It’s not easy to confuse the rock on which Avranches sits, and the hills around it, with anywhere else in the World. So I must have been right about the location

Later on I was driving with someone to the East Midlands Airport. He was driving. We were having a rather large animated discussion, so much so that where the road veered off slightly to the left he carried straight on down this old farm track. In the middle of this big, animated discussion he said “I don’t think much of this road going to the airport. Do you?”. We paid no attention, bouncing along more and more, until we suddenly burst through the airfield fence, right across the hardstanding and came to a desperate stop right at one of the terminals. There was a quick announcement that ‘plane number so-and-so from somewhere else was in and so people began to queue up at the front door and the back door to come in. I opened the door and these people climbed in so I opened the front door and more people climbed in. I thought “for a four-seater car, we’re having a lot of people come aboard”. They were all having a moan about our style of arrival and hoped that the style of the departure wouldn’t be worse. I told them to wait and see what they were going to have …fell asleep here … so I said “thank you” because I was attached up this tree by a harness and lowered myself to the ground. I climbed into the car as well and we made ready to leave.

Whatever went on while I had fallen asleep in the middle of that dream must have been really exciting and I’m sorry that I missed it. East Midlands Airport is just about the only airport in the UK that I’ve never visited, strange as it may seem. However, what I saw in my dream was more like the old set-up at Charleroi years ago.

When Isabelle the Nurse came round she asked me how things went so I told her about the patches. She told me that it was my fault, which I readily agreed. But in all honesty, what do I know about the affair?

After she left I had breakfast and then carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. And I do feel sorry for him and his friends.

They had scrambled down the steep slope to the bank of the river to go to approach the falls, and to fortify them for the return journey, had hidden a flask of brandy and a couple of glasses amongst the rocks.

They sent a servant to fetch it because "wet from head to foot and greatly fatigued, there certainly was not one amongst us that appeared, at the moment, desirous of getting the brandy, in order to pour out a libation to the tutelary deities of the cataract;". However, their hopes were dashed "for the messenger returned in a few minutes with the woeful intelligence that the brandy and goblets had been stolen"

And "Perched on the rocks, at a little distance from us, sat a pair of the river nymphs, not ” nymphs with sedged crowns and ever harmless looks not temperate nymphs,” but a pair of squat sturdy old wenches, that with close bonnets and tucked up petticoats had crawled down the cliff, and were busied with long rods in angling for fish. Their noisy clack plainly indicated- that they had been well pleased with the brandy, and that we ought not to entertain any hopes of recovering the spoil; we e’en slaked our thirst, therefore, with a draught from the wholesome flood,"

Right now, I’ve left him hunting for bear along the shore of Lake Erie, and I’ve just had a lecture on dressing the hides of bear and deer. That might have come in handy that day when I encountered Rupert on his way to a picnic up in the Mealy Mountains of Labrador.

After I’d finished, I came in here and began to finish selecting the rest of the music for the next radio programme. And having done that, I sat down, paired it off and segued it, and then in a mad fit of enthusiasm wrote out all of the notes for it too, ready to dictate on Saturday night.

Whatever had come over me?

There were several interruptions too. Lunch was one of them, and my cleaner coming was another. So not only is the place nice and clean, the medicine shelves are stacked up and full too. That will keep me going for the next few weeks.

Hot chocolate was another break too. That’s a nice mid-afternoon pause to give my braincells time to cool down.

Tea tonight was vegan salad, chips and falafel, followed by vegan ginger cake with butterscotch flavoured soya dessert.

So right now, I’m off to bed, ready to prepare myself for another painful session in the Dialysis Clinic tomorrow afternoon for my sins.

But the mystery of the Native American tribes in Avranches is easily explained. One member thereof wanted to be circumcised, so he was on his way with his friends and supporters to the private hospital there.
"One hundred Euros" said the cashier
"Ugh! Too much!" he replied
So he and his friends went down the hill to the public hospital
"One hundred Euros" said the cashier
"Ugh! Too much!" he replied
So having been frustrated, he took his tomahawk and did the job himself
Back in his wigwam later that night he showed his wife his handiwork
"What do you think?" he asked
"Ugh! Too much!" she replied.

Thursday 5th December 2024 – “THERE SEEMS TO BE …

… a series of scars …”

“That’s enough”, I replied. “I really don’t want to know any more”

“OK” said the doctor. “But there’s this series of scars …”

You can tell that I went for the scan on my implant this afternoon. And what is it that people don’t understand about me not wanting to know any more? It’s almost as if they go out of their way to make like difficult for me.

All in all, it was a long, tiring day today. Not helped by another late night again last night. I don’t even think that it was before midnight when I finally retired. It seemed to be long after that.

Once in bed I was asleep quite quickly and there I stayed until the alarm went off at 07:00. I was dealing with … "you mean ‘dreaming about’" – ed … the USA last night when the alarm went off, about someone who had acquired all of the land West of the Mississippi at a price that worked out at £00.005 per acre, which might sound cheap but he was obliged to undertake certain infrastructure works within the next five years. If he failed to do so the purchase would be voided. That’s as far as I went into this dream.

This is something else in ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. Land speculators, and the amount of money they make by doing it, is another one of his favourite subjects.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up but I forgot to have a shave. I shall look like The Old Man Of The Sea at this rate. Instead I went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. It’s going to be a long day.

While eating it I read some more of ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. He’s now reached the Niagara Falls – well, sort-of, because we are on the eleventh page of today’s journey and he’s still waxing lyrical about the effect that the noise and mist is having on him, and he’s not yet even seen the Falls as yet.

However, he does venture the opinion, and quite rightly so, that "the great falls of the river must originally have been situated at the spot where the waters are so abruptly contracted between the hills; and indeed it is highly probable that this was the case, for it is a fact well ascertained, that the falls have receded very considerably since they were first visited by Europeans, and that they are still receding every year"

Isabelle the Nurse turned up to deal with my legs and to fit the anaesthetic patches. To my surprise she didn’t know where the patches went and asked me. As if I know? So I hope that she fit them in the correct place.

The taxi turned up on time and, for some reason, it was the wheelchair transporter. I don’t know what I’d done to deserve that. It’s higher than the standard saloon cars so it’s easier to enter and exit.

The driver didn’t have much to say for himself and it was a quick drive down to the Dialysis Centre in comparative silence.

At the Centre we had a moment of hilarity. We have to weigh ourselves when we go in and hand the ticket from the machine to one of the nurses. When I handed mine to her she said “Look how much weight you have gained!” However, it turned out that one of the patients before me had forgotten to take his ticket and I had picked it up.

The nurses weren’t impressed with the positioning of the patches. However I suppose that it’s difficult when you don’t know. One pin went in quite easily and painlessly while the other one was much more of a painful struggle, although it actually worked today, the first time since I don’t know when.

The doctor came to see me, but he soon beat a hasty retreat when I tackled him about this scan that I had the other day. He really has no interest in his job, which is a shame.

For once, the machine behaved itself this morning and I wasn’t interrupted at all – not even for a coffee. I seemed to have missed the morning hand-out. Instead I revised my Welsh, listened to music and carried on reading Richard Hakluyt’s PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS.

Apart from the usual sycophancy towards his patron, the Earl of Nottingham with loads of lines such as "here by the way mo?t humbly crauing pardon, and alwayes ?ubmitting my poore opinion to your Lord?hips mo?t deep and percing in?ight, ", pages and pages of it, he has a delightful turn of phrase, such as " our Engli?h nation, at the fir?t ?etting foorth for their Northea?terne di?couery, were either altogether de?titute of ?uch cleare lights and inducements, or if they had any mnkling at all, it was as mi?ly as they found the Northren ?eas,"

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I adore Hakluyt’s cynicism.

They eventually unplugged me and threw me out into a waiting taxi that took me across the road to the hospital. There I was unceremoniously pushed into a hospital wheelchair and pushed around the hospital until my driver found out where to take me.

There was quite a wait until they could see me, and then we had all of this performance with the doctor and the scanner. The doctor was not at all impressed that they’d sent me straight here from being dialysed.

Eventually they could let me go and I was then pushed by my taxi driver down to the waiting car and driven home.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and she watched as a very weary me hauled myself up the stairs into the apartment where at last I could sit down comfortably.

