Category Archives: cleaner

Friday 22nd November 2024 – AND THERE I WAS …

… dashing to make tea, wolfing it all down at a speed that’s more likely to give me indigestion than anything else, and then abandoning the washing up and dashing in here to watch the football tonight – Y Drenewydd v Connah’s Quay, only to find that the 86mm of rain that has fallen in mid-Wales in the last 24 hours has washed out the game

So after trying in vain to find another live match that was still being played, I went back to do the washing up

It’s a pity that Bonnyrigg Rose weren’t playing. After several seasons of playing their home matches at New Dundas Swamp, 86mm of rain falling on their pitch would have made quite an improvement and they would, quite literally, be at home on a pitch like that.

So it might be an early night for me once finish these notes, if I’m lucky. Not like last night where even though I finished my notes early I loitered around until it was actually quite late when I hit the sack.

And there I stayed until all of 06:00 or thereabouts when the loudest crack of thunder that I have ever heard in my life awoke me.

The storm raged for several minutes with some of the brightest flashes that lit up my bedroom despite the thick curtains. And the storm was so close overhead judging my the almost instantaneous thunder. Then it slowly moved away and we could go back to sleep

But not for long because the alarm went off at 07:00 and I had to leave my stinking pit in order to head to the bathroom for a wash and brush up

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I’d just taken delivery of a beige MkIV Cortina estate that had come from a scrapyard. The windscreen was missing and a few other bits and pieces. It was essentially acquired by me for its parts, to break it, so I’d had it in my drive. Later that night it turned out that it was not my drive at all but a public park somewhere. After I finished work I went over and began to have a look around it. First thing that I wanted to do was to find out its registration number but I thought that that would be difficult with its windscreen broken and tax disc gone. I eventually found a torn-up tax disc that gave the car as “M” reg, which is obviously incorrect. I had a play around with it and found that the radio still worked. After I’d switched off the radio I had my head all around it somewhere, and I heard a car pull up. I looked, and it was someone else. After a while he came into view, the driver, and walked towards where my couple of cars were. I didn’t say anything, I just watched him and stared – it was pitch-black. No-one could see anything, except that he had the light behind him so that I could see it. And staring at him would make him and his senses uncomfortable. Sure enough, after a minute or two he turned round and walked away. He obviously climbed back into his car because it drove off. I was there with this car, and I heard a door slam. I looked around, and sitting on a bench not too far away from me was a schoolboy from Sandbach School. He was feeling very happy, very pleased with himself. Then a few others came to join in. A boy and a girl began to disport themselves on the table. This other boy was teasing this boy and girl and so were one or two of the others. I asked them how much longer they had at school. They said “three weeks” with a big wide grin so I asked them if they were really looking forward to the end of it.

It was mainly MkIII Cortinas that I’d collect. When I had my taxi business people would offer me MoT failures if I would take them away, so I’d take them up to my yard and dismantle them. Sometimes I’d find that with a little welding I could make them better than a car that I was actually using and a couple had a new lease of life, mostly officially, but unofficially, well …

Have you ever done that, by the way? Stared at someone really hard from a distance away? And suddenly then turn round and look in your direction? We used to do that a lot back in the mid-70s when I had that flat on Nantwich Road. We were convinced that people still retained an element of the sixth sense that kept their forebears alive in the time of the sabre-toothed tiger and the other wild beasts of the distant past. It’s a sense that people should work at and develop. No worries with Nerina though. Her sixth sense was very well-developed and worked well on several occasions. I wonder if she ever made good use of it.

But schoolkids fooling around? I used to get on well with schoolkids at one time but these days I don’t see anyone at all, never mind schoolkids, and that’s a shame. I think that kids have a very raw deal from adults and I have a lot of sympathy for them.

Later on I was out with the Inuit again last night. There was a big tribe of them, probably fifty or something of people of all ages. When some white guy came by to study them for a thesis he tried to teach them to all go into a huddle. When he did, there was someone missing, a young girl of about fifteen. We couldn’t find her at all so we had to start again, the count, to verify it. It still ended up as one person short. Then a couple of the Inuit began to discuss the merits of eating human flesh. The meal that they described was quite revolting but I could see that several people were interested in the menu so I promised that if we were going to perform this again I would leave out any reference to humans, their age etc in the hope that they too don’t become dragged off down this road of cannibalism.

Revolting? Like some of Samuel Hearne’s meals when he was out on his travels?

One of my eternal gripes, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, is the number of students who have gone to live amongst the Inuit, the Métisse and other groups, to study their habits and lifestyle as one would study goldfish in a bowl, write their thesis identifying various shortcomings in the dealings of the Canadian Government with those people, proudly receive their PhDs and then go to work in a bank and totally forget the factors raised in their thesis. It strikes me that they believe in all earnestness that the shortcomings are designed specifically for them to study, not to resolve. At what point are the First-Nation people and the Métisse going to be fed up of these interlopers?

Back in the past I remember reading something about the members of Military Intelligence going to the PoW cages of the elite at the end of World War II in order to interview some of the German experts. The writer said something along the lines of that it felt as if he was in a superior fish restaurant, going up to the lobsters in the tank, pointing to a lobster and saying “I’ll have that one, please”. And that’s the impression that I have of these PhD students

And then we were all in the army doing our military service and our period of engagement was drawing to a close. We’d had a whole series of boring lectures. We’d probably had enough so we were larking around making poor use of the time that we had when my friend from Germany appeared. He joined in the general fun and frivolities as we found humour in everything. We were talking about the Wild West and a border dispute between two States where here was a State claiming tolls for crossing a border into another State although the border wasn’t actually there. Some boy had been organising a campaign to refuse to pay it. It had gone one for quite a while. We were joking about the border and the situation about Dodge City came up. We were describing the place with hilarity, the place where every time that a tourist pus his sooty foot in the place, some cowboy is shot by some kind of Indian who pops up on a roof somewhere and they all give a good performance of dying etc, just to take some money off the tourist. My friend turned round to everyone and said “right, we’re going to have a lecture on the Intruder bomber. That’s your very last lecture of your period of service of engagement” so we all finished laughing and joking and gathered round.

No danger of ever catching me anywhere near the Military. Had there been a War during the period when I was eligible to serve, I would have joined the Merchant Marine. "Hello, sailor!" indeed!

By now, dawn was slowly starting to break so I went to have a look out of the window to see what the weather had been doing. And as I expected, we’ve had a sudden snowfall over the past couple of hours.

The entry to the Square here looks really nice at the best of times, with the city walls in the background and the Eglise de Notre Dame de Cap Lihou in the distance. But in this snowy weather it looks even better. The snow gives it quite a nice touch.

It’s no surprise that I want to stay here rather than go anywhere else because this really is a nice building and it’s in a lovely situation, stuck between the city walls and the clifftop with the sea just 25 metres away

On the left we have the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs – the French equivalent of the YMCA where youths can find a tiny box-room to call home – and straight ahead we have the annexe to the Municipal offices. That’s where marriages take place.

There has been quite a bit of snow there too that has fallen just now. I know that it’s nothing compared with what we had in the Auvergne when half a metre would fall in a couple of hours or to what people on Germany and Austria experience every year, but with snow being so rare here, this is enough to bring North-Western France to a standstill

The nurse came along, later than usual, to tell me about the chaos and the slipping and sliding of everyone on the roads this morning. She couldn’t hang around because she had other people to see so she was soon gone

After she left I made a breakfast and began my next book. It’s a story written by someone about his travels in North America in 1795.

Why it’s interesting to me is that he goes at some point in his journey to “Upper Canada” and “Lower Canada” and I reckon that he will almost inevitably travel on the “Chemin du Roy” – the first road to be built in Nouvelle France that linked Montréal and Québec.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I WROTE AN ARTICLE a few years ago about the Chemin du Roy and I’m ready to update it with stuff that I’ve accumulated since those days. Wouldn’t it be nice to include some eye-witness reports of what the road was like from a traveller’s point of view?

So hopefully our hero will at some point find himself in a diligence, or “stage-coach”, flying along the road of Lanouillier and Bécancourt and give me some good information

Back in here I’ve spent most of the day writing notes for the next radio programme and now that’s complete and ready to be dictated. This one wasn’t anything interesting which is a shame because I’ve been enjoying doing these last few “special interest” programmes and can’t wait to do some more.

There were the usual interruptions. Lunch was one of them of course – a cheese and lettuce butty followed by some fruit.

And then my cleaner arrived to do her stuff. We changed the table around and put all the medication in one of the drawers now that they are accessible, instead of having medication scattered about on top of the table looking untidy.

We also had a break for hot chocolate. I really like that, so it’s become something of an enjoyable habit. I could do with a few more like that to cheer me up because, let’s face it, I could do with cheering up.

Tea was sausage, chips and baked beans with cheese. And to liven them up I put some hot chili powder in there. That should get them going, I reckon.

After the chocolate cake and strawberry soya dessert (there was another pot in the fridge) I dashed in here, only to have my hopes dashed.

So what I’ll do is go to bed and hope that I have pleasant dreams and that the thunder doesn’t awaken me.

This afternoon I had a brief chat with Rosemary and I mentioned the storm.

"Did it shake you out of bed?" she asked.

"No" I replied. "I hung on to the rails in the headboard."

And that reminded me of the little girl who came running downstairs and said to her mother "mummy! Mummy! The au-pair is dying!"
"What do you mean, dear?" asked her mother
"Well, mummy" said the girl "she’s lying on the bed gripping the rails in the headboard and going ‘oh God! Oh God! I’m coming!’"
"Is she really?" asked her mother, rather alarmed
"Yes mummy" replied the girl "and she would be too, except that daddy is on top of her holding her down!"

Thursday 21st November 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

… since we’ve featured any photos on these pages?

And how long is it since we’ve featured a photo with snow in it?

And what I mean is “real snow”? And while these photos may not be so impressive, I wasn’t the one who was driving so I couldn’t photograph just anywhere, otherwise you would have had photos much more exciting than these to look at.

Anyway, for the coast of Western Normandy, even this amount of snow is impressive and enough to bring the whole region to a shuddering halt. For November, it’s totally unprecedented. But our taxis ploughed valiantly onwards so that I could see what was going on.

So while you admire a few photos of yet more snow that we encountered, I’ll say some more about my day today.

Starting of course with last night. Although not in bed early, it was before midnight when I finally crawled into my stinking pit after finishing off everything that needed doing.

And once in bed, there I stayed for the rest of the night, thinking that I can’t have moved a single muscle during the whole of the night, optimism that turned out to be misplaced as it happened, but I certainly can’t remember anything about it

When the alarm went off I arose from the Dead, just about, and had a very slow walk into the bathroom. But not before switching on the rest of the heating in here, because I noticed that the outside temperature was 0°C – freezing point.

While I was washing I noticed that not only had I lost the protective netting over my arm, one of the two plasters had disappeared too. I wonder where that had gone. It’s a good job that my arm hadn’t bled any during the night.

Back in here I found the missing objects. They were in the bed . I must have moved about quite a lot in order for them to to have come off my arm. I would have expected to have known about it, anyway. But I wonder what I must have been doing for that to happen.

First thing that I did afterwards was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something in a dream about going to to war and colonising some particular area, how it was very important to wear your uniform exactly as it had been supplied and wear it exactly where it fitted properly and where it was supposed to be rather than where if felt more comfortable on your body because if you had it somewhere where it wasn’t supposed to be it would sweat and make life really uncomfortable for you but that’s all really that I can remember of that.

I stepped back into that dream too and when the alarm went off I was having a lengthy discussion with someone about something or other but the alarm going off totally disrupted my whole train of thought which is a shame. I would have loved to have found out where this dream would have led me.

So with nothing of any real significance, except, maybe that I managed to step back into a dream that was 76 minutes previously, which is a good memory for the subconscious, I waited for Isabelle the Nurse.

When she arrived she told me about the freezing conditions, the fact that it had begun to snow, the excitement on the streets and the general chaos in the town as everyone struggled to come to terms with the snow. If the temperature drops a few more degrees the département will be paralysed.

After she left I made breakfast and read my book. I’ve finally some to the end of Samuel Hearne’s adventures which is a shame because not only did I gain much from reading them, his glossary of fauna and flora at the back in even more interesting.

If only John Hornby had read them.

John Hornby, or “Jack Hornby” to the few friends that he had, was the son of the famous rugby player and cricketer who lived in Nantwich and is buried in Acton Churchyard near my aunt. He went out to Canada on several occasions to explore the Wilderness and the Barren Grounds. However in 1927 he and two companions starved to death on the Thelon River in the Barren Grounds.

They had gone to follow the trails of the migrating animals and to live off the animals that they captured.

Hearne makes the point that even some of the First-Nations people who have lived amongst the migrating animals for generations have starved to death. He says in his book "in some years, hundreds of deer may easily be killed within a mile of York Fort; and in others, there is not one to be seen within twenty or thirty miles. One day thousands and tens of thousands of geese are seen, but the next they all raise flight, and go to the North to breed.".

He concludes his notes with "I am persuaded that whoever relies much on the produce of the different seasons, will frequently be deceived, and occasionally expose himself and men to great want." – advice that Hornby would have done well to heed.

