Category Archives: cleaner

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."

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Saturday 2nd November 2024 – I’VE HAD ANOTHER …

… painful afternoon in Ice Station Zebra this afternoon and I really don’t know where it’s going to end. I can’t keep on going on like this, spending three and a half hours in agony and trying to make a good face of it all

Many people tell me that the alternative is far worse but it won’t be long before I’m at the stage where I’ll be wondering if it actually is.

It’s hard to believe that I went to bed last night full of optimism for the day. For once I’d gone through my closing-down procedure quite quickly, even managing to relax for fifteen minutes, and haul myself off to bed within touching distance of my curfew hour.

And I reckon that I had a reasonable (for me, anyway) sleep, just awakening once or twice. I almost made it out of bed early too but I reckoned that 05:38 is far too early to force myself out of bed unless I’m completely awake – and no smart comments about that, please. I’ve heard them all before.

When the alarm went off I crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom to pretty myself up and to wash some clothes. The clothes that need washing in the sink seem to be growing. There are socks, undies, shorts and now one of my Arctic undershirts that I’ve begun to wear in bed. They are very soft and have long arms that cover the patches where the needles go in and stop me trying to rub the spots when they itch or tickle.

They have given me in the past some medication to stop the irritation on my skin, and then gave me three more to stop the side effects. And then, I imagine, several more to stop the side effects of the medication that’s stopping the side-effects of the first

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone. And to my surprise I had a little visitor too – one of my favourite people, as you will find out as you read on. But first, there was a piece of land for sale in Wistaston and we were interested in it so we went to see it, and found out that the auction was taking place. We walked by the side of the canal to where the big house was, a big detached house with a brick extension that I loved, my second-favourite house in that area, and then walked down the road towards the old farmhouse that was part of the sale. My father had a catalogue, a huge catalogue and we began to have a look through it. There was a lovely old woodstove there that was actually built into a sewing machine with treadle table. I said to my sister that she could keep warm while she’s working here. She told me to clear off. One thing that caught our eye was all the bikes. There were thousands and thousands and thousands of pushbikes in all different stages of disrepair crammed into every room and outbuilding of this place. You couldn’t move because of all the old bikes everywhere. I thought that when they put those up for auction it’s going to be total chaos. It looked really impossible that there could be so many bits of bikes, frames, lose wheels, etc. They had all been crammed so tightly into these outbuildings.

Of course, they aren’t my favourite people. But I’m intrigued by all of the pushbikes lying around. Interestingly, that’s a word that I’ve not heard since I left Crewe. I’m also intrigued as to the canal, because there’s no canal anywhere around there at all

And then there was once again … "once again?" – ed … some kind of enchanted person in a fantasy tale. I can’t remember a great deal of this dream except that I had to go to an office building to visit a range of toilets on each floor. I had to make sure that there was no-one about while I did this. On one floor there were some people talking in the corridor so I had to wait until they’d finished. The scene then shifted to some kind of tavern. I was again keeping watch on this tavern from the inside from a secret place. There were several people around there and I thought that I’d come out of my hiding place when most of them had gone. Suddenly I heard someone mention my name so I looked. It was a boy who was in my brother’s class at school, telling everyone how he’d been on a skiing holiday with a load of people from a school and was walking around wit me and another boy from the sixth form and another people from his age, making some kind of allegation that this older boy and I were stoned out of our minds on marijuana or something, and Greg Lake went past on a pushbike, so he said. Greg Lake is alleged to have shouted “hey Eric! Look at this!” and disappeared himself behind a cloud of weed smoke. I couldn’t remember any of this at all. I’d no idea at all where he’d heard this or seen this because I remember nothing about it in the dream.

During my dreams just recently I seem to be spending a lot of my time in offices, something that I tried to avoid in real life. As for being under the effects of any kind of noxious substance, that is something that has never happened. Coffee is about the closest that I have ever come to anything like that. But we have a pushbike again, with Greg Lake of all people riding it. I remember nothing at all whatever about this dream.

While we’re on the subject of coffee … "well, one of us is" – ed … later on I was in a luxury hotel somewhere. It was about 02:00. I was queueing for something to do with the personnel. There was a member of staff in front of me who was waiting to be seen. However suddenly a commotion at the bar so the guy in front of me went off to have a look to see what it was. It was two Americans, who wanted a drink but there was no-one at the bar. The guy said that he was the night shift manager and was responsible for the bar. Could he help them? They were most offensive and I was so annoyed by this so after I’d finished doing what I did I walked over to where these two people were arguing with this guy and said “for God’s sake be reasonable!”. Then I wanted a cup of coffee but I didn’t really want them to make me a whole pot or anything like that so I began to wander amongst the tables looking at people who were drinking coffee to see whether there might have been some left in one of the pots that I could finish off.

A whole pot of coffee? I could finish one of those quite happily, as I do every day, with no problems at all. When at the hospital we went through what I drank every day they were totally astonished by how much coffee I drank

Finally I was giving a concert on the stage in a big hall in front of a few thousand people. I had Castor (so “hello Castor! Long time no see”) who was playing bass guitar and I don’t know what I was doing. Last time I’d been there I’d been booed off-stage so I’d insulted the audience and told them that they ought to behave better than to object again and make such a noise concerning a young person and was nothing to do with the performance. A bouncer came to drag me off and we ended up having a fight on stage. So I was due to go back. I went down by the dressing room at the back of the theatre to find Castor to make sure that she was OK and was ready. The audio technician was there. I asked him if this time we had a drummer or not. He replied “yes you have a drummer but you won’t see him. He’s staying behind in the wings and working from there”. Then I mentioned that I’d lost a shoe – let me put this in the correct order – when I awoke I was wearing a shoe in bed and there was one missing. I found the one that was missing and that was when I went downstairs. By this time the one on my foot had gone. I was going round telling everyone that I had an ear missing. They couldn’t understand what I meant so I said that it’s probably not switched on at this moment, which bewildered them even further. When I reached the doors to leave this particular room I couldn’t work out whether you pulled or pushed them. I was there saying “how the hell do you leave this place?”. Then I had to go to find a lift to go back up to my room to see whether I’d left my shoe there. All in all I could see that this performance was going to end in total chaos before it had even started

That’s quite a typical dream isn’t it, all ending in panic and chaos. Not even the presence of Castor could lighten up my morale. Even though it was lovely to see her again I wish that it had been under better, happier circumstances. That’s despite the fact that my last memory of her was a very sad, tragic one that morning on that windswept airstrip in the High Arctic. Still, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … sometimes, some goodbyes have to be said like that.

The nurse blitzed in and blitzed out again this morning. He clearly didn’t want to hang around so he just spoke some of this inane hairdresser-type of patter and then cleared off quickly once he’d done what he had to. He’s been quick before, but even I was surprised this morning by how quickly he came and went.

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading. The report on Beeston Castle is finished, going out like rather a damp squib, and next in line is a thesis about the Marcher Lords.

When William the Conqueror invaded England, his hold was far from secure for all kinds of reasons. One of his problems was the incursions by the Welsh, keen to recapture territory that they had lost to the Saxons and later, Mercians.

His possession of the areas along what is today the Welsh border was doubtful to say the least and so he promoted three of his favourites to hold the title of “Earl” and gave them territories in what is now Cheshire, Shropshire and Herefordshire, lands on which he had the barest control, and instructed these “Marcher Lords” to use whatever means they could to pacify their area and keep the Welsh at bay until he was in a position to conquer the Welsh.

The first thing that is puzzling me about all of this is why an MA student in, of all places, Fresno University in California would want to study the Marcher Lords of post-Conquest England for his MA. The second thing that is puzzling me is how there would be a professor in Fresno University in California competent to mark it.

However, I suppose that I shall find out as I go along.

Back in here I didn’t do much this morning as I had other fish to fry for a change.

And I was still busy frying them when my cleaner came, bringing with her the hair dryer that she promised, which was nice of her. Defrosting the freezer will be a nice job for a Sunday.

The taxi came early today and with no distractions or other passengers to pick up we arrived early and I was the first person to be seen to. No complaints about the anaesthetic wearing off today, but it still hurt like I don’t know what.

My blood sugar level is right down again so they force-fed me three large glasses of orange juice, without a great deal of effect. I suppose that that will be the next thing to give up the ghost in my body

While I was freezing to death in the Arctic temperatures of the treatment room, shivering under a blanket, the doctor came to see me for a few seconds. He wrote out a prescription for the medication that they had forgotten on the last prescription (it’s a good job that my cleaner and I had noticed) and that was that. I was left pretty much alone to carry on reading Richard Hakluyt.

After they unplugged me I weighed myself and I’m slowly coming closer to my first target weight which is good news. I’m hoping that Bibendum, the Michelin Man, is gone for good.

The taxi was waiting when I went outside and we came straight home where my faithful cleaner was waiting. Once more I made all thirteen stairs of the first flight, although the last couple was quite a struggle.

For once I was home in time for the start of tonight’s football, but the match was one of the worst that I have ever seen. Not like last week’s lethargic, pedestrian game but because of the quality (or lack thereof) of skill on display.

It was a match between the two bottom clubs, Llansawel at the bottom and Aberystwyth just above them. It was a woeful match from the point of view of misplaced passes and wayward shooting but bad as Llansawel were, Aberystwyth were even worse and played like a team of strangers, just going through the motions.

The score was 4-0, would you believe, to Llansawel and it wasn’t because they were that good, it was that Aberystwyth had given up playing long before the end On this showing, Aberystwyth are dead and buried and whoever it is who is appointed to the hot seat, if he can’t pull some rabbits out of the hat in the forthcoming transfer window, that will be that.

Tea tonight was a burger on a bap with vegan salad and baked potato followed by the last of the rice pudding. I’ll bake a cake tomorrow and see what good that will do

But that’s tomorrow. Right now I’m going to dictate my notes and then go to bed

But not before I tell you the little story that came to mind when I was typing out my dreams. It concerned being on stage and the various one-man shows in which I appeared. I told a friend about them once.
"I thought that there were three of you in your group" he said
"I know" I replied "but when I talk about a ‘one-man show’ I’m referring to the size of the audience"

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Friday 1st November 2024 – I’VE HAD ONE …

… of those days where nothing whatever of any note at all has taken place

Not even during the night either. So I was seriously thinking of not writing anything at all today. But then again I’d have you lot all champing at the bit wondering where I’d gone and what I was doing, so in the end I – well, I was going to say that I picked up my pen, but instead I’ll say that I sat down at the keyboard instead.

Last night after I finished my notes it was long after bedtime so I didn’t hang around at all. I went to the bathroom to sort myself out and then came in here, dressed for the night and went to bed

When the alarm went off I’d just finished eating a big bowl of ice cream and had gone back to work. I’d had to see some clients and talk to them, and then there was some talk that I might take over my old job again. I thought “I’ve not been doing that for six years. I wonder how it’s evolved over that particular period”. I did some more mental arithmetic about what had been going on and what had been accomplished but then the alarm went off.

It was as usual a struggle to leave the bed but I staggered into the kitchen to prepare the dough for some bread.

Hans has given me a few hints about making bread in the air fryer so I decided that I’d make a 250gramme mix and cook it in the air fryer in accordance with his instructions, to see what happened.

While It was festering I went into the bathroom and had a good scrub up ready for the day, and then came back in here to dress.

At the computer, I had a listen to the dictaphone but to my surprise, all that was on it was that which I’d mentioned just now.

That I found strange because I had a distinct impression that I’d gone off arranging a date with a girl during the night and we decided (or rather, she did) that we’d play squash.

Playing squash brings back a few memories. When I was living in my van I joined the local squash club and played there twice a week, simply so that I could have a shower. That all worked fine until one day I was drawn against a girl who turned out to be one of the “posh” elite girls from my grammar school. That didn’t go down very well.

As well as that, I have a very clear memory of waking up, wide awake, and deciding that if I were to leave the bed now I could make a head start on the day’s work. But when I looked at the time on the watch,, it was 02:05 so I went back to bed. But there’s nothing about any of that on the dictaphone.

When the nurse came, he refrained from making any inane remarks about the dough, asked me a few other silly questions and then once he’d sorted me out he left. He can’t have been here more than ten minutes.

After he left I looked at the dough. It had hardly risen, which was disappointing. Nevertheless I gave it a second kneading and left it on one side while I made breakfast.

Alfred Watkins’s book has now gone The Way of the West. Interestingly, while he talks about “lines” connecting all these points, he’s talking about imaginary lines drawn on a map connecting up all of these places, not actual tracks on the ground.

While he does make reference to these lines falling, in many places, along the lines of roads, paths, field boundaries and the like and hints at ancient highways connecting up many of them, he refrains from drawing the conclusion that there really were tracks connecting up all of these places in every case. The theory of the country being criss-crossed with Neolithic pathways came later, long after he was dead.

There is no doubt however that he was certainly on to something. I don’t think that he knew what it was, and I wish that I did.

Right now I’m reading a report about the excavations that took place at Beeston Castle. We’ll be into an interesting argument here because the author of the report is one of those people who promote the theory that the castle was less a symbol of defence and more an ostentatious symbol of power

While it’s perfectly true that a wealthy noble lord with a good, competent staff would want to have something rather opulent to represent his social position, you only have to look at the period 1067 – 1487 with the pacification of England, the war between Stephen and Matilda, the incursions of the Welsh and the Scots, the Wars of the Roses and all of the various uprisings and civil unrest to realise that anyone who could afford it and was at risk of being killed or captured for ransom wouldn’t live anywhere except behind some fortification guarded by his loyal retainers.

Back in here I had a very slow start to the day. It’s always the case when I’ve had dialysis. It takes a lot out of me and not even a full pot of string coffee could bring me round.

Eventually though I made a start and by the time that I’d finished I had not only sorted out the music, I’d converted and remixed it ready to broadcast, with one hour and twenty-eight minutes which, with the notes that I have already started to write, will have to be shoe-horned into a programme of one hour.

That will call for some serious editing.