Having bashed out some dough for the next loaf, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. We were all in a hospital. There were people who came from many different countries in Europe. It seemed that the treatment wasn’t the same. Someone was astonished that the knock-out drops that they administered to people to make them pass out for operations etc were given to the people when they were awake. I said “there’s no point giving them to someone who’s asleep. If he’s asleep, he wouldn’t need them”. Someone else talked about things that took place in other parts of Europe with regard to the administering of anaesthetics. When I came to be discharged they handed me a huge pile of information, including some stuff on a tape. I asked what the tape was for. They said that it was because I’m someone who isn’t courageous enough to confront the issues of the illness that they are having to give me the information like this, first of all to make sure that I hear it and secondly so that I can pass it to anyone else who is going to make any kind of medical intervention on my behalf. Once again; other people in this ward were quite surprised that it was necessary to give me this kind of information. Why shouldn’t it be available to the general public?

My thinking about anaesthetics might sound logical, but I wouldn’t want anyone to test the theory on me. As for me not having the courage to know about what’s going on, you can make of that what you will.

Later on I was playing with Quicksilver last night. There was just me and Dean Freiberg … "David Freiberg" – ed …. The two of us were keeping the group alive. We went to the airport to see off Jefferson Airplane on some kind of tour circuit. They blockaded our car so we couldn’t leave. This went on for a while until in the end I said to Freiberg “would you like to go to play with Jefferson Airplane?”. After much prevarication he admitted that he did so I told him to go over to their car and join in, and I’ll sort something out. I went back home, worked on one or two songs and collected a few ideas together. They I was out one day and someone pointed out Don Airey to me, a British musician and his drummer. I went up to say “hello” and to ask them what they were doing in the States. They replied that they had come over to join a group but it had all fallen through. So seeing as we now had a keyboard player and bassist, I said “I have some ideas if you want to join in”. We ended up going to a motorway service café, one that I knew really well where the girl on the till was quite jovial and joking. She was reading a newspaper but when she saw the three of us walk in she immediately put her newspaper on the floor. I walked over and asked “what’s in the news today?” to which she laughed. She recognised Don Airey and said “oh he was in earlier. He broke a cup of coffee and offered to pay for the cup”. Someone said something like “well, he’s British, isn’t he? Not American. He would offer to pay for it”.

Actually David Freiberg did leave Quicksilver and later, play with Jefferson Airplane and Jefferson Starship. But what Don Airey, organist of Deep Purple, is doing in all of this, I really don’t know.

Tea wasn’t up to much tonight. I tried a plate of baked vegetables and butternut squash in the air fryer but it didn’t really work out, so we’ll dismiss this one as a failure. But at least the oven was nice and hot for the bread and made a lovely loaf. And my ginger cake was lovely too

So right now, I’m exhausted and I’m off to bed. It’s been a tough day today and I can’t wait to take to my lovely bed.

Anyway, Isaac Weld was on a boat with a Japanese tourist and their American guide, the boat drifting helplessly and out of control towards the Niagara Falls.
Suddenly, a genie appears. "I can only give you three wishes" he said. "That’s one each"
"I love my country!" shouted the American. "Give me a heavenly choir to sing ‘The Stars and Stripes’ before we go over"
"I love my country’s food" said the Japanese. "Give me a banquet of raw sushi, raw sea slug, sea urchin and pickled omelette"
"Do me a favour" said Isaac Weld to the genie. "For God’s sake kill me off before those other two wishes are granted"

Wednesday 4th December 2024 – I HAD ANOTHER …

… chat with Rosemary this evening. Just a short one this time – only one hour and forty-eight minutes. We are definitely losing our touch these days.

But as a result, I am running horribly late tonight and I’m glad that it’s the Dialysis Centre tomorrow morning – for the simple fact that I can have a good sleep there if I’m tired.

It was also late when I went to bed last night, but there again that’s only to be expected these days. It wasn’t all that late when I finished everything, but I hung around for a while afterwards doing not very much at all.

When I was in bed it didn’t take long for me to go to sleep and once more, there I stayed until the alarm went off at 07:00. Mind you, I was awake a few minutes beforehand but not even if TOTGA, Zero or Castor (whatever happened to them?) were beckoning from the doorway would I be enticed from the warmth and comfort of my own wonderful bed

It was, as usual, a struggle to rise up when it was time to do so but I managed to beat the second alarm by a short head and once the bedroom stopped spinning round I could make my way into the bathroom.

After having had a good wash I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I dreamed that I’d taken some sandwiches to bed with me. I’d been missing a meal here and there and my body was going totally out of synch. One night I was going to bed at about 23:00 and realised that I’d had no food so I made myself some sandwiches but I fell asleep. When I awoke I had an insatiable thirst so I began to look around for the sandwiches (…fell asleep here …) so when I awoke I was looking around for these sandwiches under the bed. Of course I realised then that I was actually in a dream and there were no sandwiches at all

Now that’s a novelty, isn’t it? Dreaming about food and especially bringing it to bed with me. But could you imagine leaving the sandwiches under the bed? It’s a good job that I fell asleep mid-search. But the sandwiches wouldn’t help me with my insatiable thirst.

Isabelle the Nurse was in a chatty mood this morning and had a lot to say for herself. We talked about economics and other exciting subjects this morning and I seem to be putting the World to rights with a lot of people these days.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on with ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

Today he’s arrived at Kingston and has been escorted across the lake to the town of Niagara in a fleet of canoes with several traders. He’s still obsessed with the idea of Canada as the best country in the Empire and with the preoccupation of Americans with money, but he tells us that "the town of Niagara hitherto has been and is still the capital of the province of Upper Canada ; orders, however, had been issued, before our arrival there, for the removal of the seat of government from thence to Toronto which was deemed a more eligible spot for the meeting of the legislative bodies, as being farther removed from the frontiers of the United States. This projected change is by no means relished by the people at large, as Niagara is a much more convenient place of resort to most of them than Toronto; and as the governor who proposed the measure has been removed, it is imagined that it will not be put in execution."

Well, the less said about that prophecy of his, the better.

He did much better with something else that he mentioned in his book. "It is to be lamented that the Indian names, so grand and sonorous, should ever have been changed for others. Newark, Kingston, York, are poor substitutes for the original names of these respective places, Niagara, Cadaragui, Toronto." although he had to wait two hundred years for the beginning of the restoration of First-Nation place-names.

And while I’m in complete agreement with the process of the restoration of the first-Nation names, it is nevertheless confusing when I’m trying to follow the trail of the European explorers of the Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries, where the names that they gave in their memoirs to places that they visited have now been erased from the map

Today, I’ve been carrying on my hunt for music. I didn’t realise yesterday how much I didn’t have and seem to have fallen way short in my estimate. So much of the day has been spent tracking it down and then trying to identify it, because as I mentioned yesterday, the program that I use is mixing up the names of the tracks

My cleaner came in this afternoon to do her stuff and she changed all the bedding. That’s good because with having had a shower, there’s now a nice, clean me to go into a nice, clean bed.

The shower was wonderful and now it’s less that six months to go until I’ll be able to install a shower in the bathroom downstairs. Time is going quicker than I would have thought. But when I do have the shower installed, I’ll be having one every day – at least, at the beginning.

There will be a much-improved kitchen too if only I can arrange to have the kitchen units removed from the van and put in the apartment. I hope that the oven in there still works.

There was the usual interruption for the hot chocolate, and then another one with Rosemary, who rang just as I was preparing to stop work.

As a result, I has about an hour late going for tea tonight. It was, as usual, a leftover curry with rice, veg and naan bread. Spoiling myself yet again.

And the ginger cake was excellent. It tasted just as it should, and could even have been somewhat spicier

So now, much later than I intended, I’m off to bed. It’s the dialysis tomorrow morning and the X-ray in the afternoon. I wonder what they are going to find. There’s definitely something that’s not correct.

But while we’re on the subject of things being spoilt … "well, one of us is" – ed … the Headmaster of a local Primary School rang up Little Johnny’s mother and said "your son is spoilt"
"No he isn’t" said Little Johnny’s mother
"Yes he is" retorted the Headmaster
"No he isn’t" insisted Little Johnny’s mother
"Well, you come here" said the Headmaster "and see what the groundsman’s industrial lawnmower has done to him."

Tuesday 3rd December 2024 – IT’S ALL STARTING …

… off again around here.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that medical appointments seem to come in batches . They are like London buses – you don’t see one for ages and then half a dozen all turn up at the same time.

And so this morning I had a ‘phone call from the Dialysis Centre. “Could you come in during the morning on Thursday because we’ve arranged for that scan on your implant to take place during the afternoon at 15:00?”

So at 10:00 in the forenoon I have been summoned to answer to the above, not at a Court of Law, but at the Dialysis Centre. And they will arrange the taxi at the appropriate time.