However, had Hornby taken a copy of Hearne’s book with him, he would also have had a great many hints on how to obtain an enormous amount of food out on the Barren Grounds. Some of it would have been unpalatable to European tastes but it’s better than starving to death.

After breakfast I came back in here where I paired off the music that I’d chosen yesterday for another radio programme, and then segued the pairs together. However I was taken by surprise by the taxi driver.

The new rules and regulations come into force today apparently and now if there are journeys to and from the same area within a 10 km radius of pick-up and drop off, the taxi proprietor is obliged to combine them as long as they do not result in a delay of more than 45 minutes. The taxi company had three trips – two others and me – that fell in this category so we all had to pile in together

Half an hour early, and not being anything like ready, I told the driver to go to pick up someone else and come back. I sent a frantic message to my cleaner who dashed here to fit my anaesthetic patches and help me dress and pack, and then we made it downstairs into the wind and snow to await the driver.

When she returned I piled in and we went off to the hospital to pick up our third passenger and then we had a drive through the tempest and blizzard to Avranches.

In case anyone is wondering, I’m not complaining about these new arrangements. I’m having for free something that is available in no other country in the World, as far as I am aware. Free and for nothing. I’m grateful that it exists and I would do anything to keep it and prevent any abuse.

However I might have thought differently when they came to plug me in. The anaesthetic hadn’t had time to work and I knew all about them plugging me in, as I suspect does everyone else in the neighbourhood now.

And then I had another one of these cataleptic fits that I have every now and again

Once I recovered I read my Welsh again and then read some of the reports of the crew of the Sieur de Roberval who was chasing after Cartier on his third voyage. However I was interrupted by a nurse who brought me an appointment with an ophthalmologist and a doctor who brought me a prescription for a pedicure.

But an eye test? Which nurse did I call “beautiful”?

And I’m admiring the precision of Roberval’s pilot who is giving his measurements clearly, even if they are in leagues. A league could be anything back in those days – there was no fixed measurement – but as I can now identify some of the points between which he works out his distances I’ll be able to work out what was Roberval’s idea of a league

When they unplugged me I headed out for the taxi and it was the same driver who brought me down. We had a little chat on the way back in the snow, and slid the car a couple of times on the ice, once into the kerb.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and watched once more as I climbed up all of the steps unaided. I really must keep this up.

Tea tonight was something out of a tin. I wasn’t feeling too adventurous. I’ve had a hard day and I’m going to bed for a good rest (I hope).

But all of this snow in Western Normandy? What do you make of that? It’s not like the Auvergne (which has had a shed-load over this last 24 hours and is currently without power) or Canada but it’s still impressive.
But still not as impressive as what went on with radio station KHAR in Alaska in the early 1970s with the newsreader reading out details of the daily snowfall in various cities – "and Helena got six inches during the night" and then hastily explaining himself " . . . Helena, Montana, that is"

Wednesday 20th November 2024 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone from the night just now.

But that’s not surprising because I didn’t go to sleep at all. It was what the French call a nuit blanche.

And if you think that going to bed at midnight or thereabouts is bad, then how about at 02:00 and I was still awake and not in bed?

This kind of thing happens occasionally, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. It’s a pretty miserable affair when I’m awake like this and can’t sleep but it’s just another one of those little things sent to try me, I suppose, and I have to make the best of it, such as it is.

So after finishing off my notes I was somewhat tired, but more physically tired than a sleep kind of tired. I couldn’t find the strength or the will to haul myself out of my chair and move the few inches or so into the bed. I just sat here and vegetated for all that time.

Eventually I managed to pull myself together and headed off to the bathroom to prepare myself for bed, thinking to myself that it wouldn’t have been so bad had I been able somehow to do some work in the time that I was still awake.

Once in bed I tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep at all, and that was probably the most depressing part of the night. I began to reminisce about things that I should have done, or ought to have done, and that’s bound to bring me out in a depression.

And that’s how it went on for most of the night. I was too far wrapped up in the past to think about the present, and that’s definitely the wrong way to be doing things.

When the alarm went off I crawled reluctantly out of bed (and you’ve no idea just how reluctantly) and headed for the bathroom and a good wash and scrub up.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone and, as I expected, found nothing. So instead I had a look at my shopping list ready to order things from LeClerc on Friday.

However it’s difficult to make up an order this week. I have a lot of things in stock so I don’t need much. In fact, I can live without everything for the next week or two (except the soft vegetables of course) so I made an executive decision and decided that I won’t sent off an order this week. What I do need, like the mushrooms, tomato and cucumber, I’ll ask my cleaner to fetch them.

And for the benefit of new readers, of which there are more than just a few these days, an executive decision is one where if it’s the wrong decision, the person making it is executed.

Isabelle the Nurse had news for me today. Firstly, they are moving the War Memorial while they renovate the town centre and secondly, snow is forecast for tomorrow. And I’m going to Avranches and the clinic in a taxi too.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on with my book.

Hearne is now writing his summary. He writes about the people whom he meets, their lifestyles out in the peri-Arctic tundra and their habits, and it’s all extremely interesting. About his guide he says "I have met with few Christians who possessed more good moral qualities, or fewer bad ones" and "his scrupulous adherence to truth and honesty would have done honour to the most enlightened and devout Christian, while his benevolence and universal humanity to all the human race, according to his abilities and manner of life, could not exceeded by the most illustrious personage now on record"

If that’s the case, then having read about some of the antics of his guide and party on the way back from massacring the Inuit, it tells me so much about the behaviour and morals of England and the English at the end of the Eighteenth Century.

We’re also being treated to an account of the wildlife and vegetation that he encounters on his trip. And his discussion of the food that they ate on their journey has revolted my stomach. It makes my meals sound positively appetising. Hearne however claims that he quite enjoyed some of them and in that case he’s welcome to them.

And when he describes the contemporary meals that are on offer back in England in the 1770s, that’s enough to get me going too. They make my mother’s meals sound delicious.

After breakfast I came in here and assembled the radio programme. Despite the speech being longer this time for some reason or other, it all went together quite nicely and I ended up being thirteen seconds over the one hour allowed for the programme.

But that’s not a problem. I can just cut out some of the applause and move some of the sound-bytes up a little and then it will all fit. And in fact, it all fits quite nicely

After lunch I had things to do. A friend of mine was on-line so we had a chat. We have a project going on together that is becoming quite involved and so it was good to have a chat about it.

There were a few on-line orders to make too. I need to overhaul the freezer here because it’s iced up and the drawers have collapsed. I’ve found a supplier of the drawers in Rouen so I had to organise an on-line order. They’ll be here by the weekend, I hope, and with the hair dryer that I liberated with the help of my cleaner, it will be “all systems go” with the freezer.

While we’re on the subject of the cleaner … "well, one of us is" – ed … she turned up to do her stuff this afternoon, part of which was helping me into the shower.

Well, watching, actually, because I managed to climb into the bathtub and sort myself out totally unaided, and isn’t that a change? It’s not all that long ago that I couldn’t even lift my leg up, never mind climb into the bathtub.

The shower was delicious too. I stayed in there for much longer than I should, giving myself a good hosing-down in nice hot water. And I enjoyed every minute of it too

So a nice clean me climbed out of the shower and tidied the bathroom to match the rest of the apartment, and then came back in here to choose the music for the next radio programme.

After the cleaner left I took some naan dough from the freezer and left it to defrost and then made some dough for the next supply of bread.

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry with naan bread followed by chocolate cake and the last of the strawberry-flavoured soya dessert which is a shame because it was so nice

While I was having tea the bread was baking in the oven. And at 160°C for 15 minutes and then turn over for another 15 minutes at 160°G, we have the most perfect loaf that I have ever made.

So now I’m off to bed, to catch up on my beauty sleep. I need it too after last night. Dialysis tomorrow but I don’t know how I’m going to go there. All public transport tomorrow is cancelled due to the wave of bad weather that is expected to hit us tonight so I imagine that the taxis won’t be going either, but we shall see.

But before I go let me say something else about Hearne’s trip to the Coppermine River.
One night he and his guide, Matonabbee, were lying there looking at the stars in the sky
"Look at that shooting star, Matonabbee" said Hearne. "What does it signify?"
"It represents the spirit of one of our tribe on his way to join his ancestors in the sky"
"And the stars?" asked Hearne. "Do they represent our ancestors?"
"They do indeed" said Matonabbee. "They are happy with us so they have come out to dance with joy"
"And look at the Aurora Borealis" said Hearne. "And the moon. It’s all so wonderful. And here we are, staring up at it through the night. What does it all mean?"
"It means" said Matonabbee "that earlier this evening some thieving b@$t@rd stole our wigwam."

Monday 18th November 2024 – YET MORE FUN …

… at the Dialysis Clinic this afternoon.

But at least we managed a full session of three and a half hour. And even more interestingly, of the weight that I lost during Saturday’s session, I’d only put a little back on. And that’s the best news that I’ve had for quite some time too.

Not such good news was my late night last night. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’ve now given up the idea of trying to be in bed early. Rushing around like a madman and still failing dismally is just stressing me out for no good purpose.

They have told me before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … that it’s only because of my heart being so good that I’ve kept going for so long. It’s pumping the blood around at twice the normal rate and has been doing so since 2015 and many hearts would have given out long before this.

They’ve also told me that because of the general state of my health a transplant is out of the question – I would never survive it – so I have to keep going with the one that I have. And so I have to do all in my power to avoid stress. And that includes worrying about problems that I can’t resolve.

So with not worrying about going to bed early, it was late when I finally crawled into bed. And there I stayed until 07:00 when the alarm went off.

There was a moment at 04:20 when something awoke me. However, after checking the time on the watch I simply turned over and went back to sleep

It took a few minutes for me to come round into the Land of the Living this morning and I almost ended up falling asleep again. However I dragged myself out of bed quickly enough and went for clean clothes and a trip to the bathroom

This morning I had a good wash and even a shave, washed my clothes and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. And to my surprise, and also to my disappointment, there was nothing there.

That IS a big disappointment. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I ever have is when I’m in bed asleep – although if the shenanigans at the Dialysis Clinic keep on going, all of that might change.

The nurse had his usual discussion of asking me how my pizza went and what did I do yesterday – the same conversation we have every Monday when he’s on duty. I’m glad that he came early and left quickly.

That meant that I could continue with other things, like making breakfast and reading my book

And poor Samuel Hearne is in the wars again.

His group comes across a lone First Nation woman from another tribe who had been abducted by others but she managed to escape after they beat her baby to death

However things go from bad to worse as she’s now prisoner of Hearne’s guides and they have a wrestling tournament to decide who will claim her as his own. The leader of his band decides that he will participate, one of his wives tells him that he already has more than enough wives to look after so that there isn’t room for another one, and so he beats the wife to death right in front of Hearne

Hearne writes the story in such a matter-of-fact way but I’m sure that he was deeply affected by it.

Or maybe, because he has seen such horror and hardship so far on his voyage, what’s one more? He must be totally resigned to the events that unfold, there’s nothing that he can do, and he just wants to return to the fort at any price.

Back in here I had my Welsh homework to do and to my surprise and regret, instead of taking just half an hour to do it, I was still working on finishing it when my cleaner turned up to fit my anaesthetic patches.

The taxi was late coming for me – the driver had brought someone back from Rennes – but it’s a driver whom I like and we had a good chat on our way down to Avranches.

Consequently I was the last in at the Clinic today, and the last to be seen by the nurses. We were already running way late and my anaesthetic was running out but first before they coupled me up they had some tests to perform on my legs.

Therefore when they came to couple me up the anaesthetic had worn off and everyone in the building and a few people outside too knew that I was being plugged in.

One of the plugs failed to work too and after several tries, they disconnected it and ran everything through the one plug, so I had a throbbing pain in my arm all through the session.

They carried on with several examinations of my legs and feet, and I was also seen by the doctor in charge. I asked him about the scan and he confirmed the disc issue. I asked him what was the plan for the future and he told me "we’ll wait to see how it develops."

Well, I can tell him that without waiting any longer for any more evidence.

While I was being seen to I was fighting off wave after wave of sleep thanks to being force-fed with orange juice to keep my blood sugar up. I was also revising my Welsh and then seeing how Jacques Cartier was getting on.

He and some (but not all) of his men have survived the winter, although with great difficulty. But disappointingly he doesn’t go into a great deal of detail about it. But as he’s about to return home the following Spring, he kidnaps the King, Donnacona, and some of his elite companions.

Cartier promises to bring them back but of course they all have the temerity to die in France so on his third voyage he is met with an icy reception.

His narrative comes to an abrupt end once he’s built the fort in which he and his group intend to stay – I suspect that he handed to his superior, the Sieur de Roberval, the subsequent part relating to the settlement when he arrived later – and it’s not been seen since. But returning sailors have painted a gloomy picture of confrontation with the First-Nations peoples until the French finally admitted defeat and abandoned the St Lawrence River for the moment.

But not without having sown the seeds of a brutal war that lasted until almost the dawn of the 19th Century, during which thousands of colonists and First-Nation people were killed.

When my machine finished they had further tests to perform on my legs before they unplugged me and compressed my arm to close the holes. Consequently I was very late leaving.

It was another young taxi driver who brought me home, another one of the chatty ones. He’s thinking of emigrating to Québec so he was asking me loads of questions about life out there. Québec was one of the places that I had in my mind to go to settle and I’d made enquiries once during one of my visits there. But ill-health wiped out every ambition in that respect.

