Category Archives: hospital

Thursday 7th May 2026 – IT SEEMS TO ME …

… that no-one in the hierarchy at dialysis has the least idea of what is going on there. The nurses and assistants are all adorable and I’d bring them all home to my apartment afterwards if I could, but as for the rest …

On Monday I pointed out that, having gone in there with just a few hundred grammes to lose, they suddenly went into a huge panic, wound the machine up to three thousand five hundred, and the time to four hours.

Today, having carefully managed my intake, it was once more just a couple of hundred grammes. And then they came swarming into the room to wind it up to two thousand. An hour and a half later, they wound it back down to eighteen hundred. So what’s going on? And why all the panic?

Anyway, that was today.

Last night, I mentioned my rather strange night and the fact that I was in bed round about 20:00 or so. Out like a light straight away, there I lay until shortly after 03:00. And to my surprise, I was lying on my back and not coughing at all.
At some point, I must have gone back to sleep because I had another one of these dramatic upright awakenings that I sometimes have, and it was 05:11.

Now here’s something that will surprise you. I left the bed and went to stroll the parapet and then came back in here, sat down at the computer, and started work. I must have been feeling better.

The first thing that I did was to start to write the notes from yesterday, but I hadn’t quite finished when the alarm went off so I abandoned them for now while I went into the bathroom.

After my trip into the kitchen for my medication and mouthful of grapefruit juice, I came back in here to carry on with the notes.

When they were done and online, I turned my attention to the dictaphone notes to find out what had happened during the night.

There was a very long and complicated dream about Steve Tyler and his daughter Liv and I don’t know if I can remember all of it. He was taking part in some kind of event in the USA and there was a parallel event in the UK at the same time. While he was searching the web, he came across a blog written by a girl of about fourteen who was at the UK event, so he began to comment on her entries about the difference between what was happening there and what was happening in the UK. This correspondence went on for hours and days. And then there was something to do with his daughter Liv. She was only something like four or five. He had to go out but couldn’t find a babysitter but there was some kind of place where you could take children where they could sleep overnight. There would probably be twenty or thirty kids in this place with four or five monitors. The kids would be left there to sleep so he took her there. As Liv grew up, she was constantly being warned about her father’s bad habits, substance abuse, etc., and to be very careful about what she took that he offered her. At some point, she decided that she would leave home and go to New York, so she was on a train waiting to depart. She had some kind of irrational fear of losing her money so she was checking it every minute or two to make sure that she had it.

Steve Tyler’s problems are legendary, unfortunately, and the story of his relationship with his daughter got off to a very bad start and ended in a whole web of confusion. The story of a girl of fourteen plays some kind of role in this, but that’s another story for which the World is not yet ready to hear. Being a rock star in the late 1960s and 1970s was a minefield.

I was staying in someone’s house in a commune-type of place. It was early morning and I’d been up and about repairing the lawnmower and one or two other things, including some kind of gauge with a backlight. The woman in charge of this commune place came out and began to roar at me about not having begun to tidy up the garden and weed it. I said to her “you know, all you need to say is ‘Eric, could you weed the garden?'”. She stormed off in a foul mood saying “I shall expect a full apology”. I took the lawnmower back and found that I’d lost half of this gauge. One or two people searched and found one of the bits but not the other, so I thought “I’d look for that later”. Then I had to go to the bathroom but I didn’t feel like going into the house to the bathroom so I went out and walked down the main street. Eventually, I came to the covered market so I went in there. There was a guy sitting there behind a stall so I asked him if he knew if there was a public convenience in the building. He replied “yes”, but that wasn’t the answer that I wanted. Two young boys with him began to smile and joke so I glared at them and they cowered away. He still wouldn’t tell me so I walked away. Eventually, I found what I was looking for but they were so small and tight that it was a struggle to fit in. It had a strange kind of glass there that smoked on the outside when there was someone inside but the person inside could quite happily see what was happening outside. It was very, very strange and weird.

Back in the mid-seventies, I lived in a commune for a while. A very short while. I met some of the most selfish people I have ever met and in the end, I preferred the companionship of the spider in my van.

The nurse turned up as usual and didn’t seem to be all that interested in my day and night yesterday, so we didn’t say much.

After he left, I made breakfast and finished off THE ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT MONKTON by the Kent Archaeological Service. The remaining pages didn’t have much to say for themselves.

Back in here, I attacked the radio programme that I’d started yesterday. All of the music has now been traced, reformatted, remixed and re-edited and it has all been paired and segued. Tomorrow, I’ll write the notes for it.

My cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for the taxi. It was ten minutes early arriving but we had someone to drop off at Sartilly. Nevertheless, I was early arriving at dialysis, but even so, I had to wait for over an hour to be connected.

And just my luck – it was the nurse from the other day but when she saw that it was me, she made an excuse and left me to her colleague.

Then we had all of the shenanigans and I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. I was trying to write out a shopping list but all of the traffic coming to my bed disrupted that. Everyone came to see me, even the dietician who now wants to put me on an intravenous drip. No chance of that.

By the end of the afternoon, I was half-expecting the trick cyclist to put in an appearance.

Late again as usual leaving, my driver was waiting so we were home quite quickly, but still horribly late.

My faithful cleaner helped me, and after she left, I came in here to write up my notes.

Now that they are done, there are just a few little things left to do and then I’ll be off to bed. I had a really good start to the day but it all seems to have gone downhill subsequently. So here’s hoping for further improvement tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Liv Tyler counting her money … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the film INSPECTOR HORNLEIGH ON HOLIDAY when Alastair Sim, hanging upside down over a roof edge, loses all of the money in his pocket.
"Oh no!" he replied. "I’ve lost two and sevenpence ha’penny!"

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Monday 4th May 2026 – I’M REALLY GLAD …

… that I didn’t have to go to dialysis this morning. I would probably have never even made it to the front door.

As I told Isabelle the Nurse later, this morning was the worst that I had ever felt in my life.

It didn’t seem like that last night, though. It’s true that with baking my loaf and all of that last night, I was quite late starting to write my notes. And with everything else that I have to do too, it ended up being well after 22:00 that I finally finished everything and crawled under the quilt covers.

As usual, it took a good while to go to sleep, but I awoke at some point due to a desperate coughing fit, so desperate that it caused me to vomit no fewer than four times. After that, somehow I managed to go back to sleep.

But not for long. I awoke again, this time for a different reason, and when I checked the time, it was 03:54. So when I’d finished walking the parapet, I came back to bed but I couldn’t go back to sleep. There I lay until the alarm went off at 06:29.

At that point, it was a desperate struggle to rise to my feet and I almost didn’t make it. And in the bathroom, I crashed out on the chair in there at least twice while I was trying to sort myself out.

Not surprisingly, I was hours late going into the kitchen, but as it’s a Dialysis Day, I just had a mouthful of grapefruit juice to wash down my medication.

Back in here, I fell asleep in my chair I don’t know how many times, but even so, I managed to transcribe the dictaphone notes.

This was a dream about a girl whom I knew in school but unfortunately it vanished as soon as I reached for the dictaphone. That was a shame because it was one of these extremely interesting. One part that I do remember is that some kind of booklet had been published and that a friend of mine who was a critic had given very positive reviews. But it turned out that it was one of these “new wave” books, talking about lesbianism, that kind of thing. It was denounced in several countries because of its theme and she was put on some kind of list to prevent entry into many of these countries because of her critique

What a pity that I can’t recall the first part of this dream. It sounds as if it might have been interesting. I wonder who the girl was too.

As for the second part, this appears to relate to nothing at all.

When Isabelle the Nurse turned up, I told her of my woes, and she insisted that I talk to a doctor about them. She has agreed that this has gone beyond a joke.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright. However, I can’t remember anything that I read. I do, however, remember falling asleep four or five times while I was eating, despite how strong I’d made the coffee.

Back in here, I fell asleep for an hour in my chair and then gradually came round into the Land of the Living. I spent the next fifty minutes researching the next radio programme and then went to prepare my things for dialysis.

My faithful cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for the taxi. We had to go to Sartilly to pick someone else up, and so we were late arriving at dialysis. It goes without saying that I was one of the last to be plugged in too.

While I was being attended to, I mentioned that I would like to see the doctor on duty, so my nurse made a note. And once she’d left, instead of doing any work, I settled down and went to sleep – in so far as it was possible to do so in there.

There were all kinds of people buzzing around my head, but I didn’t take very much notice. It turns out that with everything that I had told them about the fatigue, they had turned the machine up to “maximum” and prolonged the stay from three and a half to four hours. Consequently, just over 3500 ml of fluid was being extracted and my dry weight was set well below my “sporty” weight.

The doctor on duty who came to see me was Emilie the Cute Consultant. She told me that the fibroscopy had discovered two aggressive microbes in my lungs, and so she would prescribe a course of aggressive antibiotics to deal with it. I hope that their aggressiveness matches the microbes – or at least gives me some relief.

While I was at it, I was also having a little chat with an old schoolfriend who now lives in Crewe. He was doing his best to console me, which was very nice.

It was one of my favourite taxi drivers who came to pick me up, and because we had to fuel up with diesel at the depot, we were later than ever arriving home. My faithful cleaner helped me into the apartment and after she left, I came in here to write up my notes. No tea again.