Shortly afterwards, Paris finally called me back in answer to all of the messages that I had left them. I told them about this appointment there with the neurologist on 23rd January so if they wanted to perform this blasted biopsy, could they do it round about then?

“That was why we are ringing” said the voice. “If you can tell us the contact details of your Dialysis Centre, we’ll get them to do the dialysis on the Wednesday and have the taxi bring you here straight away, giving you two days before you go back home again”.

It’s taken them long enough to come round to it, but now that they have their fingers on the pulse again, things might begin to happen.

One thing that won’t be happening is me going to bed at a respectable time. It was another late night last night.

This time though, I was asleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until the alarm sounded at 07:00, without moving a muscle or batting an eyelid at all.

It was a struggle to haul myself out of the bed but I beat all of the alarms at the correct places and had a good wash and scrub up.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I had been during the night. I was running a small solar energy business as I did before. I was in Canada. I’d registered my business in Canada and done a little work there. I’d managed to rent someone’s front garden where I’d put a portacabin and a few other bits and pieces on there and that I used as a Head Office. When I crossed over the border between Canada and the USA I noticed that there was now a Customs office. It was inviting traders to register there. I was thinking that with the difference in tax between the USA and Canada it may well be of interest to me if I’m bringing stuff across the border. If I do that, the tax that I pay that is more will be refunded to me. If I buy stuff in Canada and take it over into the USA to sell, then I’d receive a deduction on the difference between the Canada and the USA tax. We went round there but it was closed so I thought that I’d go there again. On our way back we went past where my property was and I noticed that the house was for sale. I said to my niece to let me know when it’s sold because I couldn’t see me being allowed to stay there on the front lawn by a new owner. We stopped to have a look. The owner was outside. He buttonholed us so we went in and had a chat. No-one said anything about the property being for sale. Then it was time to leave. We had to leave downstairs through the basement so it was a case of locking all the upstairs. That gave us an opportunity to look into the rooms and we saw that work was still going on. It didn’t look as if they were ready to leave any time. The boy of the house ran back upstairs after we’d all gone down even though we’d closed all the lights and locked the doors. His father was rather short with him. The wife carried on talking to us as we walked through the house and basement and saw all of the lovely work that they were doing, turning what had been the living room into an office and the conversation carried on

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, back in 2012 and 2013 I was actively exploring the possibility of setting up a business in Canada and had even taken steps to initiate something. But like everything else, I was overwhelmed when my ill-health began.

There was also the famous Motel venture, when I had my eye on THAT PLOT OF LAND THAT WAS LEFT OVER when they finished the Trans-Labrador Highway over the Mealy Mountains in 2010, and there was also the other little plot of land left over when they built the Trans-Canada Highway and for which I actually made an offer, before being well and truly wiped out by Irving’s Petrol Stations who paid ten times what the land was worth.

Isabelle the nurse was late today. And not just late but very late. 08:50 when she finally appeared. "Sorry but I had a lot of blood tests to do this morning" she said.

No surprise there of course. People are withholding their prescriptions when her colleague is on duty because he doesn’t have “the touch” like she does.

On the subject of holidays I told her not to bother to come on New Year’s Day because I’m having a lie-in. Nevertheless she insisted on coming, but she’ll come on the midday round. The question is “will I actually be up by midday?”.

After she left I made breakfast and began the second part of ISAAC WELD’S BOOK

We aren’t many pages into it before we read something that underlines just what I was discussing the other day about the morals of the Europeans who went to North America. He tells us that the First-Nation people whom he met at Lévis opposite Québec were "{qualid and filthy in the extreme, and going about the ?treets every day in large partics, begging, pre?ented a mo?t melancholy picture of human nature; and indeed, if a traveller never ?aw any of the North American Indians, but the mo?t decent of tno?e who are in the habit of frequenting the large towns of Lower Canada, he would not be Jed to entertain an opinion greatly in their favour. The farther you a?cend up the country, and con?equently the nearer you ?ee the Indians to what they were in their original ?tate, before their manners were corrupted by intercour?e with the whites, the more do you find in their character and conduct de?erving of admiration."

If that’s not a damning indictment of the behaviour of the European settlers in Canada I don’t know what it is. But I’m convinced that Isaac Weld would have had a good relationship with the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine. They have a lot in common, although he is more in tune with the First-Nation peoples of North America rather than Aunt Judy’s Magazine editor’s fairies.

Another thing he discusses, after having visited a convent in Trois Rivières and meeting a young novice, "the fair Ur?uline, who came to the Iattice, ?eemed to be one of tho?e unfortunate females that had at la?t begun to feel all the horrors of confinement, and to lament the ra?hne?s of that vow which had fecluded her for ever from the world, and from the participation of tho?e innocent plea?ures, which, for the be?t and wi?e?t of purpo?es, the beneficent Ruler of the univer?e meant that his creatures ?hould enjoy. " is "the cruelty of the cu?tom which allows, and the mi?taken zeal of a religion that encourages, an artle?s and inexperienced young creature to renounce a world, of which ?he was de?tined perhaps, to be a happy and u?eful member, for an unprofitable life of ?olitude, and unremitted Penance for ?ins never committed"

Much, much later than usual I came back in here to revise for my Welsh lesson and then to take part therein. And once more, it went quite well too.

Earlier, I’d sent off my homework and I received it back, marked “brilliant” and with a note that my tutor loved my essay on James Bond.

After lunch I went on the hunt for music for the next radio programme. That wasn’t easy because some of it was quite obscure but in the end I managed to find what I needed. As well as that, a few gems fell into my hands too.

The trouble is that with this new program that I’m using to search and extract music, it’s not so good at finding the titles of the songs and becomes confused, so in the end I’ve switched off that option because it’s making more work than it’s saving. I’m having to do all of that by hand afterwards.

That’s probably taking more time than I’m saving with the speed of this program.

There was the break for hot chocolate of course, which was really nice. And while I was drinking it I rang up Isabelle the nurse.

Earlier in the day my faithful cleaner had stuck her head in at the door. She goes into town really early on Thursdays so if she fits my anaesthetic patches before she goes, the effect will have worn off by the time I’m plugged in. So she suggested that I telephone Isabelle and ask her if she would do it.

And so I did – and she agreed, which was nice of her. She’s much more friendly and serviable.

Tea tonight was a taco roll with stuffing and with rice and veg followed by the last of the chocolate cake. Tomorrow I’m starting on the ginger cake and I’ll tell you how it is.

But that’s tomorrow. Right now I’m off to bed.

But when Isaac Weld was in Trois Rivières I expected him to mention the enormous sundial in the town that I SAW WHEN I WAS THERE.
There’s a story about that sundial. There was one Québecois who asked another one to tell him the time
"I don’t have a watch" replied the second
"Well, go and look at the sundial" said the first
"Don’t be silly" said the second. "It’s dark outside"
"In that case" said the first "take a torch with you"

Monday 2nd December 2024 – I HAVE SEEN …

… my first “H” reg car today.

France isn’t like the UK – they simply issue all of the numbers consecutively until they run out, and then move on to the next letter and so on.

It’s about time that I saw one. They seem to have been stuck on GZ numbers for quite some considerable time, but this evening on the way home, parked in the Rue des Juifs there was an HA.

Interestingly, on the radio on the way home there was a talk about what the Press sees as the current financial crisis in France, with the cost of borrowing reaching 2.88% of GDP. That intrigued me because I don’t think that this amount is any big deal. Anyway I had a look, and found that the UK’s cost of borrowing is 4.4% of GDP – over half as much again.

In the USA it’s 2.86% – about the same as in France – and no-one is panicking over there. Interestingly, the USA’s borrowing is without anything even resembling the amount of social welfare that any other country pays out.

The record, by the way, according to the International Monetary Fund; is held by Ghana with 7.49%. In the Western World, it’s held by Iceland with 5.88%.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, I was late again going to bed but I didn’t care at all. And once in bed, although it took an age to go to sleep, I slept the Sleep of the Dead once more, all the way round to … errr … 06:20.

Whatever awoke me I really have no idea, but once awake I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I thought but I definitely had my head in the clouds at 07:00 when the alarm went off.

It took a while for me to gather my wits, which is a surprise seeing how few I have these days, and when the room stopped spinning round I alighted and headed to the bathroom.

After a good wash I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone but to my disappointment there was nothing on there. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I have these days is what goes on during the night.