Despite the driving rain and gale-force winds my faithful cleaner was at her post, and she noted how well I managed to climb the twenty-five steps up to here. She thinks that every day I’m showing an improvement. And how I wish that it were so. I’m not so optimistic.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with pasta and veg followed by chocolate cake and strawberry soya dessert. Very delicious.

It’s bedtime now so I’ll be clearing off in a minute. It’s Welsh lesson tomorrow so I have homework to send off and the radio programme to send off too

But there was an interesting story about Cartier and one of his native guides off walking to Hochelaga when suddenly a party of angry Iroquois rise up in front of them
They turn to go back but there’s a party of Iroquois there too.
So they turn to the left – and there’s a party of Iroquois there
So they turn to the right – and there’s a party of Iroquois there too
"Well, Taignoagny" said Cartier to his guide "it looks as if we are surrounded"
His guide turned to him and replied "what do you mean ‘we’, paleface?"

Saturday 16th November 2024 – AS I HAVE …

… said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … if it’s not one thing, it’s another with this dialysis.

Today the machine wasn’t working correctly and the poor nurses were so fed up of running to it every five minutes when the alarm went off that in the end they went to see the doctor who told them that I may as well be thrown out. They can’t change the machine because each machine has to be configured specially for each patient and to reconfigure a machine that’s not in use takes far too long.

So at least I had an early return home today after all of this.

It’s about the only thing that was early today (apart from the taxi, about which we’ll talk in due course) and last night. It ended up being another late night but I’m now past caring about what time I go to bed. I’ll just go to bed when I feel like it and if necessary, sleep during the dialysis.

But when I finally did go to bed, I was asleep quickly enough and had another Sleep of the Dead all the way through. When the alarm went off, I was at a rock festival, part of the organisation. I’d just introduced Steve Marriott to the crowd. England had just played Germany in a football match in a European Cup competition and had won so there was a whole host of repartee from Marriott and from the audience like “well it’s only fair that we keep on playing them until they finally manage to win”, lots of things like that which were extremely interesting. But the microphone cord for Steve Marriot had become stuck somewhere and I had quite a job to free it off and pull enough cable through so that he could finally put it on its stand and begin to perform. There was also something else about a song – had a song ever been played, or something like that. It turned out that each time they’d go to play it on a concert, the concert would over-run so they would have to cut short their set in order to fit into the time scale and that one always seemed to be the song that would go. So there was some dispute or discussion about whether it had ever been played, and what would be the situation if some other group decided that they would like to play it. Would Steve Marriott still be obliged to consider it in his set or would he be obliged to drop it and pick another one?

What a bizarre dream. There’s a little something of just about everything in there and none of it makes any sense or has any significance.

Rising from the bed I staggered off into the kitchen to make some dough for some bread as I’m going to be running out today. It went together quite nicely too for a change just recently. I’ve not been too happy with my bread-making technique this last couple of weeks.

And then into the bathroom where I washed not only me but also some of my clothes. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I have to keep on top of the laundry here as best as I can.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I was during the night. There was something going on in a small field. There were groups of us sitting around there watching it. For some particular reason we stood up and then we all settled down again. My youngest sister was there too, and that’s twice in the last few nights that she’s made an appearance so what’s happening here?

As well as that, there was more too, but you don’t want to know about that, especially if you are eating your tea right now.

The nurse came at a time more like his usual arrival, and for a change he refrained from making any comment that would irritate me. In fact he was quite pleasant and the closest that he has been to normal for quite some considerable time. He asked if I was going to watch the rugby later.

Me? Rugby? I come from North Wales.

After he left, I gave the dough its second kneading, made breakfast and carried on reading my book.

And poor Samuel Hearne. After the massacre of the Inuit at Bloody Falls that so affected and upset him, his account of his journey to the coastline of the Arctic Ocean bears no resemblance to that reported by Franklin in 1821 and Richardson in 1848.

In fact Richardson, in his own memoirs writes "it is not very probable that he could have induced the Indians, over whom he had little influence, to accompany him on his survey, after they had completed the massacre which was the object of their long and laborious journey ; nor, had he gone actually to the mouth of the river"

It would seem that Hearne, obviously totally dismayed at his own inability to convince his guides to press on to the coast and ashamed to admit it to his superiors of the Hudson’s Bay Company, wrote a description of how he imagined it to be in the belief that no other European would ever be able to follow in his footsteps.

But there is something in the book that I’m reading that has rung a very large bell with me, and quite surprisingly and unexpectedly too.

The copy of Hearne’s book that I’m reading is a version dated 1910 and contains editorial comments made by someone who at the time was associated with the Hudson’s Bay Company.

The editor tell us "Since this Journal was written, the Northern Indians, by annually visiting their Southern friends, the Athapuscow Indians, have contracted the small-pox, which has carried off nine-tenths of them … but having been totally neglected for several years, they have now sunk into their original barbarism and extreme indigence ; and a war has ensued between the two tribes, for the sake of a few remnants of iron-work which was left among them ; and the Dog-ribbed Indians were so numerous, and so successful, as to destroy almost the whole race of the Copper Indians."

An Arctic explorer by the name of Vilhjalmar Stefansson is described by the Canadian historian Pierre Berton as"the most controversial of that singular breed of venturers who set out to unlock the secrets of the frozen World" – although how anyone can say that of Stefansson when there are people such as Cook and Peary in that group I really don’t know.

And Stefansson’s place is not due to any fraud or intrigue like the two more famous candidates for that title. He is notorious for the famous story of the “blond Eskimoes”.

In 1910 Stefansson was wandering about on the shores of the Arctic Ocean and came across a group of Inuit who had paler faces and some of whom had brownish hair. On his return to civilisation he foolishly told a newspaper reporter of what he had found, embellished with a few bells and whistles, and a few days later, blasted across the front page of the Seattle Times was "Explorer discovers lost tribe of whites"

The newspaper reporter admitted later that he had used his “ingenuity and imagination” to flesh out the story, but by then, the damage had been done.

Worse still, when Stefansson returned to the Arctic a few years later with a party of Scientists sponsored by the Canadian Government, no trace of those Inuit was ever found and he was denounced as a charlatan hungry for attention from the media.

But I reckon that the comment by the editor of Hearne’s book explains exactly why no trace of his Inuit would have been found.

The bread baked itself quite well in the air fryer while all of this was going on. And I’ve found the secret – which is to bake it for fifteen minutes, take the bread out and turn it over and the put it back in for another seven and a half. Then I have a lovely loaf that isn’t burnt.

Back in here, I had things to do and was so engrossed that I didn’t realise that my faithful cleaner had arrived to put my anaesthetic patches onto my arm.

The taxi came early too, and it was the new girl who doesn’t know her way around. I had to show her the way to the other passenger who sometimes comes with me and then we had a nice, pleasant drive down to Avranches.

We were early arriving so we had to wait, but if I’m going to be plugged into a machine for three and a half hours there’s always something that I can be doing to pass the time while I’m awaiting.

When I emerged everyone else had already gone in so I followed them into the ward where I was quickly plugged in.

No orange juice for me so, for the first time in I don’t know how many weeks, I had another one of those cataleptic fits that I used to have. I heard everything that went on but for an hour I was totally unable to do anything at all.

Once the coffee and orange juice came round to restore me to the Land of the Living, I revised my Welsh and then carried on reading Cartier’s account of his voyage as edited by Richard Hakluyt.

Cartier is intent upon visiting the First-Nation settlement of Hochelaga but the King, Donnacona, is intent on preventing him at all costs. Donnacona’s attitude and opinions have hardened quite considerably since Cartier kidnapped his sons the previous year.

Pretty soon the St Lawrence will ice up and Cartier will be obliged to stay there over the winter. It will be interesting to see the interaction between the First-Nation people and the Europeans when the latter find themselves at the mercy of the former in an inhospitable and unfamiliar land in some very unwelcome temperatures.

Remember that as yet, no European has any conception at all as to what a Montréal (because that’s where Hochelaga is) winter is really like. Montréal is situated at 45°N, roughly the same as Bordeaux and Turin and winters like in those two cities will be what Cartier and his men expect.

Meanwhile, all is not well with the dialysis machine. Every five minutes the alarm goes off and poor Julie the Cook has to run to see what’s the matter. She resets it and five minutes later it whistles again.

Eventually, she’s had enough, and who can blame her? She goes to see Emilie the Cute Consultant (who has been keeping her distance from me) who tells her to switch off the machine and send me home. We’ll try again on Monday.

The taxi arrives just as I leave the building and we have a very interesting and conversational drive home

My faithful cleaner is at her post as I arrive, and she’s astonished by my early return. And once more she watches as I stride out up the twenty-five steps to my apartment.

There’s football tonight. Rhydaman of the Second Tier, having already knocked out a Premier League club, Aberystwyth Town, in the previous round, are taking on Hwlffordd in the Welsh Cup. And they are at home too

There’s a huge gulf in class between the Second Tier and the Premier League, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … but what Rhydaman managed to do was to drag their opponents down to their level.

Hwlffordd are third in the table but on this showing, they are a long way short of any kind of serious quality that will enable them to challenge for honours. They took the lead halfway through the first half more by luck than any skill, but Rhydaman managed to equalise near the end.

Try as they might, Hwlffordd couldn’t find the killer touch

The game went down to penalties and it was a very dismal 10-9 win to Hwlffordd. And I for one am hoping that we’ll see much more quality from someone in the next round.

Tea was the last burger on a bap for now, with baked potato and salad followed by chocolate cake and strawberry soya dessert. Next week I’ll be back on the breaded quorn fillets as I’ve now run out of baps.

But my chocolate cake is really nice, especially with the bits of real chocolate whisked into it.

So I’ll dictate my radio notes and go to bed ready for the morning.

But I’m still having a smile at a story that one of the nurses told me this afternoon.
Normandy is of course a centre for apple-growing and cider production and many of the local farms combine the two. And the nurse told me the story of a local farmer who had fallen into his cider fermentation vat
"He was in there struggling for several hours before the fire brigade managed to pull him out"
"That’s terrible news" I exclaimed. "What took them so long to pull him out?"
"Apparently he wouldn’t let go of the side of the vat" she said.

Friday 15th November 2024 – I HAVE BEEN …

… a very busy boy … "for once" – ed … and worked hard today … "for once" – ed …

And that might have been because I had one of the best sleeps that I’ve had for a long time … "for once" – ed … I didn’t awaken, turn over or do anything while I was asleep, to the best of my knowledge. I awoke for the first time at 06:55, 5 minutes before the alarm was due to go off and that was that.

As seems to be the case these days, I was late again going to bed. But I have this little project of sorting through, would you believe, 22,000 photos and I’m doing a few each night, in the hope that one day I’ll finish. I won’t finish it if I don’t make a start, that’s for sure.

After a while I crawled off to bed and there I slept the Sleep of the Dead until the morning, and I could do with a few more sleeps like that every now and again. I don’t know why nothing awoke me

When the alarm went off I managed slowly to bring myself back into the Land of the Living and crawled off into the bathroom for a good wash and scrub up.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And I didn’t go far at all. Someone shouted me again in the middle of the night. This time it was attached to a dream about having a new kitchen installed and they were the installers come to deliver the material ready to fit it

Strangely enough, I remember nothing at all about that. But I am going to have a new kitchen installed when (if) I finally manage to move downstairs. There is already a row of kitchen furniture up against the wall and I’ll be installing units in a kind-of island something along the same lines that I have here.

Naturally, I have proper units for that. There are those that I bought in Munich that are still inside the back of the van, and the four base units still in their boxes outside the door here. There’s also a worktop in the van along with the oven that I bought and is still in the van.

Looking at all of this, it’s just about four months in 2022 between me going on a mega-drive around Central Europe for several weeks and me being unable to walk any more. It’s difficult to believe how quickly I became so ill

This cancer that I’ve had since 2015 is bad enough and that’s been slowly dragging me down and further down, but what went on in that four months was totally inexplicable. However, I made it to Jersey and I made it (just) to Canada to tie up my affairs, but at what cost?

The nurse was quite early again today and that suits me fine because the sooner he comes, the sooner he goes and I can continue with some more exciting stuff.

When he arrived he asked me the same kind of silly question that he asks me every day, as if he hasn’t heard the answers all these times, and that irritates me considerably. Today I left him in no doubt that he was irritating me so he changed the subject to something else just as patronising, and got on my wick even more.

After he left I made my breakfast and carried on with my book. Hearne does indeed discuss some of the “family arrangements” of his First-Nation companions and is hardly complimentary. And of the arrangements of the families who live around the fort he has even less of a good opinion, if that were ever possible, He describes them as "being the most debauched wretches under the Sun"

Considering that we are talking of a book written at the end of the Eighteenth Century when feelings were much more delicate than they were twenty years ago (although not today in this current society that seems to be becoming more Puritan by the minute), his book and his accounts must have caused uproar

He concludes his narrative in this chapter with "In fact, notwithstanding the severity of the climate, the licentiousness of the inhabitants cannot be exceeded by any of the Eastern nations"

But we moved quickly on from there and have just read the account of the massacre by his First-Nation guides and porters of a hunting party of Inuit camped on the shores of the Coppermine River by what became known as the Bloody Falls. And the gratuitous savagery and brutality that he describes is dreadful

We flew over the Bloody Falls on our way back to Calgary from Kugluktuk at the mouth of the Coppermine River, and it’s hard to believe that such a peaceful place was the site of such horror.