So now that I’ve written up my notes, there are still a few things to do and then I’m off to bed, hoping for a better day tomorrow. After all, it could hardly have been worse today, could it?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the contents of my lungs … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once asked me "do you know what ‘bacteria’ are?"
"They are the rear entrances to cafés, aren’t they?" I replied.

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Thursday 30th April 2026 – TODAY HAS BEEN …

… a somewhat better day, at least, for the most part. I’ve also accomplished more than I accomplished yesterday too, even though there were only two hours in which to do any work.

Last night, I began to write out my notes at about 19:30, but even so, it took quite a while to complete them and then do everything else that needed doing. I don’t suppose that I was in bed much before 21:30.

It took another few minutes to drop off to sleep, but I awoke, following another coughing fit, at some unearthly time of the morning. I didn’t check the time but I do remember debating with myself whether to leave the bed in order to go to walk the parapet. However, the decision was taken out of my hands, as I must have fallen asleep at that point.

Somewhat later, I awoke again, with no need to debate the situation. I did check the time this time, and it was 04:43. THis made me think about staying up and dictating some radio notes, but how can you debate when you are being wracked by fits of coughing? Instead, I climbed back under the quilt where I fell asleep again.

When the alarm went off, I was with my former friend from Stoke on Trent. We had my LDV on a trailer that was being pulled by something. We were round at his house, although it was nothing like his house. It was a terraced house in one of the better classes of terraces with a front garden, something like in Alton Street near the old petrol station. Anyway, this guy and someone else had to go to a meeting, which was in one of the houses a little way down the street. When they went to this meeting, someone opened the door, and I could see the wall decoration, which was blue, black and white, and it looked terrible but they went in. I went back to the LDV and I had to walk around the vehicle on the trailer. Someone shouted from a distance “are you fat?” so I just ignored them. By this time, I had over my shoulder my travelling bag with my clothes, etc. in it. When I came round to the back of the vehicle, it was no longer the LDV but a Land Rover. There was some kind of big machine sitting on the tailgate so I picked up the machine, which was fairly heavy, and went up into the guy’s house. Once inside, I wiped my feet on the doormat and went to install myself on a chair in the kitchen with this machine and my clothes bag. But when the alarm went off, I was somewhere on foot down some kind of motorway somewhere but I don’t know where and I don’t know why.

My LDV was a strange van. It was good when I bought it, but I couldn’t find any spare parts at all for it over here. In the end, the join between the roof and one of the sides rusted through, which might not have been so bad had I not had a big roof rack on it, on which I carried huge loads of wood.

And I reckon that I’ve told the story of my former friend often enough that it doesn’t bear repeating.

As usual, it took me a while to summon up the courage and the energy to leave the bedroom, and after a stagger into the bathroom to have a wash and a shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, I went into the kitchen for my medication. Today, as it’s dialysis, I washed it down with just a mouthful of grapefruit juice.

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

I had to go somewhere in my van and meet a few of my friends in a nearby town. I had a huge load of computers with me, eight notebooks and three ordinary laptops. I arrived at the place where we were meeting, which was next door to a bar. We had a chat about a few things, which included registering for health insurance so we ordered that. I was astonished to notice that I was registered n°1. There was some work to do on the van and then we walked down to the place where we were meeting our friends. He mentioned something about a load of grain to pick up from the side of the road somewhere up in the mountains. I almost set out but realised that I’d left the computers on the edge of the road so I had to go back for them. Then, I drove off into the hills, but I couldn’t see this pile of grain anywhere. In the end, I came back and told them about the pile of grain that I couldn’t find. The conversation carried on, and we saw a few people go into the bar next door, including two old women carrying guitars. Our host brought out three cans of beer and told us to choose one, two of one make and one of another. I chose the one on its own, but I couldn’t take the label off the backing plastic, no matter how I tried. It wouldn’t come off. And then we carried on talking about the grain. I realised that I would have to go back for it, but even if I found it, I wouldn’t be able to load it in because there was nothing in the van to help me do that. But first, I had to go to find it, so I set out, drove a hundred yards, suddenly realised that the computers were on the edge of the street again so I went back for them and put them in the van.

This is another one of those dreams that means nothing to me. There are in fact three notebooks and probably half a dozen laptops hanging around here, of which three or four laptops are probably working. And I haven’t drunk any beer for probably about thirty-five years.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual. She gave me a little weather forecast, sorted out my legs and feet, and then left as rapidly as she had arrived. I made my breakfast and then read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re discussing the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, at least in Britain. And while he has his dates slightly mixed up, he’s steering clear so far of any controversial discussion.

Back in here, I had a few things to finish off and then I attacked the radio programme. By the time I was ready to knock off, all of the music had been segued and I’d written over three quarters of the notes. That’s some good going.

My cleaner came in to help me with the anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the ambulance. It was a minute or two early, but there was someone else to pick up en route.

Even so, I was early arriving. And for a change, they seem to be a little more clued-up in there, as they have now put me in the bed nearest the door rather than the one farthest away. There are still beds nearer than where I was put, but “baby steps”.

Once again, I was down at my dry weight as I entered, and, in a big surprise, I was one of the first seen to, too. As there was nothing to extract, they had a series of discussions amongst themselves which resulted in the extraction amount being changed three times.

They left me alone for most of the session, which was good news, and I was also one of the first to be unplugged. The nurse who attended to me told me that the results from Friday had not yet arrived, hence the delay in telling me. And weighing myself on leaving, there’s just one kilo to go before I reach my sporty weight, although I don’t feel very sporty right now.

The taxi wasn’t there, so I had to wait ten minutes, which meant that I wasn’t at home as early as I would have liked. But after my cleaner had helped me in and left, I came back in here to write up my notes.

Now, I’ll be off to bed in a few moments, with a day of comparative rest before me, as my cleaner has decided to have a day off tomorrow, with it being a Bank Holiday over here.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about losing weight … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember when Nerina went on one of these weight-loss diets.
"How’s it going, dear?" I asked her
"Great" she replied. "In three weeks, I’ve lost 6 kilos."
"You keep it up, dear" I told her. "In another thirty weeks, you’ll be gone completely."

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Monday 27th April 2026 – TODAY HAS NOT …

… been much better than the last couple of days, unfortunately.

As seems to be usual these days, I was later than I would have liked to have been, going to bed last night. With the football that ran on until about 20:15, by the time that I’d finished what needed to be done and sorted out myself in the bathroom, it was about 21:30 when I finally settled down in bed.

Something else that is also becoming usual these days too is the fact that it took me longer than usual to drop off to sleep, But once I’d gone, I was gone.

Whatever time it was that I awoke, I had no idea, but it can’t have been long after I’d dropped off to sleep, because the electric water heater hadn’t switched on, so it was obviously before midnight. And there I lay, tossing and turning and coughing for the rest of the night until the alarm went off at 06:29.

It took a good while for me to leave the edge of my bed and stagger off into the bathroom, where, as well as a good wash, I had a good shave too in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. By the time that I arrived in the kitchen, it was much later than usual, but no hot drink today. It’s Dialysis Day, so just a quick mouthful of orange juice to wash down my medication.

Back in here, I transcribed the dictaphone notes from the previous night and they are now online, all of them. And what an effort that was. There weren’t any notes from last night – after all, if you don’t sleep for long, you don’t really have the time to go far.

The nurse came along as usual, and it shows you just how interested he is, in that he’d forgotten why I had been to the hospital on Friday morning. I certainly hadn’t!

After he had left, I made my breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re discussing interments and cremations, and so far, he’s managing to steer clear of any controversial subject. However, every time that he states that “it is, in my mind, undisputed that …” my immediate reflection is to go to check.

After breakfast, I came back in here and did a few things that needed doing (and didn’t do a lot of things that did) and then finished my Welsh homework. And that took much longer than it ought to have done too, what with having to reformat it into a *.pdf so that I could send it off for marking.

All the time that that was going on, I was having a chat, mostly about cats, would you believe, with an old school friend who now lives in Crewe, but I had to abandon in the end because it was time to gather up my things for dialysis.

My faithful cleaner came to sort out my anaesthetic. We had a really good chat and then, after she left, I had to go to … errr … walk the parapet, where I was caught in flagrante delicto by the taxi driver who came fifteen minutes early. “Still, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish” said Yours Truly, not knowing what the fates had in store for him.

There was already someone else in the car and we had a third passenger to pick up en route, the lady from the Old People’s Home at Sartilly, but even so, we were still early arriving.

It made no difference to me, though. I was still one of the last to be plugged in. And once more, after four days of no dialysis, I was still under my dry weight when I checked in. It’s amazing what no food will do for you.

There is one nurse there who is … well … a little lacking in tolerance than the rest, so guess who I had. And throughout the whole session, she did nothing but try to make me feel guilty about not being able to perform any of the procedures myself.

Let’s face it – there are people who have what I consider to be an irrational fear of spiders, or clowns, or anything else for that matter, but I don’t spend all of the time criticising them. By the end of the session, it had reached such an extent that I almost told her where to stick her plasters, instead of on my arm.

Another thing that really got my goat was that not one of the doctors on duty there came to discuss Friday morning with me. That they might not yet have received the results would be no surprise, but at least they might have come to talk about the visit and “what happens next”.

During the session, I was so wracked with coughing fits that I vomited again. This isn’t turning out very well.