The nurse came early yet again, which cheered me up because the quicker he comes, the quicker he goes. He’s on duty on Christmas Day, apparently, so I told him not to bother coming here that day. I’m going to have a lie-in.

Tomorrow, I’ll have to tell Isabelle the Nurse not to come on New Years Day either.

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK, which I have now finished – at least, part I of it.

He’s absolutely sold on Canada by the way. He lists several really good reasons why one should leave the UK and go West. And while the USA is the preferred destination for so many at the end of the Eighteenth Century, and for so many good reasons too, he goes to great lengths to explain why each of these good reasons is even better in Canada.

He concludes with "From a due confideration of every one of the before mentioned circumflances, it appears evident to me, that there is no part of America fo fuitable to an Englifh or Irifh fettler as the vicinity of Montreal or Quebec in Canada,"

Tomorrow I’m going to start on part II as he travels back to Montréal on the CHEMIN DU ROY but in the opposite direction to that in which I travelled when I wrote my magnum opus.

After breakfast I came in here to finish off my Welsh homework. I had to write an essay on my favourite screen character so I chose James Bond.

If I were to ask people to name the first two Bonds they would inevitably say Sean Connery and Roger Moore. In fact Moore was the fourth. Second was David Niven in the first version of “CASINO ROYALE and third was George Lazenby in ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE.

Having finished my homework I started to prepare the next radio programme but was interrupted by the arrival of my faithful cleaner, come to fit my anaesthetic patches.

This new series of restrictions on the use of taxis is biting hard. We were three passengers in the taxi down to Avranches today. The other two came from somewhere miles out in the back country going home from a stay at the Centre Normandy and the car was driven by a driver who had no idea where anything at all was in Granville.

We were a crowded clinic today. Every bed was taken and once more I was last to be plugged in. The first pin went in my arm totally painlessly and I didn’t feel a thing. The second hurt like Hades and then they found that it wouldn’t work, so they had to fit a branching pipe to the first. They needn’t have fitted the second at all.

I spent the time studying my Welsh and downloading more literature that I’d been able to find. It turns out that Isaac Weld had a nephew, Charles Weld, who wrote extensively on the Arctic so I downloaded as much of it as I could find.

He also followed his uncle’s steps around Canada and the USA 50 years later and also wrote a book about his adventures. That too is a must-have as far as I’m concerned and it took a while to find a copy that I could download.

As I mentioned the other day, I can now access my LeClerc account from the Dialysis Clinic so I was busy reviewing the site and adding products onto my shopping list. Can you believe that my next LeClerc order will be the last one before Christmas? Hasn’t this year passed quickly?

While I’m at it, I’ll have to work out what other on-line shopping accounts I can access. The hospital’s firewall is quite restricting and using my ‘phone to access the internet isn’t always possible if I’m in the hospital too deep to access a wi-fi signal.

As well as all of that, I was being force-fed orange juice as my glucose level was so low.

My favourite taxi driver brought me home. She was strangely quiet which was a shame because I quite enjoy her running commentaries, especially when she’s annoyed.

Once more, I strode out and climbed the stairs boldly. I’m a long, long way from being able to climb even one of them without dragging myself up by the handrail on the wall, but at least It’s quite a change from how it used to be.

Back in here I had a little rest and then I made tea – a stuffed pepper with pasta. It was quite delicious too. It was followed by chocolate cake and lemon soya dessert.

That’s the last of the lemon soya, and tomorrow will see the last of the chocolate cake that has done me so well over the last couple of weeks. The ginger cake is cut into slices and is in the fridge ready for the next set of desserts

So now I’m off to bed ready for my Welsh class tomorrow.

Talking of James Bond, I once met Sir Roger Moore and I had a chat to him about the character that he played
"That’s right" he said. "They called me ‘Basildon Bond’"
"Why was that?" I asked, rather naively
"Well," he replied. "Since I’ve been knighted by the Queen I have letters after my name."

Saturday 30th November 2024 – ANOTHER PAINFUL SESSION …

… at the Dialysis Clinic. Another session where they had to put the branching connection into one of the pins and close the other off. There’s definitely something wrong with all of this as no-one else seems to be suffering in the same way that I do.

Or else it’s that I’m nesh and nothing more than a big baby. But that can’t be true as I have suffered quite a lot of pain quite stoically in the past..

But anyway, I digress.

Last night I finished my notes quite early (well, comparatively, anyway) and I could have gone to bed at a decent time. However I was listening to a concert on the internet and became rather engrossed, so I decided to stay up and watch the end of it. And then there was another one ….

So as the explorer Nansen once famously said, "the more extensive my studies became, the more riddles I perceived – riddle after riddle led to new riddles and this drew me on"

Consequently it was late when I went to bed, but I no longer care. If necessary I can sleep in the Dialysis Centre. It’s not as if I do very much else while I’m there.

It was another one of those nights where I slept the Sleep of the Dead and remember nothing of whatever might have gone on during the night – until all of 06:00 when I had another dramatic awakening. But when the alarm went off I was fast asleep yet again.

Once more, it was an undignified stagger into the bathroom for a good wash and a hunt for clean clothes as I don’t seem to have anything handy.

That was the cue for a major wash and even though I crammed as much as I could in the washing machine, there’s still a load left to do.

That’s the cue to change the bedding on Wednesday next week and so I can do yet another wash next Saturday morning too.

But while I was in the bathroom I had a shave to make myself look pretty, although I suspect that it will take more than a shave to do that.

There were the dictaphone notes to transcribe too. We were working at a music festival during the night, and one of the jobs that we were doing was erecting the tents and fitting the flooring. We had a huge pile of chipboard and a huge pile of tongue-and-grooving that we were using to fit out the floor. They were telling me that when they did this last year Peter Gabriel was there and when they went to fit the flooring in one tent they were using the flooring that had been used in his tent and found that underneath it was a big drawing that he’d drawn without anyone knowing. Of course they had pulled it up and all of the laths were distributed around elsewhere. There had to be some kind of mission to find these laths in order to reconstruct his drawing. There was a huge pile of chipboard downstairs at the bottom of the stairs that someone was cutting into squares with a huge circular saw. I was running the tongue and grooving around from one tent to the next that was erected. There was a huge argument going on. The festival organiser had ordered that one floor must be pulled up and taken away. I spoke to the guy who was in charge of the assembly of the tent. He told me that what he’d been doing was erecting the tents and then fitting the flooring inside the tent so that the turn-round at the foot of the wall of the tent was underneath the floor. That would stop the wind coming underneath the tent and into it. But for some reason the festival organiser wanted the turn-round to be above the floor. She had ordered all of the floors to be taken up. Of course, now they were going to be the wrong size but nevertheless she insisted. It seemed totally illogical to us that the tents should be erected that way. For a start, how do you fit the tent pegs in on the floor?

The concerts that I saw last night have clearly left their mark on me after all of that. But can I now add tent-erecting and furnishing to my list of subconscious night-time achievements?

Later on, we were on a ferry going to the mainland past a couple of islands. Someone was talking about one of these islands and talking about Iron Butterfly as if they had some kind of connection with it. I’d been on my way to see a friend. He’d had to go because he was going to see another friend of his who was thinking of joining some kind of rock group so they were going to meet the other players. This was strange because I’d been at someone’s house, another friend of mine, He was also going off to meet some players who were forming a group. I wondered if it could be the same people, it was such a coincidence. If it was, I felt rather sad and disappointed that they hadn’t invited me to go along with them to see what was happening with this group, if they needed a bassist. I felt quite disappointed about that.

It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve been forgotten by friends in these circumstances. But being on a ferry threading my way through the islands, am I missing the ferry between Sydney, Cape Breton and Argentia, Newfoundland? 27 hours of the Gulf of St Lawrence? Or is it that I’m missing life on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR?

But there’s a funny story about that ferry. I had “roaming” switched off on my telephone during the three months that I was in North America living in Strider, but on that ferry as we approached the coast of Newfoundland my ‘phone suddenly went berserk with piles and piles of messages, missed phone calls and the like.

It turns out that Bane of Britain had forgotten that we pass close to the islands of St Pierre and Miquelon – still French possessions in the Gulf of St Lawrence – and all of the services there are provided by French companies, including my network operator back at home. And so my ‘phone had picked up a domestic signal.

The nurse came early again today but any benefit was negated by the time that it took for his card reader to connect to his bluetooth so that he could read my health card.

After he left I made my breakfast and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. He’s now made it to Canada.