Back in here I’ve finished off all of the notes for the next radio programme, which I’ll be dictating on Saturday night. For a change just recently, this was quite straightforward and will probably be quite boring after what I’ve been up to with the radio just recently.

There were several interruptions during the course of the day.

The first was, of course, for lunch and a slice of flapjack followed by some fruit.

Secondly, my faithful cleaner came to do her stuff and we tidied up the medication and then sorted out a new water filter for the jug that I keep here. There’s a pack of water filters on the top shelf and I can’t reach it but today my cleaner came with her step-ladder so she climbed up and passed one down to me.

As well as that, I’ve been talking to a friend on the internet about business, looking for a maker of stained glass and trying to find someone who will supply me with a couple of new drawers for my freezer, seeing as two of the old ones have gone the Way of the West. I want to defrost the freezer but there’s no point with the drawers in the state that they are.

That’s really all that I’ve done today. I don’t know where the time goes but it doesn’t seem as if I’ve wasted any time doing nothing or being distracted, which makes a change.

Tea was some vegan nuggets with chips and a vegan salad, followed by chocolate cake with strawberry (in honour of HIS NIBS) flavoured soya dessert.

So now that I’ve finished my notes there are a few small things that I have to do and then I’m off to bed. I have bread to bake tomorrow so I hope that it turns out well. The last couple have not been as I would have liked.

Samuel Hearne will be continuing his travels tomorrow too, to find the mouth of the Coppermine River (he should have asked me, because not only do I know where it is, I’ve been there) persuade the natives to come to trade furs with the fort, and to find the copper mine where they make their artefacts and report on its value

But he also told a very interesting story about how, when one group of his party diverted to carry out another task and was hurrying to meet back up with the main party, the members of each group announced their whereabouts each day by sending up a column of smoke

That reminded me of a discussion that I was having at the Little Big Horn when LITTLE BIG ANTLERS and I were talking to one of the Sioux guides there.
He was explaining the system of Native American smoke signals and there were several in the distance that he was interpreting.
He explained to me that the system worked by lighting a very smoky fire of damp grass and holding a blanket over it, then releasing the blanket to allow the column to rise in a kind-of Morse Code arrangement that he could read
But there was one of the columns in the distance that looked bizarre even to a tenderfoot like me
"Can you read THAT signal?" I asked him
"Oh yes I can" he replied. "Most definitely"
"What does it say?" I asked
"It says" he said "Help! My blanket has caught fire!"

Thursday 14th November 2024 – SO HERE I AM …

… back from the Dialysis Clinic, still in one piece. But not without them trying their best though. I’m really not too sure how long I can keep it up (as the Bishop once famously said to the actress).

And while we’re on the subject of things being up … "well, one of us is" – ed … I was up quite late again last night. However that was a personal choice of mine and nothing to do with any work or other obligation so I’m not complaining.

But once in bed, when I finally made it, I slept the sleep of the Dead and remember absolutely nothing at all.

When the alarm went off I was off on my travels somewhere but it evaporated immediately which was a shame. It must have been exciting, and there’s not enough excitement in my life these days. It’s a pity that every last memory of whatever it was simply disappeared.

The bathroom was first, and I managed to stagger in there before the final alarm of the morning. I had a good wash and scrub up, and even a shave. I know that Emilie the Cute Consultant doesn’t love me any more, but that’s no reason not to make an effort.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. I was with my youngest sister. We’d gone to a walled city, something like Chester or something like that but in actual fact it was a port on the south coast. We were going to see a ferry – the one that goes from Sheerness to Vilssingen but it had been doing something else on the high seas somewhere and had changed its name. We were discussing the ship. When we arrived at the outskirts of this town I made the remark that I’d only ever been here once before but didn’t have a camera with me. You could see across the bay in the cliffs all these houses that had been carved out of the cliffs. Once I’d passed underneath the entrance gate to the city and began to climb the hilltop towards the city centre, I stopped to take a photograph of it but the camera on my ‘phone wasn’t working properly. It was having difficulty taking the photo. A couple of guys came over and began to chat. They were really getting on my nerves – one of them saying “I know a good place where you can photograph”. Anyway, right in the end I told him to clear off while I tried to take this photograph. I had to go back down towards the gate again but still this photograph wouldn’t turn out. Then I joined my youngest sister again who had been for a run. She told me that you could run in this city as long as you obeyed various rules like in which order you can run, the distance that you are running, which lane you should be in etc. It sounded really complicated to me but when she set off I joined her and we were only losing 2-1 for quite some time before we were overtaken again by events but I thought that we put up a really magnificent performance …fell asleep here … so we had a good run in this city. My sister set off and ran down the hill so I ran after her. Instead of keeping to the footpath she ran right back through the road in the city gates and underneath the walls into the town. I was surprised that that was allowed but she insisted that it was perfectly safe to run through on the road instead of on the pavement and so underneath the city gates rather than through the pedestrian exit. She began to explain all the lanes, their order and what they meant, where you should be, who you may overtake and in which lane

Not that I’m ever likely to be going anywhere with my youngest sister, and she is even less likely to want to go running. But I’ve had a couple of dreams about being in Chester or somewhere like it just recently so am I becoming all nostalgic? I lived there between 1972 and 1974 in my late teens and I do have to say that it was amongst the happiest times of my life. What wouldn’t I give to return to that joyous, carefree period surrounded by good friends and a healthy ambience? And a camera not working? That was a recurring dream at one point, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

Later on I found myself another girlfriend. She’s someone whom I know and I wish that I knew who it was. We hadn’t been officially boyfriend/girlfriend but we spent a lot of time in each other’s company and I really looked forward to seeing her. She became ill, and had to have a lot of people looking after her which cut down quite considerably the time that we spent together. She slowly began to go out again. I met her once at some kind of concert where she was with some friends. I went over to say “hello” to her, and the first thing that she did was to give me £15:00 because she owed me £15:00 and I’d completely forgotten about it. I made a remark about her being a little better so would she like to come and have a chat with me. She said “no” which really disappointed me. She replied that things had changed. “I’ve been ill” she replied “and you’re no longer going to like me”. I told her that I’d always like her regardless of anything. She replied “you can’t trust me really, can you?” which was a reference to my own insecurity more than anything else. I was going to reply but at that point the dream faded away. Either that or I did.

That’s another thing, isn’t it? Me finding myself a girlfriend. In fact there’s something connecting this to real life too. I had a girlfriend at school and we drifted apart. A a couple of years later I was at the Teacher Training College in Crewe watching a rock group when I noticed, among the people in the crowd, the aforementioned. I went over for a chat and one thing led to another, and once you start you’d be surprised at how many other things there are. So our couple reignited but when she left school and went to University at Bangor it fizzled out again after a while.

The nurse was, for a change, late today. He asked about my plans for moving apartment and then proceeded to try to teach me to suck eggs, as if I’m senile or something. I wish that he would stop patronising me like this. It’s really getting on my wick.

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading my book. Samuel Hearne is now well on his way to the Coppermine River. He’s making some very pertinent observations about the life and habits of the First-Nation people out in the Barren Grounds of Canada – that area of peri-Arctic tundra situated above the tree line. He describes the philosophy of the First-Nation people as “every man for himself” and “the survival of the fittest” and describes how a stronger man taking away even a weaker man’s wife seems to be an everyday occurrence. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the Barren Grounds is one of the most remote, isolated and cruellest places on earth. If Jacques Cartier had called Labrador "the Land God Gave To Cain", whatever would he have said if he had made it to here? I was in Yellowknife in 2018, AS REGULAR READERS OF THIS RUBBISH WILL RECALL and while that’s not exactly in the Barren Grounds, it was still dismal enough from a natural history point of view.

Back in here I had a few things to do and hadn’t even started work when my faithful cleaner came to fit my patches. After she’d done it she took away with her all of the medication that I no longer use. She’s going to sort it and make a list to see whether any of her other clients can make use of it, to save throwing it away.

The taxi came early and it was one of my regular drivers but she was quite quiet. But didn’t she drive us down to Avranches at a hell of a rate? I’ve no idea what might be the matter with her.

There were quite a few patients here today and as a result, even though I was early, I was the last to be seen, as you might expect. I’m convinced that they do it deliberately, wait until the anaesthetic effect of the patches has worn off.

The first needle though was painless. Totally painless. However, the second needle made up for that. I knew all about that one and so, I suspect, do those people walking past outside.

My glucose limit was right down in the basement but no-one brought me an orange juice. Consequently I slipped into a diabetic coma until one of the Auxiliaries brought me a juice with my coffee. And then I revised my Welsh, listened to some music and read more of Hakluyt’s translation of Jacques Cartier’s voyages.

Here, Cartier sets the scene for all further problems between the French and the First-Nation people by kidnapping the sons of the chief of the local tribe in order to take them back to Europe. And then on his return, on his second voyage, he befriends the wrong tribe, hence leading to 250 years of conflict between the French, the Dutch, the English, the Iroquois and the Huron, along with various other Europeans and First-Nation groups.

Last to be connected, I was last, and by a long way too, to be disconnected. My cleaner had sent me a frantic message wondering where I was.

In the meantime though a doctor came to see me. We had the usual banal questions but said nothing about my scan last week so I asked him. He went away to have a look and came back to say that I had a slipped disc. And then wandered away before I had chance to ask him what their plans were about it.

That rang a bell with me. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall me saying in the past that there’s one of the doctors here at this hospital who has all the air of wishing that he was driving a taxi or serving in a restaurant, anywhere but working in a hospital. It looks as if he’s been pencilled in to deal with me

It was another speedy drive back home with a driver who was listening to the news all the way back. And then my helpful cleaner watched as I managed once more to climb the twenty-five steps up to here totally unaided.

Tea was steamed veg with falafel in a vegan cheese sauce followed by chocolate cake in a soya pistachio cream. And it tasted wonderful too. I really must stop eating so well.

But now I have some more things to do before going to bed. And tomorrow, I’m not (planning on) going anywhere so I can take my time.

What I shall do is to read some more of Samuel Hearne’s adventures in search of the Coppermine River.
The next chapter, written by Samuel Hearne is "Some Observations On The Sex Life and Practices Of The Athabasca and Chipewyan First-Nation People"
And the following chapter, written by the Athabasca and Chipewyan First-Nation People is entitled "Some Observations on the Sex Life and Practices of Mr Samuel Hearne"

Wednesday 13th November 2024 – I HAVE FINISHED …

… the second radio programme, the notes of which I also dictated on Saturday night.

This one was much more complicated than the last one but because of my little program it was all done, finished and dusted off much quicker.

It helps having used an array for the numbers rather than entering them manually whenever they needed to be changed, so let’s all give it a big hand … "hip, hip, array" – ed …

Last night I had a lot of things to do and as a result I didn’t go to bed until late, long after my ideal time of 23:00 but one thing that I can say is that I had the best sleep that I have had for ages. I awoke once during the night as far as I can remember, but I was asleep very quickly afterwards so I didn’t pay much attention

When the alarm went off, three girls had just come round to my apartment. I was still in bed but I was wide-awake. I was making plans for the immediate future, what I was going to do. Then one of the girls came up to me, ripped the bedclothes off and shouted “wakey wakey”. At that moment the alarm went off and Billy Cotton REPEATED THE CALL.

But can you imagine that? I suppose you can because it’s pretty much par for the course. 3 girls come into my apartment and just as it’s about to become interesting, Billy Cotton spikes my guns. It’s a change for him to do it though. Usually it’s one of my family who would put the spanner in the works, just like they did in real life.

So there I was, sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for the World to stop spinning around and then when it stopped I got off and headed off to the bathroom to clean myself up.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. My girlfriend had come round with her mother, and we’d left her mother in my apartment while the two of us went to a kind-of party in the afternoon. When we came back, the taxi dropped us off by the club on Nantwich Road and we walked down the side street there to the side door of my building. The first thing was that we couldn’t open the padlock. It was as if something had been stuffed down the keyhole but eventually I managed to open the padlock and could unlock the place and walk in. At the first glance I thought that her mother had died, the way that she was lying on the sofa, but she was lying there chewing, and it suddenly occurred to me that she was chewing a chocolate. My girlfriend went over to talk to her to make sure that she was OK while I prepared the papers and so on from this party/reception type of thing to which we’d just been.

Who this girl was, I have no idea at all which is a shame. Some kind of company would be a nice thing to have in a dream. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we have met some really nice girls on occasion during the night. It would be nice if I could do that today but first of all I don’t go anywhere these days and secondly I’m far too old for any of that kind of nonsense.

The nurse came early again today and after making the usual remarks, saw to my legs and then cleared off. He can’t have been here ten minutes. Not that I’m complaining though. It suits me fine.

After he left I made breakfast and read my book.

Samuel Hearne is on the move again, out on his third trip to find the Coppermine River. He makes some very prescient and penetrating remarks about the First-Nation women whom he encounters which, if read in the wrong spirit, would not be appreciated. He likens them to nothing more than beasts of burden

However, it should be remembered that if the men are out hunting for food, chasing deer around and hoping to catch them, they need to be able to move quickly so someone else has to do the heavy lifting and carrying. Life on the Barren Grounds is really tough and in fact a guy from Nantwich, John Hornby, starved to death with two companions out there almost 100 years ago. It’s a fight and only the toughest survive. Co-operation and partnership is essential.