The nurse had the last laugh. I’m convinced that she terminated the session early. I have an automatic blood-pressure test every thirty minutes, but I definitely counted one short of however many there should have been.

When the disconnection was complete, I had to wait twenty-five minutes for the taxi, and when he arrived, he confirmed the time for which he’d been summoned, which agreed with my suspicions. But then, we had to wait another twenty-five minutes for the lady from Sartilly to finish. It’s definitely not my day, is it?

My cleaner was waiting for me as usual, and she helped me into the apartment. And after she left, I said a phrase that has a connection, albeit distant, with a lump of turf and came in here to write out my notes.

Now that they are finished, I have no idea and neither do I care, but I’m off to bed, without a meal yet again. As I came into the building, I could smell chips being cooked, and quite frankly, it turned my stomach

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my cleaner … "well, one of us has" – ed … she and I were discussing apartments on sale around here in case my friend from Munich ever wants to come to join us up here in the “Monaco du Nord”.
There was one that I’d seen that looked quite nice, so I mentioned it.
"Do you know how much that costs?"
"No Idea" I replied
"It’s on sale at one million three!" she exclaimed.
Which, at that point, we both said in unison, completely impromptu, "between the two of us, we could probably manage the ‘three’. But where would we find the rest?"

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Friday 24th April 2026 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

… if not gruesome day I’ve had today. It’s been easily the worst day that I have ever had in my life and I’m really glad that it’s over.

Yesterday, there was no sign or suggestion of any of this. I’d finished everything that needed finishing by 21:30, and so, a couple of minutes later, I went to bed, hoping for a really good, stress-free night.

However, in that, I was quite disappointed. Although I went to sleep shortly after going to bed, it was only the sleep of a moment. I was soon awake, and wide-awake too, and there I stayed for the rest of the night. Nothing seemed to be able to help me go back to sleep, although I actually found a way of lying that actually stopped me coughing. It was quite uncomfortable, but it worked fine until I rolled over subsconsciously into another position.

Eventually, at long last, the alarm went off but it took an age for me to rise to my feet and head for the bathroom.

This morning, I’m supposed to be à jeun – in famine mode. Even a glass of water is banned, but I can take some water to wash down the medication, so I prepared today’s dosage, with the relaxing pill amongst them, ready to take when the driver arrives to take me to Avranches.

It was the same driver as yesterday evening – the Belgian girl – and she’s great fun. But today was much more serious. When we arrived at the hospital, she found a wheelchair for me, and then after registration, she pushed me up to the third floor and my appointment with doom.

We had to wait ten minutes for someone to come to see me, and at that point, my driver said “goodbye”. She told me that she’d be thinking of me and that she’d send me some healing vibes, which was nice, and then she patted me on the shoulder as she left, which was sweet of her.

In the operating theatre, or whatever you call it, I asked if there was gas available. The doctor told me that this examination was not compulsory and that I could opt out of it if I liked. I told him that I knew that, but I can’t go on like this, with all of this coughing.

The doctor made me lie flat on the bed with my head tilted back. Two nurses held me by the hands, but they were … welll … I wouldn’t like to meet them on my own up a dark alley late at night. You could tell by the force that they were using that they were intent on stopping my arms flailing around as I had a panic attack.

The doctor poured some anaesthetic down my nose to deaden it, and it overflowed into my mouth. One of the nurses told me to swallow it – she said that it would anaesthetise my throat.

And then they began.

Despite the anaesthetic, I don’t want to relive those moments again. And neither do I want to relive the moments when they withdrew it. The doctor told me that he’d cleaned my bronchii, which I could tell that he had. He said that he didn’t recall seeing anyone as clogged up as me

They had asked me if I lived alone as I came in, and as the answer was in the affirmative, I had to wait in the waiting room for an hour before they called the taxi to take me home.

The driver eventually appeared, pushing a wheelchair. I’d asked my Belgian friend to warn the next driver that a wheelchair would be necessary. He took me downstairs and pushed me to the car, where someone was already installed inside. Consequently, we had to go via Mont Perrett to drop him off on the way home.

As my faithful cleaner wasn’t there today, I asked the driver if he would accompany me to the apartment. He took the car round to the back of the building where the distance is shorter and the floor is much better, and then went into my bedroom for the office chair. He sat me on it and then pushed me all the way into the bedroom before leaving.

Once he’d gone, I crashed out immediately.

My faithful cleaner awoke me when she came in later to do her stuff, and I managed to make my breakfast at that point.

However, once she’d gone, I crashed out yet again and didn’t awaken until 18:00. And at that point, I was practically unable to function. Consequently, I just posted a terse notes on my blog page and that was that. I climbed into bed and went straight to sleep. What a horrible day.

But here’s a thing – with your vision, you are normally moving your head and all of the frames in your little “film” merge together to make an evenly flowing “film”. Since this morning, it’s as if my vision is sticking and then suddenly, the image seems to jump a few frames to catch up. It’s a totally weird situation.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about vision problems … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone went to the doctor’s to complain about their vision.
"I’m seeing nothing but spots before my eyes, doctor. Can you help?" he asked.
"You really need to see an opthalmist, you know." replied the doctor. "Have you seen one yet?"
"No, doctor. Just spots!"

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Thursday 23rd April 2026 – HERE I AM …

… running hours late yet again, but tell me – if you had the choice between coming inside to your miserable, depressing life in here or standing outside in the absolutely glorious evening sun, chatting to friends and neighbours, what would you do?

That’s right, it’s been the most beautiful day of the year today, with not even a single cloud in the sky to put a damper on the proceedings, so naturally, I had to spend the afternoon in dialysis, didn’t I?

Still, at least last night wasn’t as bad as some have been.

By the time that I’d finished my notes etc. and was ready for bed, it was just about 22:00, later than I would like but never mind. I was soon under the covers, all nice and comfortable, and although it took, as usual, quite a while to go off to sleep, I was so comfortable that it didn’t really matter.

However, a few hours later, also as usual, I was awake again. No sign of going off to sleep so I ended up counting sheep. I had quite a flock but eventually I must have fallen asleep because when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual, it awoke me.

And, also as usual, it took an age for me to struggle to my feet and go into the bathroom, where I had a good scrub-up and even a shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Not hot drink this morning – just a small mouthful of orange juice to wash down my medication – and then back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during what little night I’d had.

At some point, I dreamed that I was helping a girl who used to live in the Auvergne move her crockery and things like that. We had to be very careful with some of it because the handles could easily break. She sent a mail to me to tell me that someone else was coming along to help, and I should give him the same warning too. Then, in the dream, my alarm went off and I leapt out of bed and put on some football gear that was lying around in my room, as if I were going to be playing in a football match. Then, I found myself back in the bed and I wondered what happened to the alarm and me dressed in – that I was still in bed in my night clothes.

That’s something that I’ve done a few times, helping people move house, and I’ve done more than just a few of those in the Auvergne. But I’m sure that some people will recall who this girl might be if I were to mention that it’s par for the course for her to disappear as soon as the work starts.

The nurse turned up as usual, and I mentioned that I had a taxi coming for me at 08:00 so he’ll need to be here beforehand to sort out my legs and feet. His response, quite typically, was “go to bed tonight in your socks. I won’t be able to make it”. No surprise there.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re talking about religion, and here’s a surprising thing. Our author tells us "Over the left shoulder of Saturn is a sickle in form of our modern bill-hook, Sol wears a radiated crown, Luna, a crescent, Mars is helmeted and carries a shield, the head of Mercury is winged, the bust of Jupiter has been injured, and his emblems are not clearly to be recognised, Venus carries a mirror. Other museums in Germany, I am informed, contain sculptures of the planets similarly arranged."

In France, and in many other places too, I would imagine, it’s the custom, and has been for hundreds of years at least, to draw and sculpt images of the saints, each with his or her own particular emblem. One saint is always seen with a child, another with a loaf of bread, another with a dog and so on. I wonder if this dates back to the very early years of Christianity and is a reflection of adopting the practice from the Roman gods.

While I was sitting at the table, I crashed out yet again, and while I was away, I was off on my travels.

While I was having another little doze at the breakfast table, I dreamed that I was playing with the Spencer Davis Group at a festival in Greece. After we’d played, we took a boat and went across the strait to an island to look at the lighthouse there. However, we weren’t impressed so we came back. However, we didn’t land near our hotel but at a secluded beach about a mile down the coast. We came ashore on some kind of jetty and one of our party threw a plastic bottle into the sea. We found a place to spread out and lie down, but I went for an explore. I came across another hotel that was being used for concert performers and crew, so I went in. For some reason, I came out of the lift at the second floor and walked along the corridor, looking at the names of the occupants, and down at the far end, I saw the name of a former girlfriend from school. I knocked and went in to say hello, and she was delighted to see me. Her room had a window that tilted horizontally in the middle, so I tilted it wide open and flew outside for a good look. Back in the room, we were discussing her career. I told her that honestly, only one person in a thousand at this level makes it to the top. She replied that she was determined to work as hard as it takes so that the one person in a thousand would be her.

Dreams about me flying are very rare indeed. I’ll have to go back probably twenty years for the last one.

But as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, we went to GREECE in 2013 and spent a happy week on Anxios, one of the Sporadic Islands, but not with the Spencer Davis Group. And I didn’t meet a girlfriend from school there either.