He tells us that "the compact and neat exterior appearance of the houfes, the calaches, the bons dieux, the large Roman Catholic churches and chapels, the convents, the priefts in their robes, the nuns, the friars ; all ferve to convince you that you are no longer in any part of the United States"

He’s also had two encounters with bands of First-Nation people – at least, two that he reports. One of the chiefs says that "if we came to fee him he would make us very happy ; that there were fome very handfome fquaws in his village, and that each of us would have a wife"

The second one tells him that "fhe head clerk or principal agent" of the Hudsons Bay Company "generally marries an Indian girl, the daughter of fome eminent chief, by which he gains in a peculiar manner the affections of the whole tribe, a matter of great importance." but that "thefe marriages, as may be fuppofed, are not confidered as very binding by the hufband"

And all of that tells me far more about the morals of the Europeans in North America in the 18th Century than it does about anything else

However, why I’m so interested in Weld’s book is because for the last few days he’s been prowling around in areas that I know very well and about which I’ve written in the past. He’s now in Montréal talking about life there in late 1790 and I’m finding it totally fascinating. There are tons of stuff in there that seem to have slipped through the hands of the modern compliers of history.

When I’d finished, I had all of the washing to hang up and there was quite a load of it. The clothes airer was totally full and so was the octopus in the bathroom.

That took so long that there wasn’t much time left to do anything important before I was ambushed by my cleaner.

We’re running low on anaesthetic patches and the prescription is expired so she packed it in my bag and told me to find the doctor who wrote it and ask for a new one.

The taxi came for me and once we’d picked up my usual Saturday voyager the three of us headed off to Avranches.

As seems to be usual, I was left almost until last to be seen. I think that it’s because I seem to be the most complicated, but it’s also the most painful as the anaesthetic has worn off by then.

And once they started we had all of the issues about making the machine work and that took longer than it should.

The doctor was there but he kept a very low profile and as a result I didn’t receive a new prescription. But the nurses – bless them – had a scout around and came up with a dozen or so patches that I could take home.

When they finally unplugged me I made ready to leave but had to wait for the taxi. And I almost cornered the doctor too but he slunk away.

When the taxi turned up I climbed in but I still had to wait fifteen minutes for another passenger. The tightening of the belt is causing a few delays here and there.

Back here the cleaner watched my climb up to my apartment. She thinks that I’m moving much better these days and so I have a cunning plan, more of which anon .

Tea tonight was a breaded quorn fillet with baked potato and vegan salad followed by chocolate cake and lemon flavoured soya dessert.

There are now some radio notes to dictate and then I’m off to bed. I have a busy day tomorrow with soup to make, pizza dough to make and a cake to bake. There’s no end to what I’m trying to do.

But talking about Peter Gabriel … "well, one of us is" – ed … I once met some young musician who told me that not only had he met Peter Gabriel, Peter Gabriel had talked to him.
"That’s wonderful" I said. "What did he say to you?"
"He said ‘what are you doing in my f***ing dressing room?"

Thursday 28th November 2024 – I AM GOING …

… to shut up about this blasted dialysis. Once more I’ve had a pretty miserable and painful experience. I’m convinced that it’s the implant in my arm that’s not working properly. I don’t see what else it might be.

Mind you, regular readers of this rubbish will recall that a few weeks ago they gave it a scan and they told me that it was working fine just then. It can’t have given up the ghost since then, not so dramatically.

It’s enough to put me off my sleep. It’s bad enough for me to have to go through all of this with all these pipes and tubes, and that’s without any pain as well.

It put me somewhat off my sleep last night. It was once more quite late when I went off to bed. It was after midnight and I was still letting it all hang out.

But once I was in bed I didn’t feel a thing. It was totally painless, all the way through to the alarm going off. I didn’t feel a thing or move a muscle.

When the alarm went off I fell out of bed and went off to the bathroom for a good wash to try to liven myself up. But that’s an impossible task these days.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise the dictaphone was empty. There was nothing on it all all.

The surprising part about that is that I have two very clear and distinct memories from the night going round in my head. The first was that I had a new medication to take, but it wasn’t to start for a couple of days so I had to hide it under the bed until the appropriate time in case anyone else found it. This was a dream so vivid that I almost went to look under the bed when I awoke this morning.

The second was that I was in Crewe Town Centre on the corner of Queensway and Victoria Street talking to someone and it suddenly occurred to me that they had rebuilt the area that they demolished last year, but it didn’t look all that different. So I wondered why they had gone to all that expense to do so. A few of the buildings were finished in different materials to the others, but the biggest difference was that the building right on the corner only had one glass window, that facing into Queensway and the wall in Victoria Street was blank. In our opinion that immediately ruled out any big retailer from taking up the lease. One of the shops opposite had been converted and fitted out as a hot pie shop, bakery and café but it was so narrow and the display window so small, but going deep inside the building, was so impractical as to be useless and we thought that it would never be let to a serious retailer. All in all, our opinion of the rebuilding of the Town Centre was that it was a dismal failure and a total waste of money.

And this dream was so vivid that I had to look at an on-line mapping service to make sure that Crewe Town Centre was still looking like Fallujah after an American offensive.

When the nurse came round we had a chat about chiropodists. Of course, as usual he would always have chosen “the other one” so it’s not really worth asking him things like this.

After he left I made breakfast and read more of ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. He’s calmed down a lot today. In fact, he’s gone sightseeing.

There is a rock bridge in the USA that is effectively the remains of a roof of a collapsed cavern but back in 1790 it was quite something. Our hero is so enthralled by it that he’s forgotten to have his usual moan about taverns and innkeepers.

Later on, back in here I had a few things to do and was so engrossed that I was taken unawares by the arrival of my cleaner. It was time for her to apply my patches.

Once it was done I had to wait for the taxi. It already had another passenger in it so the three of us (driver and two passengers) had quite a chatty drive all the way down to Avranches.

There was something of a wait while the nurse on duty coupled everyone up. There was another nurse with her – a trainee in that department – so it took ages because every single step of the procedure had to be done exactly by the book

Nevertheless there didn’t seem to be a procedure to cover what to do about my reaction when she stuck the needle in my arm.

This afternoon I revised my Welsh and then read some more of Hakluyt’s PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS.

And while Isaac Weld might have calmed down, Hakluyt certainly hadn’t. He’d heard a story about a trip that "set forth out of the Thames the 20 day of May in the 19 yeere of his raigne, which was the yere of our Lord. 1527" and went to North America where “white bears” were found (so God alone knows exactly where the people went) and which descended into cannibalism.

However, to his lasting dismay and regret (and mine too) "And thus much (by reason of the great negligence of the writers of those times, who should have used more care in preserving of the memories of the worthy actes of our nation,) is all that hitherto I can learne, or finde out of this voyage"

Another thing that I discovered is that I can access my LeClerc account and so I spent some time going over my order again. I’ll give it another run-through tomorrow morning before I send it off.

Unplugging me was almost as painful as unplugging me. It was Julie the Cook’s turn to sit by me and compress my arm afterwards.

She’s booking a flight to San Francisco to go to see her brother who lives there, so I told her that if there was any room in her suitcase to fit me in. She wanted to know if we should take the dialysis machine too.

The taxi was waiting for me and we had what I thought was a rather nervous drive back to Granville.

My cleaner was waiting and watched in amazement as I strode manfully … "PERSONfully" – ed … up all the steps into my apartment.

Tea tonight was a stir-fry of rice, veg and some beansprouts. That was nice with my chocolate cake and lemon soya for dessert.

So right now I’m off to bed but not before I describe another encounter that Isaac Weld had with a local.
He arrived at a river and the only way to cross was to swim so he asked a local in a boat "are there any alligators in this river?"
"None at all" replied the local, so Weld dives in and swims for the opposite shore.
Half-way across the river he swims alongside the boat and asks the local "How come there are no alligators in this river?"
"There used to be" said the local "but the sharks took care of them all."

Wednesday 27th November 2024 – I’VE DONE IT AGAIN.

It’s strange, isn’t it? That it always seems to happen on a Wednesday. But once again I had a very late night, or more like, an early morning because it was long, long after 03:00 when I finally crawled off to bed.

And when I was in bed I can’t remember if I went to sleep or not. I have vague memories of being awake throughout the night last night.

However when the alarm went off I was asleep and what surprised me was that it wasn’t as difficult as I thought that it would be to raise myself from the bed

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up to keep me going until this afternoon and then came back in here to see if there was anything on the dictaphone from what little of the night there was.

And to my surprise there was something on there too. But I’m not going to mention it because you are probably eating your meal at the moment. It actually concerned the South-Eastern USA and slaves. I’ve been reading too much Isaac Weld, I reckon.