Back in here, I had some editing to do. Listening to the radio programme that I’d prepared yesterday, I found that I’d left in there a reference to a track that I’d cut out. So the reference had to go too, which meant that I was now 2.23 seconds short.

Not a problem though – just add in some applause at an appropriate moment and we’ll be fine.

Then I began to prepare the next programme by editing the notes that I’d dictated.

Having done that I broke the finished sound file up into segments for each track and then entered the times of the sound-bytes and tracks into my little program and the machine did the rest.

It found me a selection that ran out to one hour and twenty-eight seconds – not a problem – except that one track wasn’t what it was supposed to be and by the time I’d edited it to represent what I wanted, the batch was short by several minutes. And there was, regrettably, an error in my programming that caused one track to be counted twice.

In the end, I was nine minutes short so I had to go again. This time I was one minute and twenty seconds over, but editing that much out is no problem at all.

There were several interruptions.

Firstly, there was lunch. I can’t go without food and I had a slice of the flapjack that I’d made a while ago.

Secondly, my cleaner came round to do her stuff and that meant a shower for me this afternoon. And although she stood and watched, I did absolutely everything on my own today and you’ve no idea how proud I felt.

She cautioned me about attempting a shower when I’m on my own. There might be an improvement in my mobility and I’m right to push myself onwards, but I mustn’t take any risks. I’m not out of the woods yet. I have simply moved into different woods.

We then spent a pleasant half-hour going through the medication and you wouldn’t believe (or maybe you will) the amount of medication gathering dust around here that is long out-of-date. There’s some stuff dated 2017 and I bet that I can find stuff older than that if I look around. It’s high time someone got to grips with this over-prescribing of medication.

After my hot chocolate I had naan dough to make because I’ve run out. This lot is extremely garlicky which is just as well. I’m not going to be bothered by werewolves and vampires, especially when the garlic naan is smeared in my garlic butter

Tea tonight was a leftover curry with naan bread, as usual. It really was delicious and I reckon that it was the best that I have ever made. My chocolate cake, with lumps of real chocolate, is also excellent, especially with a pistachio soya cream

So that’s enough for today. Tomorrow I’m off to dialysis so Heaven help me. I can’t take much more of this.

But I’m still having a laugh at some of the comments made by Hearne in his book.
Apart from his beautiful quote "they never give themselves the trouble to acquire what they can do well enough without" to describe the philosophy of the First-Nation people in the Barren Grounds, something from which many people in Western society would do well to note, he records a conversation between several of his First-Nation guides
Sitting around the fire late at night after a heavy meal of venison they jokingly ask each other whether they would ever consider having "an intrigue with a strange woman"
It reminds me of a party in Munich to which I went several years ago and an Italian girl asked me "tell me – would you ever consider making love to a perfect stranger?"
"Madam," I replied "the way that things have been just recently, I would even consider making love to a bloody awful stranger"

Monday 11th November 2024 – THIS BLASTED DIALYSIS …

… thing isn’t becoming any easier. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

Four of us arrived at the clinic together today. I was the first to be coupled up and, as you might expect, the last to be uncoupled. There I was, hoping for a quick getaway today but it didn’t quite work out like that.

Going to bed at a reasonable time is something else that isn’t working out either. Once again, it was well after 23:00 when I finally crawled into bed . At least I had a decent sleep though because I slept right through to when the alarm went off, with no pain at all.

When the alarm went off I was busy in an adventure. There was a bank robbery or something like that planned, a huge, elaborate way of doing it too and a lot of people had a lot of little parts in this. Where I joined in was where the local bus driver who had been asked to do something suddenly realised what he was being asked to do and declined to do it, right on the very day. One of the girls went onto his bus and with a fluttering of eyelids and so on asked “you will do just this one little task for us, won’t you?” which was to throw a mine through the open window of an apartment. In the end he agreed to do it, so she gave him this little mine. It was a false mine, but the purpose was for the people inside to flee their apartment and leave the door open. She gave him the mine and I went with him. He asked a lot of questions about the mine, how far is the tailback etc. My issue was how were they going to throw this through the window of an apartment on the thirteenth floor. I imagined that they’d already worked this out. There must be a balcony or something. We talked about the mine and set off in the bus. I thought to myself that when someone writes the story of this bank heist it’s going to make one of the most exciting adventure novels I could ever imagine

That was something that I wished would have carried on because it was certainly exciting enough. And as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I seem to have is what happens during the night.

Mind you, that’s not true at all. I’ve received an e-mail to day saying that someone has taken control of my computer, has videos of me watching filthy movies and what I was doing while watching them, and will send them to all of my contacts unless I buy Bitcoins to a value of $1410 and send them to a Bitcoin wallet. So in about 45 hours we’ll see whether he can walk the walk as well as he can talk the talk. This should be very interesting. I hope that you will be waiting with bated breath.

Meantime, back at the ran … errr … apartment I staggered off into the bathroom for a good wash and shave, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. Did I dictate the dream where a bunch of four kids was responsible for destroying a house? … "no you didn’t" – ed … They had a water leak in the washroom of where they were staying so they began to explore to try to find it and fix it. Of course, everything that they did led on to further problems then on to further problems and further problems. They ended up destroying a house. The girl and her two younger sisters took to the road and found another boarding house in which to stay by pretending that their parents would be joining them later. The same thing happened with this one – they totally destroyed it. When I arrived on the scene the girls had left but had somehow managed to go into Space where they had landed on the Space Station and were busy pulling that to pieces looking for a leak too. There was another false alarm at 07:00. It didn’t awaken me but I heard the alarm go. I knew that it was a false one so I took no notice but I was in London, part of the street crew who had been defeated by London University. I was in Fulham and I can’t really remember what was happening but I was a guest there and helped them with a few events, the Fulham University, but we didn’t make any progress at all.

Funnily enough, I can’t remember this false alarm going off this morning. As for kids destroying a house, that’s not a problem at all for modern kids. They seem to be much more destructive than we ever were.

Later on I’d been to see the doctor. I’d given him all the details of my illness and a few other problems. When I’d finished, he looked at me and said “yes I’ll have to write a prescription for you”. Then he took from the inside pocket of his jacket, not his prescription pad but a rough notebook and proceeded to write in there. I had to tell him three times about his prescription. It was only after the third time that he happened to look at what he was doing and realised that he had the wrong pad and had to start again.

That’s something that I seem to have on my mind right now – this story about prescriptions. It seems to be a big issue right now. But if people want to pay less tax, then there’s going to be less money available for Social Services. Here in France we still have something that’s far, far better than any other country in Europe.

Isabelle the nurse blitzed in and out today. She didn’t want to hang around too long. I don’t seem to be popular with too many other people right now. I wonder what I’ve done? Maybe this cyber-blackmailer has already been in contact with them, I dunno.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on with my book. Samuel Hearne has set out on his first trip into the Barren Grounds in his search for the Coppermine River, and recounts how his native guides robbed him and his companions of everything that they possessed and how they had to retreat to the fort on Hudson’s Bay. Times were tough in 1769

Back in here I had things to do, like my Welsh homework for a start, and then afterwards I still made no headway with this blasted timing for this radio programme.

In the end I’ve bit the bullet and begun to write a computer program. It’s been years since I’ve written a program and I’m surprised that I could still remember. I wrote my first program in 1975 using loads of If:Else and GoTo constraints but this needs to be more sophisticated than that.

It’ll probably take me longer to write the program than to do it by hand, but the program will be useful for another time

My cleaner surprised me in mid-calculation and I had to go to have my patches fitted. And the taxi was early – I was busy cutting up last night’s chocolate cake when the driver turned up.

For once just recently I was on my own and it was probably the quickest journey that I’d ever had. As a result I was early arriving and although I had to wait ten minutes while they cleaned up after the morning shift I was soon in the ward, with three other people coming in with me.

They coupled me up quickly enough and while it wasn’t actually painless, it was better than some times just recently.

However they noticed that my arm was starting to swell up as if they had missed their aim with the needles. They carried out a quick echograph to check and found that everything was perfect, and indeed the dialysis pump was showing a good circulation.

Consequently I spent most of the session with an alcohol compress on my arm to reduce the swelling. I still have one on now so I’ll be going to sleep with alcohol fumes all around me and I’ll have a huge bruise there in the morning

There was a couple of new people there today too so the doctor came to see them. He didn’t come to see me though to find out how things were and to tell me what was in my scan from Friday. I was rather disappointed by that.

At some point I had a little doze and while I was away with the fairies (but not doing anything about which the Editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine would comment or which would be of interest to my cyber-extortionist) I saw three bodies. One was a girl and one was a man and I don’t know the third, all wrapped in cloth, in the water. two were chained down under the water to some kind of attachment and had been there for a couple of years. The third, either the woman or man, was with them under water but a new arrival, not yet chained down

In this dream I was actually underneath them in the water and was looking up at them. It was weird.

Apart from that I read my Welsh, drunk loads of orange juice and then carried on with PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS

Hakluyt is now attacking the works of Jacques Cartier and his voyage of 1534. This is interesting because it refers to two comments that Cartier wrote in his journal. Firstly he says "in all my travels along this (Labrador and Newfoundland) coast, I have not seen even a bucketful of good soil"

That’s my impression too and much as I would have loved to move to Labrador, gardening would be ruled out for a start.

The second quote of Cartier is much more famous. Sailing up and down the Straight of Belle Isle between Labrador and Newfoundland, he describes it as "the Land that God must truly have given to Cain"

Despite finishing early, uncoupling me was something else completely. I had to wait until there were two nurses free because if one is compressing a patient, there must be another one ready in case of emergencies elsewhere in the Unit.

It took an age until they sorted me out, and they seemed to be more interested in my arm than anything else. The poor taxi driver had been waiting for a while and I bet that she was fed up. But once in the car we sped off to Granville.

My cleaner was waiting for me and watched along with another neighbour as I climbed all of the stairs unaided up to my little apartment

After I’d had a rest I put away the rest of the chocolate cake and then made tea – a stuffed pepper, which was really nice. There’s still some ginger cake left so I had some of that with pistachio-flavoured soya dessert.

Bedtime now, and I need to be ready for my Welsh lesson in the morning. I may well be late joining because there’s a meeting here in the morning

But seeing as we were talking about absent-minded doctors just now … "well, one of us was" – ed … it reminds me of that hospital in Belgium a while back
"Doctor" said a nurse "why are you writing your notes with an anal thermometer?"
So the doctor hands it to the nurse
"Will you go back into that patient’s room" said the doctor "and bring me back my biro?"

Saturday 9th November 2024 – IF ANYTHING CAN …

… go wrong, then it surely will. Especially if I’m involved in it

And these dialysis sessions are certainly testing this theory to the limit. I am not having much luck at all.

That’s hardly to be unexpected, because right now I don’t seem to be having much luck with anything. And it’s not as if there are any ladders under which to walk or black cats to kick

Even going to bed at a reasonable time seems to have deserted me for the moment. Finishing my notes at a reasonable time last night, but the time that I’d finished everything else that I had to do, I still ended up running late, as usual.

At least, the compensation here is that it didn’t take me long to go to sleep in my nice, comfortable bed. And once I’d gone to sleep, there I stayed until the alarm went off. There had been a little tossing and turning, but nothing about which I needed to worry

When the alarm went off I was working in a chemist’s shop prescribing medication to people. I was told that there was a control on the amount of medication being given out and when I prescribed some to a woman she told me that I was giving her too much. I told her that at the end of the treatment, when she’s finished she can stick the remainder back through our letter-box so that we could have it back

This is an ongoing issue in real life, with all of the over-prescription of medication. I look at all of the stuff that I have in here and multiply that by so many million people and it’s a fortune. Many of these doctors in hospitals seem to live in a bubble and don’t seem to understand how their prescriptions affect those living in the real world. But we’ve talked about that quite a lot just recently.

Despite what might have been a good sleep it took an age to haul myself out of bed and I only just about beat the second alarm. Burning the candle at both ends doesn’t seem to be working so well

In the bathroom I had a good scrub up and then piled all of the washing into the washing machine, bedding included. It all goes in on a “mixed materials 40°C wash” and if anything wants any different than that then I don’t buy it. It goes without saying that I have nothing that needs ironing.

Back in here I had a computer issue. For some reason it wouldn’t boot up this morning. I had to go to tweak around with the BIOS to make it work and that took some time to do. Consequently I was only half-way through the dictaphone notes when Isabelle the nurse came

She had a good moan about all of the shopping scattered everywhere. That was going to be this morning’s job after I’d finished the dictaphone notes but the best-laid plans etc. Anyway I told her that it was my mess in my apartment and she can give me some of her hours to tidy up if she’s unhappy

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of Samuel Hearne’s travels. Except that I didn’t. Two days in and we’re still reading the editor’s preamble. That’s probably going to end up longer than the author’s book if it keeps on like this.