While I was at it, I tried some editing of a different nature. One of the tracks was a mono recording so I copied it so that I had two tracks, cut out the bass from one and the treble from the other and then joined them to make a stereo track

It’s rather rough and ready but it works after a fashion.

There was a break for lunch and a break while my cleaner was here.

And I’m glad that she was here because she pointed out that the freezer door was open. By now it was all iced up so it was the devil’s own job to close it.

As for the ice, when this happens to her freezer she attacks it with a hair dryer. I don’t happen to have a hair dryer, mainly because I don’t have any hair to dry, but she has two hair dryers, one an old one that she liberated from somewhere. She offered it to several of her clients but no-one wants it, so it will be coming down here tomorrow, and staying for good too.

That’s quite a plan, because the freezer has needed defrosting for quite some time.

The plug for the freezer was hidden behind the washing machine so I’ve been moving furniture around, and I now have an extension lead plugged into the socket with the freezer plugged in there within easy reach.

The most important break though was a lot earlier than this. After breakfast, I’d put the bread in the air fryer, switched it on and left ot for 20 minutes.

And by God! What a loaf! Nice and soft and gone up like a lift. The best loaf that I have ever, ever made. It had risen so much that the loaf had come into contact with the heater element.

So there’s nothing wrong with my bread-making techniques. It’s my table-top oven that is the major issue, as I suspected. So when I make my next loaf I must flatten it out more than I did so that it won’t reach the top.

Either than or buy a bigger air fryer.

Tea tonight was vegan salad, air-fried chips and vegan nuggets followed by rice pudding. The bread in the air fryer might have been a success, but the rice pudding definitely wasn’t

It’s bed-time now, ready for fighting the Good Fight at the Dialysis Clinic in the afternoon. A good sleep will do me some good I hope.

But I do have to say that despite it being Halloween last night and the night when all evil walks abroad, I remained relatively undisturbed.
Not so one family in the town who, according to my cleaner, had a visitation from all of the ghoosties and ghoulies of the region
"All of the women were strung up by the ghoosties" said my cleaner
"What about the men?" I asked
"The men?" She said. "They were all strung up by the … errr … other phantoms"

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Thursday 31st October 2024 – IT WAS ANOTHER …

… painful session at the Dialysis Clinic today. This time though it wasn’t all the fault of the people who worked there. The taxi company had something to contribute towards the debacle that was today.

And there I was, all proud and happy that last night I’d managed to go to bed before 23:00. Not many minutes before, it has to be said, but it was enough to be noteworthy and cheer me up a little after yesterday. "Oh folly! Folly! And deep joy!" as Stanley Unwin once famously said.

It wasn’t such a bad night as one or two have been just recently. I only awoke once or twice, I didn’t check the times, and I was soon asleep again.

However when the alarm went off I had a struggle to haul myself up out of bed. I would gladly have stayed there for another couple of hours but no such possibility today.

In the bathroom I had a good scrub up, applied the deodorant and even had a shave. Not that it would do me much good of course but we have to go through the motions.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night and I was surprised by how much distance I’d covered. Some kids in a primary school were doing a course on awareness of the slavery trade. They had to choose a character and stand up to talk to me about them. The first girl talked to me about the difference between good and evil and the others who were small told a story about what they wanted everyone to hear. One said that the slavery business was dominated by her grandfather who imported tobacco from North America. Each of these children had a little story to tell.

And I bet that they did too. Many famous people of the 17th, 18th and 19th Century were slave-owners and it has to be said that there were many other people whose treatment was not all that much better until the rise of the Trades Union Movement. When I finish my magnum opus about the treatment of the “liveyers” on the Labrador and Québec coasts in the 18th, 19th and first half of the 20th Century (a project that has been on hold since the chaos began last October), you’ll see what I mean. Slavery has many different faces.

Later on I was looking through the file of a German person. At the front of the file was pinned a piece of paper, a typewritten note of some kind of thesis which began “my parents were buried somewhere on the border in the early days of the conflict in 1939” and then went into e lengthy philosophical discussion. It referred me to his thesis which was hidden somewhere in the depths of the file so rather than do the work that I was supposed to do, I sat down and began to read his history, or, at least, looked like the history of his father of the person concerned, because the given name of the person whose file it was and the given name of the person who wrote this document were different so I sat down and had a read of it

Quite often I was side-tracked by what I found hidden away in the archives. There was once a reference to a huge blackmarketeering ring being uncovered in Crewe just after the war with some famous names being implicated. But that aside, Crewe was and probably still is famous for all the Italians, Germans and Poles in the town. Of course, as you might expect, many people blame the European Union but the fact is that there was a prisoner-of-war camp in the vicinity and after the war, many of the prisoners opted to stay. After the war, the camp became a resettlement camp for the Polish Army that had fought alongside the British in North Africa and Italy and when the Russians annexed the eastern part of Poland in 1946, some of the Poles found themselves with no home to which to return so they settled in the town.

Finally I was putting on my brown shoes but the shoelaces were too short and it was annoying me so I asked the mother of the boy where I was staying where I could buy some brown shoelaces. They gave me a list of suggestions so I replied “yes, but I mean ‘now'”. They looked at me and laughed, saying “nowhere is going to be open yet. It’s not 09:00”. I’d forgotten all about restrictions in Belgium on opening hours. It was so frustrating. But the woman came along and had some kind of “Système D” method in mind where she glued a broken piece of shoelace to my shoelaces to help me work because she thought that I was using it to surf the web. But I was using the mouse of course to surf the web. Someone came up to me and asked “why are you on the internet now? Everywhere is going to be closed, all the shops”. I replied “yes but it’s the World-Wide Web. The USA is 16 hours behind so the USA shops are going to be open now”. They had a very hard time getting their head around this idea of different time zones, which I found to be completely strange. So there I was, hoping to find a pair of shoelaces from somewhere.

“Système D” is a lovely French phrase, the “D” being short for something rather vulgar, and it’s a phrase that means making do, adapting what you have and managing to perform tasks with whatever kinds of unorthodox tools and equipment you happen to have to hand. I’ve been doing that for years and so have many of my friends. It’s probably what binds us together.

Belgium, and Brussels in particular is a strange place as far as shop opening hours go. They are regulated quite tightly. There was one guy who ran a normal grocer’s shop and obtained a licence to run a “Night Shop” so he simply stayed open past the regulation hours for a conventional shop. He was found to be in contravention of the law about day-shop hours so he fitted his shelving with wheels and at the appointed closing time of a conventional shop, simply pushed his shelving with all his stock on it across the road into a shop premises that he rented and ran his “Night Shop” from there. And then pushed everything back across the road the following morning.

It was the other nurse today who came to see me. He asked how everything went so I told him that it was awful so that shut him up and he did what he had to do and then left in rather a hurry which suited me fine.

Then it was breakfast followed by more of my book. Alfred Watkins is still drawing his ley lines across the Herefordshire area and makes some very interesting assumptions about some surnames and place-names, some of which more modern research seems to have undermined.

It seems to me that if he had toned down much of his unwarranted speculation his work would have been much better received. The problem with modern vernacular researchers is that if they encounter someone like Watkins who presents 100 assumptions and research shows one of them to be misplaced, the other 99 are also dismissed automatically and that’s certainly not the case.

Back in here I carried on tracking down music for the next radio programme, and that’s proving to be difficult. There’s a list of artists whose work I need to find and for some of them their work is tending to be much more elusive than for which I had bargained

My cleaner turned up bang on midday to fit my anaesthetic patches and after she fitted them she stayed for a few minutes for a chat and then cleared off to attend to her afternoon clients.

The taxi turned up a little later than planned. It was a driver from St Hilaire du Harcoët who had taken a passenger to St Lô, than then travelled light to Villedieu to pick up passengers for Granville and then for me to take to Avranches.

He told me a story that I had heard “elsewhere”, that the Sécurité Sociale is taking more of a keen interest in expenditure and is insisting that much more effort is made to combine trips and cut down on the light mileage

That explained why we had to go to St Planchers to pick up a passenger for the other hospital in Avranches.

We were late picking him up and as his appointment was before mine, it was only right that we went right across town to drop him off and then come back to drop me at the Dialysis Clinic. I mean – they can hardly start without me, can they?

Consequently I was late at the Clinic and the anaesthetic had worn off, as I found out when they stuck the needles in.

There I was, in agony for the whole session of three hours and thirty minutes. No-one came to see me or to interrupt me. I just read my Welsh notes and then started Richard Hakluyt’s PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS

Hakluyt was a writer and being acquainted with “the chiefest captaines at sea, the greatest merchants, and the best mariners of our nation” of the late 16th Century he wrote his book to record and report all of the discoveries that British and some other seamen had made during that period, with the aim, so it’s believed, of encouraging colonialisation.

My interest of course lies more in the northern end of the spectrum, around “ye New Founde Lande” and in particular those of Humphrey Gilbert, who was sailing his spectacularly unsuccessful voyages during the period about which Hakluyt writes.

Disconnecting me from the machine was probably as painful as plugging me in, and I was glad to leave.

The driver who took me home was my favourite driver who has taken me to Paris a few times. We had to go across town to pick up yet another passenger, and then we had a running commentary all the way home – so much so and so engrossed was she in what she was saying that she drove right past the turning to drop off the lady we had just picked up, and had to turn round and go back.

Back here my faithful cleaner was at her post awaiting my arrival and I managed the 13 steps of the first flight of stairs, but it was touch and go for the final two or three. I’m not ready for further exertions yet.

And how glad was I to be back in my apartment? I sat down for a while to recover and then made tea – vegan pie and steamed veg followed by rice pudding

Bed-time now and tomorrow I have to Fight the Good Fight and sort out this music ready to write out the notes.

But talking of my favourite taxi driver … "well, one of us is" – ed … reminds me of the story about the difference between a Parisian bus driver and a bus driver from Marseilles that I told a friend of mine
So I asked her if she knew
"No" she replied. "What’s the difference?"
"In Paris" I said "you shouldn’t speak to the bus driver."
"And Marseilles?" she asked
"In Marseilles" I replied "you shouldn’t reply to the bus driver."

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Wednesday 30th October 2024 – I HAVE FOUND …

… my missing sock

When I put my hand down the sleeve of my jumper this morning, there it was. Don’t ask me what it was doing there or even how it came to be there because I couldn’t answer. It’s just another one of life’s little mysteries, I suppose.

Like managing for once to be in bed before 23:00. That’s a mystery too but nevertheless, for once I managed it last night.

It took me longer than usual to go to sleep and I don’t know why because I was quite tired by the time that I hit the hay. And it was something of a depressing night because, unlike some nights just recently, I was tossing and turning all the way through the night and it seemed that I didn’t have any sleep at all.

However when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was totally dead to the World and it was a struggle to beat the second alarm five minutes later out of bed. And so I gathered up my clothes and headed for the bathroom.

It was only a cursory wash this morning because I’m having a shower later (I hope). And when I dressed, then I found my missing sock, stuck in the sleeve of my jumper.

As I said earlier, don’t ask me how it managed to find its way there. On Monday night I wasn’t even wearing a jumper but the fleece that I wear when I go out. I suppose that I could say that I did it while I was away with the fairies but doubtless the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine would find something to say about the situation that would have been quite normal 150 years ago but would be bound to be misinterpreted today.

Back in here, in my own private version of 1876, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And there was quite a lot on there, which took me by surprise.

We were going to the car racing somewhere – at Silverstone. It had been for saloon cars. One of the vehicles that was putting up a show was an old white Ford Anglia van. Of course we were all keen to urge it on. There were several unexpected vehicles there. There was someone racing a Bentley etc. The race in which we were interested was the saloon car championship where anything could go if it had four wheels on the road and was a production line vehicle. That was basically it. We were there watching this Ford Anglia that was doing quite well but there was someone in a lorry – a tipper – and he was racing up through the field. In the end he overtook some vehicle that pulled off the road with mechanical issues and he was actually in front. He was later stuck in a pack of about three or four vehicles which gave everyone else time to catch up with him so the final five minutes was really exciting. This lorry just managed to have enough going down the final straight to push his nose in front to pass. But we were there cheering on this Jeep that was in fifth place, fourth place was this aubergine thing, third was I can’t remember now what was after that. We were talking about it on the way home, that the first second and third had all been found from the air and as they slowed down after the final lap they all passed a road sign that said “slow”. We thought that it was extremely funny and typical of the USA as well as all the bandages done in squares and useless road markers. Of course I’ve just come back from the USA so I found it funnier still. When we were talking about how funny it was because of the road sign my friend from Atlanta in Georgia joined in too. She was there watching her daughter race.

Why would an aubergine suddenly appear in this dream? Is it anything to do with Monday night’s evening meal? And we seem suddenly to have gone from Silverstone in the East Midlands of the UK to the USA. Anyone coming with me during the night had better have a good passport and a love of travelling.