The nurse came early today and he didn’t hang around for long. And so it was earlier than usual when I sat down to eat my breakfast.

However, I was engrossed in ISAAC WELD’S BOOK

He’s still having issues on his travels, and he must have had some unfortunate run-in with some more American people because he writes "Intoxication is very prevalent, and it is fcarcely poffible to meet with a man who does not begin the day with taking one, two, or more drams as foon as he rifes. Brandy is the liquor which they principally ufe, and having the greater abundance of peaches, they make it at a very trifling expence."

As well as that, he’s also continuing on his favourite subject, the quality of the accommodation on offer in the USA.

He writes " The accommodation at the taverns along this road I found moft wretched ; nothing was to be had but rancid fifh, fat falt pork, and bread made of Indian corn. For this indifferent fare alfo 1 had to wait oftentimes an hour or two."

Nevertheless, Weld would have been glad of that because next day, having arrived late at his next lodgings and having to argue for an hour to be let in, "returning to the houfe, I was fhewn into a room about ten feet fquare, in which were two filthy beds fwarming with bugs ; the ceiling had mouldered away, and the walls admitted light in various places … Unable therefore to procure any food, and fatigued with a long journey during a parching day, I threw myfelf down on one of the beds in my clothes, and enjoyed a profound repofe, notwithftanding the repeated onfets of the bugs and other vermin with which I was molefted."

It sounds vey much like THAT MOTEL IN FLAGSTAFF ARIZONA, where I stayed in 2002.

His observations throughout his journey are fascinating and I’m enthralled by his book and its contents. He tells us "the people in this part of the country, bordering upon James River, are extremely fond of an entertainment which they call a barbacue. It confifts in a large party meeting together, either under fome trees, or in a houfe, to partake of a flurgeon or pig roafted in the open air, on a fort of hurdle, over a flow fire; this, however, is an entertainment chiefly confined to the lower ranks,."

However, his cynicism is wonderful and I’m appreciating his book more and more. He finishes his talk of “barbacues” with"like moft others of the fame nature, it generally ends in intoxication."

Back in here I had a slow start to the day, which is not surprising given the night that I’d had last night (or this morning) but once I’d organised myself I set about finishing off the radio programme that I’d started to edit yesterday (was it yesterday?).

There were several interruptions of course. Lunch was first and then my cleaner turned up to do her stuff.

Once she’d organised the bathroom I went to have a shower. And how much I enjoyed it too. It really was lovely and what was even nicer was that I climbed in and out without any help from my cleaner . However, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s not a good idea to try it on my own with no-one about.

There was the hot chocolate break too. I didn’t forget today, which is just as well because I do like that.

While I was at it I began my order from LeClerc. My cleaner had told me of a few things that we need so I may as well begin.

Tea tonight was a leftover curry. I’d taken some naan bread dough from the freezer and it had been defrosting throughout the afternoon.

The curry was delicious as usual and the chocolate cake, with lemon-flavoured dessert tonight, was just as nice.

Bedtime right now, ready for the next lot of issues at the Dialysis Clinic. And there’s really no end to all of this and it’s something that I’ll have to suffer for the rest of my life, if I live that long.

However I did feel sorry for Isaac Weld, on his travels confronting yet more intoxicated Americans. "Whenever thefe people come to blows, they fight juft like wild beafts, biting, kicking, and endeavouring to tear each other’s eyes out with their nails. It is by no means uncommon to meet with thofe who have loft an eye in a combat, and there are men who pride themfelves upon the dexterity with which they can feoop one out. This is called gouging … But what is worfe than all, thefe wretches in their combat endeavour to their utmoft to tear out each other’s teiticles."

He met one of these intoxicated Americans in the street. "You’re drunk!" he roared
"No I’m not!" replied the American
"Ohh yes you are!"
"I’m not at all" replied the American. "I know full well when I’m drunk"
"When’s that?" asked Weld
"It’s when I start to see double" replied the American "like when the two of you become four"

Tuesday 26th November 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

… since I’ve had a day where I’ve not done very much more than relax?

And before anyone says anything, I know that I shouldn’t because I have far too much work to do and not very much time to do it, but I had a nice, relaxing day all the same.

Last night, though, it was another late night. Not as late as some have been but still after 23:00. And once in bed I slept the Sleep of the Dead and remember almost nothing of whatever might (or might not) have happened during the night.

When the alarm went off I staggered into the bathroom as usual and had a good wash, then came back in here to listen to the dictaphpne to find out where I’d been during the night. There was something about FX4 taxis in London, whether I was thinking of buying one or going to work as a taxi driver but suddenly I was sent out on a mission to Brazil. While I was there my guide or whatever, she took me to several taxi proprietors in Brazil and I even had a ride in a new FX4 – a drive. I didn’t like it at all. I made a few enquiries about other things while I was there, the result of which was that by the time I came back to the UK I’d had a complete change of mind. My boss called me in and asked me what I thought of Brazil so I told him. Then I asked about the taxis so I told him that I’d given it some thought and now I’d decided that I was against it. He explained that that was why he’d sent me to Brazil, that I’d have some experience about making a decision when I would come back. He asked me quite pointedly “you didn’t actually drive any of them while you were there, did you?”. I replied “yes, I drove one or two”. That really took him by surprise and upset him for some reason.

What an FX4 would be doing in Brazil I really have no idea. There used to be thousands of them in London (and there probably still are quite a few) and any time-expired ones would be scattered to the four winds. I’ve seen them in France, Germany, the USA and Canada but Brazil would be most unlikely. I almost had one once, and not as a taxi. But when I was looking for a vehicle to come to Belgium when I was leaving the UK I went to see an FX4 that was for sale by a bus company in Stoke on Trent. And being a diesel, I would have had it too, had it not been sold before I could liquidate the cash. It would have been a useful tool to have had.

I was then working for the “despatching” for the railway. It was quite early in the morning and we had two trains going out at 05:22, little side-tank steam locomotives taking one or two carriages out, one going via Barrow-in-Furness and the other going direct to the destination. I went down at about 04:00, found the drivers and told the one that his trip had been cancelled and the second that he was to take his train around the other route. I don’t know why I did that but that was what I did. They had something of a moan but I explained that that was what was going to happen. I went back up to my office. Later on I suddenly realised what I’d done. I looked at the time and it was 05:18 and the trains were due to leave at 05:22. I dashed downstairs and outside onto the platform to find that the one had already gone and the other one had reversed off the platform and was heading back to the locomotive depot. I went slowly back upstairs thinking “I’m going to be in some serious trouble about this”. When I walked in to the office the boss said “I want a word with you”. I thought “here we go”. He said “I think that you ought to open your curtains, you know”. I replied “I’ve already opened them once”. He replied “then you need to open them again”. I opened the curtains and found that the ones outside had been closed too. I said to the people sitting at the table by the window to mind their heads. “I could have a nap hand of heads here if you aren’t careful”. I opened the window and opened the curtains.

Even now I can still see the locomotives. Little side-tank 0-4-2 outside cylinder things, both of them. But this is another dream that I don’t understand because, once again, it bears no relevance whatever to anything that I’m doing or have done.

However, when the alarm sounded and I awoke, I still had the affair of these two trains going round and round in my head. I don’t know what I hoped that I was going to do about it at this time of morning but anyway …

The nurse came early today. We had a chat about dialysis and he tells me that there’s no alternative to dialysis and the conversation went something like that between Sam and Frodo near the end of Lord of the Rings

"Have you thought of an ending?"

Yes, several, and all are dark and unpleasant."

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading MY BOOK

Our hero, apart from giving us all kinds of travel information that would have been useful at the time, as well as a geological lesson on the soils of North America, is continuing to enthral us with his three favourite subjects.

He’s had another uncomfortable encounter with some Americans and so tells us that "civility, as I before faid, is not to be purchafed at any expence in America, neverthelefs the people will pocket your money with the utmoit readinefs, though without thanking you for it. Of all beings on the earth, Americans are the moil interefted and covetous."

That took place at a tavern where "at the American taverns, as I before mentioned, all forts of people, juft as they happen to arrive, are crammed together into the one room, where they muft reconcile themfelves to each other the befl way thsy can."