Back in here, I spent a little while sorting out a few things and then attacking the radio programme. It’s still been a struggle tracking down the music that I want, and one day, I hope that I will have what I need.

My cleaner turned up as usual to help me with the anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi to arrive. Bang on time he turned up, but with all of the roadworks and having to go to pick up someone else, we were late arriving at Avranches.

Late arriving means late being plugged in and with the machine playing up, I was resigned to it being a long session. One of the doctors (not Emilie the Cute Consultant, unfortunately) came to see me, and she told me that they were going to reduce my dry weight. “At long, long last!” I said to myself. “Now we can go about doing this properly”.

When I’d finished everything, I was next-to-last leaving but my taxi driver, one of my favourites, was waiting for me and we had a good chat as she drove me home. But once again, we were caught up in the roadworks so we ended up being late back. And after my neighbourhood chat, it was even much later when I came back in here. But it was worth it, being out in the sun.

After my cleaner left, I had half a piece of chocolate cake and home-made ice cream and then came back in here to finish off everything. And in a short while, I’ll be off to bed. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow, as you can imagine.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about counting sheep … "well, one of us has" – ed … out on a ranch in the Australian outback, the ranch owner asked a farmhand "how many sheep do we have?".
"No idea" said the farmhand.
"But I’ve sent you out three times now to count them."
"I know, but every time I reach ‘six’, I fall asleep!"

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Thursday 16th April 2026 – HOW LONG IS IT …

…. since I had a really decent sleep? Just for once, after all this time, I finally managed to have a really profound sleep and it did me the World of good.

Not that it was early, though. Making tea took much longer than I imagined, and even though I enjoyed it, I had other things to do, for which I could make better use of my time.

By the time that I’d finished writing my notes, taking the stats, backing up the computer and all of that, it was just after 22:00 when I climbed into bed. As seems to be the case these days, it took a while to go off to sleep, but once I was gone, boy, was I gone?

There was one moment when I awoke, for what seems to be the obvious reason at the moment, but I was soon back in bed and asleep almost immediately. I’ve no idea what time it was, but the electric water heater was buzzing so it was certainly after midnight when I let it all hang out.

There was another awakening later, for the same reason, and I was debating whether or not to check the time to see if it was worth getting up permanently, but I was barely back in bed, tucked up under the covers, when BILLY COTTON’S RAUCOUS RATTLE made up my mind for me.

Considering that I’d only just gone back to bed, it took an age for me to leave it again, but after I’d finally managed to sort myself out in the bathroom, including a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, I went for my medication. In the interests of my weight, I eschewed the usual 200 ml of hot drink and just washed everything down with a small mouthful of orange juice.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, but to my dismay, I had nothing on. It must have been a really deep sleep, I reckon. So instead, I found a few other things to do.

Isabelle the Nurse came in as usual to sort me out. She was chatting away about not very much at all, and after she left, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re in the countryside discussing Roman villas, and apart from a few more “Richard of Cirencester” moments, he’s managed to steer pretty well clear of controversy. But while he was being led up the garden path by the aforementioned, we were being led through the sewers of Lincoln by the archaeologist Charles Roach Smith, who had apparently crawled through them in the past and whose notes were being quoted by our author.

Back in here, I had a few more things to do and then in a mad fit of enthusiasm, which came from I know not where, I attacked the radio programme that I’d started at the end of yesterday. And now, all of the music is reformatted, remixed, re-edited, paired and segued, and I’ve even written a few notes. I can finish the rest tomorrow.

My faithful cleaner was late today so she didn’t have much time to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi. It was quite early today and caught me in flagrante delicto with a frozen curry that I’d just taken out of the freezer in the bathroom. I just had to dump it on the worktop, hoping that it would melt quietly, rather than find a bowl for it.

The driver had never been here before, so she was parked across in the car park. Eventually she brought the car round to the entry and we could set off. We had another passenger to pick up at the Centre de Reeducation, but rather than a return to Avranches, from where he had come this morning, it was a return home, so we ended up driving around the obscure corners of Granville.

Nevertheless, at dialysis, I was somewhat early but I was still the last to arrive, so I was last to be connected, as usual.

And there were all kinds of problems there today. As far as I was concerned, they couldn’t make one of the auxillary machines work. Consequently, for about an hour and a half, I was surrounded by people trying to fix it, and I couldn’t do any work at all while they were there. And once again, I spilled some coffee onto the laptop. This time though, I was much quicker wiping it off.

Being the last to be connected, and with all of the other problems, I was last, as usual, to be unplugged. The taxi driver had been waiting a good fifteen minutes for me, so at least our departure was rapid enough, but I was still late home.

My cleaner helped me inside, and after she left, I made some rice and heated the curry that had been quietly melting on the worktop all afternoon, without leaking from its plastic bag, I’m pleased to say. It was delicious, as usual, and filling, so I once more eschewed my chocolate cake and home-made ice cream.

By now, though, it was late and I was totally whacked. I could hardly keep my eyes open. And so I just posted another terse note on my blog and went to bed. And that was that.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about problems with machines … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of one of the old Andy Capp stories from the 1960s.
They were trying to bring into a building an IBM mainframe computer but it wouldn’t fit through the door. They had a pile of people around it making suggestions, and trying their best to help, but to no avail.
Eventually, Andy Capp shouted across to them "why not plug it in and let it work it out for itself?"

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Monday 13th April 2026 – THIS EVENING, I …

… have had my first cooked evening meal for almost two weeks. And about time too, because one or two things in the fridge and vegetable drawer are beginning to look rather fruity, and I see that I shall probably have a good clear-out at some point soon. I hate throwing food away, but sometimes, keeping stuff like that goes beyond a joke.

And actually, I was looking forward to a hot meal too. After my chocolate cake and home-made ice cream last night, I was definitely feeling hungry. But I resisted the temptation until after dialysis this afternoon.

Instead, I came back in here to write up my notes and do everything else that I have to do. However, I still managed to run rather late and it was 22:00 or maybe a little later that I finally crawled into bed.

Not that I slept all the way through to the alarm, though. I awoke at one point for the usual reason and had to leave the bed. Not that I’m complaining, because all of this keeps the weight down for dialysis. I’ve no idea what time it was either. I didn’t look and I didn’t care.

Once back in bed, though, I slept right the way through to the alarm, which probably did me a world of good.

When the alarm finally went off, it took the usual struggle for me to rise to my feet and wander off to the bathroom, and what with having a shave too, I was late going into the kitchen. Never mind though, my usual glass of hot lemon, ginger and honey has been replaced on Dialysis Day with just a small mouthful of water. As I said just now, keeping my weight down for dialysis is the most important thing at the moment.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something about a young male ballet dancer who had begun to dance with a troupe and there were a lot of high expectations placed upon him, but as time went by, he didn’t fulfil those expectations and drifted off into a sort of middle range of professionalism. He ended up at one point at Y Fflint, where the music hall director was in despair about his inability to try to represent the sound on a computer, but they needed to keep the sound whilst trying to … fell asleep here …

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’m actually asleep when I’m dictating. But what happens at times like this is that I suddenly go silent and then you can hear the heavy breathing as I fall into a deeper sleep.

As for the dream itself, it means nothing to me. Y Fflint probably relates to the Welsh Cup Final on Sunday but nothing else seems to go anywhere. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I just type out whatever is on the dictaphone. If there ever is any editing, it’s just for things like grammar and so on and has nothing to do with the content. If the content is too gruesome for delicate ears, I don’t print it but put a little note in there instead.

The nurse turned up as usual, full of happiness and joy because he’s off on his week’s break this evening. We had a chat about dialysis, seeing as he was formerly a nurse in a dialysis clinic, and then he left to continue his rounds.

Once he’d gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Our author is off on his hasty “speculations and conclusions” again.

We’re talking about Roman roads, and today he tells us that "two imperfect itineraries, giving us the names and distances from each other of the towns and stations on the principal military roads, have been preserved; the first is contained in the great Itinerarium of the Roman Empire, which goes under the name of Antoninus and is believed to have been compiled about AD 320. The other is contained in the work of Richard of Cirencester and is supposed to have been copied by a monk of the fourteenth century from an older itinerary or map. They differ a little from each other, but our faith in Richard’s itinerary is strengthened by the circumstance that nearly all the roads he gives which are not in Antoninus have been ascertained to exist."

In fact, the work of “Richard of Cirencester” has been proved for almost 200 years to be a pure fabrication, created in about 1750 AD, based on the Antonine Itinerary and its author’s rather fertile imagination.

He continues by saying that Ermine Street "proceeded in a direct line to Durolipons, the site of which is fixed without doubt at Godmanchester", whereas all the evidence today points to it being the site of Cambridge.

Back in here, I had a radio programme to check before I sent it off. And it’s a good job that it did because it needed a little tweaking. And then I could press on with reviewing my Welsh, because the lessons start up again tomorrow.

My cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi. but not too long, because he was early today.

We had two other people to pick up en route but even so, I arrived at dialysis early. Even luckier, I didn’t have to wait too long to be plugged in either. The fact that it’s the thirteenth and that I was put into bed thirteen has proved to be lucky for me.

And the luck continued too. My weight was down to such an extent that there was nothing to remove. Nevertheless, I persuaded the nurse to take out 500 grammes just for form’s sake.

After she left and went off to another patient, the doctor came along before she had the chance to talk to him about my weight. So he looked at the chart and simply, with no further enquiry, also increased the debit by another 500 grammes. I, of course, said nothing.

Before he left, he gave me my usual three-monthly lecture about chatting up the nurses, but what do I care? I’m far too old to change my habits now. And I don’t care if he reads this either.

During the session, I was left pretty much alone, which suits me fine. But I had a lovely chat with the nurse who came to unplug me. And when I weighed myself, I found myself to be at the lowest weight at which I’ve been for thirty years, when I used to go running around the streets of Brussels late at night.

And my luck continued. It was my favourite taxi driver who came to pick me up, and as we were on our own, we had a good chat about cats all the way home.

My cleaner was waiting for me when we arrived and she helped me back into the apartment. I was feeling a little light-headed after this dialysis session today.

Back in here, after she left, I had a baked potato with cheese and veg, followed by chocolate cake and home-made ice cream. Not too much, because I need to break myself into eating again after all of this time. I’d be really ill if I tried a binge session, rather like one of the Donner Party of emigrants who, after being stranded in a snowdrift for six months, upon rescue, ate to death, quite literally.

So right now, I’m off to bed for a good night’s sleep before my lesson tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the contents of my dreams … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a famous exchange that took place between Doctor Finlay and his faithful servant Janet in Dr Kenlay’s Feesbook or whatever it was called back in the 1960s.
"Ohhh Doctor Finlay: It’s gruesome."
"Och aye, Janet. Look again. it’s gruesome more."

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Thursday 9th April 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone again this morning. But that’s no real surprise.

Last night, I’d finished my chocolate cake and ice cream really early, so I came back in here and didn’t hang about. I raced through my notes and everything else that I needed to do, and I was in bed not many minutes after 21:30. And I didn’t need much rocking either. I was asleep quite quickly.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what usually happens on nights like this. And even so, 00:30 was rather ridiculous. It’s also a fact that I didn’t go back to sleep either. I lay there, curled up under the quilt, trying my best to go back to sleep or, at least, stay nice, warm and comfortable.

Eventually, I said “sod it” and prepared to leave the bed to do some work, but it was 06:20 by then so there wasn’t really much point. Nevertheless, I had my feet on the ground when the alarm went off, so it counts as an early start – only just.

Having my feet on the ground is one thing – having them moving in the direction of the bathroom is quite another thing. And when I was eventually in the bathroom, I forgot to have a shave.

It was late when I finally made it into the kitchen for my medication, and I made an executive decision – that is, a decision where if it’s the wrong one, the person who made it is executed.

The decision was that I wasn’t going to have a hot drink this morning. With dialysis looming this afternoon and not knowing what will happen, I just had a mouthful of cold water to wash down my medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone but to my dismay, there was nothing on there from last night. But with a sleep of just about three hours, what was I expecting?

The nurse was early today. He was wondering why I don’t stay in here to have my feet attended to, to which my reply was that I need to eat my breakfast afterwards so I may as well be at the kitchen table.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today we have finally begun to talk about the Celts in the pre-Roman days. But for how long, I don’t know. But he’s another one of these Victorian “experts” who attribute the various hillforts to the Saxons rather than the Neolithic people. He’s not quite so far out with Stonehenge, to which he attributes the Celts rather than, again, the Neolithic people.

In fact, in a most unprofessional manner, he ridicules the early nineteenth-century archaeologist Colt Hoare for daring to suggest that those constructions date to that earlier period.

Back in here, I finished off a few things and then turned my attention to the radio notes. It only took an hour or so to finish them off too. After that, I went to the bathroom for a shave and then came back in here to do one or two other things. That included reading the surprising news that Colwun Bay, Y Bala and Trefynnon have been refused a licence to play in the JD Cymru League next season. The clubs have six days to put right the shortcomings or else they will be in the Cymru North next season.

That would mean that the JD Cymru League would only run with fifteen teams next season instead of sixteen, or even fourteen if Caerau Trelai, currently in fourth position in the Cymru South and who was also refused a licence, finishes the season in one of the promotion places.

My faithful cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi to come for me. It was ten minutes late coming for me but seeing as I was the only passenger today, we soon made up the time and I was even early arriving.

And for a change, I didn’t have to wait too long to be plugged in. But it was one of these connections that seemed to take a lot longer than it ought.

And as for my weight, for the second time in succession, I clocked in at under my dry weight. Nevertheless, I let them take out 500 grammes. I was hoping that they’d take out more but after a discussion with the doctor, 500 grammes was the best that they would do.

They wouldn’t leave me alone either today. The nurses kept on coming by to do this and to do that, almost as if they were keeping a close eye on me. It wasn’t until right near the end that they relaxed their vigilance and I could close my eyes for fifteen minutes.

While I was asleep at dialysis, I was off to Crewe town centre – Boots Corner in Market Street, to be precise. I grabbed hold of a girl – I don’t know if I knew her – and we ran hand-in-hand over to my pushbike which was chained up at the side of Boots. I undid the chain, and then I gave her a “croggy” all the way up Market Street and Edleston Road to Nantwich Road. But then, I ended up making sandwiches, with cheese, lettuce, tomato and a few other salad things.

All of that takes me back many years. It’s been years since I rode a pushbike, and years too since Boots moved from Boots Corner to a modern shop somewhere else in the town.

By the time that I was ready to be unplugged, so was everyone else, so guess who was last. However, at least it was one of my favourite nurses so I didn’t complain.

The taxi driver was waiting for me already when I was ready so I didn’t have to wait, and on weighing myself upon leaving, I was below my ideal non-active weight. At long last. I hope that I can keep it up … "or down" – ed …

When we went outside, I could hear the birds singing. That’s the first time this year. It reminded me of being back in the Auvergne and I felt terribly nostalgic.

We were no earlier arriving back here, and my cleaner helped me back into the apartment. And I needed it too because the wind had sprung up since I’d left.

Once she had left, I had my tea – just chocolate cake and home-made ice cream. I’m determined to keep on with this for as long as I can.

So right now, nice and early, I’m off to bed. And one of these days, I might actually have a good sleep. But probably not tonight, if it’s anything like the last few nights.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the birds singing … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends once asked me if I used to hear them when I lived in Crewe.
"Ohh yes" I replied. "Every evening in Spring, round about 18:00, I’d go outside and listen to them."
"Singing?"
"No. Coughing."

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Monday 6th March 2026 – I HOPE THAT …

…you all had a very happy Easter and that the Easter Bunny was very generous to you. As for me, I’ve finished all my hot cross buns, regrettably, but I still have plenty of chocolate cake and the new batch of homemade chocolate ice cream to go at.

In fact, the chocolate cake and the last helping of the first batch of home-made ice cream were delicious. And once more, that’s all that I’m having for tea because, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … sleep for me is much more important right now than food. And you know that I’m ill if I’m thinking like that. It’s not like me to turn my back on a good meal.

And sleep I need too, after last night. I was back in here at about 20:30 yesterday evening after clearing up and doing the washing-up, and then I sat down to write my notes.

By the time that I’d finished, done everything else that needed doing and sorted myself out, I was in bed just a minute or two after 22:00, looking for the good night’s sleep and lie-in that I had promised myself.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what happens at times like this. Just like the other night, I had to go to stroll the parapet, and not once but twice. The first time was at 01:20, which seems to be a popular time for me to awaken, and the second time was, would you believe, 06:29 exactly.

The first time, I managed to go back to sleep but the second time, no such luck. I needn’t have bothered trying for a lie-in at all. Nevertheless, I stayed there in bed until the alarm went off at 07:30.

The alarm going off is one thing – leaving the bed is quite something else. And by the time I’d been into the bathroom for a good wash and shave, there wasn’t much time for anything else as Isabelle the Nurse arrived.

She chatted on about nothing in particular, happy because, presumably, she’s off on her week’s break this evening, and after she left, I could make breakfast.

There went my last two delicious hot cross buns this morning, just as did HISTORIA BRITTONUM by Nennius. It didn’t take long to read, and I can’t say that I’m sorry either. I didn’t enjoy it at all. However, the genealogy tables in there were fantastic works of fiction. It seems that every person in Europe is a descendant of Woden, according to Nennius.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something going on in a recording studio about writing and recording songs relating to certain incidents, such as some old woman who was bedridden and who only used to eat bread, etc. On several occasions, there was a choice of perhaps two or three subjects where people in the studio had to write a song on one of them, but it was all very confusing, all of this. I was asked to write a song on one particular subject, but it was one of those subjects that I couldn’t face so I decided not to

Just recently, I seem to have been spending a lot of time in a recording studio. It’s probably due to all of these radio programmes.

And seeing as we have been talking about radio programmes … "well, one of us has" – ed … after I’d finished the things that I usually have to do in the morning, I reviewed this weekend’s radio programme and sent it off for inclusion in the stream.

With that out of the way, I attacked the next radio programme on the list … "see what he means" – ed … It’s going to be another concert, and once again, the soundtrack is going to be complicated to prepare. I’ve done a “first pass” already but it’s going to be amended on several occasions, I reckon, before it’s ready to go.

My faithful cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to await the taxi. I didn’t have to wait long because he was early and caught me unawares while I was … errr … otherwise engaged. However, it was the young, chatty guy and we had a nice, pleasant drive down to Sartilly to pick up someone else on our way to Avranches.

Having set out early, we arrived early at dialysis, but that counts for nothing if you arrive at the same time as four others just ahead of you with only two nurses on duty. Consequently, I was no earlier being attended to.

And having read about the times that I have … errr … been for a gipsy’s just recently, just as towards the end of last week when we had all of that rumpus at dialysis about my weight, I’m convinced that the scales were wrong that Thursday. Today, I clocked in at UNDER my dry weight.

Nevertheless, I made them take out 500 grammes so that I can be ahead next time. But I’ll keep on going as I am, with just breakfast and chocolate cake for now, until I’m sure that it’s all properly under control and I’m not as tired as I currently am.

With everyone arriving all at once, everyone needed unplugging at the same time. And being last in, I was last out, after something of a wait, so I was no earlier arriving home.

My cleaner helped me in, and after she left, I had my chocolate and ice cream and then did the washing up. And now that I’ve finished my notes, there are just a few things to do and then I’m hoping for a better night than last night.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my … errr … problems during the night … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the two old men in the urology clinic.
The first man asks the second "why are you here?"
"I have this terrible problem" he replied. "I don’t seem to be able to manage to … errr … go to the bathroom these days."
"I don’t have that problem" replied the other. "Every morning at 07:00, as regular as clockwork, every day, I have no trouble at all."
"So why are you here then?"
"I don’t wake up until 07:30."

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Thursday 2nd April 2026 – YET ANOTHER HORRIBLE …

… day today, and I’m totally fed up with these.

The only highlight, I suppose, was the memory of that really nice butternut squash soup and fresh bread that I’d had the previous evening. But not even that lasted very long.

Back in here afterwards, I had my notes to write and a few others of the usual things to do, and I was actually in bed by 23:00, and asleep shortly afterwards.

But again, not for very long. Round about 02:30 I awoke, and then we had a desperate battle to go back to sleep again. I actually didn’t think that I did because I was still awake when the alarm went off at 06:29.

It was another desperate battle to rise to my feet and head off into the bathroom for a good wash and shave, and then into the kitchen for my hot lemon, honey and ginger drink that I take with my medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise, I had actually been out and about. And one of the time stamps tells me that I must have gone back to sleep at one point.

There was something last night about some kind of change of history exercises. There were several people involved in this, and the aim was to rewrite the history of certain events if alternative situations had taken place. For some reason, it turned out that it was to do with maths rather than actual history and it involved reworking certain maths questions. There was one girl who was rather slow doing the work but she seemed to have it all correct in the end. One thing was that there were no adults who managed to make it correct.

This is another one of those dreams that seems to relate to nothing at all.

There was also something about splitting the Catholic Church into two. Someone was keen to do this but for some reason, he put the western border down between France and Germany and France and Italy so that Rome ended up in the eastern part of it, which was a most unusual situation, but I can’t remember the rest of this now.

We did, in the early Medieval times, have Christianity split into two, the Catholic Church centred on Rome and the Eastern Orthodox Church centred on Constantinople. Although Constantinople has long gone, the Eastern Orthodox Church still carries on, mainly in the Balkans and in Russia. But I can imagine the outcry if someone decided to include Rome and Italy in the Eastern Orthodox Church.

When the alarm went off, there was something about a memory, and certain memory tests that were being taken but everything evaporated the moment the alarm went off and I can’t remember any more.

So obviously, I must have been asleep when the alarm went off, despite what I was thinking.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, in her “chat mode” and we had a little discussion about nothing very much at all. After she left, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE ROMAN FORT AT BALMUILDY on the Antonine Wall, written by Stewart Napier Miller.

The Antonine Wall was only occupied for about twenty or so years, yet already Miller has uncovered two different periods of major destruction of parts of the fort. I’m not sure as yet what his conclusions will be, but it does seem to indicate that things were rather warm on the northern border.

Back in here, I had things to do, and then I edited two lots of additional notes for the joining tracks of two radio programmes. So now, those programmes are complete and ready to go at some point in the future. There was even time for a little “relax”.

However, I awoke in time for my cleaner to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for my taxi, which was fifteen minutes late.

My arrival at dialysis seemed to be fortunate because at that moment, there was a gap in the patients arriving, so I was seen to quite quickly. But to my horror, I seemed to have put on three litres of fluid to be removed – the highest for ages.

This is something that I don’t understand. I’m controlling my liquid intake very closely and my visits to the … errr … smallest room have if anything been more frequent of late. So what’s going on? The doctors were so concerned that they instructed the nurse to set the machine at two litres and remove the rest the next time. That is, if there isn’t another ridiculous weight gain.

And because of that, there were constant interruptions, checking my blood pressure every fifteen minutes, and I couldn’t even go to sleep as the nurses would shake me awake, for fear that I’d gone into a fainting fit. All in all, it was a horrible session there today.

The taxi was waiting for me and there wasn’t much traffic on the roads so we had a quick drive home, where my faithful cleaner was waiting to help me into the apartment.

But by now, I was totally exhausted. I warmed up the rest of the butternut squash soup and sat down to eat it, but after five minutes, well over half of it went into the bin, followed by the bread, and I came in here.

All that I did was to type out a terse note on the blog and then I crawled into bed, fully clothed. It was just 20:20.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about The Antonine Wall … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was telling a friend that it reminded me of that well-known Biblical ice-cream company.
"Which one was that?" she asked
"Walls of Jericho" I replied.

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Monday 30th March 2026 – THE GOOD NEWS …

… is that Emilie the Cute Consultant still loves me. Or so she told me this afternoon at dialysis when she came to see me about the new medication.

The not-so-good news is that the pain in my foot is back after having been absent since Wednesday. I suppose that that’s the effect of this new medication wearing off since I took the last batch on Friday. I shall have to take some more tonight before going to bed.

Last night was rather a painless night, except that it was later than I wanted it to be, as usual. It was much closer to 23:00 when I finally crawled into my stinking pit after doing everything that needed doing.

And it was another really mixed night too, with moments of deep sleep followed by moments of turbulent tossing and turning, and so on. One thing for sure though was that when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was in one of the turbulent phases.

As usual, it took an age for me to sort myself out and head to the bathroom, and then into the kitchen for the hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone, and what a miserable effort that was.

There was something about my brother going to convince someone else to do something but it was all extremely vague, and I didn’t remember anything more about it unfortunately

The last time that I changed my medication, the flow of dreams dried up for a while and it looks as if the same thing is happening right now. That’s a shame because, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I depend on my dreams for my excitement. It’s the best that I can do these days.

So with some free time on my hands, I watched the highlights of Sunday’s game between Connah’s Quay Nomads and Y Barri. But there was nothing of any real interest in the match – none of these “let’s play it out from the back, lads” catastrophes that seem to liven up more than just a few of these games.

The nurse turned up as usual, still his cheerful self, no doubt due to the fact that he’s off on his week’s break this evening.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, we were discussing the collapse of the Latin Empire in the Holy Land, and as usual, it makes dismal reading, all of these disputes amongst the Crusaders while the Moslem armies are gathering on their borders. How many times is this that the Europeans preferred to fight amongst themselves rather than make common cause against the “enemy”?

Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I spent an hour revising my Welsh, seeing as we have no course for the next two weeks.

There was even time to start the next radio programme, and I actually made some headway with it too.

My cleaner turned up as usual to sort out my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for the taxi, which was twenty minutes late. There were already two other people on board, but luckily, I was dropped off first.

We were early arriving and, luckily, I was seen to quite quickly. And then they left me alone for most of the session.

As I mentioned earlier, Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me. She told me that the dry throat was a side effect of one of the medicaments that she had prescribed for me. And she assured me that she still loves me, which was really quite nice. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been worrying me for quite a while.

Being plugged in early was one thing. Being unplugged was quite another thing. When four people finish at the same time and there are only two nurses, it’s evident that someone will have to wait. And guess who drew the short straw?

Still, the taxi was waiting for me, but there was someone else to drop off and we became tangled up in roadworks. So it was just as late as it usually is.

My cleaner helped me back into the building, and after she left, I finished off my pizza and had some more trifle.

So now with the pain back in my foot … "and back in spades too" – ed … I’m off to bed for an early night.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Emilie the Cute Consultant … "well, one of us has" – ed … I mentioned that I thought that she didn’t love me any more because of the suicide pills, and how I imagined her sitting at her desk with her fingers crossed.
"That’s not true at all!" she retorted.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yes, it is" she replied. "I’m paid according to the number of patients I treat, and if you die, I’d have to take a pay cut!"

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Thursday 26th March 2026 – HERE I ALL AM …

… not sitting in a rainbow but sitting at my desk in my office. And the time is 02:15

If you’re wondering why it’s so late, the answer is that it isn’t. Anyone who came here yesterday evening or in the early part of the morning will have noticed from the rather terse entry that I made at the time that I’d come home from dialysis and gone almost straight away to bed.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … when I’m feeling as bad as I was feeling at that moment, bed is by far the best place for me to be.

In fact, I’ve been feeling rather strange all day. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that it all began on Wednesday afternoon when a bizarre wave of fatigue swept over me. In the evening, I couldn’t finish my meal and I was really glad to finally make it into bed, late as it might have been, for all the usual reasons.

Once in bed, I went to sleep fairly quickly and apart from one or two little twitches during the night, I slept right through to the alarm at 06:29.

As usual, we had another struggle to rise to our feet and then I staggered off into the bathroom for a wash and a shave – not that it will do me much good because, having prescribed some tablets for me that have a high suicide rate, I imagine Emilie the Cute Consultant sitting all afternoon in her little office with her fingers crossed.

After the hot drink and the medication, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And it was rather disappointing.

TNS won the Welsh championship and by rights should have qualified to play in Europe, but something happened which meant that they lost that place to a Scottish football club. Many people were upset by this. One of the Welsh reporters said that regardless of the outcome, TNS should have had the chance to play in a play-off against that team, regardless of how many people were interested in coming along to watch it.

This is another one of those dreams that has little basis in fact. The Welsh clubs sometimes have three, sometimes four teams playing in European competition during the summer but that number depends on how well the clubs performed in the previous summer. And TNS, perennial championship winners, would always qualify for first place.

The nurse turned up early today. And he had a moan about the gloves that he used yesterday and had set aside for today not being where he’d left them. I replied that if he were to leave them in the medication drawer, they would still be there but if he were to leave them on the kitchen worktop, they would automatically go into the bin with the rest of the rubbish.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

We’re still discussing Bosnia and Herzegovina, and we’ve reached the same old, old Balkan story of disputed successions, greedy nobles, all that kind of thing, who spend so much time squabbling amongst themselves that they fail to see the danger of the Ottoman forces gathering on their borders.

In fact, there have been several instances of nobles actually calling the Ottomans to help them with their struggles, preferring the yoke of the Sultan to that of their own brother, uncle etc. It really was a shameful period in European history.

Back in here, I finished the radio programme from yesterday, choosing the final track and writing the notes for it.

With that out of the way, I began to look at the next two for next week. The first one is easy – it’s difficult to believe that I’ve been doing this radio work for seven years and I can now actually recycle one of my earlier programmes, with some slight updating of the notes. That was done in no time flat.

The second one might be a little (just a little) more complicated. It relates to a sad day in San Francisco’s music history and as it happens, I have a recording of the concert that took place there on that day.

The big question though is “how do you condense a concert of four hours and fifteen minutes of one of the greatest jam bands ever into a programme of fifty-eight or so minutes?”. I can see that I shall have to be very imaginative.

But by now, there were strange goings-on. My throat had become all dry and sticky, I was losing my voice and I was feeling a little light-headed. I’ve no idea why. Anyway, I treated it as just one of those things and carried on.

My cleaner was rather late arriving for my anaesthetic so it was something of a panic. And then the taxi driver, who had never been here before, couldn’t find the entrance to the building and my cleaner, who had collared him in the street, came back here to escort me out.

We had two other people to pick up, one of whom was worse than me so I had to leave the front seat and sit in the back. And that was quite a gymnastic effort without my crutches, desperately clinging onto the door of the car.

At dialysis, I was seen quite quickly, but it was the nervous new girl who attended to me so it took longer than it otherwise ought to have done. However, she took one look at my lips and went to fetch a colleague. So I ended up sitting there for have an hour with a damp compress wedged between my lips.

Once I was plugged in, I was left pretty much alone and I could press on and fill out my shopping list for tomorrow. The doctors kept their distance today, obviously all sitting in their little office with their wax effigies and with their fingers crossed.

By the end of the session, I was feeling light-headed and nauseous as well as everything else. Luckily, the taxi driver was waiting for me when I was unplugged, and even luckier, it was one of my favourite drivers so we had our usual rocket-ride home.

My faithful cleaner helped me into the apartment, where I was hit with an overwhelming wave of fatigue on top of everything else from which I was suffering. After my cleaner had left, I simply made a brief blog entry and then crawled, fully clothed, into bed and that was that.

And that is where I’m going right now – to catch up on my beauty sleep.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about fighting between brothers … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember once when my brother and I, very young, were having a kiddy fight
My mother turned up and asked "what’s happening here?"
"He started it" said my brother, pointing to me. "He hit me first."
"And why did he hit you?"
"He didn’t like it that I’d hit him just before."

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Monday 23rd March 2023 – GUESS WHO …

… at dialysis today spilled a whole beaker of hot coffee all over the keyboard of his nearly-new laptop?

Yes, I’m convinced that I’m going from bad to worse these days and I don’t know why, but everything seems to be taking so long, and I seem to be creating difficulty after difficulty for myself.

Like last night, for example. It could — and should — have been another early night, but when I’d finished my tea, it was already 21:45 and that leaves me very little time to do anything that I want.

Consequently, it was closer to 23:30 when I crawled into bed last night, and this is good for neither man nor beast.

Once in bed, though, it didn’t take long to go to sleep, and apart from one or two awakenings, more of which anon, I stayed asleep until about 06:15.

Not that I felt much like leaving my bed when the alarm went off. It was quite a struggle to drag myself into the bathroom and once again, it was horribly late when I went in for my hot drink and medication.

To make matters worse, the computer in here wouldn’t boot up. In the end, I had to go into the BIOS to check and, sure enough, the bootable disk had fallen to the bottom of the pile, so I had to promote it to the top and we could start again.

Once it was up and running correctly, I uploaded the dictaphone files to see what had gone on during the night.

A friend of mine had reached his 118th birthday. He was living in an old people’s home where it was customary once every couple of months to let them out for a week to go to some kind of rehabilitation and re-education class. What they did with him was that they combined two groups together so that he could have a couple of weeks away from the home doing different things because he’d been a very active man. They had rung us up on a Monday morning to say that he was being released for a week and did we have any calculations that he could do for recipes etc. We said that we’d sort a few out. But ten minutes later, he was at our door with his carer. Firstly, she was concerned about this process that we had of combining the two series, and secondly, there was some kind of delay in this week’s course starting, so could he come to take part in our group activities? We all went out and saw him in the corridor, and we were delighted to see him and began to chat to him — he was called George — and make some plans about some kind of activity. However, his tutor told us to slow down and take it easy rather than him letting all at once, but we weren’t interested in that. We had our own things to do and the race between one of the tenants from Rhyl and Cardiff Met, and their coach Ryan Valentine … fell asleep here …

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I’m actually asleep when I’m dictating, but what happens at times like this, I slowly drift off into silence and then you can hear me breathing deeply.

So if you want to hear what I’m like during … errr … four hours and a few minutes of deep sleep, don’t hesitate to ask.

But what this dream means, I’ve really no idea because, … "as usual" – ed … it makes no sense at all. And Ryan Jenkins is the manager of Cardiff Metropolitan – Ryan Valentine is the number two at Y Bala.

Did I dictate the dream … "well, sort of" – ed … about the kind of old man who was being looked after somewhere, and they had programmes and things for him. One day, I noticed that the programmes had returned to the shelf where they stay sometimes, so I wondered which ones they had ended up keeping and which ones had returned. However, they were all returned and the old guy had died or something. From there, I headed back to my van, which was where I was living at the time. There was some kind of squat or something like that, and there were quite a few people living there in all kinds of situations, including several people who were living in some kind of tent, I suppose. But instead of being on the ground, it was hanging by a rope from a tree, with the idea that it would keep out the damp in the cold weather. As you walked into this camp, the glow of the open fires make these kind-of tent things look extremely weird and surreal.

Wanting to dictate this dream led to a mad panic-stricken search of the bed for the dictaphone, which had fallen out of my hand when I fell asleep just now. And it was still running, four hours and a bit after I’d lost it. That’s a long time-gap to drop back into a previous dream.

There were some workmen coming into our office to paint and decorate it, so round about 17:30, I went out to buy a couple of things and some tile cement that I needed for home because these workmen were starting at 18:00 and they needed some kind of supervision. I went into Crewe town centre where I found a really cheap set of golf clubs so I bought them so that I could practise playing my golf. I wandered around BHS and Woolies but they didn’t have any tile cement. When I came to Halford’s up the road, that was just closed so I went back to the office, hoping that no-one would notice me because it was now slightly after 18:00. I noticed that the colours that they were using to paint were horrible, a kind of dark blue in the main office. When I went into my office, there was a guy there preparing everything and I noticed that one of the walls was a horrible dark green. I asked him, and he replied that it wasn’t he who had chosen the colours — the colours had been chosen by the Head Office. I went outside to begin to play with a car — an old MkIII Cortina that I’d found in a shed five or so years ago. After playing around with it, I managed to make it start so I crawled underneath it to see what it would need for the MoT. One thing that it would need was a new silencer, and the silencer was routed so that it expelled air through the hollow rear axle rather than the tailpipe. I thought that this is going to be complicated if I were to renew the exhaust. Then a young Chinese guy came along. He was with the workmen. He began to talk to me about the cars, and the subject moved on to girls as it usually did back in those days. He told me a few little secrets about his life and a girl or two. I thought to myself “why is he telling me all of this? This is something that I don’t need to know especially as he worked with this office-renovating firm and not in our business

No chance of going to Wooolies, BHS or Halfords in Crewe Town Centre these days. Those shops have long-gone and the whole town centre has been flattened by the Council to prepare it for the massive investment of cash and facilities once HS2 arrives in Crewe. It looks as if Crewe Town Centre will be a war zone for many years to come.

But much as I try to keep politics off these pages, Crewe’s decision to flatten the town centre probably came about as a result of Louise Haigh, Labour’s spokesperson on transport who “appeared” during a speech in March 2023 to promise to build phase 2 of HS2, sentiments echoed later by shadow Cabinet Office Minister Nick Thomas-Symonds, who said in September 2023 that “We will build HS2 in full”.

And a Cortina in a dream? What a surprise! Just as surprising as it would be if I ever decided to play golf.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in and, just as quickly, breezed out again. She’s off on her week’s break this evening so I imagine that she wants to finish as quickly as possible.

After she had left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, we’re dealing with the miscellanea — the little remote areas of the southern Balkans that haven’t as yet figured in the main part of the story. This is proving to be interesting as it highlights how several of these areas managed to skate nimbly in between the various major warring parties and preserve some of their independence.

Back in here, I reviewed this week’s radio programme and sent it off, and then once I’d done what else needed to be done, I revised my Welsh until it was time to prepare for dialysis.

My faithful cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic, and then I waited for the taxi. Bang on 13:00 he turned up, and once we’d picked up another passenger in Granville, we headed for Avranches.

For a change, I was early arriving, and in even more of a change, I was seen to quite quickly. And then I could press on and do some work.

That was, until I spilled the coffee all over the laptop. Luckily, I don’t take sugar, but even so, it was a mess. I managed to throw my sheet over it to absorb what it could, and after some love and attention from one of the nurses, it still manages to work, which is just as well. How long it stays working is anyone’s guess. I’ve left it switched on overnight in the hope that the heat generated will dry it out.

Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me, and she definitely doesn’t love me any more now. I told her what my nurse and my cleaner had said about the cough and the pain in the foot. She confirmed that there is nothing that can be done about the pain. It’s due to the breaking up of my nervous system, but she’ll do her best to put together a cocktail of painkillers that have no side-effects, and we’ll see where we go.

As for the cough, she’ll try to make an appointment for me to have a thoracic scan, followed by an appointment with a lung specialist. And not before time.

The taxi driver was waiting for me when I was unplugged, but the chaos on the roads meant that we weren’t home any earlier, which was a shame.

My cleaner helped me into the apartment, and after she left, I had the other half of my pizza. And I didn’t enjoy it at all. My taste buds really are changing again and it’s not very nice.

But right now, I’m off to bed, ready for my Welsh course tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about that old man … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once met an old man in a Greek cemetery who was there for a funeral.
"How old are you?" I asked
"A hundred and three" he replied
"Where do you know him from?" asked my Greek friend.
"I’ve no idea" I replied. "But I bet that he comes from Ikaria."

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Thursday 19th March 2026 – I AM BACK …

… on this “not eating” lark again. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall me saying over the last few days that I was sure that my taste buds were changing again. Well, tonight, half of my tea (and a big half too) went into the bin before it had even made it onto the plate. I simply couldn’t face it.

Coupled with that, the pain in my foot, which had subsided for a period of about twelve hours, is now back. And back in spades too.

A lot of this might actually have something to do with last night. As usual these days, it was another late night – just after 23:30 when I finally crawled into bed. And once more, it took quite a while to go off to sleep.

It was another turbulent night as well. I can’t remember how many times I awoke, but I do know that when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was wide-awake and had been for about half an hour.

In the bathroom, when I eventually arrived there, I had a good wash and a shave, not that it would do me much good, and then went off to have my hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was some kind of raid on the Football League headquarters by some group or other. They had managed to kick down the door and swarm in. Several clubs on the ground floor, mainly the lower-league ones, they simply didn’t try to reinforce any more doors and stay safe. Of course, all the big clubs fled upstairs, and some of the smaller ones were overwhelmed by the invaders. Gradually, they came higher up the stairs, picking off others. Someone who was so incensed by the activities of the bigger clubs in sitting there on the top floor, apparently safe, that he would shout up every time a smaller club was overwhelmed. He would shout up the name of the club in the hope that it would embarrass, but gradually, this dream became something like the play-off or something or other for the next round of the cup. There was a ball in defence that was kicked way out of the field halfway across Wales. Two players, one from Crewe Alexandra and one from a minor club in Crewe, set out to chase after it. After a long period, it was the club, the representative or whatever from the minor club in Crewe who came back with the ball, about ten yards ahead of the Crewe Alexandra player. This brought cheers from everyone because it meant that it would be this club that would be playing in the next round of the competition and not Crewe Alexandra.

This is another weird dream that seems to have no significance at all.Mind you, I’ve grown up with Crewe Alexandra being eliminated from the FA Cup by all kinds of part-time or amateur outfits, so nothing in this dream surprises me at all.

The idea of other football leagues raiding the FA headquarters and eliminating some clubs is certainly a novel idea, though. I can think of several candidates for elimination myself.

I was back in Canada. I was living there throughout the winter, and I needed to adapt myself to some Canadian winter clothes. The first thing that I really needed was a really heavy overcoat with a hood on it, so I went to look. I heard of someone part-exchanging one, so I went along to see. They had several in there so I chose the one with the front toggle fastening and hood, so this person proceeded to put it on and to demonstrate to the people who were watching. I had to tell him five or six times that that was the one that I wanted. In the end, even I became confused. He was intent on showing every last feature on this overcoat to the watchers before he’d give this coat to me. Eventually, I was given it, so I tried it on. It was a little too big for me but that was fine because I could wear several layers of clothing underneath.

This is rather wishful thinking, isn’t it? me being back in Canada. I need to resign myself to the fact that I’ll never be there again, with or without a duffel coat.

There had been a series of serious crimes committed in Georgia. The FBI had been on the trail and they’d obtained the identity of someone whom they thought was the perpetrator. One of the things that they knew about him was that he used to eat orange after orange after orange. They made a few enquiries and found that there was an old shack that was some kind of workers’ rest place from many, many years ago in an area of forest which used to be an orange grove in the past. I was sent to keep an eye on this place, which was very difficult because there wasn’t any cover. I saw whom I thought might have been the guy, who came out of and then disappeared back into this forest, so all of the police turned up on a bus. They set out to comb through this forest, piece by piece. Eventually, we found this building and I was one of the ones chosen to go through and search it. Some people were taking this search very casually, and others were being extremely cautious. I was one of those being extremely cautious in that I’d open a door really wide and wait for a minute before going in, and I was continually looking over my shoulder to make sure that somehow he hadn’t come behind me. We combed through the building but found nothing. There was a member of our party who was some kind of senior woman who was actually sitting on a window ledge with her back to the outside, sending messages on her ‘phone. I tried to explain to her that that was not the place to sit because he could come up from the outside and pull her out, but she didn’t seem to take too much attention, so I left her to it. After I was satisfied and everyone else was satisfied that there was no-one in this building, we went outside. Sure enough, he crept up to the building and pulled this woman out and held her as a kind of hostage. However, he was picked off by a sharpshooter who hit him in the shoulder and he was taken away. I headed back to town – I was given a lift by this woman. She was telling me about her work and her position, and everything that she had to do, which sounded extremely complicated. Because her partner, or other shift leader or whatever, was on holiday, she was having to work to be in charge of the two shifts. I thought that that must be extremely tiring.

This is another long, totally meaningless dream that relates to nothing at all that I know of. But can you imagine – a dangerous lunatic prowling around and someone sitting with their back to an open window?

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and reminded me to berate the doctors at dialysis about my state of mind. Not that I need reminding, of course, because it’s preying on my mind, and I wish that someone, somewhere would find a solution.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, the subject was the death of Francisco II of Lesbos, who, we are told, "on a journey through the island, while passing the night in one of the lofty towers then common in the archipelago, was stung by a scorpion. Alarmed at his cries, his attendants and nobles climbed up into his room in such numbers that the floor collapsed and he was killed on the spot"

His father, by the way, was killed when the building in which he was sitting collapsed during an earthquake, and Francesco II was the only survivor.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I attacked the radio programme that I’d started yesterday. By the time that I needed to go to make myself ready for dialysis, all of the songs had been chosen, remixed, re-edited, paired and segued, and I’d even written some of the notes.

One of my favourite taxi drivers came to pick me up and we had a lovely drive down to Avranches in the sun. And not long after I arrived, I was coupled up to a machine, which was nice. They even remembered to adjust the dry weight.

Generally speaking, they left me alone throughout the session – the doctor on duty never even came near me – and I was unplugged at something like a respectable hour.

The taxi driver was waiting to take me home too, but the enormous traffic jam spoiled any chance of being home at a reasonable hour.

My cleaner helped me into the apartment, and then I told you the sorry tale about tonight’s tea. At least my vegan cheesecake was nice.

So right now, I’m off to bed, hoping for a good sleep … "if the pain in his foot will let him" – ed … ready for my postponed Welsh class tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being held hostage … "well, one of us has" – ed … a certain American president was being held hostage in a house at the side of the highway by a group of Iranians.
The American police were there, stopping all of the traffic.
"It’s the President" said a policeman. "They are holding the President in that house there, and they say that if they don’t receive ten million dollars by tonight, they’ll douse him in gasoline and set him alight. We’re taking a collection"
"How much are people giving?" asked a motorist
"The average so far is about two litres each."

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