Then there was the washing to hang up, seeing as the machine had finished. And that’s quite a battle, given my state of health and my lack of balance

Back in here I finished off transcribing the dictaphone notes. I had been doing some work on the city walls. I’d cleared away a platform in front that we were going to use to put on music acts etc so that the public sitting in what was the old moat could see whoever was on the platform. I don’t know at all about the history of this platform but it just happened to be there. While I was cleaning it out I heard a noise like a sports car. I stopped and looked up, and there was a guy there. I asked him if that was his car. He replied “yes, it’s a ‘Facer'”. I said “that’s a marque of which I’d never heard before”. He replied “it’s the only one”. He looked down and asked “what are the chances of putting this car down there?”. I replied “if you have a look on top of the walls a little further down we have cranes that run up and down on top of the walls. We use them for raising and lowering things. Bring one of the cranes up here. They’ll soon lower your car down”. The fact is that the crane didn’t quite reach to where the platform is, but if I stood on the platform and threw a rope that would be tied to the car, then as he lowered the car down I could pull it to the platform. He set off and we set off to go round and come round onto the correct side of the platform. He suddenly began to think “what about the insurance? What about the MoT and the Public Liability?”. We told him to clear off, shut up and lower the car down. He didn’t like our brusqueness but we thought that it was the best way to proceed, to bring this car down onto the platform. As it happened, we had a quick look in the encyclopaedia. He played keyboards so with me on the bass and my friend who worked with me, he was a drummer, we had the makings of a pretty sound group, the three of us

One of my friends lived in a house right on the city walls in Chester and I worked in a building on the walls too. We’d often said that it would be an ideal place for a rock group, or any other musical act for that matter, to have a concert. A few power chords just at the start of the 14:30 Novices’ Handicap down below on the Roodee should upset quite a few punters.

I was in Court last night – a hearing trying to persuade a tenant to leave a property but he was being difficult. He was finding humour in all kinds of strange places but I reckoned that this humour was a front. He was trying to embarrass me in front of the judges so I kept a very clear silence and only answered the questions that they were asked to me and ask him until he pulled up out of steam which he did rather by the nineteenth of the second. He was unable to persuade the French children’s governess that she was the kind of person to be given a more senior role in the Government of France where she could make a name for herself in history.

Does this dream ring any bells right now? I bet that it does. Although where the children’s governess fits in, I’ve not quite worked out.

Did I dictate the dream about the two of us being on a coach tour with two drivers? … "no you didn’t" – ed … We had to stop for coffee but there was nowhere convenient and we ended up at some kind of dire roadside burger bar but it was the absolute best that we could be. The other driver took over to drive and on leaving was almost pranged by a silver 4×4 as he pulled out. In the meantime I’d gone off somewhere – I had Nerina with me – and all of a sudden there was an urgent contact “can you check and look out for a silver 4×4?”. By this time I was back driving this coach again. I looked in my mirror and could see this 4×4 right behind me so I replied “it’s behind me now”. The voice asked “can you follow it to find out where it goes”. I thought “follow it in a coach? I can try”. However I lost it, but I had a rough idea where so I circled around this housing estate again and sure enough, I found it. So I built a swimming pool and filled it with water, then the voice asked me to check on the number. When I checked on the number I saw the old guy driving it, he was standing on a set of ladders up some kind of pole in his garden where there was a light bulb that he was busy taking out. I took the number and reported it. Someone then gave me a briefcase and said “this is his” so I went and knocked on the door. His wife was there so I handed her the briefcase and we began to chat. She said something about his computer so I had a look. It was old and full of viruses so I cleaned it for him, removed the viruses and tweaked a few other things, and it worked so much better. When he ‘phoned up we told him what we’d come for. The wife told him the news so he asked “can you switch it off yet?”. He told me that it needed switching off so I arranged it. She said “yes, it switches off now”. he replied “that’s the first time in 100 years that it’s switched off”. Then Nerina and this woman engaged in quite a lot of small talk about nothing else in particular really

Wouldn’t it be great if I could build a swimming pool and fill it with water at the drop of a hat like that? And I have in the past done strange things like door-stepping someone for purposes other than which are obvious, but we don’t talk about these.

There wasn’t all that long to do stuff of my own before the cleaner came round to stick my anaesthetic patches onto me. It’s freezing outside, she reckons, so I put away my warm-season fleeces and brought out one of the Arctic ones. I kept my jumper on though if I’m going to be in Ice-Station Zebra.

While I was waiting for the taxi to arrive I put away all of the food and did a little rearranging on the shelves. It goes without saying that with my cleaner being early, the taxi was late. And we had someone to pick up along the way.

At the Dialysis Centre there was a crisis. Two patients had been sent over from the hospital for emergency dialysis and one was having a panic attack. Consequently every available nurse was helping out around the bed.

It was 35 minutes before I was seen and by that time the anaesthetic on my arm had worn off. They also missed their aim with the second needle and had to re-do it. Consequently I was in agony throughout the whole three hours and thirty minutes.

"Shall I bring some ice to ease the pain in your arm?" asked a nurse helpfully

"What?" I exclaimed "In this blasted igloo? You must be joking!"

So I listened to a couple of concerts, revised my Welsh, suffered being force-fed with orange juice, had a little doze and read more of Hakluyt’s PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS

He’s busy right now talking about a couple of trips in the 1580s and 90s to the Gulf of St Lawrence and the constant changing of sovereignty of the islands there is playing havoc with me being able to identify them in the names by which I know them today

Not only that, we’re talking in the period when the Basque country was still independent and its own language predominated so that makes matters even more complicated, especially when the ports on the Biscay coast are mentioned in passing, under their former names.

Being so late starting meant that I was so late finishing and the guy who came down with me, who has a four-hour session in the other ward, was ready before I was, so we both came home together.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and once more watched in awe as I climbed the twenty-five stairs up to my door. Not as quick as Thursday or Friday but it was still an achievement. We have a new tenant in one of the apartments upstairs, so I met her cat on the way up.

After my cleaner left, we had football. Cardiff Metro v Y Bala. The Met scored after two minutes – a lucky rebound but Y Bala equalised just on the stroke of half-time.

The game came to light when Y Bala scored two goals right immediately after half-time and then we had an exciting second half as the Met clawed their way back into the game with two goals. The final ten minutes was certainly exciting.

It was a good game once it opened up. Cardiff Met play some pretty football but in their desire to retain possession, they can go from all-out attack to a long back-pass to the keeper in the twinkle of an eye and it’s so frustrating to see them do it – eight men up in attack that they pass it backwards.

Y Bala’s style is rather more agricultural but they play forward much more often and with better results.

Tea was a vegan burger on a bun with salad and baked potato followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. It’s all good stuff this.

There’s some dictating to do and then I’m off to bed.

But talking of my bad luck … "well, one of us is" – ed … reminds me of the time in Sheffield when I was walking past the soup canning plant, the boiler exploded and the streets were flooded in vegan tomato soup
"That must have been lucky for you" said a friend
"Not really" I replied. "I could only find a fork"

Friday 8th November 2024 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

… day I’ve had today. I’ve done nothing, accomplished nothing, have loads of things that I need to do and I’m going to be here until eternity just doing the most urgent things that I have to do..

And it all started off so well too. Even though I wasn’t in bed at 23:00, it was something quite like it – not a horribly late night like some have been.

Furthermore, although I wasn’t asleep quite quickly, once I’d dropped off, there I stayed for quite some considerable while. There was the odd awakening here and there but nothing that particularly kept me awake.

However, once I was awake at about 06:00, then awake I stayed and nothing at all would induce me to go back to sleep. So when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was already up and about.

In a departure from usual tradition, I went and took my medicine straight after washing. Usually, the medication is taken at breakfast but I have a feeling that I’ll be struggling for time a little later.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were discussing radio programmes again. There was something to do with a famous star who owned a Triumph Herald. An interviewer had been talking to me about interviewing him. Then there was a change and we found ourselves on the Orient Express heading deep into what was formerly the USSR. I was on there in an ordinary carriage with someone else. The train was packed. We were coming into a village where we were going to change locomotive, which meant that we would be not moving for a good few minutes. I knew this village, and knew that there was a really first-rate ethnic Indian restaurant right by the station. I told the guy with me about it. We agreed that we’d take a risk and go there while the train was stopped. As the train was pulling into the station we left our seats and ran the whole length of the train. When we came to the sleeping cars we were told that there was no room in there. The train was crowded, which we knew but we took no notice and pressed on right to the front. When the train stopped we nipped out of the station and found this little café but it was now a big restaurant. There were loads of people there and it was really busy. It was quite upmarket, and it wasn’t what I was expecting at all and neither was my friend, but here we were. The first thing that I did was to grab a plate of something or other to take with me to the table because I could see how busy it was. There was a decent possibility here that we would never be served and have our meal by the time that the train is ready to leave. At least I wanted to eat something while I was here. I was really disappointed by this famous little Indian café place being no longer here and all the delicious hot food had gone – “hot” in both senses of the word of course.

This dream reminds me of that little Indian café that I found out in the Côte Vertu in Montréal. It really was nice and I went back there time after time. Going back in 2022 for the first time since 2019 I found that it had been enlarged and wasn’t quite the same, and neither did it have the same level of intimacy, as the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine might have said. The food was still excellent though.

There was something really bitty next. First of all I was round at a friend’s girlfriend’s house, somewhere where a group of us went quite often. I actually bought a jar of coffee to give to the mother to thank her for all the time that she’d made coffee for us. But somewhere along the line I had a new house, a brand-new solid front door and I was busy measuring it up to fit security bolts in it. But it was winter and I didn’t really feel like opening the door and working just there then with how cold it was outside.

There was actually a girl who lived near me in my adolescence who was the girlfriend of a friend, and it was pretty much open house. Any one could come round and visit, and several people made new acquaintances there. In fact, I made a little friend there who was my companion for a couple of months. However everything fell apart when my friend discovered that his girlfriend had become much too friendly with another one of the visitors.

Isabelle the nurse was late coming around this morning – swamped with blood tests as the laboratory is closed on Monday and no-one wants them done on Tuesday, for reasons that I have either mentioned or implied.

She didn’t hang around and was soon gone, leaving me to make breakfast in peace.

That thesis on the Border Marches has gone the Way of the West now. I think that we reached rock-bottom when our author described “Rhuddlan Castle, in Cheshire, right on the border with Wales”. Although it was in part of the lands that was administered by the Earl of Chester and so can be called “in Cheshire” at a pinch, it’s well over be border, almost half-way to Anglesey and the only way of supplying it was up the River Clwyd from the sea because the overland route was in the hands of the Welsh.

Having finished that I made a start on the history of Samuel Hearne’s famous trek to Coppermine on the northern coast of Canada where had he done the trek in 2019 Castor and I would have been there to him.

However I didn’t read much because the taxi came early for me. I hadn’t even finished my breakfast which was a shame.

At the hospital, with all of the renovations going on, we had the devil’s own job to find the radiography area, and then I was abandoned.

It didn’t take too long for them to come to see me and I was in and out of the machine in five minutes. I didn’t even have to undress or take off my shoes, which was strange if they wanted to look at my foot.

They pushed me outside where I had to wait for the taxi. And wait. And wait. One hour and twenty minutes in total, and there were two other passengers in the car so I went on a sightseeing tour all round Southern Normandy. 12:35 when I made it finally back home.

Mind you, once more I excelled myself. My faithful cleaner stood and watched in awe as I climbed all 25 steps up to here yet again.

After she left I warmed up the remains of my breakfast and finally managed to eat it.

The next task was to complete my order for LeClerc and send it off. It’s a cheap order this week as I have much of the stuff in stock, but olive oil is on special offer again so that helped bulk it up

My cleaner came round to do her stuff and we sorted out the medication, disposing of a load of stuff that’s no longer in use. It’s gone into a bag in the corner, not thrown away, because what’s the betting that sooner or later another prescription will bring it out?

Then I came in here to deal with the radio programme. I’ve paired off the music and segued it, and even made a good start on the notes but Rosemary rang me for a chat. But I had to abort that because the delivery came from LeClerc and I had to put away the frozen stuff

Having done that, I called Rosemary back and we had another one of our marathon sessions that went on for quite a while, and I forgot to check the time.

It wasn’t far short of tea time though, and only just enough time to put away the chilled stuff. The rest will have to wait until tomorrow, although with a session at the Dialysis Clinic, a football match to watch and some radio notes to finish, I’m not sure exactly when tomorrow it will be.

Tea was a handful of those mini-nuggets with chips and a vegan salad, followed by spicy ginger cake and soya dessert. Really nice too.

That was followed by starting to make more bread. You can see that my day is a long way from finishing. Blimey! What a day! And it’s not going to improve any either. And I’ve not had even one sip of coffee today either.

But a strange thing happened at the hospital just now. A nun came rushing out of the doctor’s room in tears.
A few minutes later the doctor came out so I asked him "what’s the matter with her?"
"I’ve just told her that she’s pregnant" said the doctor
"Blimey!" I exclaimed. "Is she?"
"Ohh no" replied the doctor "but I think that I’ve cured her hiccoughs"

Thursday 7th November 2024 – I MADE IT!

Yes, for the first time since I really can’t remember when, I succeeded in climbing up all twenty-five steps to my apartment door without once using my hand to lift up my leg

The other day I said that if I could manage to do the first thirteen for three consecutive trips, I’d give it a try all the way up. And here we are.