However, he reserves his most powerful vitriol for the slavery that he sees everywhere. "I am told, that it is no uncommon thing there, to fee gangs of negroes ftaked at a horfe race, and to fee thefe unfortunate beings bandied about from one let of drunken gamblers to another for days together. How much to be deprecated are the laws which fuller fuch abufes to exift ! yet thefe are the laws enacted by people who boaft of their love of liberty and independence, and who prefume to fay, that it is in the breads of Americans alone that the bleffings of freedom are held in jusl estimation…… It is immaterial under what form flavery prefents itfelf, whenever it appears there is ample caufe for humanity to weep at the fight, and to lament that men can be found fo forgetful of their own iituations, as to live regardlefs of the feelings of their fellow creatures."

Back in here I revised my Welsh and then went for the lesson. Once more, it all seemed to pass quite well. Maybe this dialysis is working on clearing my head a little and shifting the fog. I wonder what I have to do to clear whatever it is that’s blocking my memory from working.

After lunch Liz and I had a very long chat on the internet. And it’s been ages since we talked so we had a lot to discuss. It wasn’t quite a Rosemaryesque conversation but it was near enough.

Afterwards I had a few things to do and ended up being so engrossed that I missed my hot chocolate. That’ll teach me.

Tea tonight was a taco roll with the last of the refried beans. I’ll have to find a recipe to make them because they really were nice. It should be quite interesting, as long as they don’t use exclusively some obscure kind of bean that’s not available so easily over here.

My cleaner stuck her head in too. She’d been to LeClerc and had bought me some more cheese for future pizze. And also some coconut oil – four jars of it. She was going to buy just two for me but saw that they only had four in stock so she bought the lot “just in case”.

Now I’ll be cooking in coconut oil for the next heaven-knows how long.

So now, much later than usual, I’m off to bed. Tomorrow is another day. And there will be more of Isaac Weld’s book to read.

But his account of his visit reminds me of another Irishman who visited the USA but in modern times. He too had a run-in with an unfriendly American in the Tavern From Hell.
He mentioned that he was from Ireland and the American replied "Yes I know it. I know it well. My great great grand-daddy comes from there so I’m Irish" to which our Irishman snorted.
"But your Irish country is so sad" continued the American "everything is so small"
"What do you mean?" asked the Irishman
"Take your farms" said the American. "Why, back in Texas, I can get in my car and it takes two days to drive from one side of my land to the other"
"I sympathise with you" said the Irishman. "I know just how you feel"
"You do?" exclaimed the American, incredulously
"Oh yes" replied the Irishman. "I used to have a car like that myself"

Monday 25th November 2024 – I AM STILL IN …

… agony after the session at the Dialysis Clinic this afternoon.

Once more, they could only fit one pin into the tube in my arm, once more it hurt like absolute Hades, and once more they had to come running to the machine every five minutes when it let out its little plaintive wail.

So what am I going to do? I don’t know. I have no idea what the alternatives are. The visiting nurse who is on duty as of tomorrow formerly worked in a Dialysis Clinic, but I suspect that I’ll be wasting my time asking him. Every time I ask him a question, he replies with a completely different answer.

But the agony is now going beyond a joke. It can’t really, surely, be as painful as this? No-one else seems to have the slightest problem

By the looks of things, everything seems to be a problem these days. Like going to bed, for example. Last night I couldn’t even be in bed for midnight, there was that much going on that needed doing and finishing.

So when I finally crawled into bed I didn’t have much time to sleep but, believe me, I was out like a light once I was in bed, and there I stayed until the alarm went off.

When I awoke, it was with a mighty crash – one of THOSE awakenings where the whole World seems to stop. Except of course that it was still spinning round and I had to wait, poised, on the side of my bed until it stopped spinning and I could stand up.

In the bathroom I had a wash, a shave and washed my undies. I need to do what I can to keep clean as much as I possibly can.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a quiet, shy girl who worked in an office somewhere. She used our vehicles every now and again for hospital runs. Sometimes I’d take her, and I’d quite enjoyed taking her too. I came to quite like her. I was hoping that she might quite like me as well but nothing ever came of it for a while which was quite sad. One day I had to take her to the hospital but for some reason we decided to walk there. She came out of her office, and she told me about some of the things that she’d been doing over the last couple of weeks as we set off. I knew the short-cut through the hills so we walked through the hills. She began to tell me a few more interesting things. We climbed over this steep bit of hill. There were two types like this that we climbed over. We found ourselves in a little valley. As we walked along this small valley we saw a sign that said “exhibition of the factory that made Churchill’s beds. I made some kind of witty remark about that and carried on walking. I put my hand down and found her hand, and began to hold it. She didn’t take her hand away, just left it there for me to hold and we walked off hand-in-hand like that

So i Got The Girl last night, and no-one from my family came along to spike my guns or put le baton dans le roue as they say around here. That’s not something that happens every day, is it? And a guided tour of the factory that made Churchill’s beds? That sounds exciting and is obviously a trip not to be missed. But that range of hills – it’s the one that we’ve walked – and skied – over on many occasions in the past and keeps on reoccurring. I’ve no idea where it is, although you would think that I would know by now.

There was also something else, that I haven’t dictated but that I have a very strong memory of it happening during the night, of going into a newspaper office and placing an advert to sell the van. I can even remember describing it in great detail. I’ve no idea though why there’s nothing like this on the dictaphone. It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed in the past. Nothing involving Castor, TOTGA or Zero, I hope.

The nurse came and told me some more about the demolition of the War Memorial. It seems that following a poll where the town was something like 90% against the mayor’s plan to remove it, the mayor is going to move it anyway. My nurse expressed herself in such extremely unparliamentary language that had someone from the General Medical Council heard her, she would have been struck off.

After she left, I made breakfast and carried on reading MY BOOK

Our author, Isaac Weld, is remarkably prescient. You have to remember that he is writing in the 1790s, and makes some predictions that are astonishingly accurate.

"at a future day, if the affairs of the United States go on as profperouHy as they have done, it will become the grand emporium of the weft, and rival in magnitude and fplendor the cities of the old world."

And talking of the removal of Congress from Philadelphia to Washington he predicts "a large majority, however, of the people in the United States is defirous that the removal of the feat of government mould take place and there is little doubt but it will take place at the appointed time. The difcontents indeed, which an oppolite meafure would give rife to in the fouth could not but be alarming and if they did not occafion a total feparation of the fouthern from the northern ftates, yet they would certainly materially deftroy that harmony which has hitherto exifted between them."

He also talks about "the prefident’s houfe, which is nearly completed on the outride, is two ftories high, and built of free ftone. The principal room in it is of an oval form", something that will ring a bell with many people today.

He saves most of his vitriol for Washington himself when he visits Washington’s house and the first things that he sees are the "SLAVE" (his capitals, not mine) cabins.

He says, on the subject of Washington’s slaves, "Happy would it have been, if the man who flood forth the champion of a nation contending for its freedom, and whofe declaration to the whole world was, ” That all men were created equal, and that they were endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, amongft the firft of which were life, liberty, and the purfuit of happinefs;” happy would it have been, if this man could have been the firft to wave all interelted views, to liberate his own flaves, and thus convince the people he had fought for, that it was their duty, when they had eftablifhed their own independence, to give freedom to thofe whom they had themfelves held in bondage !"

No more needs to be said.

Back in here I had things to do, such as my Welsh homework, and then I carried on with editing the radio programme notes. However the Welsh homework had taken me much longer than it ought to have done so there wasn’t much time for the radio

My cleaner turned up bang on time and fitted my anaesthetic patches and then helped me tidy up the mess from yesterday. We kept all of the packaging because it will all come in useful in the future

The taxi was early because we had to go to pick up someone else – this sharing of taxis now is proving to be inconvenient but who am I to complain?

And then we had the pantomime of fitting the plug in my arm. And how painful was that? Nothing that they tried to do seemed to make any difference until after about an hour, they finally found a position in which the machine was comfortable. Then they taped the plug and pipes to my arm with so much tape that it was ridiculous

Even before I’d arrived, I’d made up my mind to speak to the doctor about the situation.

There’s a team of four doctors whom I’ve identified so far and as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … there’s one of them who gives the impression that he really doesn’t want to be there. So guess who was on duty today.

He is really disinterested in his job and has no interpersonal skills at all. So I told him about the situation and his immediate response was to tell the nurse to bring me a Doliprane – a notion that I immediately shot down.

No, a painkiller is no good for me. I want the situation resolved. In the end he agreed to arrange a scan of my implant to see what the problem might be. “But it won’t be today”.

While we’re on the subject of scans … "well, one of us is" – ed … I asked him what was the plan about the scan that I’d had the other day.

“Nothing” was the answer. “We’ll see how it goes because things like this usually disappear after a couple of weeks or months”.