And then I was in Crewe. I’d finished work early so there was plenty of time for me to wait for the bus to take me home so I went for a wander around the shops. At the bus stop there was a long line of people and a bus pulled up. It was the K39 to Shavington and I wanted the K44. All these people waiting boarded the bus and it pulled away. I went into a local supermarket. I had to leave all of my things in a luggage locker and just go round with one of their trolleys. There was someone on duty searching people as they went in which I thought was a strange thing to do. After I went in I was looking around. I’d met one or two people who had a little chat with me for a couple of minutes about how I was feeling. That’s all that I remember about this dream

Actually I would sometimes take the K39 home. That would go to Shavington and then out to the Hough and Basford. The K44 would go to Shavington and then out to Nantwich via Stapeley. We’d also have the K29 which would alternate between going to Shavington and turning round or else continuing on to Wybunbury and the Whore’s Bed at Walgherton. I’m surprised that I can remember all of that – back in the 1960s we had buses that would run all the way to after 23:00, but now most of these buses have been suppressed and nothing moves at all after 19:00. Such are the benefits of privatisation

After that the contemporary Press has been very kind to me. They were saying that the remains of my noble Lord Shrewsbury could be seen for months afterwards scattered on the ground and various other things that were rarely polite about me as a Duke of the Realm, extremely unpopular with the local peasantry, even though I’d tried my best to alleviate the suffering of their time and making things easier for them

The “contemporary Press” is obviously a reference to Aunt Judy’s Magazine making spurious allegations about what I get up to when I’m away with the fairies, but if I ever an ennobled then you know that there’s something rotten in the State of Denmark right enough

There was a film starring Louis de Funès and during this film a woman invited him back to her apartment. In fact he resembled very much a friend of hers and she thought that he was this friend so she invited him back. He was rather astonished but he went back all the same and managed quite well whatever was requested of him. The next time they met, they both were present at the same time. She was talking to one and then the other, then the first one again and ended up inviting them both back to her flat thinking that it was the same person. It wasn’t until halfway through the evening that she suddenly realised that she had two men in her apartment and one of them was a stranger. She began to have all kinds of doubts and all kinds of questions. At that moment there was an accident. Louis de Funès had hurt himself and there was blood all down his shoulder. Everyone gathered round to try to clean it. In the meantime – no, it wasn’t Louis de Funès, it was the other one who had the bloody shoulder. While they were treating him they discreetly ushered him out of the apartment until in the end there was just Louis de Funès, the woman and the first-aid staff there. At that point I’d gone off with some friends including my partner. We’d parked at some kind of park. We’d been away for several days. I fell asleep and when I awoke I was there on my own with these two dogs. To pass the time I was throwing a frisbee to these two dogs and they were bringing it back again. Then they all came back from their walk through the forest. My partner saw the mess that I’d made. I’d been eating a tomato and I’d unpacked one or two things to look for something. She had a really good moan at me about it. I couldn’t understand because it only took 30 seconds to put it all back again. Then she came across some meat in the van She said “we have some meat to eat. We have to eat that before Saturday”. I suddenly realised that I’d bought that for my sandwiches but I’d never had it on my sandwiches. I didn’t really say anything because it did have to be eaten but it was still something rather difficult etc.

The first part of this dream sounds like the kind of plot that Louis de Funès would relish. He’s played many comic roles where he’s found himself in impossible situations and had to work out a way to extricate himself. As for the second part, I could easily see myself in a similar predicament without very much effort at all

Finally I was with a girl in Scotland. She was a Scottish girl. I’d been going through, doing my accounts, looking through some of the accounts that I’d kept as a child about what I did and what I spent. We were having this discussion about childhood. She asked how much pocket money I used to have so I told her a figure and said that my elder sister had the same. She asked about the younger children. I said that it might have been more because we were a little richer in those days but I didn’t know. She was telling me about her childhood. It was a very difficult one because his father used to drink. There was this alcohol culture in Scotland – people used to drink and quite often became violent if they had a drink. She was saying that her childhood was one of violence and she was quite happy when she left. I could sympathise with her for a variety of reasons. We carried on talking about our childhood as we were walking down a hill through this Scottish town. We came to the big dual carriageway by-pass and had to wait for the lights to change and we could cross. She began to tell me something about her brother who was a car paint-sprayer, in particular one of the jobs that he had done. He’d had a row with the owner of the vehicle over the price. It was something to do with a joke that he’d told about making the calculation and the owner of the vehicle completely misunderstood it and took it the wrong way and it led to this argument.

As if I’m ever likely to be talking to anyone about my childhood. I can’t even talk to myself about it.

When I was driving coaches up to Scotland I had a good chat with someone about the alcohol issue. When I first went to Glasgow in the early 70s when I had to go to the Insurance company’s head office in Perth we were told in no uncertain terms to take a taxi between the stations regardless. But when I began to go again, driving for Shearings, the situation had changed dramatically.

Her take on the issue was that with the pubs closing at 21:00 people would pour out of work straight into the pubs without eating, drink as much as they could and then pour out onto the streets with plenty of energy left, fuelled up ready for a fight. However, when licensing hours were relaxed in line with the rest of the UK, people would go home after work, have food and then have time to go out later for a drink. They would then be too tired at closing time to involve themselves in any extra-curricular activity.

Isabelle the nurse breezed in, her usual chatty self. It’s her last day now until next Tuesday so tomorrow we’ll be back amid the chaos and confusion. I shan’t be looking forward to that but there we go.

The it was time for breakfast and my book. Alfred Watkins is busy setting the scene for his theory about ley lines and there’s a lovely photo in his book that shows Hereford Cathedral with a pond and a hill, all three in direct line, and you can make out in a field in the foreground what looks like a trace of a sunken road that has been abandoned hundreds if not thousands of years ago.

Interestingly, he talks about the Four Stones of Radnor as being some kind of prehistoric marker. So I went to have a look for myself. I came across THIS PHOTO on someone else’s website and you can see an example of the point that he was trying to make – the way that hill in the distance lines up almost perfectly with a track that might go between the stones.

Back in here I had a slow start to the day and then bashed on with writing the notes for the radio programme on which I was working. By the time that I knocked off for hot chocolate I’d finished everything and it’s ready for dictation.

There had been a couple of interruptions – firstly for lunch and secondly for a shower when my cleaner turned up.

The shower was beautiful and I enjoyed every minute of it. Once a week isn’t enough of course but it’s the best that I can do right now until I’m downstairs and have a walk-in shower installed.

However it is becoming easier and easier to climb into the bath and it’s quite probable that I’d be able to do it without any help, bit it’s folly to try it when I’m alone

After the hot chocolate I made a start on the next programme. Once again, I’ve not chosen anything easy but it remains to be seen how this one works out. We’re bang in the middle of Summer next year so there’s so much going on that we need to celebrate and commemorate.

There was almost nothing in the way of leftovers tonight but I had sent half a surplus curry to the freezer a good while ago so I went and had a search around to bring it back out tonight.

It should have been so nice but we had an accident with the naan bread. Having rolled it out and left it to rise, I put my elbow into it when I bent down to tidy up the baking stuff.

The last of the apple cake has now gone so it looks as if I’ll be trying a rice pudding in the air fryer tomorrow

But that’s tomorrow. I’m off to bed now, ready to gather my wits for another afternoon of torture at the Dialysis Clinic.

And while we’re on the subject of my friend from Atlanta … "well, one of us is" – ed … she once told me an interesting story about her daughter when she was aged ten. I’ve probably told it before but if I have, please excuse me.
Anyway; they live in a complex of several apartment buildings in a suburb of Atlanta and when her daughter was aged ten, she asked if she could go to see a school friend who lived in another one of the buildings.
"Of course you can" said my friend "but what do you do if someone tries to grab you?"
"Kick him in the b*ll*cks and shout ‘fire’" replied the daughter brightly
"What a horrible word" said my friend. "The correct word that you should use is ‘testicles’"
"OK" replied the daughter. "So I kick him in the b*ll*cks and shout ‘testicles’ then"

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Monday 28th October 2024 – I’M FED UP …

… of this blasted dialysis and the pain that it’s causing me. Everything that could go wrong at the Clinic did go wrong today and during my three and a half hours coupled up to the machine I was wracked with non-stop pain.

What made it worse was that of the three teams there, it was the team that I consider to be the best that was there on duty this afternoon.

There’s going to have to be some dramatic improvement in the way that things work in there because if it carries on like this, I shan’t consider the 18 hours per week that I waste going to the Clinic to be worth the effort.

It’s all very well saying that they are doing their best to keep me alive, which I’m sure they are, but if I have to spend the rest of my life in pain like this three times per week, then I’d rather not bother.

One consolation though was that I was in bed before 23:00 last night, which was really nice. In fact, it was a good half-hour before and that was something for which I’d been longing.

However, I failed to make the most of it. There I was, wide-awake at 06:00 and when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was already up and about.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, even applying a liberal helping of deodorant. I know that Emilie the Cute Consultant doesn’t love me any more, but that’s no reason not to make an effort. I even changed my clothes.

Back in here I had a bash at transcribing the dictaphone notes. This was another one of these chaotic houses with lots of things happening and lots of people living there, all their lives intertwined etc. People kept on changing beds and bedrooms for some reason or other. I know that a couple of girls changed their bedding and ended up in a bed where I had slept. I pretended to forget that it was a bed where I was no longer sleeping, and I ought to be ashamed of myself, but I’m not!. Next morning there were the usual things that needed doing but I was quite looking forward to the evening because I hoped that the beds would be like they were last night and I could carry on. I had a whole variety of tasks that I needed to perform. Round about mid-afternoon I decided that I’d sit down and put my feet up for five minutes because I was tired after having had very little sleep the previous night. I sat down and put up my feet, and the next thing that I remember, it was bright sunlight and there were a lot of people about. I looked at my watch and it was 07:35. It must have been the following morning and I’d slept. I went in and everyone was having breakfast. I thought “I’ve missed my chance again, haven’t I?”. While I was wandering around looking for people I ended up in some woman’s room. She was sitting there. She’d had an accident, her glasses were broken and roughly where her glasses were broken there was a huge scar in her head. She looked quite a mess. I told her what had happened but of course I left out the part about in bed, just the part about me falling asleep. She thought that it was quite funny and told one or two other people. It was really quite funny too, especially the way that it stopped me doing what I was hoping to do.

Actually, it wasn’t all that funny. For once in my life I managed to Get The Girl … "not ‘arf ‘e did!" – ed … and then miss out on the second occasion due to crashing out. It really is unbelievable although regular readers of this rubbish will recall the unbelievable part of it being that I actually had some good luck for a change. Quite usually the second part of that affair is par for the course where I snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. But chaos? It sounds just like home.

And then the vogue of child painting was starting to come into effect, people having their children painted by well-known artists. Where we were living there was the occasional quest, seeing as my wife could do painting and I could write verses etc. Then of course we began to receive real-life commissions. One of them was this small child aged about three. I sat him down and tried to make him calm etc but it was clear that mathematics was just not his thing. He yowled and yowled all through this ceremony and made a right mess of this photo because there was never ever a correct moment to take it

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … although I’m asleep when I’m dreaming and dictating, I usually have some kind of vague recollection that is triggered when I’m typing out the notes. But for this dream, I have no recollection at all. Not a single bit. I’ve no idea at all what to make of this.

Finally, another dream in the long-running saga of new houses. I finally moved into my new house and was slowly settling in. I’d had a look at the one that I’d had in Winsford and they were in a terrible state so I had a look at the windows of mine and they could do with some attention if not replacing so I took out the two at the back of the house, the dining room and the rear bedroom. I began to clean up the one in the dining room and made a pretty nice job of it. I fitted it back in ready to paint but I noticed that now the sun had gone in and there were really heavy storm clouds. It was starting to rain so I took the ladder to go to fit the window back in the bedroom but the rain beat me. We had this torrential rain but I continued, trying to make this ladder work against the rear of the house but I was having so much trouble because I can’t do with ladders very well. The rain went and the rain stopped so in the end I tried to go round to the front of the house but I couldn’t work out how to get there. I tried a couple of ways but there was no obvious way to go round to the front.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we’ve had several dreams about new houses, in one of which I had actually bought two new houses and couldn’t make up my mind in which one to live. But it did remind me of my house in Winsford and while I was at the Dialysis Clinic I came over all nostalgic about my little house. I wonder how my life and my future would have panned out had I not moved to Gainsborough Road in Crewe and stayed in Winsford.

But that’s not all, although you wouldn’t thank me for posting anything else, especially if you are eating your meal right now. As Thomas Allen Reed once said, "It was fortunate for my reputation that it never afterwards saw the light"

Isabelle the nurse came round and she collided with my cleaner, and they both came in together to assail me. My cleaner wanted my health card for the chemist and the nurse wanted to deal with my legs. They both did what they needed to do in here and left together.

After they had gone I had breakfast and read my book. We’ve now finished the speeches and we are having a lecture on geology. And I have to say that if anyone wants to take up the study of geology, they’ll do much worse than read this lecture because it’s fascinating.

In fact it’s the first geology lecture that I have ever seen where mathematical calculations are well to the fore, but if you don’t want to carry out the calculations you’ll have just as much interest looking at the diagrams.

Back in here I spent some time going through my live concerts and dating them as best as I can, and then I made a start on my Welsh homework. Even though there’s no lesson tomorrow (half-term) I want to crack on.

My cleaner came early to fit my anaesthetic patches, and it’s just as well because the taxi was early once more.

And here hangs a tale, because it was a driver who has taken me before. She’s usually quite chatty but today she hardly said a word and was rather snappy when she did. She had one of those auras that I could sense before she even said anything, and it wasn’t a good sensation at all.

At the Dialysis Clinic the nurse connected me up painlessly, but the machine didn’t work and nothing that she tried would make it.

With the aid of the portable x-ray machine they worked out that the needles hadn’t gone into the tube in my arm so they took them out and tried again. By this time though the anaesthetic had worn off.

Eventually they had a good contact but the machine still wouldn’t fire up. They eventually managed it but only if the pipes were in a certain position so they taped them in that position to my arm. At one stage I had five nurses and three nursing assistants standing round my bed and it’s a shame that I was in no condition to enjoy it.

That’s all very well, but you try lying like that for three and a half hours without moving your arm even half an inch. Eventually, they were so fed up of coming to deal with the plaintive wails of the machine every time I winced with pain that they rigged up a cradle with some kevlar padding.

Then I had no choice but not to move my arm

When I could I read through my Welsh and then finished off my “Curious Church Customs”. I’ll have to find a new book to read, something like HORRID CRIMES OF BYGONE CHESHIRE to see if any of my relatives are in it, and not as victims either.

The trick cyclist came by. She asked me if I was OK and when I replied that I was, she cleared off elsewhere and left me alone, which suited me fine.

With all of the excitement everything was running late, and when they came to unplug me, the compression on my arm failed again and once more the place was like a slaughterhouse

It’s no surprise that I was glad to see the back of the place and climb into the taxi to bring me home. It was another new driver and I ended up having to give directions after she took a wrong turn

My faithful cleaner was at her post again to help me out of the car but I managed the first flight of all thirteen steps without using my hand to lift my leg. If I can do that for a whole week I’m going to try the second flight up to my front door

And she had some news for me. One of the medicaments that I need is on special order and the chemist has had to send away for a box. So what’s the betting that that will be changed in a few days?

In the absence of a pepper, I made an aubergine and kidney-bean whatsit for tea. I had one helping with pasta and veg, and there are three more that are destined for the freezer

The apple-cake has almost all gone now, so I might persevere with a cake in the air fryer. The chocolate cake which I cooked and which is almost all gone now, ended up being something of a success despite the misgivings that I had at the start.

So now I’m going to be brave and go to bed, even though my arm is quite painful. I’ve warned my cleaner to take her ‘phone to bed and expect a phone call because I’m not convinced at all about how this compression is going to work. I don’t suppose that I shall have a wink of sleep.

But there’s a guy who comes to the Dialysis Clinic in an ambulance because he has lost both his legs.
He was looking on with interest at this pantomime this afternoon and eventually we struck up a conversation
"have you been coming to the Dialysis Clinic for a long time?" I asked him
"Ohh no" he replied. "I lost my legs during the War."

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Saturday 26th October 2024 – YOU AREN’T GOING …

… to believe this – or maybe you are, I don’t know – but do you remember that new prescription that I had just the other day?

And so here we are just 10 days later, and it’s already been changed. Furthermore, the medication that he added in? That’s been changed too. After just 10 days. I don’t know what the chemist is going to say when my poor cleaner goes there on Monday

The issue is that some of these pills and potions aren’t a regular order but have to be ordered specially. And you can’t order just one packet, you have to order – and pay for – a box full. Reimbursement isn’t made until the medication is prescribed and collected by the patient.

So if the chemist has ordered a boxful of rare stuff and only handed out one packet, she’s stuck with the rest until the expiry date at which point she has to throw it away, and she’ll be well out-of-pocket

In my opinion, she will have every reason to be upset by all of this and I’m glad that it’s not me who has to go to face her

But anyway, that’s something to worry about for another time.

Last night I struggled into bed just about at the correct time, just before 23:00. And glad I was too to be finally in bed

There wasn’t even time to start my little night-time mantra before I was asleep, but it didn’t last. Not that I was cold, because I’d gone to sleep in my tee-shirt, but it was a disturbed night nevertheless. I was awakening and going back to sleep on regular occasions too numerous to count.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I had a great deal of difficulty rising up out of my stinking pit and it was a very undignified stagger into the living room to collect some clean clothes.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, and even a shave, and then all of the dirty clothes that were hanging about went into the washing machine and I set it off on a cycle (a very clever washing machine, mine).

Back in the living room I put away all of the shopping bags from LeClerc ready to hand back next time they deliver, and then put all of the drained carrots into the freezer ready for the next few weeks.

Back in here I made a start on the dictaphone notes, but I didn’t get very far before Isabelle came. With everything that I’d done, I was running late.

She gave me my ‘flu injection, and told me that the side-effects might be a painful shoulder and ‘lu-like symptoms for a very short while, so I need to have the Doliprane standing by, so I told her to clear off. This whole country floats on Doliprane – the slightest problem that arises and “I’ll pass you the Doliprane”. If you’re hurting, there’s a reason and masking the pain can just make the problem worse.

After she left I had breakfast and read my book. We’ve finished fossils and we’re now discussing the notes that the speaker who had proposed the mushroom book had prepared and brought to the meeting to present to the assembled multitudes.

And we’ve yet to find out anything about Mr Houghton’s “photographs of a very curious and interesting character”. I’ll be sure to tell you when I find out.

Back in here I finished off transcribing the dictaphone notes. I started off going to flower shows, inspecting flowers etc. I even in my dream sent myself a message although I’ve no idea what it was about but it concerns flowers etc and that’s mainly because everything that I’ve been discussing I’ve been reading about discussions of mixed lists

It’s quite impressive that I can even in a dream remember what’s been going on at the breakfast table. But what interest do I have in flowers? My friend Lorna once said that the only time I’d ever take a photograph of a flower would be if there were a car parked on top of it.

A couple of years ago I’d had a huge, blazing row with a member of public about something or other which had turned rather ugly. Anyway I thought no more about it but suddenly a group of policemen turned up and said that they were going to take me off down to the police station. I thought that it might have been for questioning, something like that, so I went along. I met my boss who was there. I asked him what was going on and he told me that this was going to be the hearing about remand and liability. I couldn’t understand this. I expected the proceedings to be similar to how they were in the UK. He replied “oh now. You won’t have bail. You’ll be remanded and the case will be dealt with tomorrow”. “That’s rather quick”. He asked “what are you going to do afterwards? Are you going back to your old job in the UK?”. I replied “I’m hoping that I’ll stay here”. He answered “well you can’t stay here if you’re going to do this. You’ll lose your job. For a start” he said, showing me a spark plug “this won’t be able to fit under your vehicle”. I couldn’t understand any of this. There was the guy with whom I had this altercation. The police turned to him and asked “do you still wish to go ahead with this?”. He replied “Yes” so two policemen took me inside. One of them asked “you don’t mind sharing a cell on your own, do you?”. I asked if there was going to be any bail. He replied “oh, no. The case will be heard in the morning. You’re remanded overnight. They took me down into the bowels of the police station like in one of these old films. There’s a room there with about fifty people in it on a load of benches and they just sat me on a bench at the back. There were several other people around and we were watching a procession that set off – all people in brightly-coloured clothes and flags of the various nations. A whole group of people from Sweden set off followed by some people from Croatia. I was all completely bewildered by this. I hadn’t the least idea about what was going on

I stepped back into that dream later on and was driving back to the house where I’d been just now. There was a pile of mud on the floor with some traffic lights on red. I didn’t see the line where to stop so I stopped where I thought it was and found that I was in the middle of the junction. I raised my hand in apology to everyone and drove off. As I raised my hand a Rover 820 saloon, a silver one with a pattern part wing on it pulled out of a garage. I thought to myself “that’s the guy with whom I’d had this row and that’s his car. I hope that he doesn’t think that I’m waving to him”. I carried on driving and eventually turned up at the house where I was supposed to be. I was looking for a parking place because parking on the street was not allowed. They were parking two-abreast on the pavement. I could see that outside the house where I was supposed to go there was some parking and there was also some room in the drive at the back.

All of the above is quite surreal, especially the flags. It reminds me of Carnaval here in Granville. I’m not sure why the Police would want to come knocking at my door these days though. I’ve been doing my best to keep my head down, but even so, there are some people who just won’t leave you alone

I was dictating into my hand again here, which is something that I do on the odd occasion. There’s a village just off the headland here called “Pentref-Uchaf”, the “Highest Village”. It was a tiny village. It was the village Open Day at the garage. One woman there learned how to fit gas bottles which she said was going to be interesting. I learned how to make mint drinks which was also going to be interesting. On the headland by the village was a big house where we were kept as prisoners. You could see by the trees which way the winds were blowing because the trees were growing in all funny shapes, all pointing towards the east. When I arrived at this house on remand I was asked which bed I wanted. I said that I didn’t mind. Everything they offered me, I said that I’d take whatever they give me, I’m not bothered. I was helping another inmate in the kitchen. He asked me which set of cutlery I wanted, the big one or the small one. I said that I wasn’t bothered. He replied that I was the ideal companion to be incarcerated with. We were trying to make a meal for people but we couldn’t find anything. The guy giving us the instructions took far too long and we’d prepared half of it by the time we’d finished. It was all really strange, the third part of this dream.

This prison bit – I hope that it’s not a forewarning of something. It seems to be rather persistent tonight. But last night I was dreaming in French and tonight it’s Welsh. When I start dreaming in Innu then you know that the World is at an end.

The washing was now ready so I sorted it out and hung it up to dry. And then back in here I attacked the correspondence. Everyone should now have had a reply, but if I’ve missed you, let me know.

My cleaner came early to fit my anaesthetic patches, and it’s just as well because the taxi came early too. We had to pick someone else up so we went round there but she wasn’t ready to come back yet to Avranches so we had a good drive down there on our own.

Being so early I was first in and first dealt with, but even though sticking the ports in me was painless the nurse missed her target so she had to take them out and start again. They are doing their best to torture me in there.

Once it was finally up and running they pretty much left me alone. However the doctor was another story. He came round and asked how I was and then told me about the medication. Later on he sent me the prescription.

As to why they are actually changing the medication I don’t really know. It doesn’t seem to me to be logical to change it so quickly before anything has had time to act.

Once they left me alone, I read my Welsh, listened to music and read my “Curious Church Customs”.

The taxi was waiting for me and we had quite a quick return, where I could only manage nine steps before I had to use my hands to lift up my legs – a backward step … "very good" – ed …

There was football tonight – Hwlffordd v Caernarfon, and what a dreary match that was. Hwlfford played the nicer football but Caernarfon’s approach was rather agricultural. The whole spark seems to have gone out of Caernarfon’s midfield this last few weeks

The final score was 0-0 and both teams were lucky to get nil. This was a match that I’ll forget quite quickly.

Tea was baked potato, vegan salad and a burger on a bun followed by apple cake and caramel soya cream. Nice it was too.

But now I have some dictating to do and then I’m going to bed. It’s an extra hour in bed in the morning and I want to make the most of it.

But the doctor at the Clinic didn’t only see me. He saw others too and after he left, I noticed that one patient whom he’d seen was crying.
"What’s the matter with you?" I asked him
"It’s the doctor" he said. "He’s told me that I have to take one pill every day for the rest of my life"
"There’s no need to be upset" I said "Lots of people have to do that. I’ve been doing it for nine years!"
"It’s all right for you" he said "but the doctor’s only given me six"

0

Friday 25th October 2024 – I HAVE HAD …

… a really good day today, and accomplished everything that I set out to do, with time to spare.

Tomorrow I am going to have a morning doing some correspondence. Several people are awaiting e-mails from me so I am going to do my best to try to answer them. Post is building back up again.

What probably contributed to at least some of the good day today was that last night I made it to bed before 23:00. It was really nice to be able to do that for once. I don’t do it often enough in my opinion, but then again that could be said about a lot of things.

Once in bed I was asleep quite quickly – but not for long. It was freezing last night and I seem to have gone in one swell foop from sweating profusely during the night to shivering like a jelly as a lorry is going past

In the end I gave up the struggle and put on my dressing gown. Not an ideal thing in which to be sleeping but it was the nearest thing to hand. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a cold winter.

It was quite a restless night too, which seems to be normal after a session at the Dialysis Clinic. I was wide-awake at 02:30, 04:00 and 06:00 and although I made an attempt each time to go back to sleep, at the latter time I failed miserably.

Consequently, when the alarm went off I was already in the kitchen making the bread. Another early start.

While the dough was festering away I went to have a wash, and then came in here to listen to the dictaphone. I’d been for a dialysis and that included having a bath (and wouldn’t that be nice?). When I left the Centre I’d left my earphones behind – a beautiful little pair that I’d received free when I’d telecharged or ordered something off the internet and downloaded it a while back. I thought that I’d never ever see those again because they were so nice and I’d never ever have another pair quite like them. I was completely devastated by the loss of my earphones

–telecharged? Downloaded, you mean. We’re dreaming in French again are we? And I did once leave my headphones behind at the Dialysis Centre not so long ago, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. And it will be the end if I do leave those behind and lose them because they are quite lightweight and fold up making them quite portable. I have another pair here and there’s a third pair somewhere and I wish that I could find them.

Next was a party of Arctic explorers stranded out on the ice trying to return home, having all kinds of difficulties. One of the young officers was in charge of manoeuvring the huge sledge that they had, loaded with all of their possessions. It happened to catch on something, tilt over and go in through the ice, and was lost. The dream went on to say that he did the only thing that he could. He saluted, clicked his heels, turned and walked out into the night. He was never seen again, leaving the other three members to make their way home as best as they could with what they had left, which was almost nothing.

The British had a frightfully stiff upper lip when it came to Polar exploration. While other countries sent their teams out with sleds hauled by dogs, the British insisted on man-hauling them. And consequently while casualties amongst the foreign explorers were generally caused by events such as ship-sinkings and to being iced in, the British pulled their sled by hand all the way to their doom. They were driven by the spirit of Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the modern Olympic Games, whose guiding principle was "the important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle, the essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well". Consequently it was the foreigners who conquered and the British who fought well, but died by the dozen. As the Canadian historian Pierre Berton put it, the British "failed to conquer because instead of adapting to the environment, they tried to bring their environment with them". The later explorers who discovered the camps of the party of Sir John Franklin, 134 strong that was wiped out to the last man, found dinner plates, silver service, dress suits, bottles of claret and all the luxuries that a British officer and gentleman would require at the dining table of his stately home while my American namesake, searching for traces of Franklin, was living in an igloo amongst the Inuit eating blubber off his sleeping bag with his bare hands.

Later on we were back living in Shavington. I was running my taxi business from there. I had a girl who worked the radio for me part-time at weekends. She was a young, rather unkempt girl. I took one of the cars off for a little spin round and came back. All the cats were loitering around the house so I stopped the car right by the front gate and climbed out. This girl came out of the house to see me. She told me that I ought to give her congratulations. I asked why and she replied that she’d won nearly £50,000 on the football pools. Of course I was really pleased for her. She replied that at last she could maybe have a flat. I asked where she was living at the moment. Was it in a hostel? She replied “no”. She was living in someone’s garage, which I thought was horrible. To make it worse, she’d lost her job during the day so she was loitering around and the owner of the garage didn’t like that. She was talking about buying a little snack bar too. I was really so pleased for her and so impressed. I asked her how many proposals of marriage she’d received already. She replied “none as yet but not many people know”. We had a little chat about the future, maybe she might start to run a snack bar or something. I told her that if she needed any help she could always ask me. But I was really genuinely impressed and genuinely pleased for her.

This was another one of these nice comfortable dreams that I have occasionally. But running my taxis from Shavington – not that that would be likely to work. I was glad really to leave Shavington. If Crewe is extremely parochial and small-minded, Shavington is ten times worse. But then, most small villages are.

Finally, Nerina and I had flown to Montreal and rented a car. We’d gone for a big drive round. We found ourselves down in the south-west corner of the USA in California. We were quite happy driving around through all these desert tracks and I happened to notice from the GPS that according to the GPS we were now in Mexico. I thought that we’d better make it back to the USA before we find ourselves in trouble here. We headed back to the border and this time we picked up the motorway that brought us back to an immigration centre. By now it was very late at night. Eventually it was our turn to be investigated. He gave my passport a cursory once-over and handed it back. But Nerina’s he examined much more closely and began to speak to her in Italian. She was rather put out by this, being caught unawares, but I replied in Italian, so the border guard and I had a little chat. We talked about beautiful women. Eventually he have Nerina back her passport and waved us through. But he was studying our entry stamps quite carefully. Of course we had Canada, and Canada to the USA but there was nothing about us going into Mexico because we’d driven through the desert. When we were back in the car I said “when we’re back home I’m going to work out that route that we took and sell it on eBay. I bet that I’d make a fortune”. Nerina replied “ohh no. I’m going to tell the American authorities so that they can block it”. We came into a small town and Nerina climbed out of the car and went to look at an American car. She hung her lantern on the bonnet and walked away. She pointed to another American car that was bashed and battered. She then tried a house door, and it was open so she went in. She settled down on the sofa and said “I’m not moving from here until I’ve had a sleep”. I replied “Nerina, you can’t sleep there! This is the USA! They’ll shoot you if they see you!”. “Well, I’m not moving”. I pleaded with her to move. I told her that I’d find a hotel somewhere. She said that she’d looked on the internet and there wasn’t a hotel with a room in the neighbourhood. I pleaded with her for anything that she’d move because she really would be shot if some American were to find her asleep in his living room but it was all to no avail

It recalled MY TRIP THROUGH THE DESERT IN 2002. What a trip that was! Driving past all of the sites that I’d seen in so many Westerns in the past. But there would be no question of leaving Nerina behind to face her doom at the hands of a paranoid American armed to the teeth. Believe it or not, I happen to like Nerina. Anyone who will put up with me for nine years has to be worth liking. What went wrong in our relationship was that I was in a bad place at a bad time fighting too many demons, and I fought quite a few more than I ought to have done. And of course, both of us were too tired and too stressed to learn to talk to each other. There were plenty of thoughts that we should have exchanged.

Isabelle came – and went. She was in quite a rush and didn’t stop around to talk. She’s promised though to film the events tomorrow morning in the town centre when they try to set up the market amongst the major roadworks in the centre.

After she left I made breakfast and read my book. We’re still at the annual dinner, the talk on trees has ended and we’re now talking about sheep, geology and fossils. And, apparently "Mr. Houghton had been kind enough to bring with him some photographs of a very curious and interesting character"

Photographs of a very curious and interesting character? Wouldn’t I have liked to have been at that meeting?

Back in here I had to sort out a few things, deal with my order to LeClerc and then I attacked the radio notes. It didn’t take me long to finish off the notes for the radio programme that I’d been preparing, and then I went to lunch – a salad sandwich on nice, soft fresh bread.

But the bread was another failure. I made a careful study of it today. I put the loaf in the oven at exactly the same spot that I put it last week, and once again, one side of it didn’t rise.

That’s the side nearest the front, and so I think that the door is fitting badly and there’s a draught of air coming in around it. If the temperature sender is at the back, that will explain why the temperatures are so messed up, because with the current of air, the temperature at the front will be much lower.

It’s a shame because I have a perfectly good oven in the van downstairs but it’s beyond me to bring it up here.

This afternoon I reviewed the notes that I’d written a while back for a couple of radio programmes. They are rather complicated and involved so I’d left them to one side until I had a lot of time to go over them. So that was this afternoon’s task.

Some of the stuff I rewrote, some other stuff I corrected and I reckon that barring accidents I have them ready to dictate. I might actually do these tomorrow night and then they’ll be out of the way. But I imagine that they’ll take some editing.

My cleaner had stuck her head in the door this morning to pick up a few things to take into town, and while I was reviewing my notes she came in and did her stuff. Now the place looks as if someone lives here.

Just after I finished my hot chocolate and chocolate cake the food delivery came, so I spent a very pleasant late afternoon dealing with 2kg of carrots making them ready to be frozen, and putting away the rest of the stuff.

It was actually a struggle to make up the €50:00 minimum order today. It seems that I have a good supply of everything that I need.

LeClerc had no peppers thought. So stuffed peppers are off the menu for the next couple of weeks. But they had aubergines on special offer and I took advantage, so it looks like we’ll be in for plenty of aubergine and kidney bean whatsits for a while.

Tea tonight was a nice salad with chips and falafel followed by apple cake in caramel sauce. So what shall I do when the apple cake is all gone. I have a fancy to see how a rice pudding would do in the air fryer

So having spent a pleasant twenty minutes looking for and finding the missing headphones, I’m off to bed

But before I go, seeing as we’re on the subject of the desert … "well, one of us is" – ed … I’ll tell you about the encounter I had with three men in the desert whose car had broken down and they were walking to try to find help.
One was carrying the radiator, the other a hub cap and the third one a door and so I asked them why
"I’m carrying the radiator" said the first "because if I become too hot, I can drink the water"
"I’m carrying a hub cap" said the second "because if I become too hot I can shelter in its shade"
"I’m carrying a door" said the third "because if I become too hot, I can wind the window down"

0

Thursday 24th October 2024 – THEY BROUGHT ME …

… home in an ambulance this evening.

Don’t ask me why, because I didn’t ask for it and I certainly didn’t want it. But nevertheless, there I was, strapped into a stretcher in the back.

My faithful cleaner thinks that it’s because none of the female drivers wants to bring me home on her own but I dunno. I’ve clearly upset someone somewhere if the only way that they are going to transport me is strapped down in the back of an ambulance

Actually, last night I might have been strapped down in bed because I certainly didn’t move at all, at least, not that I remember.

To cap it all, I was even in bed before 23:00. Not by very much, it has to be said, but enough to make it worth recording all the same. For some reason or other it didn’t take as long as it usually does to finish everything off. And there I was, tucked up nicely in bed.

Once I was in bed I didn’t need much rocking either. I was out like a light quite quickly and there I stayed until 07:00 when the alarm went off, and when was the last time that that happened?

When the alarm went off I had some kind of nurse living with me who was trying to organise me about going out because Tuesday afternoon I had to go to the bank and Wednesday afternoon I had to go somewhere. That involved a lot of organisation with the buses, all of that kind of thing. She was busy trying to make all of the necessary arrangements for me to go to do these tasks on the bus without having to use an ambulance or a taxi.

The only person who might do that would be Percy Penguin. She’s quite used to dealing with the elderly, the infirm and those people who might not have both paddles in the water but I think that even she would draw the line at sorting me out.

So at the sound of the alarm I hauled myself out of bed and made my way into the bathroom for a good scrub up and to prepare myself in case Emilie the Cute Consultant is there at the Dialysis Centre this afternoon.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were going on a coach trip somewhere. There was a big group of us on board this coach. I was on my own so I sat in a seat and everyone left me alone which was very nice. The coach stopped for a toilet break halfway along the route so I set up a coffee machine. With the cups that I had I started a little coffee production line. A girl came to help me and the two of us managed to keep it going with coffee. The driver said that he and the other two members of his staff had their own cups but I had to use the cups that I could find, which were not very good. Nevertheless, people drank it. There was one moment when I had to go to make some more coffee and I had to go to the end of the line where the machine was. I didn’t have the coffee so I shouted to the girl to bring the coffee back down quick but then found that I actually had the coffee in my hand. There was that particular moment but that’s all that I remember about this dream

Wouldn’t it be nice to find out how to keep 53 people happy with one coffee machine. I suppose that it’s the 21st Century equivalent of “five loaves, two fishes and a pot of tea for five thousand, please”.

There was an earlier dream about someone in the theatrical business who had a small, domineering personality. He had a lot of affairs with different women. He was at one time with a Japanese or Korean girl who was a member of a dancing troupe but he abandoned her for another woman. The newspapers said something like “he’ll certainly notice the difference with this large, overbearing Spanish woman compared to the girl he had previously who had barely entered puberty” that sort of thing but I can’t remember very much about that dream either except nothing really.

That was rather a strange thing to dream, and I can’t think of where it might have any relevance in anything particular.

In that last dream I did absolutely everything towards this play, writing and directing etc. The only thing was when it came to the orchestra, conducting the orchestra I had to step aside and let someone else do that because of some kind of agreement with the particular Trade Union that covers the engagement of musicians in their practical sphere.

And the same with this. A few more things to add to my nocturnal talents. If only I had someone who could organise and motivate me to do these things for real.

Hurricane Isabelle blew in a little later. She didn’t have time to give me my ‘flu jab. It’s booked in for Saturday when she has no blood tests to do. It’s no surprise really that she’s snowed under with requests for blood tests right now. She has “the touch” whereas her oppo doesn’t and people are beginning to realise it.

After she left I made breakfast and read my book. Our Naturalists are busy roaming about the estate of the President examining his trees, of which there are many historic ones.

But it’s a shame what subsequently happened to his estate. His family fell on hard times and it was sold, eventually becoming a hospital. It was used for severe cases during World War II and then abandoned, the house being blown up by the Royal Engineers in a training exercise in 1959

Back in here I spent the morning tracking down the dates of more concerts and, as usual, SETLIST.FM came up trumps yet again and helped me identify a dozen or so

My cleaner turned up at lunchtime and helped me fix the patches on my arm, and then the taxi came early for me. It’s a good job that I was ready.

We drove all the way to Avranches and at the roundabout the driver turned right towards the town rather than to the left to the hospital.

He quickly realised his error and performed a U-turn and a voice in the back said "did you forget something?". We’d gone all that way with a passenger in the back and I had never noticed at all.

With being early this afternoon I was first in at the clinic, thus first to be dealt with, which made a nice change.

A doctor came to see me, but only for two minutes and she didn’t seem to be too interested. And apart from the coffee, that was that. I read my Welsh notes, listened to music and finished off by carrying on with my “Curious Church Customs”.

They unplugged me quite early and I was free to go. That was when we had the pantomime about me trying unsuccessfully to climb into the ambulance.

After several attempts they gave up and brought out the stretcher.

We drove back in perfect silence to here where my faithful cleaner was waiting, and she watched as I made it up all thirteen of the first flight of stairs. That was really impressive, considering how much difficulty I had had with the ambulance.

Tea tonight was different. There had been a can of beansprouts festering on the shelves since it was triumphantly carried off the Ark by Noah, and so I made myself a spicy stir-fry. In fact, everything will be spicy now that I have a jar of chilis.

It was hot, and delicious, especially followed by apple cake and caramel-flavoured soya cream.

So now I’m off to bed for a nice early night, as it looks as if I’m going to have a visit tomorrow.

But while we’re on the subject of Noah … "well, one of us is" – ed … it reminds me of the teacher in Primary School discussing certain Biblical events with the children.
She asked them "do you know who Noah’s wife was?" and one boy at the back of class raised his hand
"Please, Miss" said the boy "I do!"
"So who was it, little Johnny?" she asked
And the boy replied "please Miss, wasn’t it Joan of Arc?"

0

Wednesday 23rd October 2024 – PHEW! I’M EXHAUSTED!

That’s hardly any surprise because not only did I have an early start, I have been working all day practically non-stop and have done not only tomorrow’s, but almost all of Friday’s work too. I don’t know where all of this energy has come from.

And last night I was actually in bed before 23:00 which is a very pleasant change. That’s not something that happens every night, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

It seems to me that I managed to finish my notes earlier than usual despite all of the distractions that there are, and then I crawled off to the bathroom to sort myself out ready for the night

Once in bed, going to sleep seemed to take much longer than usual though, and that’s something that I’ve noticed over the last few weeks too. I don’t seem to fall asleep as quickly as formerly.

But once asleep, I stayed asleep for almost all of the night, and awoke at about 06:15. I couldn’t remember anything at all of the night so it must have been a really sound sleep for a change, and that probably did me the world of good.

There was no possibility of going back to sleep so after a while of tossing and turning I left the bed and headed to the bathroom where I had a quick wash. Not a full wash as I’m showering later. And when the alarm went off I was busy drying myself.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. To my surprise there was plenty of stuff on there so the night can’t have been as sound as I thought. There had been a girl who had been taken prisoner by a couple of men. She had her mother and a couple of friends etc with her when she was taken prisoner. They were all locked in this house. After a while it became clear that the guy was not interested in her as such but interested in the money that she could bring him. She eventually ended up by barricading herself in the bathroom. Eventually, after a couple of days and all kinds of entreatments and threats etc she reluctantly agreed and eventually opened the door at which point the guys took the information that she had and left, saying that they’d be back. In the meantime all of the girls had been in communication while all of this had been happening. Once all the men had left, the girl having sent them on a wild goose chase she took the money that she had hidden in the house and went to see her friends. Her friends had managed to make some really old car in the garage start. While these men were away looking for something that they’d never find the girls piled into this old car and drove away to make good their escape

There’s nothing in this dream that reminds me of anything. I can’t imagine what’s going on here with this.

That conviction just then … "what conviction?" – ed … rendered me liable to three points taking me up to nine and I was within touching distance of losing my driving licence. When I was out again in my J4 van with things not quite right about it I was beginning to become really worried because I was so easily going to end up on my feet and walking if I wasn’t very very careful and I only had myself to blame. I was driving my J4 van up some street between Oak Street and Chester Bridge that doesn’t exist and I know that coming out of that corner would be extremely complicated especially as I was driving on the left in a right-hand drive vehicle and anything would be likely to happen as I tried to pull out into the traffic just then

So I imagine that this road comes in over my left shoulder, and anyone who has ever driven a right-hand drive van knows just how difficult it is with roads like that. As for the van, I had an old J4 van for a couple of years. Rough as anything and as rotten as a pear, in today’s climate I would lose my licence for ever if it were ever inspected but back in 1974-75 there was nothing wrong with a van like this from a police point of view. As Sir Daniel Gooch once famously said, "whatever would be said of such a mode of proceeding today?"

However it seems that there’s a lump missing from the start of this. I wonder what was happening that I haven’t recorded. But certainly back in those days we were far too cavalier for our own good and we ran a great risk of falling foul of the law in many ways. I had a very hard time adjusting to the new way of thinking that took root in the 80s and 90s

Finally, I’ve just been in a car sales room, a huge place and there must have been about three hundred cars in there. There were probably fifty motor bikes too. One of them was a Velocette Venom 500cc combo. Ohhh! That took me back to 1973 and John Stigter etc. I just sat on this Velocette and wheeled it up and down in this little area in this car sales place. I was as happy as Larry on this. I just wished that I had the strength in my legs to be able to give it a kick-start and take it for a ride

That brought back many happy memories. It was John’s brother Ray who had the Velocette Venom but John had a combination of some description and we’d throw our gear into the box and go off camping for the weekend at the drop of a hat back in the early 1970s when I was living in Chester. Unfortunately that was a way of life that was destined to be eliminated as society became more and more paranoid. I remember going with a schoolfriend to the Lleyn Peninsula and spending the weekend dossing in the open air, walking through the deserted streets of Portmerion (where THE PRISONER was filmed) at 03:00. "Whatever would be said of such a mode of proceeding today?"

It’s a shame but I really miss those carefree halcyon days. Many of my dreams seem to reflect that period of happy adolescence (and the unhappy parts of it too) and when I talk about “young ladies” in my dreams, I actually see myself as still either in or just having left that period. Take the J4 van for example – I was 20 then and still naught but a pup.

Isabelle the nurse came to see me to sort out my legs. I told her that I was going to have a shower later on, even if Emilie the Cute Consultant no longer loves me and she asked "is your engagement definitely broken off then?"

Another thing that I mentioned is that her colleague told me that I had to try to put on my own elasticated socks so I was going to try this afternoon. She thinks that I won’t be able to manage it and even if I were to manage it, I shouldn’t be doing it.

There’s also the question of the ‘flu jab. I’ve had the voucher from the Social Services and my cleaner has taken it to the chemist. Isabelle told me to let her know when I have it and she’ll inject me.

After she left I made breakfast and read my book.

The naturalists are having their annual meal and making all kinds of self-congratulatory speeches to each other. But this is the important bit because they have begun to discuss mushrooms.

The speaker tells us "It was really a great pity that so much good food should be lost. The waste was due to the very great prejudice existing against Funguses" and the President proposes that there should be "a paper on the Edible Funguses of Herefordshire."

The preparation of this document led to a publication that became famous – a legend in fact in the UK, a bible to mushroom hunters everywhere that transformed British cuisine and British diet.

But it’s interesting to see how times have changed from the 1860s. Ladies were not allowed to attend the outings, except on a special Ladies’ Day once per year, however, in connection with this document, the President goes on to say "it would be impossible for them to do this, however, without the assistance of ladies to colour them—that is to say, the club could not afford to pay for their being coloured. The ladies had done much for last year’s volume, and were most kindly again prepared to help with this one, so that the committee did not despair of accomplishing it."

We’ve also had a lecture on tree-pruning and members of the club have produced their weather statistics of the kind that I kept down on the farm in the Auvergne.

Back in here, I started work. And I cracked on today. Not only have I finished to notes for this radio programme, I’ve also chosen the music for the next one and written most of the notes. And that was a Herculean effort too, fighting my way through all of that.

There was the usual interruption for lunch, and then my cleaner turned up with the medication and the injection

Now that she was here doing her stuff, I could proceed with my shower, under her supervision.

The shower was glorious and I enjoyed every minute of it. I’d prepared everything beforehand, clean clothes, refilling the soap pump, all of that kind of thing so it was a simple manner of climbing into the bath,

That was much easier too. I’m really getting the hang of this, although I find it still rather strange to have a crutch in my hand as I stand in the bathtub But it’s better than falling over, I suppose.

What’s most important is that I’m all clean and proper. Once per week is not really good enough but it will have to do until I’m downstairs and can have a walk-in shower fitted

Back in here and fully-dressed, I tried to put on my elasticated socks. And it worked really well too. I can manage that without too much difficulty. So does this mean that I’m slowly working my way round back to my Sunday lie-ins?

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry livened up with a chili now that I have some. And it was delicious too, especially the naan bread. And the dessert was really good too.

But now I’m off to bed, early again for a change, and still having a smile about some of the comments of the Woolhope naturalists in 1867.
Before they could eat their meal they said “Grace” which was something that we used to do at home as children.
One day I was invited to a friend’s for tea after school and they just tucked straight into their meal without saying anything.
Back at home later I told my mother about what had happened.
"Didn’t they say a prayer before eating their meal like we do at home?" she asked
"Oh no" I replied. "His mother knows how to cook."

0

Tuesday 22nd October 2024 – MY FAITHFUL CLEANER …

… is a heroine and I really don’t know what I’d do without her.

The last batch of hummus that I made exhausted my supplies of tahini and I asked her if she fancied making a call at the Bio shop while she was out and about. Not that there’s any urgency because this batch will last me a month or two at least.

However midway through my Welsh lesson I had a message "is this what you want?" with a photograph attached.

As I have said before just recently … "and on many occasions too" – ed … things are looking up at LeClerc and their vegan range is slowly improving. And my cleaner had found the tahini.

It’s absolutely certain that it was never previously in stock – I’ve trawled the place time after time whenever I could – but there it is, on the shelves and properly labelled.

They had two jars of the stuff on offer today and it goes without saying that now they have none at all. It remains to be seen if they pick up and reload the space on the shelf, or whether that was all they intend to supply. My cleaner will keep her eyes peeled.

But if they are going to have more, then the World’s my lobster. Add that to the vegan cheese and the vegan sausages, and what else do I really need?

Not only that, she found a jar of hot chilis and so it really is “all systems go” for the next batch of hummus and I’m well-impressed.

Having said that, there wasn’t much “go” last night and once again I had a rather late night going to bed. And although I was asleep quite quickly, I was drifting in and out of sleep for quite a while.

Once I was finally asleep, I stayed asleep until all of … errr … 06:15 when I awoke, drenched in perspiration yet again and I’m fed up of this.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was drying myself off after having had a good wash. I was already up and about and had been for some time. There’s no point in lounging around in bed on a weekday when I can’t sleep.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was on a railway station, hoping to take a short cut across the freight lines to go back home. I had some kind of flapjack that I wanted to eat on the way. As I was trying to cross, a train came in, an ancient steam train coupled up to some ancient BR MkI carriages, completely out-of-place. So I waited, and a voice said in my ear “it’s not like a modern 53-seater, is it?”. I looked round, and it’s a guy whom I knew from the coaches. I’d worked with him at Shearings. We made some kind of joke and I began to move away but he began to follow me. The last thing that I wanted was for someone to follow me so I made some excuse that I had to go to some kind of museum. He exclaimed “ohh that’s strange! I’m going there! I’ll come with you” and followed behind me. I told him some strange story about how I had a job working for a French coach company. He said that he knew the company and that he’d applied there too. I thought “oh God! This is going to go on for ever, isn’t it?” and I still couldn’t shake him off. We reached the museum and I thought “the museum’s closed so we can’t go in”. He replied “ohh we can still go in”. There he was, clinging on to me as we walked in. I asked him if he wanted a coffee. He replied “no” so I went off to buy a coffee thinking “if I’m not careful he’s going to be stuck with me for the rest of the day and I’ll never make it home”

This dream started off with an aerial shot of a huge locomotive repair yard and the commentator told people that it was Crewe. However it was nothing like the Crewe repair sheds that I knew. I imagine this this dream was in Crewe anyway because there are freight avoiding lines between the station and our old family home

As well as that I can also remember the name of the company. It was called “Silver Degouey” and they had a fleet of silver Kässbohrer-Setra coaches of the type that were common in the late 1970s and early 1980s

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we seem to dream a lot about trains and railway stations, although not so much in the very recent past. Does this mean that we are going back on the rails again? But as for the passenger, much as I like company every now and again, it always seems to be right at the wrong time that I end up with someone clinging to me like a limpet and won’t let go.

There was plenty of stuff that I could be doing to keep myself amused while I waited for the nurse. Part of that was sorting out the prescription for my faithful cleaner who sallied forth into town afterwards on her quest for medication and shopping.

It was Isabelle the nurse who came today. Apparently she’s on duty for nine days from today and it will be nice to have a smiling face. She chatted away but didn’t say much of any importance.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on reading my book. Today the naturalists are visiting the Bury Ditches near Clun.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall one of our previous authors write so insistently about the history of these earthworks saying that they were Anglo-Saxon in origin and contained the remains of wooden buildings relating to their palaces. He evidently took the idea from the report of the Naturalists because the guy leading the party and giving the talk – some 20 or so years earlier – was also very strongly of the opinion that the Bury Ditches were Anglo-Saxon in origin.

That was however not the opinion of everyone. The secretary who took the notes of the outing comments that "the time was very short, and no discussion was attempted; if it had been there is no doubt but that very different views would have been elicited" which is the politest way that I have ever seen of telling someone that they are talking a load of nonsense.

He concludes the report of the meeting by saying "There was only time, however, after the repast to give the thanks of the meeting to the able lecturers of the day, which was done with a pleasant allusion to the ample scope for the differences of Archaeologists and their necessarily-interminable nature". There’s really nothing at all like grinding it in, is there?

Back in here I revised for my Welsh lesson and then went to class. And once more, everything seemed to pass really well and I’ve no idea why. I quite enjoyed the lesson and it’s nice when that happens. I ought to do it more often.

There was an interruption, as I mentioned, when my faithful cleaner sent me a few messages about the tahini but apart from that there was no issue at all.

After lunch and taking possession of the prizes from LeClerc (the chemists’ stuff will arrive in a day or two) I finished off choosing the music that I need and I’m halfway through writing the notes. I have eight tracks, which run to … gulp … one hour and sixteen minutes and then there’s the text that will need to be dictated.

So what do I leave out to bring the programme down to sixty minutes in total?

The answer is that I have no idea. And so I’ll write everything and dictate everything and then see what I have. That will give me a much better idea of what I need, what I want and what I can leave out.

In the middle of all of this I had my hot chocolate and then processed the hummus in the fridge by adding in the chilis. And now there are two more tubs joining the two others from Sunday in the freezer With the one left over and remaining in the fridge, that will keep me going for a month or two.

Tea tonight was, as usual, a delicious taco roll followed by apple cake and coconut soya cream, and then there was a mountain – and I do mean “mountain” of washing up to deal with

So having written my notes I’m off to bed. It’s a shower day tomorrow of course, in which I thoroughly soak myself and try to make myself pretty … "a hopeless task" – ed … not forgetting that I have to attempt to put on my elasticated socks. That should be fun.

But before I go, let me tell you about the chemist’s where my cleaner goes.
It’s actually run by two women. And when my cleaner was there just now, a man came in.
"Can I see the chemist, please?" asked the man
"Young man" said the chemist, pulling herself up to her full 5’5″” "I am the chemist!"
"Well is there a man to whom I can talk" asked the man
"Young man!" said the chemist again. "I have been running this pharmacy for 35 years. I promise you that there is nothing that I haven’t heard so there’s no need to be embarrassed"
"Well" he said, blushing "every time I see a woman I have an uncontrollable urge to make love to her and the feeling doesn’t die down for several days. Is there anything you can give me?"
"Wait there" she said, going into the back.
And five minutes later she was out again
"I’ve talked to my sister" she said. "We’ve worked out that we can give you €250 per week and a half-share in the business."

0

Monday 21st October 2024 – I’M STILL ACHING …

… just about everywhere that it’s possible to ache, and probably a few places where it isn’t possible either.

Mind you, I have to admit that I’m not aching quite as much as I was when I awoke this morning. I thought that a good night’s sleep might have helped everything ease off seeing as I was lying comfortably in bed, but it wasn’t to be.

A longer sleep might have been nice but once again, I missed by some considerable distance my target of being in bed by 23:00. It’s still taking longer than I would like to finish off what needs to be done, and there’s the added problem with the aches and pains that make me reluctant to move from my comfortable chair.

But once in bed I was soon asleep and I can’t recall any awakening until about 06:15. And even then, I turned over and went straight back to sleep again. When the alarm went off I was in a pub in London watching a pub band play. There were Keith Ginnell and his wife on keyboards. His wife had been a famous model in the past, Vicky somebody I think. On drums was Keef Hartley and the singer was Magic Michael. He was too tall for the stage and had to bend his head to fit under the ceiling while he was singing. he was singing that song “Giddy up, Bobby” and I was thinking how easy that was to play when I thought about it. Then I went to the bathroom where I overheard some kind of dispute going on between Keef Hartley and Keith Ginnell. I thought that it was a shame that they were arguing like that because they were a really good group.

What I didn’t dictate was that I was staying at that pub but had to clear out my room ready to leave. And in the WC I’d bolted the door behind me but nevertheless someone still came in and walked past me, and I wondered how they had managed to do that.

Now you are of course going to ask me who Keith Ginnell is and what the song “Giddy Up Bobby” is all about. And the answer to both questions is that I don’t have any idea at all. I know who Magic Michael is of course, and who doesn’t? He was one of the hangers-on with Hawkwind back in the early 70s and later on had a few singles out of his own, most of which sunk without trace. Keef Hartley was of course one of John Mayall’s drummers and later on had a group of his own, but Keith Ginnell and “Giddy Up Bobby” escape me completely.

What’s so surprising is that I could actually remember them.

While we’re on the subject of remembering … "well, one of us is" – ed … I didn’t forget someone’s birthday yesterday. Not at all. It goes without saying that I won’t ever forget it

So I staggered to my feet in a cloud of agony and slowly inched my way into the bathroom where I had a good scrub up and even a shave to make myself look pretty, even though it will take more than a scrub-up and a shave to make me look pretty.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And there was some stuff on there too. There had been a big riot somewhere. The soldiers were all hemmed in at some kind of barracks and had been completely overwhelmed. They decided that what they would so as a desperate kind of last stand for all those who were fit enough was to make some kind of fighting arrowhead and charge out of the building on their horses hoping to break through the enemy lines. So they charged out in this arrowhead and almost broke through but were held somewhere down at the bottom of Oak Street and Mill Street in Crewe. The fight raged round there for an hour or two when suddenly the enemy surrendered and gave up the fight. I’d been watching the events unfold and after the events went peacefully some kind of big American convertible, a huge car with a woman driver pulled up and said “taxi for Hall”. I climbed in and it took me off down Wistaston Road/Victoria Avenue. I was chatting to the woman – she’d been in London earlier in the day in the fog, just socialising. I told her that I’d been to Scotland and it really was foggy there. She was telling me how she did taxiing part-time, how she enjoyed it. She was working for Orange Cabs but she didn’t have a card with her number on for me so we carried on chatting like that and eventually she brought me home

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we were AT THE SITE OF THE BATTLE OF LITTLE BIG HORN with LITTLE BIG ANTLERS a few years ago and the question that was going through my mind then was “why did Custer and his men dismount?”

On foot they would have no chance of escaping the native Americans, as events were to prove. Knowing that there was a detachment of soldiers with the baggage train in the vicinity, if they had formed a “fighting head” – a triangular-shaped formation, they stood a very good chance of piercing a surrounding line of enemy and the weight of their charge would have pushed at least some of them through the encirclement and on to safety at the far end of the ridge

But as for riots going on in Crewe, it’s extremely unlikely. The people there have long-since lost any free will and initiative.

The nurse came early and caught me off-guard this morning. He refrained from upsetting me, which was good, and now he’s gone off duty for a week which suits me fine. It gives me a chance to gather up my sang-froid ready for the next bout.

Still, the earlier he comes, the earlier he goes and I could crack on with breakfast.

Today, the Woolhope Naturalists are having a lecture on Space and Interplanetary rotation, sitting at a picnic around a waterfall. Some of their propositions have long-since been contradicted by later discoveries but it’s interesting all the same to hear the state of knowledge in 1867.

What’s also interesting is that the 48 members present had to go into the back of beyond to visit this waterfall, and not only did the railway company agree to stop the train at an isolated spot, it built a railway platform and had three gangers ready to help the party alight.

Just imagine that today! It would take them ten years to build the platform, even if they were so disposed to do so, and there would have to be all kinds of Health and Safety surveys and inspections first.

And this “Health and Safety Culture” – do you know what’s brought it on? It happened the day that Solicitors were allowed to advertise.

Back in the old days if you stumbled on a pavement and hurt your toe, you shrugged your shoulders and moved on. But once we began to see the "had an accident? It might not be your fault. Contact us for a free interview" advertisements, everything changed overnight.

The Naturalists were also visiting the famous church of Capel-y-ffin, a site that became notorious later on with the arrival of “Father Ignatius” and then the infamous Eric Gill, whose famous sculptures and type design did little to counter the later unsavoury allegations about his private life that were to occur once his biography was published after his death.

Having finished all that I came in here and finished off as far as I could (because some of it requires access to a television) and then carried on selecting music for the next radio programme.

My cleaner turned up to help me fit my anaesthetic patches and while she was here I gave her my orders for the supermarket tomorrow. And the taxi for the Dialysis Clinic was driven by a young guy and we had a very lively chat all the way down to Avranches.

At the clinic they didn’t hang about to plug me in. The first one hurt like hell but the second needle, I didn’t feel it at all.

The nurses asked if I had any pain anywhere so I mentioned the issues that I’m having. They gave me a Covid test and that was that. No doctor came anywhere near me to make further enquiries so I don’t see the point in asking.

As well as the doctor in charge, Emilie the Cute Consultant was there too and although she went to see a few other patients, she kept well away from me. Julie the Cook did likewise, so she must be a regular reader of this rubbish too.

I read my Welsh and spent some time reading, and I also had a little doze. While I was away with the fairies, being careful to avoid drawing the attention of the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine to my activities, I was on a train in Tunisia. A Tunisian woman in local dress came to sit next to me. I suddenly realised that I hadn’t validated my ticket so I stood up and went to look for a machine. There was none in my carriage and the next one was compartmentalised with the curtains drawn and what looked like discreet security guards. I turned to a guy in the vestibule of my carriage to ask him. He told me that you don’t validate it – the ticket inspector does as he or she passes – so I went to resume my seat. However it looked nothing like it did when I left and the Tunisian lady wasn’t there

There was a similar issue about TICKETS ON TRAINS when I was in Tunisia a few years ago, and I can well-believe the presence of Security Guards and curtained compartments on certain trains.

They unplugged me and threw me out into the torrential rain where my taxi was waiting, and we had to wait for the guy who lives in Sartilly. And he had already reserved the front seat

My driver was friendly enough but didn’t say too much and as we stopped outside the building, the rain stopped, the sun shone and we had a rainbow.

My cleaner watched me upstairs, and it was a retrograde number of steps today, no surprise with me feeling not too well. And I was glad to sit down and relax for an hour.

Tea was a lovely stuffed pepper with pasta followed by apple cake and soya cream and now I’m ready for bed.

But the subject of having pains everywhere reminds me of the guy who went to the doctor.
"Every time and everywhere I touch myself" he said "I’m in absolute agony."
And he proceeded to prod himself in his leg, his arm, his torso, his neck, his posterior, everywhere. And each time he winced in pain.
The doctor looked at him for a moment and then took him by surprise, prodding him in his ribs
"Did that hurt?" asked the doctor
"Well, actually doctor" said the man "no it didn’t. What does it mean? Am I dying? Do I have a serious problem?"
"Not at all" said the doctor. "All it means is that you have broken your finger."

0

Saturday 19th October 2024 – THEY LEFT ME …

… pretty much to myself at the Dialysis Clinic this afternoon.

Once they’d plugged me in, they only came back once to deal with an alarm, one of the nursing assistants brought me a coffee, and that was that until it was time to unplug me

That’s much more like my way of doing things and if they can keep it up like that every time I go, I shall be much happier.

Another thing that shall make me much happier is going to bed early. Last night was ridiculous. Just as I was about to switch off everything and go to bed, round on the playlist came the classic Quicksilver Messenger Service version of Elias Bates (Bo Diddley to you)’s version of WHO DO YOU LOVE, all 25 minutes and 15 seconds of it.

Of course, one thing leads to another and once you start you’ll be surprised at how many other things there are and it was after 00:30 when I finally crawled into bed

For once though I had a good sleep. Apart from a brief, very brief moment, I was asleep for the entire night but I was still feeling the worse for wear when I crawled out of bed at the sound of the alarm.

First thing was to go into the kitchen. I’ve no bread left and so I set to work to make a loaf of bread, starting by making the dough and giving it a good kneading.

Whilst it was busy festering I went into the bathroom. With it being a Dialysis Day to day I gave myself a good scrub and even applied the deodorant, not that it makes much difference

Having organised myself I sorted out the washing. There’s tons of it, but I washed the bed linen today along with some of the stuff of which supplies are running low. When I came here from the Auvergne I didn’t bring everything with me – just enough to keep me going. But there’s no chance now of going back to the Auvergne to pick up the rest.

When the nurse came round he looked at the dough and asked “are you making bread?”. His asinine, patronising comments are getting on my nerves.

Luckily he didn’t stay long and was soon down the road, and I can carry on with breakfast and my book.

Today, the Woolhope Naturalists are at Llandrindod Wells where we hear them applauding the efforts that are being made in salmon conservation and calling for some kind of control of pollution of the local rivers – a good 100 years ahead of their time.

And then I put the bread in the oven.

After I’d started the washing off I’d made a start on the dictaphone notes but the arrival of the nurse had put paid to that. So after breakfast I carried on. There was this very small girl. She was very small and very lively, and very interested in everything that seemed to be going on around her. One day I had to go to the hospital. A car came for me – it was a big Austin A110. I climbed into it and it had to go to pick up some more people. A guy was picked up and he sat in the back, a woman or a guy – it seemed to change between the two. Then there was this small girl and this woman. The woman insisted on sitting in the front, so much so that she actually climbed into the front while I was in the seat. In the end I agreed that I’d step out of the car and sit in the rear. The little girl made some kind of comment so I said “God, I’m sitting next to you, am I?” in one of those harmless fun tones which started a little bit of a play argument. This all took place at the entrance to a car park somewhere but it turned out to be at the Earl of Crewe. We were all at the Earl of Crewe outside, all fooling around, all of us. Someone came up to me and said “You’ve forgotten that it’s her birthday today, haven’t you?” meaning the little girl. I replied “I didn’t really know”. “Don’t worry. The driver has bought a little present for her on your behalf”. I thought “that’s nice of him. That’s the second time that he’s done that. I’ll have to see about paying him back or something”. But I have half an hour when I’m not doing anything. I was planning on looking at a recipe that someone had given me. Instead, I can look at the recipe in the car and go to buy her a present then. We all ended up in some kind of old house with low ceilings and wattle-and-daub walls. We were all inside there and making conversation with each other and the little girl was doing her school homework. There was someone else there doing some work at the seat behind her. I was going to read this recipe but I thought that I’d go to talk to this girl and see what she’s doing. and this dream carried on like that for ages.

This dream certainly dates me if I’m being picked up by an Austin A110. I was still a teenager when those cars were top-of-the-range. And I often used (and probably still do) tease young girls like that. The incident of the woman wanting to sit in the front reminds me of that strange guy at the Dialysis Centre who never opened his mouth all the time except when the taxi driver asked “who wants to sit in the front?”.

Having had one phantom alarm call we have a second. And one of my friends seems to be coming “extremely close” to everyone who comes to her house. Tomorrow morning there is going to be someone new going so we should all be at the house and we should catch her. Se we were there and were waiting. Sure enough, someone came, a refugee from some island somewhere. She had a close encounter with him which makes the fourteenth in fourteen days. After that we walked home. I walked away over the hills and when I was round about at an arch some woman came up, a type of girl, not even wanting to talk to me about anything other than the items of clothing in my freezer bag that I had to give her, a freezer bag with eight items of clothing in there so now there was one piece of pizza and just three or four left. She wanted to search through them and wasn’t going to let me go home until I’d submitted to a search

There is actually one of my friends who behaves like that. Mind you, it’s a good 15-20 years since I’ve seen her and even then I used to keep a respectable distance. However, I don’t understand anything about the second part of that dream.

By the way, I have absolutely no recollection of either of those phantom alarm calls.

Finally I was in a bedsit room in Manchester. It was something of a mess but I was leaving today. I had a train at 18:00 that I absolutely had to catch. I wanted to see one of the many followers of this blog before I left but he could only fit me in after 17:00. As he lived in Altrincham that was leaving it rather tight to go out there to see him then come back to Manchester in the centre for my train. I’d have to have everything ready but it was now 09:25, I was lying there, I was hearing people washing so I arose, found a bearskin to keep me warm and then went to see if there was a washbasin free where I had a really good wash ready for going out catching the Underground and going off to do the things that I needed to do

If I could go across Manchester on the Underground, that would be something of a miracle. Any plans for an underground network in the city have long-since been scuppered which was a shame and today everyone has to go by tram and even then it’s not all that convenient. The “Northern powerhouse” promised by so many politicians is a myth, a vote-catching soundbyte and as long as the politicians won’t admit that there’s anything of any importance beyond the M25, so it will remain.

Having hung up the washing to dry, I sorted out the bread. One side of it hadn’t risen at all so we can call this loaf a failure, which is a shame. But I can’t understand why that would be because the bread was in the middle of the oven with the heat, in principle, passing equally all around it.

While the bread was cooling and the washing was drying I came back in here where I was supposed to be having a morning off. However, I made an interesting discovery relating to what might in the near future be an interesting radio programme so I followed it up.

Round about 11:50 I had a message – “could you be ready for 12:15? We’re short of numbers today and there’s a person needing to go to Avranches for 13:00. Would you share?”.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am being offered an extraordinary service that exists nowhere else in the World to my knowledge, and it’s all free to me. Who am I to argue about any of this? In any case, the earlier we start, the earlier we finish

It meant a mad panic though, for me and my faithful cleaner to prepare me for the trip and we only just made it. Just as she was leaving, the driver turned up.

It was someone who had taken me to Paris in the past and we had a good chat on the way down to Avranches.

With the taxi coming early, I was early arriving and so I was coupled up quickly, and then left to my own devices.

For the first time in a couple of weeks I crashed out (and isn’t that a change?). Only for twenty minutes or so and when I awoke I had the most appalling indigestion that plagued me for hours.

With no interruptions I reviewed my Welsh, last week’s and the forthcoming week, had a close look at the homework that I need to finish off and then tidied up the laptop. The whole desktop is far too cluttered and there are loads of tabs open in Waterfox and I’ve no idea why. They aren’t open now.

No-one bothered me or interrupted me and as far as I could see, there wasn’t even a doctor on duty. But for the compression stage of the procedure where someone has to clamp my arm for ten minutes I had Julie the Cook again
"You really ought to try to do this yourself" she said
"Clear off!" I replied. "How else am I going to have a beautiful girl sitting beside me for ten minutes holding my hand?"

When they weighed me I found that I’d lost another 2kg. My “unfit” target weight is now firmly in my sights and if I can reach it I would be delighted. But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … getting it off is one thing. Keeping it off is something else completely.

The taxi driver was a new girl. She was an ambulancier in the Champagne-Ardennes who moved here five weeks ago. She applied to the company for a job and in the kind of logic that only they think is reasonable but neither my driver nor me could understand, they put her to driving taxis when she’s no idea of where she’s going. At least as an ambulancier she’d be with someone, which would help her pick up the hints.

And for once in our lives, having left the Dialysis Centre early, at Sartilly we find ourselves in a long queue stuck behind a tractor (it’s that time of year again) and we crawl all the way to Granville at 30kmh.

My faithful cleaner watched me up the stairs, and today I could manage nine before I need to lift up my leg with my hand. This is certainly progress and I hope that it keeps up.

Back in here even though I was early I did nothing until tea time. I was exhausted. But I made myself a lovely tea of a burger on a bun with salad and baked potato followed by apple cake and soya cream.

Now that this severe indigestion has eased somewhat I’m off to bed once I’ve dictated the radio notes. Tomorrow I’ll be busy with the radio, with pizza dough to make and there’s something else that I need to make but I’ve forgotten what it is right now. I hope that I remember.

But I forgot to mention an incident that caused panic and embarrassment at the Dialysis Clinic today.
A man walked by mistake into the ladies’ cloakroom and a couple of minutes later two women walked in behind him.
Suddenly there were all kinds of panic as a couple of nurses dashed towards the cloak room with the emergency gear.
"What’s going on?" I asked
"It’s one of those two women" replied a breathless nurse. "She’s had a stroke!"
"What about the other one?" I asked
"She wasn’t quick enough" replied the nurse.

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Friday 18th October 2024 – I HAVE BEEN …

… a busy boy yet again.

So much so that not only am I going to have tomorrow morning off (apart from bread-making and doing a machine-load of washing) but I actually had a couple of hours off this afternoon too.

In a mad, fit burst of energy I had all of the work that I intended to do today finished by hot chocolate time and it’s nice for once to be in a position where I could just lounge around.

It’s not as if I was in bed early last night. It was another late night, midnight in fact, when I hit the sack. But something remarkable happened, or didn’t happen, as the case may be. I slept all the way through to the alarm.

No awakening, no drenching in perspiration either. It really was a deep sleep. But that means that it’s not the dialysis that’s causing the problem. It must be something else, and I wonder what it might be.

So when the alarm went off I crawled out of bed and went off into the bathroom for a good wash and scrub up. Then back in here to find that the internet was down.

Not to worry. There were plenty of things that I could be doing. Like transcribing the dictaphone notes. I was out driving a taxi around Sandbach last night. I could hear all of the confusion in Crewe by listening to the radio and thought to myself “in a minute I’ll be mixed up in that” but a voice came over the radio when I told them that I’d finished my job, and that was to go to Sandbach Hall and pick up a couple of passengers to take them to Northampton. I thought “that’s sounding good”.

Yes, I’d often go to drive the taxi that we had in Sandbach, just for an evening’s peace and quiet away from the stress. I always drove it on a Thursday night because there were the weekly accounts to do and sitting at the station there waiting for the trains to come in, I could crack on and do them. But I had a few decent fares from there on a couple of occasions. Never quite made it to Northampton but Coventry once one Sunday afternoon.

When I’d finished that I decided that I’d perform a full back-up.

The last one that I took was in September last year and since then I’ve been backing up every night on the memory stick that lives in one of the USB ports

The situation here is that I have the big powerful machine with a 1TB SSD that is the driver disk, and a 4TB drive that is the data disk. And then there’s an array with several hard drives in it that constitutes the back-up disks. That all works very well so let’s hear it for the array

… "Hip, hip array!" – ed …

There are several external drives that I use for the more specialised back-ups and then there’s the 128GB USB stick in the back of the computer where I back up my data at least every night, and more often if necessary.

The nurse came to see me while I was in the middle of it all. He changed my bandages and when he finished, asked me “can you put on your socks on your own?”.

These socks are actually elasticated and very difficult to manage, and also I can’t bend enough these days with all of my problems. But I asked why he wanted to know.

The answer is that he thinks that in a week or two’s time I’ll no longer need the treatment to my legs and if I could put on my socks myself I wouldn’t need the nurses round every morning.

Sounds like a good plan to me so I reckon that after my shower on Wednesday I’d have a try. Anything if there’s a possibility of a good lie-in on a Sunday morning again.

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading the report of the Naturalists. We’re discussing primroses, cowslips and oxslips, not that I have any interest in botany, but I was interested to see the lecturer discussing treatment that was novel in 1867 but is commonplace today, and how flowers have evolved over the last 150 years or so.

He went on to say how putting manure on your primroses and cowslips improves their quality and, rather quaintly, goes on to extol the benefits of what he calls “street scrapings”. Yes, the horse-power back in those days came from real horses.

Back in here I carried on backing up until I’d finished, not having noticed that the internet was back on.

Once I’d finished another good job I started work,, finishing off the radio notes

My cleaner came early today. She decided that as it was a lovely day she’d go to join the crowds at the pèche-à-pied this afternoon so she’d come at lunchtime.

For the benefit of new readers, of whom there are more than just a few these days, I live in one of the best shellfish-producing areas in Europe, if not the World.

In principle, all of the beaches and rocks are let off to concessions who have the right to exploit what they find there. That right goes from high water-mark down to the low water-mark.

However, we also have some of the highest tides in Europe and about a dozen times per year, the tides are such that they go out beyond the low water mark. And when that happens, it’s a free-for-all on the very low part where everyone can rake up what he can, as long as he obeys the limits about size and quantity.

So she’s off with her bucket and grattoire and she’ll be OK as long as she shares her catch with her friends. After all, you mustn’t be selfish with your shellfish.

While she was here we chatted about this idea that I have about trying to put on my own socks. She’s not sure how I’m going to do it but she’s willing to see what I can do and how I do it.

And to be honest, so am I.

My salad butty at lunchtime used up the last of the bread and so tomorrow morning I’ll have to make some more. I’ll also have to set a washing machine off so even though it’s going to be a day of rest, I’ll still be busy.

Liz and I had a little chat which was nice. It’s been a long time since we spoke to each other

But anyway I finished off all of the notes for this programme that I’d been preparing. The music that I’d selected ran out at just over 53 minutes and I’d been keeping a careful count of the text that I’d written and I’ve calculated that it will run to 7 minutes and 12 seconds.

It’ll be great if it does because there won’t be much at all to cut out once the soundtrack has been edited.

After the hot chocolate I uninstalled a program that had been causing me problems and reinstalled an earlier version, only to find that I was having the same trouble.

That was when I discovered that I’d inadvertently changed a setting on the program that I’d deleted, that the version that I’d re-uploaded had remembered. A flick of a switch changed that and now I’ll have to uninstall that program and reinstall the new one again.

Tea tonight was vegan salad, chips and vegan nuggets, followed by apple cake and coconut-soya cream

So now it’s bedtime. so I’m clearing off, ready to fight the good fight tomorrow, and I hope that you like my Robinson Crusoe impression

When my cleaner was in I told her that today I was going to do my impression of Robinson Crusoe.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well" I replied "all of his work was done by Friday too"

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Thursday 17th October 2024 – SOMEONE IS GOING …

.. to have their nether regions given a good kicking in the near future. And I can’t say that I’m sorry.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that a few months ago I had an ugly confrontation in the private hospital at Avranches with someone on the accounts department that led to me writing to the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the company.

Today I’ve finally had a response, full of grovelling apology (I had a cheque sent back to me a week or so ago) and containing the ominous “your letter will be placed before our Committee who will examine your complaint”.

Having received full reimbursement, it’s obvious that my complaint has been upheld, after all, it’s not like a private organisation to hand back money without a fight, so all we need now is a good witch-hunt, complete with a ceremonial burning at the stake

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, after I finished my notes last night I had one or two things that needed doing so yet again I was rather late going to my nice, clean, fresh bed.

But once in it, I was away quite quickly and there I stayed, all curled up, until the alarm went off. There had been one or two minor awakenings during the night but I was soon asleep again.

When the alarm went off I was in the middle of a dream. I was auditing some accounts for some company, going through their office and checking everything. There was a guy and girl there working together. It was quite obvious that the guy had his eye on the girl. After he went out of the room I began to talk to the girl to find out a little more about her to see if I could encourage these two in some way. Then the guy came back and carried on talking. I could see that he was looking nervous and was glancing at me so I just said to him “oh, go ahead. Don’t mind me” and tried to encourage him to ask her for a date. Then I was at home and one of my friends was there. We were talking about diabetics. I was watching TV in French, a TV programme in French while she was working. She was wondering why I was sitting down and not doing things. She found that it was actually a programme about diabetes. They were talking about “if you’re having a crisis, have a fruit” but I replied that quite often when I have a diabetic crisis I don’t have any fruits any more. I’ve run out”. And then I was thinking “maybe it’s a good idea to go out and buy some, then we can have a coffee as well, things like that” but my friend had so much work on her plate that I thought “maybe it’s not such a very good idea to propose that we stop for a moment”

Eating a fruit is a good idea in a diabetic crisis and at the hospital they usually give me a cup of orange juice if I’m having a wobble. Then along came the dietician who tells me that fruit has loads of potassium in it, my potassium is too high and I must cut down on the fruit. But that is just how everything is – one thing going on is affecting something else so I need a pill for the side-effect, but that pill then affects something else so I need another. And so on. I counted once just recently and it was about 32 pills, tablets and medicines per day (it’s increased since then). And I bet it’s all on account of the first one that I started taking. It’s hard to believe that when I went to live in Leuven in early 2016 I was just taking four pills per day.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, a shave and applied plenty of deodorant, even though it probably serves no useful purpose. And then I came in here to listen to the dictaphone. I can only remember a small part of this dream but I had to go to the bank to draw some money out at a cash point. I drew out £80:00 when I went to the shops last Tuesday but I thought that if I was drawing out that sum every week it’s going to be an awful lot of money. I was driving down the hill to where the little bank branch was where there was a machine where I could draw the money but suddenly I found myself maybe half a mile further on at a road junction. “Never mind” I thought. I could turn left here, turn round and go back again. But the left turning was a one-way street. I thought “I’ve been here before and turned down here but it’s all really complicated but I can’t remember seeing the bank branch when I drove down here just now. I mean, it’s dark and usually all its lights are on and you can see it from quite some distance away but tonight there was nothing. I hope that it’s not been closed down while I’ve been going”.

And I’ve been down this road during a previous night too. It’s the road that I drove down once and waited on a corner somewhere in South London when I was on another nocturnal ramble. And although I can’t recognise the first part of it, I now recognise the second part where I tried to turn left last night and the corner where I waited last time. It’s in Saint John in New Brunswick, just around the corner from where my Canadian insurance broker has her office. Well, well, well. But I wonder if the dream is symbolic of the issues that I had recently with my bank card.

It was Isabelle the nurse today, seeing as her partner has had to go to the doctor (and doesn’t that inspire a lot of confidence in a nurse?). She was her usual cheerful self, blitzed through her task and then cleared off, leaving me alone.

And so I made my breakfast and read my book. Right now, I’ve read the introduction and all the members are taking the train in the middle of a blinding rainstorm, to go to look at the rocks at Colwall in the Malvern Hills. We’re having a long, complicated talk on geology and underlying rock strata, which makes me wish that I could remember more of my A-level Geography. All the time that I spent studying rock formation in the Arctic with Mark St Onge on our trips out there on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR seems not to have done me much good

Back here I cleared up a few bits and pieces and then made a start on writing the notes for the next radio programme. I’ve now done a few but this is turning into something rather more complicated than I had imagined. It’s not easy.

My cleaner came in and helped me with my anaesthetic patches, and then she tried some of the new tubi-grip bandage that we’ve acquired thanks to the prescription from Isabelle the nurse. That seems to work really well and I’m impressed.

The taxi came early and we set off, picking up another passenger on the way, for the Dialysis Clinic.

Being quite early I was soon installed in my bed with my laptop and music and the nurses didn’t hang about either. The first needle went in almost painlessly but the second one wasn’t so easy and they needed the echograph machine to test for the tube in my arm.

And when they finally found it and pushed the needle in, the anaesthetic had worn off.

It looks as if it’s definitely all over between Emilie the Cute Consultant and me.

She was there this afternoon and although she gave me a little wave of her hand, she kept her distance and that was that.

She certainly speaks English because there’s a monolingual English-speaker being dialysed and she was talking to him in English so she’s probably a regular reader of this rubbish and will recall a few of the comments that I have made. That’s enough to drive anyone away, I suppose. Let’s face it, I have enough trouble trying to persuade anyone to come near me in normal times, never mind when we are thrust together cheek by jowl to fester away in a hospital.

The other nurses came by every now and again to check the machine and to ask me to translate stuff for them so that they could speak to the English guy.

However I spent most of the time now that I have an internet connection trying to track down the dates of some of these live concerts that I have. I didn’t check many because it’s really had to do it when you aren’t comfortable, you only have one hand that you can use and that’s interrupted every 20 minutes by a blood pressure reading.

They carried out a diabetes test on me and sure enough it was at a critical level so they gave me a big glass of orange juice. Presumably they don’t think much of the dietician either.

After they unplugged me, disconnected me and compressed me, I went to weigh myself. I’d lost 3.1 kg in this session. All of that would be quite impressive if I wouldn’t put almost all of it straight back on again. It’s no good taking it off and it all going back on.

And a blood test report was sent to me today. After dialysis a few days ago the creatine was down to 283 (the required level in less than 100 and mine was at 450 which is close to fatal just before all of this started). However when I went back to dialysis a few days later it was up at almost 350 again. So not even that is staying put.

But never mind all of that. If I’m feeling better with just that much improvement, what will I be like if ever it goes down to less than 100 and I’m at my target weight?

There were three of us in the taxi and the driver was having an intense discussion with the other passenger so I sat in the back and relaxed.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and watched as today I made 8 steps without using my hand to lift up my leg. If I keep this up, in a couple of months I’ll be outside through the skylight climbing up the roof to the chimney.

My cleaner says that she’s noticed a major improvement over the last few weeks and thinks that I ought to try going for a drive. But that’s out of the question right now. There’s not enough force in my right leg to apply the brake and that’s that.

Tea was, as I said yesterday, a slice of vegan pie with vegetables in gravy and I forgot the herbs with the gravy. But the pie defrosted and warmed up really well in the air fryer and really was nice. I made the gravy thick and glutinous and stirred the veg in it so that the gravy stuck to all of them. That made it even nicer.

So right now, later than intended, I’m off to bed. But the talk of tying someone to a stake and burning them alive reminds me of a boy at our old school.
He came in one morning saying."I saw this incredible film last night. It was all about this man who changed into a bat and they killed him by hammering a stake into his heart. Can you imagine that? Killing a man with a stake?"
"That’s nothing" I retorted. "My mother can do that with egg and chips"

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