Of course, doing it once is no really big deal. Doing it time after time after time again is something else completely and it remains to be seen how or if I can keep going

Having said that, I wish that it was as easy to go to bed as it is to climb the stairs. It was another night where it was almost midnight when I finally managed to crawl into my nice clean bed.

And wasn’t it wonderful too? A nice clean me in nice clean clothes in a nice clean bed. I wonder how long it will be before the bedding walks into the bathroom on its own. I really must make a more determined effort to behave like a grown-up.

Anyway once I was in bed, there I stayed in the lap of luxury until 07:00, and I can’t remember anything about what happened during the night.

When the alarm went off I struggled into the bathroom to have a good wash and clean up, and even a shave to make myself look pretty, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. I was working at the royal palace in Wales. The King was a big admirer of Tolkein. At one point he had the statue of Louis de Funès cut out, enlarged and placed in the hall of the Parliament Assembly. We all had to go over there to wish us luck before the Parliament began. After a while, this custom eased off but there was a statue of his in the area where we worked. I always had it ready but no-one ever needed it. One day some soldier guy came and washed himself there. He had a couple of companions – nether of them was armed. Suddenly one of them threw back his hood, and washed his face ready to enter the room of provocation. It turned out to be a very close resemblance to our hero who we all thought had died ignominiously in 1305

There was then something about the previous expedition having left some potatoes behind. I’d recovered them and brought them back to England. However they had been taken to be weighed on the Royal scales at Manchester. I’d gone with it and I’d watched them as they were being weighed but a couple of people in attendance had to perform all of the manoeuvring. One of them looked exactly like the person who was the foreman so we all wondered if maybe the abbot had been here before

And do you know what? I know or remember absolutely nothing whatever about either of these dreams and not a single clue whatever as to what they mean or infer. There was however something that I vaguely recall about a girl with very long dark brown hair being somewhere about last night and I expected to hear something on the dictaphone about her, whoever she was. But no luck there either.

Isabelle the nurse was still in an almighty hurry, trying to catch up with everything that was left undone while she was on her week off. She told me that she might – just “might” – have some time on Sunday. In other words, when the laboratory is closed so there are no blood samples planned.

That’s no surprise.

After she left I made breakfast and for a change, I didn’t read the thesis. In fact, he mentions a certain raid by the Welsh into Cheshire that destroyed “salt works”. Nantwich, where I went to school, was famous for its salt in those days – in fact its name in Welsh is “Hellaeth Wen” – The Place of White Salt – so I did a little digging around.

Not only did I find details of several incursions and battle by the Welsh, there was one where the English destroyed the Salt Works to stop them falling into Welsh hands. All of this led me on to a book that is almost 200 years old that is a compendium of Cheshire and its parishes and so I’ve been off on my travels.

All of that meant that I didn’t have time to do much before my cleaner came to fit my patches and prepare me for my trip to dialysis. And the taxi came early too. This control by the Securité Sociale is beginning to bite and now they really are regrouping different trips. We were three in the car, all with appointments at different times.

The result was that I had to wait twenty minutes before they opened the door of the ward to let us in. But there are a few things that you can do to pass the time, especially if you are going to spend three and a half hours coupled up to a machine and not move.

Once more, I was stuck in a private room, the “naughty corner” I reckon, and it didn’t take long for them to come to see me and wire me up.

The first needle went in absolutely painlessly – I never felt a thing. The second though was noticeable, although not as painful as some have been. And the dull pain that I had throughout the session was no more than an irritation.

Once I’d read and sorted out my Welsh, I carried on hunting down ancient books about Cheshire to see what else I could find. There’s a book about “Curiosities in Cheshire” but it was written long before I was born.

The taxi was already waiting when I went outside and, true to form, we had to go right across Avranches to pick up another passenger and then come back. So I wasn’t at home as early as I was expecting to be.

My cleaner was waiting for me and she watched with amazement as I attacked the stairs. "You won’t be needing to move downstairs" she said. Mind you I had been thinking that I’d either be cured or be dead by the time my tenant vacates the apartment – but more likely the latter of the two.

The driver who took me to Avranches was the same one who took me this afternoon and he said, surprisingly, that I seemed to be walking much better today than then. So something’s going on.

Tea tonight was a vegan burger with pasta and veg followed by spicy ginger cake and soya dessert. Very nice too

So now I’m going to make up my LeClerc order and then go to bed. I’m back at Avranches, but for a scan tomorrow.

But climbing up the stairs like that today reminds me of the time I was wandering about Crewe one night years ago en route from the Boddingtons in the Lion and Swan to the Robinson’s in the Crown.
Being in urgent need of a pitstop I dashed onto the bus station – alas! No more! – and dived into the legendary restrooms, also alas! No More!
"Phew!" I said with relief as I stood facing the wall. "Just made it!"
"Blimey!" said the man standing next to me. "Could you make me one just like it?"

Wednesday 6th November 2024 – I’VE GOT A LUVVERLY …

…. bunch of coc … errr … I have a lovely clean bed in which t climb later tonight.

And in fact, there’s a lovely … "well, maybe not" – ed … clean me to climb into it too. It’s Wednesday and with my cleaner giving me either the grand toilet or the soutien moral, one or the other, I’ve had a really beautiful shower.

And while I was under the shower she went and changed the bed for the clean bedding that was washed a couple of weeks ago. It does look lovely, fresh and inviting, and I shall be doing my best to be in there at a reasonable time tonight.

Not like last night. Having crowed yesterday about my reasonable night and early start, I couldn’t find the energy to go to bed last night and it was quite a way after 01:00 when I finally made it into bed

And there weren’t ‘arf some strange goings -on last night. At one point I was away with the fairies, being careful not to do anything that would earn reprobation from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine, when I used a certain word. Someone else in my bedroom repeated it loudly, but in an interrogative way as if questioning why I’d used that word, and that awoke me. I sat up, bolt-upright, and of course there was no-one there. I looked at the watch and it was 06:57 and the alarm was due to sound any minute now. I wish that I could remember what the word was now because it must have been really important and significant.

When the alarm went off I staggered into the bathroom to sort myself out with a good wash and scrub up, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone.

To my surprise there was something on there from last night. I was trying to kill some kind of insect that was living inside the kernel of some nut. I put it in some kind of heated – what would you call it? – a heated kind of pair of scissors that make an impression on a piece of paper or something on a wax seal … "an embossing stamp" – ed … I tried to press it with that but it didn’t seem to work. In the meantime there was someone else, some woman, who was trying to sort out the decoration of some of the rooms in this palace. I was supposed to be helping her but I was too busy with a little task. She said that she’d have to go off and find a stronger ladder to do one particular job. I looked at this press that I had and squeezed it but the kernel was burnt and whatever was in it was burnt to a crisp. The pair of scissors thing had become so hot that whatever it was that would melt the wax seal had melted away itself so I doubted it these would be any good. Then I noticed that up in the building, higher up, there were some lights that had come on in one room so I went up there. There was someone else there decorating and they had two rooms on the go at once. I could see that they were busy so I helped them with the masking tape to hold down some of the paper that was being used to protect the woodwork and the drawings on the walls from being painted over.

It’s not as if I would have volunteered to do any painting and decorating back in the old days. But when I had finished the attic and the first floor back at the farm and it was time to wallpaper and paint everywhere, I found that I quite enjoyed doing it. However, it’s certainly different when you have the time, the space and the proper tools and material to do it. Cheap white emulsion with some coloured dye in it makes a lovely surface on top of some of that glass-fibre paper. MY BEDROOM DOWN ON THE FARM looked wonderful when it was finished. It’s a shame that I only benefitted from it for four months. I hope that the mice are enjoying it.

Isabelle the nurse came round again, slightly less rushed than yesterday. She had some news to tell me and taught me a new useful phrase which I promptly forgot. That’s just how it is, I reckon.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on with this thesis that I’ve been reading. Our American friend tells us that William the Conqueror must have had some genuine belief that he was overlord of Wales, because of a remark that one of his chroniclers said.

Apparently, William’s defeat of the English was equated to Caesar’s defeat of the Britons and our friend thinks that the “English” refers to the people living in England but “Britons” means the people living in Great Britain – the whole of the island – and so equating the two events means that William considers himself to have the same rights over all of the island.

That’s a perfectly true situation today, this definition of “English” and the one of “Britons”, but that certainly wasn’t the case in 1066 and in 43AD. In 43AD there were no English people in Britain so it’s quite natural that Caesar didn’t fight them. The Angles and Saxon who made up the roots of the English people didn’t begin to flood in until the 5th Century.

Consequently Caesar was not differentiating in his speech between the “English” and the “Britons” as our American friend seems to think

And that is one thing that really gets on my wick, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … People should stop looking at historical events and people from a modern perspective. They need to be judged on the standards, opinion and perspective of their time.

Back in here I had a few things to do and then I pushed on with the radio programme that I mentioned yesterday.

This one was extremely complicated. There were only four tracks, one of which was 21 minutes long, and there could neither be any more nor any less. And even finding the four that I ended up choosing was complicated

With that kind of constraint I had to have the text to approximately the correct length right from the very start because there was no other music that I could add in, and nothing that I could take away.

When I write out the text I calculated who long it would run when dictated and I planned it to be 30 seconds over, in case of emergencies. But by the time that I’d finished merging it into the music I’d trimmed off 25 seconds off the time and I could find plenty of speech to edit out to lose the extra five seconds.

But it didn’t ‘arf take some juggling about.

After I’d finished that I chose all of the music for the next programme. That’s going to be a return to the boring, run-of-the-mill programmes because there was nothing special to celebrate or to remember on the date for which the programme is being prepared.

There were several breaks in the proceedings.

There was lunch of course – one of my flapjacks and an apple. later on there was the hot chocolate and crackers with hummus as a mid-afternoon snack

But there was also the shower, and you’ve no idea (or maybe you do, I dunno) just how good it feels to be in there. I had the water really hot and I loved every minute of it. And I took my time, washing my undies while I was at it.

But my faithful cleaner gave me a good scrutiny going in and coming out. She noticed that this week I didn’t need any help, and I was moving so much better, climbing in and out without aid. I might be tempted to have a go on my own one day when she’s not here.

One thing that was quite important was that I managed finally to have a telephone conversation with the hospital at Paris.

The secretary assured me that I hadn’t been forgotten even though I’d had no contact with them since June and the promised appointment at the end of August had come and gone and nothing had happened.

She said that only a week or two ago my case was discussed and there are plans to bring me back for a week. I replied that that was what they said in June about coming at the end of August, but she promised me that it really was on the cards this time.

We shall see.

With no leftover stuffing, tonight’s curry was a leftover curry from several weeks – even months – ago that had been in the freezer. It was still just as good, even if the naan bread fell apart

So tomorrow I’m being dialysed again. I wonder if it will hurt as much as the last few times.

But right now, there’s clean bedding, clean clothes and a clean me and we are all looking to unite in bed tonight even if it’s somewhat later than intended

But seeing as we have brought the Romans into the story … "well, one of us has" – ed … Caesar is walking around the Forum when he sees a young man who looks exactly like his son.
So Caesar goes up to him and asks "Young man – I don’t suppose that your … errr … mother ever worked in the Imperial Palace on the night shift, did she?"
"Ohh no" replied the boy "But my father did"

Tuesday 5th November 2024 – A FEW YEARS AGO …

… I was given the sack for letting the Bonfire Night fireworks off in the wrong sequence.

In their opinion, it was bang out of order.

But that’s enough frivolity for the moment. Let us return to more serious matters

Last night I might not have been in bed by my preferred time, but it wasn’t far off it. But from having gone from “way beyond” a few months ago to a spell of a couple of weeks where I was “quite early” I seem to be creeping up and up again.

Once in bed, it took an age to go to sleep and that’s something that I’ve noticed after a dialysis session. It’s usually quite late by the time that I’m tired enough to sleep and going to bed early doesn’t change that at all.

And once I was asleep, I was awake again at 02:30, again at about 04:00 and a third time at about 06:00.

At that time I didn’t go back to sleep so in the end I gave it up as a bad job and when the alarm did go off at 07:00 I was already up and about.

That was just as well because I’d forgotten to finish my Welsh homework and send it off so with an extra half-hour of the morning to play with, once I’d finished washing and dressing I put the extra time to good use.

Mind you, I wish that I hadn’t because as soon as I pressed “send” I realised that I’d made a couple of silly errors and I wished that I could unsend it. But too late now.

Next task was to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise there was some stuff on there. I had one of the chauffeurs from the ambulance company in here last night. He was talking about LeClerc and their on-line orders, people making joint efforts to order so that they could keep their delivery charges down etc. Then it was time for him to go back to work. He looked to make himself a quick sandwich and pulled out a slice of roast beef or something from his lunch box. He looked at it and asked “is it OK to eat this if it’s a little …”, then gave a noise like “uuggh” and threw it in my paper bin right at my feet. I told him that if the meat is off, go go to fetch a pie from the pie shop around the corner in Elm Drive. So he went off, but that piece of meat in my paper bin – ohh it smelt horrible and I can still smell it now.

And as a matter of fact I could smell it too – and see this slimy piece of brown rancid meat. But judging by the directions, I must have been living in that little flat at the back of the High School in Crewe, just off Middlewich Street to where we were all decanted after the house in which we were squatting was declared insalubrious. Ohh happy days!

Later on I’d been having a huge row with Crewe and Nantwich Borough Council yet again. There were two important bills that needed to be paid. They weren’t very big amounts but I was in dispute with them about it. They were insistent and were planning to take all kinds of action if I didn’t pay up. They sent me some copies of some newspaper articles that they intended to have published in this respect so I thought rather reluctantly I’d better pay the money and I can always continue the argument afterwards. In the meantime I put my house up for sale and the one that I had in Sandbach I also put up for sale on the grounds that whichever one sold I could move into the other. That was bound to cause a few complications for some people but I was beyond caring at this point.

Back in those days I had plenty of rows with the local council over all kinds of things and for being in breach of an Enforcement Order I was being fined a total of £1:00 per day for several years. Everyone wondered why I continued with the dispute and let the fines rack up but I knew something that no-one else knew. That is, to have complied with the Enforcement Order would have cost me a minimum of £25:00 per week, and much more than that too when variable costs are taken into consideration. So £7:00 per week was an absolute bargain and it could go on for as long as it liked. And I wish that I did have a house in Sandbach too. That would have been interesting. The council there was much more compliant.

There was another issue too about some people whom we knew. One of my friends was telling me that they had to go to stay at the home of the parents of one of them while the parents were away. There wouldn’t be any problem because the living room was far enough away from the bedrooms that they weren’t going to make any big issues. They’d have the chance to see their cats again because their parents were looking after the cats while they were also having huge housing issues. I said that it would be nice for them to see their cats again. He replied “yes. They might not ever get to see them again after that” which took me by surprise. He also said that if someone gets in contact with you, tell them that they won’t be going tomorrow at 15:00. I couldn’t understand the meaning behind that either.

Dreaming about cats is making me wish that things would hurry up and my tenant would move out from the apartment downstairs. Apart from a shower and a revised kitchen, a cat is something else that I’m also going to have

The nurse was late today. And she didn’t have time to stop and chat. Not that any of that surprises me in the slightest. It seems that every patient on this circuit is now postponing blood tests and injections until she’s on duty. I wonder how long it will be before both of them “get the message”. And what will happen then?

Breakfast came next, and reading this thesis. Our American friend is still being bewildered by events and incidents that are strange to him but perfectly normal to a European. “Why didn’t William invade and crush the Welsh?” is a perpetual theme of his thesis, being totally unable to grasp or to comprehend that it’s only Americans who have this horrible feeling of vengeance for every blow, no matter how small, that is struck against them. The rest of the World simply brush it off and carry on as normal.

He’s also puzzled about the Domesday Book’s description of “waste” in the east of Cheshire. “If the Welsh reached that far and destroyed it, how come they didn’t lay waste land much nearer the border in the West?”.

The answer is that it wasn’t the Welsh who laid it waste. William the Conqueror had had difficulty in pacifying the northern part of his realm so in 1069 he began what is called “the harrying of the North” and destroyed anything and everything in his way. And as what is today Cumbria and Northumberland were not part of England at the time, “the North” was much further South than it would otherwise be today. Consequently it’s likely that the eastern part of Cheshire was destroyed by William during his campaign of 1069-1070.

One of William’s chroniclers wrote "The King stopped at nothing to hunt his enemies. He cut down many people and destroyed homes and land. Nowhere else had he shown such cruelty. To his shame, William made no effort to control his fury, punishing the innocent with the guilty. He ordered that crops and herds, tools and food be burned to ashes. More than 100,000 people perished of starvation. I have often praised William in this book, but I can say nothing good about this brutal slaughter. God will punish him."

Back in here I revised for my Welsh lesson and then went to class. It was another one of these that seemed to pass off quite well and I seem to be slowly coming to terms with it. But still, with this teflon brain that I have, nothing at all is sticking to it.

After lunch I attacked the radio programme for which I’d begun to write some notes. And by the time that I’d knocked off for tea I’d finished all of it.

For this one, I don’t know how it’s all going to fit in so I’ve chosen more than the usual number of tracks, notwithstanding the fact that some are much longer than the usual, and I’ve written text for each one. I’ll dictate it all too, pin the speech to each track and then select what I need to make an hour’s worth of programme.

As if I don’t make things complicated enough.

My faithful cleaner stuck her head in at the door. She brought the mail and also the cheese for future supplies of pizza. It’s a good job that she goes to LeClerc every week because there’s a lot of stuff that I need that they sell but don’t deliver.

Tea tonight was more refried beans and salad in a taco roll with rice and veg, followed by lumps of ginger cake and soya cream. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the cake may well be a failure but it’s still tasty.

So having done that, there are things that I need to do and then I’m off to bed. Tomorrow there’s a radio programme to assemble. I dictated the notes on Saturday night but I haven’t edited them yet. If I can do that and then make a start on the next programme I’ll be back on track, which will be nice.

But seeing as we have been talking about fireworks … "well, one of us has" – ed … and it’s Guy Fawkes night, someone asked me "How many Health and Safety Inspectors does it take to light a firework?"
"I don’t know" I replied. "How many Health and Safety Inspectors does it take?"
"Four" she replied
"Four?" I asked. "How come?"
"It’s easy" she answered. "One to light the firework, one to ‘phone the fire brigade and two to work the fire extinguishers"

Monday 4th November 2024 – ANOTHER BAD DAY …

… in the Dialysis Clinic.

Mind you, it was much less painful than the last couple of times, to be sure. However I think that I’m sickening for something and consequently I’ve not been in the mood for anything.

Last night I actually made it into bed before (“just” before) 23:00 which made a nice change but it took a long time to go to sleep for once.

That might however have something to do with the Kefir that I drank before going to bed. It’s been fermenting for several years in its airtight bottle and I’m surprised that I awoke at all this morning. It was still functioning however when I opened it last night because when I flipped the stopper out it came out with a “pop”.

It was another night of tossing and turning, as seems to be the case these days, but when the alarm went off I was definitely deep in the arms of Morpheus. In fact I’d just been to a motor auction with a near-neighbour from Winsford. There were four lorries there. The first lorry that went through was a Foden Chinese six, one of the “space cab” models. There was a full MoT on it, it was rather old but it didn’t look too bad at all. The auctioneer asked for bids on it and my neighbour offered £500. Much to everyone’s surprise, including his, it was knocked down to him. The rest of the auction went on and they turned round to some Yugo saloons, little tiny things. They were only two years old and had belonged to a newspaper company. They were up for auction too. There was about a dozen of them. They were not very popular cars. I’d had one as a hire car once years ago. They were cheap, tinny, plasticky but they did a job. The auctioneer put them up for sale and for the first one, asked “what am I bid?”. I replied “£200”. Mine was the only bid and I had this car knocked down to me, a bright red two year-old Yugo 45 saloon for £200. I paid him a cheque, climbed into the car and drove it away. It was night, the lights were bright and everything seemed to work. It was a little rattly like most of these Yugos but it seemed to be OK. I thought that for £200 I had an absolute bargain here.

The former neighbour of mine lost his job as a driver at Tesco and was not able to find another. However he did come across someone who had a contract delivering pre-cast concrete garages and a lorry with a HIAB, but was unable to carry on working, so my neighbour leased his equipment and carried on with the contract. Having his own lorry would have been a dream for him and an old Chinese Six (with two axles at the front and one at the rear) Foden S-series would have been a superb lorry for him to go hauling

But as for the Yugos, it was actually when I worked for that Italian restaurant in Wandsworth that I encountered the Yugos. They had two for deliveries. They weren’t bad cars either. They did what was expected of them, no more, no less and if I wanted a cheap runabout, I could have done worse than buy one of those, especially two years old for £200.

So into the bathroom I staggered and sorted myself out in there, washing my undies as I went along. And then into the kitchen to put away last night’s culinary efforts. The nurse will be coming by shortly and while I could tell him and his inane comments to clear off if he makes any silly remark, there’s no point going looking for issues

The ginger cake fell apart when I took it out of the mould. The top had risen and cooked to the point of burning, but it had detached itself from the bottom, the bottom hadn’t risen at all and wasn’t cooked. I’ll try to find a circular 18cm silicon cake mould and give it one more go and if that doesn’t work I’ll abandon the idea.

Not that I’m downhearted though. Experimenting with new ovens, new recipes, new procedures and so on – there’s bound to be the odd failure along the way.

Back in here I listened to the rest of the dictaphone notes. I was in the office again last night. I’d been going through some things with someone in the basement. We’d been sorting out some screws, nuts and bolts. I had a handful of nuts, bolts including some small round washers from a previous time that I’d been working, and took them up to my office because in there we were in the old cookery room and the kitchen was at the side of our place and we had a three-burner stove. I went in – it was early in the morning and one of my colleagues was already there. I wished him good morning and put the things in the saucepan, put the water in and put it on a ring. he asked me what I was doing so I told him. He asked what I had in the saucepan. I replied “just water” so he answered “that’s OK. But what do you notice on the boss’s desk?”. I had a look on his desk and it was completely different from before. I suddenly realised that I could see across the office. I said “his computer’s gone, hasn’t it?”. He replied that it had. I asked “what’s he going to do Now?” but he walked away so I shook my head and carried on trying to clean these nuts and bolts.

Once again, I can’t keep out of the office. But it does remind me of the old sixth-form common room at school. It was the old cookery classroom and the oven was still there. So lunch for three or four of us was a large can of baked beans and a sliced loaf of bread. We had wind-powered lessons in the afternoons.

The nurse came early yet again and once more, didn’t hang around for very long. He was soon gone. He looked at my legs and told me that he thought that there was a great deal of improvement. And on looking at them, I thought so too. They are almost as they used to be.

Breakfast was next, and so was reading this thesis. Our American friend is now puzzled over why any “incursion” by the Normans into Wales would be made from the more rusticated Shropshire rather than the heavily-fortified Cheshire.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we’ve answered that a few months ago. Any glance at any topographical map will see that the valleys of the Severn and the Dyfi make a natural avenue into Wales all the way to the coast and split the country in two. It’s been a route for invaders for a couple of thousand years and regular readers of this rubbish will recall that a couple of weeks ago we visited a Roman marching camp at Caersws, halfway along the path.

Anyone going that way could cut the country in two and then deal with each half at his leisure. A series of independent Princelings isn’t likely to be able to mount a co-ordinated attack on any invader. Invading by the north coast from Chester would just push the Welsh up into the hills where they could (and did) stay for ever.

In here I had a few things to do that took much longer than I was thinking and I’d hardly started work before my cleaner turned up to apply my patches.

She was on her was to town via the Pharmacy so she took the whole bundle of prescriptions with her and she promised to have the Chemist go through them to work out which ones are valid and which ones are expired.

After she left, I put on one of my Arctic undershirts. If I’m going to spend several hours in Ice Station Zebra I shall dress for the part.

The taxi came for me on time and neither the driver nor the other passenger would say a word the whole way down to Avranches. I tried to engage them in conversation but I gave up after a while. Clearly wasting my time.

It was quite a speedy, aggressive drive down there and when I arrived, I was ushered into a side ward on my own. I must have been naughty last time.

That’s what I thought, and it was confirmed when it was the male nurse who came to attend to me. I had to wait a while for the machine to go through its cleaning cycle before they could couple me up.

As I said earlier, it was less painful than the last couple of times, but I was having some tingling sensations all up my arms, I felt like I was having the wind, and then, for the first time for several weeks, I crashed out – and crashed out definitively.

Hardly surprising really. I have been told that these are diabetic comas, and when they checked my blood sugar level it was 0.63. Consequently for the rest of the afternoon I was being force-fed orange juice.

While I was awake I passed the time trying to read some entries in the Domesday Book. I have a hard-copy here of course, but access to an on-line copy when I’m in the hospital is a useful thing to have.

In contrast to the journey to Avranches, the journey home was non-stop conversation. The driver was a young guy and he was leaving his job at the end of the year to go travelling in New Zealand for a year. He wanted to pick my brains about everything.

But as I came to leave the car he asked me a strange question – "when you were travelling about, did you ever feel lonely and depressed being on your own?"

Well, first of all, I was never alone. For a start, I had STRAWBERRY MOOSE to keep me company and laugh all you might, talking to him was good therapy, I promise you.

And then there’s the old saying “You’re never alone with schizophrenia”. There was always one of the other mes who live inside my head that would pop up for a chat.

But what would inevitably cheer me up would be to wonder how things would be if I had a member of my family with me. That made me glad that I was on my own.

The climb up here was difficult but I managed all thirteen of the first flight again, but I was glad to be back in here and to sit down.

Tea was pasta and an aubergine and kidney bean whatsit followed by a couple of lumps of failed cake with soya cream. The cake might look a mess but it sill tasted really nice.

So bedtime now, ready to fight the good fight tomorrow. It’s Welsh lesson so we’ll see how much I’ve forgotten.

But talking of travelling on my own, I’ve had some strange encounters, like the time RUPERT THE BEAR either on his way to a picnic or to use the bathroom, planted himself in the middle of my path

There have also been some interesting people too, most of whom failed to understand my sense of humour, which was a shame
Once though I remember saying to someone that while most people usually end up with someone else or in a group I always seems to end up on my own and I could never understand why.
"That’s easy" she replied. "If you had a best friend he would tell you. Now B.O."

EPIC HALL

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