“Seeing as I’ve been suffering like this for over a year” I said, “I promise you it won’t go away ‘in a couple of weeks’ ”

That rather deflated his ego and he beat a hasty retreat.

They eventually unplugged me, hours later than it ought to have been and the poor taxi driver had to wait quite a while.

Luckily it was one of the friendly ones and we had a good chat all the way back to Granville.

My cleaner was waiting and watched as I climbed all the stairs on my own up to my room

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with plenty of stuffing left over for a curry on Wednesday. Tomorrow I’ll use the last of the refried beans.

But wasn’t it a lovely change to go to the freezer and open the drawers without a fight? I hope that the drawers last without breaking again until I can move downstairs and have a decent fridge-freezer.

But right now I’m off to bed, not before time too. It’s my Welsh class tomorrow and I want to be on top form.

But one of the nurses told me about a footballer who was admitted to the emergency department on Saturday with a dislocated knee.
He screamed “Blue Murder” when the physiotherapist went to put it back in place.
“"Don’t be a baby" urged the nurse. "There’s a woman in Maternity who has just given birth to triplets and she’s made far less noise than that"
"You go and try to put them back in" said the footballer "and see what noise she makes then!"

Saturday 23rd November 2024 – THIS IS GOING …

… beyond a joke now.

Is it four times now (counting today) that I have really been in agony for the entire session of dialysis?

If it carries on being like this I’m going to have to abandon the sessions because I can’t put up with it any more. You’ve no idea the amount of pain that I’m suffering when they stick these hollow pins into my skin in an attempt to find the tube that they installed in my arm.

Call me “chicken” if you like, but I just can’t keep on doing it.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … err … apartment last night I had another loiter around before going to bed, hence it was another night that was much later than it ought to have been. But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … just recently it no longer matters.

Once in bed though I was asleep quite quickly and there were no thunderstorms or phantom people coming into my room to awaken me, However, read on.

When the alarm finally did go off for real I was in discussion with a friend in Gatineau, Canada. He’d sent a long list of questions to me so I sent him a long lengthy reply. He wrote back to say “thank you, Eric. Thank you for appreciating the fact that I’m not dead yet”.

He’s the kind-of guy, the gung-ho full-on adventurer type whom I met in the High Arctic, that will take a lot more than anything that this World could ever throw at him to finish off.

In the bathroom I gave myself a good wash and then washed the clothes – undies, socks, t-shirt and shorts. It’s quite a collection that needs washing by hand on a Saturday.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, apart from to Gatineau of course. We were going down to meet the sisters of a couple of friends of mine – people whom I knew from work. On the way there one of the guys with me here noticed and said that “here, there’s a hundred years spread out between the work of our colleague and the work of her family. If it’s going to be shortened in any way it will be by virtue of her family and not by virtue of her friend”. Rather astonished, I asked “are you thinking that I’m trying to get rid of her friend, murder her or something like that?”. After a minute’s thought he said “well, maybe that, but supposing you had to investigate her – how would you go about it? Would you do it, for a start?”. I replied “I’ll remind you that we aren’t allowed to investigate our own colleagues. You have to tell Head Office and they’ll appoint someone else to do it from somewhere else. So the answer would be that I’d tell you to clear off”. We carried on walking towards this dance and arrived there just as it finished. There were two kids there giving demonstrations of some kind of art with their hands. There was some other kid doing something too. I thought “when everyone comes back from lunch we’ll see how good they are and see about joining them up with the festival from New Brunswick and see how they get along with that …fell asleep here …

That’s the kind of dream that completely bewilders me because there’s something of everything in it and nothing actually means anything at all. Being in work, going to New Brunswick, all of that together is confusing. It’s not surprise that I fell asleep in the middle of it.

I dreamed that I was awake and I’d been through the whole process of getting ready and everything for morning. It wasn’t until the usual time that the nurse came. She thanked me for being ready for her but told me that I need to concentrate more on doing up my shoes and a few other things like that so that I could get the most out of it. She noticed that there was a piece of something in my shopping bag and she told me that leaving it like that was a danger …fell asleep here …

This was a strange dream too. Falling asleep yet again, but being up and about in my dreams is exciting too. I wish that it would be that easy in the morning to be up and about like that.

That’s twice that I’ve dreamed that the alarm has gone off and I’ve left the bed ready for the day. The second time I was actually up, washed and dressed in me dream, not in real life though but that was how I was feeling. It certainly felt real enough for me, but once back in the bed I didn’t take much going to sleep at all which was a weird situation in which to be

So here I am, up and about again in a dream, and it’s impressive that I could remember in a dream what was going on in my subconscious previously when I talked about being up and about. I reckon that my nocturnal memory is better than my memory when I’m awake and I need to work on that.

Isabelle the Nurse had a better drive today, with all of the snow and ice having disappeared. She updated me on the disappearance of the town’s War Memorial and we also both had a good moan about the new mayor and his delusions of grandeur

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of my book, TRAVELS THROUGH THE STATES OF NORTH AMERICA.

Our author, Isaac Weld, having waxed lyrical about the prison in Philadelphia, is not so enamoured of the people whom he meets on the street. He tells us that "there is a want of good manners which excites the furprize of almoft every foreigner … In the United States, however, the lower clafTes of people will return rude and impertinent anfwers to queftions couched in the molt civil terms, and will infult a perfon that bears the appearance of a gentleman, on purpofe to fhew how much they confider themfelves upon an equality with him. Civility cannot be purchafed from them on any terms"

As for the accommodation, he is even less complimentary. "The accommodations at the ,taverns, by which name they call all inns, &c. are very indifferent in Philadelphia, as indeed they are, with a very few exceptions, throughout the country. It is feldom that a private parlour or drawing room can be procured at any of the taverns,". Having enquired of the landlord at one tavern about accommodation, he says that the landlord "feemed much furprized that any enquiries fhould be made on fuch a fubjec1, and with much confequence told me, I need not give myfelf any trouble about the extent of his accommodations, as he had no lefs than eleven beds in one of his rooms"

So I see that the USA hasn’t changed all that much in modern times.

Back in here I had a few things to do, including the writing of a couple of long e-mails but I was interrupted by a text message. The new drawers for the freezer have arrived in Granville and will be delivered “shortly”. Just you watch them turn up after I’ve gone.

At midday I went into the dining room and began my preparations for this afternoon. I don’t want to be caught out like the other day. However, no worries there. My cleaner came round and fitted my patches.

However the postie did turn up with this enormous box with my new drawers in it. That will be a nice job for tomorrow afternoon, dealing with all of that, de-icing the freezer and so on.

The taxi driver ‘phoned to give me five minutes notice of her arrival which was nice of her, so I made my way downstairs with the aid of my cleaner and as we arrived at the bottom, the taxi pulled up.

We stopped to pick up one more passenger and then headed off to Avranches. There’s still plenty of snow in the outlying areas. It’s not all melted yet although the roads are clear.

At Avranches I was the last to be seen and once more, the fitting of one of the pins was painful in the extreme. In the end they fitted the adapter to the pin that seemed to work so that the “in” and “out” would go through the one, but it was still agonising and neither I nor the nurses understand why.

While I was waiting I dozed off for just a minute, and had the sensation, or dream, that someone was plugging something into a plank of wood and the wood was smoking where the plug was going in.

There was a doctor on duty in the Clinic this afternoon. She saw all of the other patients and had a cheery word for every one, but she kept her distance from me. I don’t know what I’ve done to the people down there but I am definitely not Flavour of the Month with them for some reason.

Unplugging me was only marginally less painful and I was glad to leave and climb into the taxi. We had to wait for the second patient and once he was on board we could head off for Granville

There was a howling gale blowing back here and my brave cleaner was waiting for me, which I appreciated very much.

She took me on a guided tour of the new electricity cupboard, made sure that I knew where my master fuse switch was for both this apartment and my new one, and then watched as I climbed all twenty-five steps up to my front door.

Tea tonight was a breaded quorn fillet with baked potato and vegan salad followed by chocolate cake and strawberry dessert

So now I’ll dictate my radio notes to edit tomorrow and then go off to bed. It won’t be early in bed but at least there’s a lie-in until 08:00.

But talking about Isaac Weld and his accommodation issues … "well, one of us is" – ed …, on returning from his trip, he told his editor that "I stayed in this tavern in Philadelphia. It was horrible, and was appropriately called ‘The Fiddle’"
"Why was that?" asked the editor
"Because it certainly and unquestionably was a vile inn"

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality