Tuesday 26th January 2016 – I WAS RIGHT!

I had an absolutely dreadful night last night. They finally connected up the blood at 00:45 and then I tried my best to go to sleep. I know that I had dropped off but it felt as if I was awakened almost immediately. They said about an hour – but I was unconvinced – but anyway, they needed to connect up the second pochette.

So off to sleep again. And an hour later, we went through the pantomime yet again.

And then we had the blood pressure test

And then the blood sample

And so it went on throughout the night. Just as I was settling down, I was awoken yet again.

I came round when the breakfast was served and I even managed to scrounge a second cup of coffee, such as it is, for which I am always grateful. They even brought me some things to have a shower, and I found a razor and some clean undies at the bottom of my bag. But the shower was interesting – with the drain and the tube in my arm, I couldn’t take my nightgown off so I was involved in some interesting contortions, but at least I’m all clean.

We had a moment’s excitement too. Two young student nurses came to change my bedding. And when they had finished, they asked “do you need us for anything else?” Being in hospital clearly has its compensations – but I’ll be expelled yet again before much longer. I’ve never seen girls go as red as they did when I replied that that was the best offer that I’ve had in 35 years.

A short while later, someone brought round something for me to drink. It was absolutely disgusting. Upon making enquiries I was told that my potassium count was too high and this drink was to bring it down. Personally, I think that it was a punishment for teasing the students.

The chief nurse came around later. Apparently my blood count is now 7.6 and that’s not high enough. They plan to keep me in and give me some more pochettes. I’m totally opposed to that idea as you know. I have things to do and I can’t do them while I’m still in hospital. I explained that I would be coming in tomorrow morning for good and a blood transfusion is already planned anyway. It’s pointless. And in any case, the blood sample was taken ar about 06:00 and it’s now 11:20. Had they decided at 06:00 that they would be giving me a third pochette, I could have had it already and been long-gone from here.

And so she went off to talk to the surgeon.

20 minutes later, she was back. And we had another delightful conversation.
Chief Nurse – “the surgeon says that you can go home now and come back in tomorrow as planned”
Our Hero – “good. I’ll get dressed then”
CN – “but we are rather concerned”
OH – “what is that?”
CN – “your blood count has only gone up to 7.6”
OH – “and what’s the problem with that?”
CN – “I understand that you came in your car. We don’t think that you are capable of driving home safely”
OH – “but it was 6.4 last night”
CN – “so I’ve been told – but I don’t see how that’s relevant”
OH – “well, it’s like this. If you don’t think that I’m safe enough to drive home with a blood count of 7.6, how come you thought that I was safe enough to drive here with a blood count of 6.4?”
At that, I was allowed to drive home by myself.

They took the drain out, spilling onto the floor most of the blood that they had given me, and I was off. Just as far as the café by the crossroads on the edge of town where I stopped for a good strong coffee and baguette and to gather my wits.

I spent the afternoon round at my place doing a few major tasks and sorting out a few objects that I needed, as well as generally relaxing. Then Terry came to pick me up – Caliburn is staying at my house while my future is being sorted out.

We finished off the vegan curry and then I finished off the vegan ice cream. No point in wasting it, so they better hadn’t ring up now to cancel my appointment. Final job was to write the two letters that needed doing and now that’s it. Whatever else isn’t done will now have to stay undone until I come back.

If I ever do.

Monday 25th January 2016 – BGGR!

And so I had the phone call – at 17:27 precisely. “Mr Hall – you need to come into hospital for a blood transfusion. Your blood count has dropped right down to 6.8”. That is, incidentally, the lowest that it has been during this whole procedure except for the day that I crawled into the doctor’s.
“But do I really need to come in? I’m coming in for good on Wednesday anyway and I’m having a blood transfusion as soon as I arrive”.
“I’m afraid that you do – in fact you need to come in to the Urgences right away”.
And so after a brief discussion, I packed my bag. Liz had just come home from work and luckily, there was a vegan lasagne to hand in the fridge so I managed to have a meal this time before I set out.

It also gave me an opportunity to reflect on my last night’s voyages, where for the first time for ages, I was accompanied by no-one that I knew (except for a very brief cameo appearance right at the end).

We were in the USA last night. There were three guys, two of them were quite sedate teenagers and the third was quite wild. Something had happened involving the farces of law and order and they had had to flee from their homes. This is the story of their drive to safety, something like Thelma & Louise or Fandango as they fled north towards the Canadian border. The two sedate guys were fleeing together and eventually the police caught up with them and flagged them down. The third guy turned up on his own a short time later, bringing with him some shoes that he had … errr … borrowed along the way. He found himself on this fuel station and was immediately surrounded by the police, so he gave himself up. It turned out that the person who had been doing all of these dreadful things against these boys, causing them to flee, was wanted by the police himself and on some quite serious charges too, and once this had all become clear, they began to be treated as witnesses rather than as criminals themselves. The third boy, the one with the shoes, was told by the police “ohh yes, you were bringing the shoes to us, weren’t you? You were coming here to meet up with your friends and to bring us the shoes as evidence”. Of course, he immediately agreed and so this car chase ended on a happy note and everyone lived happily ever after. This fuel station where we were was one of these places that was clad in green corrugated iron (the modern angular stuff) that was quite close to a road junction that was a diagonal T-junction. The main road was flanked by a row of buildings with the side turning diagonally backwards and the petrol station was up the side turning behind the buildings on the main road. And in the corner right up behind the service station right up against the back of the buildings was a kind of café in a portakabin made of the same material. I’d been reading some instructions somewhere in this fuel station about petrol stations that sold bottled gas for parties, barbecues and so on. It listed all of the places where you could go to buy it, and one group of places that was listed was a group of petrol stations that were struggling to survive now that they had lost their Phillips Petrol franchises. I remembered something in the back of my head that I had heard while I’d been on my travels about Phillips Petrol Stations not being allowed to sell bottled gas. But as soon as they had lost their franchises, they had started to sell everything, including bottled gas, as they fought for survival. Anyway, these two boys decided that with peace having broken out, they would go home and this would be the end of their adventure. The third guy decided that he would carry on, head north and into Canada, pawn the car that he was driving (which was someone else’s car anyway) and make a new start in Canada. I decided that I would go back to Canada with him. But as I came out of the service station building onto the forecourt I had this astonishing feeling of déjà-vu that I had been here before – maybe when I had crossed over into the USA I had come here to buy some fuel and buy a coffee in the café. We can’t be all that far from the Canadian border here. As these two boys were leaving, they were going through their receipts and statements of their expenditure. One boy had a look of horror on his face “TWENTY …… ONE THOUSAND dollars for candy” in a very indignant tone. “really, I don’t think that I’m allowed that!”. The third boy and I had smiles on our faces. How on earth had he managed to spend that much money on sweets?
A little later, we had the story of two brothers, one of whom was brilliantly successful and the other who was not. The unsuccessful one lived in a big house and was clearly sponging off his other brother. A deal had been done somewhere and the successful brother had ended up some $150,000 light on it. On making certain enquiries he discovered that some document were missing. He went round to see his brother and they went through all of the papers and in the end the poorer brother admitted that he had them and this was part of the fraud that he had committed on his brother. The rich brother then asked for them back and put some very heavy pressure on the second brother. In the end the papers were handed over but the second brother then put his hand into his desk drawer and pulled out a recording unit. he had apparently been recording this discussion which had contained details of some of the evil deeds that the rich brother had done in order to get where he was today. Of course the richer brother wanted to have this recording but the poorer brother wouldn’t let him and so there was a fight and the richer brother ended up beating the second brother to a pulp in order to lay his hands on the incriminating recording. He walked back out to the front of the house where the second brother’s wife and some friends had been having some kind of party, but he explained that he had to go. He got into his car, which was a red Toyota kind of thing and drove away. A short while later, his wife said that they should go and check up on the other brother – it was the thing to do and they had other things to to anyway – so she went back to check. On returning, she said that he had crashed out and was having a really good sleep by the pool but she hadn’t looked really closely. And should they ring him up? It might spoil his sleep. The first brother, who had been something of an actor, ended up disguising himself as some kind of a tramp with 2 days’ growth of beard and shabby clothes. He walked into this Greyhound bus station and this was where I entered the scene. I was with someone else – it might even have been Rosemary but I’m not too sure and I was saying “this is how bus stations are in North America. It was in the open air, with the soil being that red compacted sandy soil that you find in the Utah Desert. We had apparently been talking about the pie huts in American bus stations before and here was one exactly like the one that we had mentioned, right on the corner at the bottom and there were loads of poorer people around here. We went into the waiting room, which was like a portakabin of exactly the same type as the café at the garage earlier this evening. We waited for our bus and this brother-disguised-as-a-tramp was in there talking to a girl. This girl was a network-marketeer and she was in someone’s network at quite a senior grade,called a Scooby-Doo in her network. She did a good deal of the motivational talks as she was really keen and really enthusiastic about it. This brother wasn’t really all that keen or enthusiastic about it – not really interested at all, but he needed someone to talk to in order to make some kind of convincing cover for himself.

I had my blood test after this (as mentioned above) and then breakfast. And then I found myself alone. Liz had to go off to work and Terry had a job on for today. I wasn’t up to much and so I stayed behind and did some work on my 3D project, wrote a letter and generally had a quiet day. That is, up until my phone call at 17:27.

I was on the road again at 17:50 heading north to Montlucon, stopping at the Intermarché at Pionsat to buy some bananas and a packet of biscuits. I’ve been stranded in the hospital without food before, as I’m sure you all remember.

There was a parking place outside the Urgences when I arrived at 18:45, so I didn’t have far to walk. I didn’t have long to wait in reception either, but once I’d crossed the threshold, the problems began. My previous history means nothing at all, apparently, and we had to start right from the beginning yet again, even down to the electro-cardiac tests. I had two doctors examining me too, and each one of them asked me exactly the same questions and did exactly the same tests.

While I was lying on a trolley in the corridor waiting to be assigned, a woman came over to me and had quite a friendly chat with me, as if she knew just who I was. It took me a while to figure it out but eventually I realised just who she was. She’s the surgeon who will be attacking me on Thursday morning. And doesn’t she look different in civvies? She reckoned that the horrible solution that I Just had to drink – allegedly to reduce the amount of potassium in my blood – was in fact a punishment for some misbehaviour that I’ve carried out.

But one thing in which she totally agrees with me – and that is that to have a blood count of 8.6 last Monday, and for it to be still 8.6 on Thursday and then for it to dramatically drop to 6.4 (because that’s what it was by the time that I arrived here) today is quite simply not normal. I’ve mentioned before another set of abnormal results from the Laboratory and so I wonder whether there’s something not quite right about the Laboratory.

The blood has finally arrived anyway – at, would you believe, 23:40. I’m being moved to a private room so they can feed it in. I foresee a very restless night.

Sunday 24th January 2016 – YAWWNNNNNN

Yes, I had a very bad night last night. 02:00 and I was still awake despite being in bed for 21:00. I just couldn’t drop off to sleep.

And when I did manage to go to sleep, I was awake again at 03:45 for the usual trip down the corridor. And that’s all that I remember until the alarm went off at 07:45.

it is all that I remember too. I have no recollection whatever of what I did and where I went between 03:45 and 07:45. And as for the period between first going to sleep and 03:45 there is only a certain amount of gibberish on the dictaphone about hospitals and operations and flying body parts – nothing that is suitable for a family audience at meal times, and so you are spared all of that.

After breakfast, and my last-but-one injection, I sat down and wrote one of the three letters that I need to write. It took me right up and beyond lunchtime and it goes on for ages and ages, but it was the most important one by far and it is all done and finished. As for the other two, I’ll be doing one on Monday and one on Tuesday and there are very good reasons for doing them then.

This afternoon I’ve done nothing, which is hardly a surprise as I’m supposed to be taking it easy. yet another day when I’ve not set a foot outside the door. But at least I didn’t have to bother about the nurse coming round – that’s all done and finished now for the evenings. Just one more injection left and that’s for Monday morning when they take the blood sample.

And now, I’m off for an early night. I need to catch up with my beauty sleep. And yes, before you say anything, I really do need a lot.

Saturday 23rd January 2016 – I AMOST MANAGED IT!

I do remember waking up at about 02:45 and thinking that I’d better wander off down the corridor in a minute once I gather my wits (which doesn’t take me too long these days, it has to be said). But the next thing that I remember was that it was 06:45. I could in theory have managed to hang on in bed until the alarm went off before heeding the call but that would have made me uncomfortable, so I succumbed. But I can’t think of the last time that I didn’t have to go off to ride the porcelain horse during the middle of the night.

It does have its downside though, meaning that I don’t remember much of what happened during the night … "for which we all are grateful" – ed … But from what I do remember, all of my 3D characters had decided to go on a cruise together, with me of course, and we all occupied a part of a deck to ourselves (I haven’t created THAT many characters, have I?) privately, with no other person admitted. However, a couple of other people insisted upon coming onto the deck and we had to keep on shepherding them off again (strangely reminiscent of an occasion at, of all places, Alvaston Hall – where we were the other night – back in the 1970s). although one or two people were allowed on. It was after one of these incidents that we noticed that one of our jars of Marmite (horrible stuff!) had been opened and someone had helped themselves to some of the contents. I couldn’t make out whether it was one of these visitors, or one of my cheeky 3D characters.
Later on, after my awakening at 02:45, I found myself with Cécile in North Staffordshire, somewhere in the suburbs of Stoke on Trent, with a third person, whom we were looking after, just as we looked after Marianne right at the very beginning of her illness. It was a cold, wet, miserable, grey, icy, slushy, sleety day and we were out there looking at the roads and discussing the North Staffordshire weather. Cécile had started to take skiing lessons and had had three while we had been together. But we had broken up. One of the things that we mentioned was about skiing down the banks (of which there are plenty) in Stoke on Trent and if the weather deteriorated any more we’d be well able to do that. Cécile mentioned that even though we were no longer together, she had been keeping up the skiing lessons and had had a good nine months-worth, and so next time that there was a really heavy fall of snow, she would get out her skis and come with me. She challenged me to a ski race. I had to go out and fetch myself some lunch and I knew that there was a fish and chip shop halfway down the hill, turn left at the roundabout by the petrol station and garage and it’s just behind the garage. Off I set down the hill, maybe going a little faster than I ought, given the conditions. At the roundabout, I put my foot on the brakes, which caused the car to slide round on the ice but I was in full control and ended up facing the right way up the right street. Reaching the chip shop, I found that it was one of those places whose name shall never be mentioned in anything that I ever write and which was agreed by a British High Court Judge to be inter alia exploiters of children. I won’t ever set a foot in the place (not even on my night-time rambles, evidently) so I carried on driving. I knew that in one direction there was a chippy about 15 minutes away but that was too far for me to go, and so I gambled on finding one sooner in the opposite direction. I ended up around the back of Hanley (or what passed for Hanley last night) in an area where they had done loads and loads of demolition. There were cars parked all over the sides of the roads and all over the waste land, and a young female traffic warden was out there checking car licences and parking tickets. With nowhere to park, I had to go further afield to find a chippy. I turned left at a crossroads near here and on the corner diagonally opposite was an old-fashioned bakers that made sandwiches. There were about 50 or so people queueing up outside this sandwich place for their lunch, but anyone who wanted just bread or a pie or anything ready-made was going in ahead of the sandwich queue. At the end of the road into which I had turned was a really big café with all old Victorian wooden shop-front windows in the art-deco style and painted a mid-brown. I remember saying to myself what a wonderful place it seemed to be, and that next time I come by here with someone, I’ll have to bring them here and check it out. And so I continued on my way looking for my chippy.

Meanwhile, I continued on my way looking for the porcelain horse and then after another half-hour, I was downstairs eating my new supply of home-made muesli and waiting for the nurse.

And here, I made a startling discovery that may well have resolved the hated issue of the daily question of twice-daily injections. Liz bought a couple of smaller boxes of the injections to take me up to Tuesday night because I had it firmly fixed in my head that there were two days’ worth of injections in each box. Opening the first one, I discovered that there is only one day’s supply.

I therefore went out to the pharmacie at les Ancizes (yes, a day out for me!) to buy some more but … they had none. Not to worry – I went on to the pharmacie at St Georges de Mons to try my luck there but … they likewise had none. The next stop on my route was Manzat but to be frank, I’m badgered if I’m going all the way there. On the spot, I took an executive decision (the definition of an executive decision is that if it goes wrong, the person who made the decision is executed) that I would stop these senseless injections then and there. And once the final supplies have been used, that will be that and I can go back to having a normal life. In fact, one of the reasons why I’m still at Liz and Terry’s is all down to these daily injections. It’s not practical for me to have these twice-daily visits round at my abode.

While I was at St Georges, I went round to the Super-U and stocked up with supplies.Bags of crisps, some chocolate, some vegan breakfast-biscuits and some soya desserts. If I survive the operation I’ll be in hospital for quite a while and we all know that the food in there is dreadful. I’ve no intention of starving myself to death while I’m there, and I intend to enjoy myself as much as I can while I am there.

We did have an exciting drive, groping through the fog to Les Ancizes and St Georges. As I was passing underneath the Viaduc des Fades going up the hill towards Les Ancizes, I met a light-brown Hyundai people-carrier coming down towards the barrage. On the way back, at exactly the same spot I met … a light-brown Hyundai people-carrier. Exactly the same model of vehicle, exactly the same colour, and it may well have been exactly the same vehicle. Who knows? It wouldn’t surprise me.

Back here after lunch I had a pile of notes from my dictaphone to download and type up, which seemed to take me hours and hours. And now that I’ve had tea, I’m off to have an early night. Now that the dictaphone is up to date, I have three really long and important letters to write tomorrow and they must be finished.

But with the recent, regular appearances of many of the usual suspects and places during my nocturnal rambles, we are now starting to see my 3D characters now not only coming along, and also coming to life as well. This is probably the most bizarre thing about all of this sequence of voyages.

Friday 22nd January 2016 – MY LITTLE 3D EMPIRE MADE THE NEWS …

… during the night. Someone was using my 3D Characters and settings to make some kind of party-political broadcasts in the real world. He said that he could name ten or so names of people who were up to no good in society. We of course said “such as?”, but when he replied, he named just three names which just goes to show how much rubbish is being spoken today. We can all think of three people without being prompted and he was trying to impress us with his knowledge and … err … exaggeration.
After this, we had Nerina putting in yet another appearance on our nightly voyages. We were still married, still together and we had a small child of about 18 months. We were both in the offices of the European Union doing something there. We had parked the car in the underground car park and we were on level 25, which was well-underground. We had had a good wander around the building and Nerina had gone off for a coffee in the small coffee bar there. I’d had to do something else and ended up being considerably delayed so I had to run like the wind down the stairs into this cafe but couldn’t see Nerina at all. But who was there was one of a family from Shavington (who on earth were they?), one of three boys, who gave me an estimate for the supply of some champagne and I was taken aback by this because it was one of the other brothers who was dealing with this. He was talking to me as if I knew what was going on, which I didn’t really, and anyway I was more interested in where Nerina might be. Suddenly, he clicked. “Ohh yes, it’s my other brother who should have brought you this, isn’t it? But he’s having to drive the tractor because the third brother is ill, so he’s given all of the paperwork to me”. At this moment, Nerina put in her appearance. She’d been in the ladies’, and on coming out she didn’t see me and so went straight off upstairs. I had to separate myself from these boys who were being quite friendly (and I was enjoying them being friendly too) to go off after Nerina. She had come out on the wrong level on the car park, 2 levels further down, and had to walk back up to the car again. When I caught up with her, we got into the car adnd I asked her what the plan was for the evening. She replied that she intended to go out and get drunk. I could see that she was totally fed up about something.Trying to cheer her up, I asked her to tell me exactly what she wanted really to do. “The weekend is yours!”. By now, Nerina had transformed herself into Liz’s daughter Kit. she was really, realy depressed and I felt like saying “why don’t we wait until Friday and you come up north from London and then we’ll go on to your family home in the North-East. I’ll run you back on Sunday evening”. Somehow, though, I couldn’t make the words come out. Anyway, we ended up going to see some friends of mine who ran a junk shop. There were all kinds of things there in the shop, including a set of ancient scales for weighing a baby. Tomake it work, you put the baby on the scales and thenjumped up and down on the floor to make it vibrate. It was something like an amusement ride for the baby so that was what we were doing with ours. Whilst all of this was going on, I was stroking their young black cat – a really friendly black cat. But then I noticed a really large and fresh flea bite on the cat, just above its eye. didn’t want to stay there after seeing that, especially with the baby there. The child wasn’t to happy about having to leave its game, and Ket was unhappy because I wouldn’t tell her why we need to go. And these people were unhappy too because we were having a good time and I especially enjoyed their company.
I was off to Finland later, with a guy from Stoke on Trent who once was a very good friend of mine. We’d been out in the wilderness and come back down the dusty road to rejoin the main road (something like the road junction at the back of Baie Comeau in Quebec where Highway 389 joins Highway 138). We turned left there and a couple of hundred metres further on, we needed to turn right at another major road junction by a fuel station. There was an enormous – and I do mean enormous – traffic queue here turning right as if there was some kind of road accident or other obstruction blocking the way. We were waiting for hours to move and in the end, we became thoroughly fed up and did a U-turn to go the other way. We found some fuel, because we needed it, and then returned to the road junction. Even though we had been away for ages, we found ourselves right behind exactly the same vehicles – a big silver tanker and a caravan come to mind. They hadn’t moved an inch. However, just as we pulled up behind them, the vehicles all started to move off. We turned round the corner and almost immediately had to stop at some traffic lights. We were in the third lane, with the vehicles that were going to be turning left 100 metres further on (it’s drive-on-the-rght in Finland of course). THis was however the wrong lane – we needed to be right over on the right-hand side of the road. I wound down the window on my side (apaprently I was passenger) and put out my right hand to indicate that we intended to pull out and muscle into the traffic on the inside. When the lights changed and everyone started to move off, there was no-one on the inside of us and no car within 50 yards of us. Plenty of room for us, I thought, so I told him to put his foot down and we can go. He was much more timid than that however, saying that there were too many cars. I would have gone, and so would many others, but the result of all of this hesitation was that we lost our place. There wasn’t room for ages and so we ended up sitting there. He wouldn’t carry on to the left either, do a U-turn up the side road and come back to the main road either so we just sat there, our right-hand indicator on, waiting for a space. And of course, the inevitable happened. A car coming up behind us, seeing the green traffic light, put his foot down, not realising what we were doing, and ploughed straight into the back of us.

So that’s enough travelling for one day, in my opinion. And I don’t know where it all came from either because I had a bad night’s sleep too – not going to sleep until very late and being disturbed by all kinds of things. In fact, when I went downstairs, I crashed out, slumped over the kitchen table until the nurse arrived.

Liz and Terry went off to do the shopping after breakfast, and I carried on building my 3D set for my practical work. You may remember that this course requires me to build a 3D bedroom and fit it out as far as is practical to go so that the occupant of the room can be clearly defined by the objects on view. I’ve worked out a stunner, which I’ll show you in due course. I’ve taken 160 snapshots from different camera angles, with the camera in the ceiling and slowly spiralling down to ground level, and what I need now to find is a free mvoie-maker program to turn them all into a short 10-second film. And my ending is a killer, even though I say it myself.

I’d run out of muesli too, so Liz bought me the stuff that I need, for I make my own. Porridge oats,, corn flakes, all bran, sunflower seeds, almonds, dessicated coconut, trail mix and whatever else happens to be around the house. The best way to start the day (if the blood-man comes on time).

After lunch I sat and vegetated for a while. I really don’t remember too much of what happened. I’m clearly not feeling myself these days which is just as well because it’s a disgusting habit anyway. But to bring me round, not only did Liz make a coffee but we had some more vegan Christmas cake too, and I’m all in favour of that.

I was in bed early too – by 20:30 too. Not one of my better days, this one. I’ve so much to do before Wednesday so I beed to get myself into gear. I’m not going to make any progress at all like this.

Thursday 21st January 2016 – SO IT WAS NERINA …

… who drew the short straw tonight, coming with me to take a coach party down to the south coast, Worthing or somewhere similar. We stopped the night at a town not too far away, somewhere near Lewes. While we were there, I rang up the hotel on the coast to make all of the arrangements for our arrival, and to find out the directions to the hotel. When I came out of the telephone booth into the bar, there were several giant-sized people in the bar, all professional wrestlers who were handing out promotional gifts. I was given a cigarette lighter (of course, I don’t smoke) but it leaked and I was getting all of the fluid all over me and smelling like a tart’s boudoir. In the end, Nerina sent me to wash my hands so I went into the toilet but all of the sinks were full of baby clothes – someone had filled up all of the sinks and left the clothes in there to soak. This had annoyed everyone in the hotel. I went to someone else’s coach because I knew that he had a kind of tap and hand-washing arrangement on an extendible pipe right by the driver’s seat (it was a left-hand drive coach but the entrance was on the left). I used this to wash off my hands. While I was doing this, other coach drivers came up to ask what I was doing, so I explained. I had difficulty closing off this tap no matter what I did, so the other drivers had a try and they couldn’t do it either, so they started to fill their bottles of drink with it. Coming off the coach I heard some woman talking to one of the coach hostesses talking about exit doors on coaches. She was going on about a particular kind of coach and describing a particular kind of door, to which I interjected that that was a B10M (which, incidentally, is a model of chassis, not a body) but no-one was listening and the hostess was saying that it’s not an E62 like we have. So I said “B10M” again, to just the same amount of notice. And back in the hotel still filthy, still covered in cigarette lighter fluid, and I eventually found a map of how to reach this hotel. It wasn’t where I thought at all but to the west of the town on a headland and fairly easy to reach. There was a big coach park right opposite just by the headland and also a small restaurant close by which was useful because I knew what hotel food was like and I could see me eating out every night if the hotel food was rubbish.
And Maria, having made her rather dramatic entrance onto our stage yesterday, is back for a follow-up appearance. This time however, she was quite seriously ill and had been discharged from her employment at the EU. I was running a business from my home with about three or four people sitting at desks doing things (I can’t remember what now) and so to help out Maria and make sure that her Social Security obligations were met, I offered her a small job at my place. And so she came to work, not doing very much. On one day needed to go to a medical appointment so I offered to take her. “You can’t go like that” she said, indicating my present attire, and nipped off upstairs (I’ve had exactly the same conversation with a friend of mine a couple of months ago, by the way). She came back down again with a pair of denim jeans. “Put these on”. “What size are they?” I enquired, to which she replied that they were 32-inch. Now up until I stopped running in the late 1990s I could fit into 32″ jeans, but even on a nocturnal ramble I knew full well that they would be too small, but I tried them on and found that I actually needed a belt to hold them up, which amazed me. But anyway, off we went to the hospital and on the way, I found that the two of us were holding hands, something that Maria would never ever do in real life (and which parallels, incidentally, something that was going through my mind with another person just before I dropped off to sleep).
Later on, the two of us found ourselves out on the ski slopes. We were fighting our way out through hordes of children up the steps to the three ski-lifts that were there and then I came to a sudden stop. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that on three or four occasions in the past my nocturnal rambles have taken me to a certain ski-run which involves a passage down a narrow valley, a difficult passage through and over some kind of watershed and then a glorious run down another valley which made all of the hard work quite worthwhile (and we even visited it in our red Cortina estate on one occasion during one night) – anyway, this was where I was heading. But I couldn’t remember how to get there now. Looking at the map board, I could see a black run indicated (ski runs are colour coded to give their degree of difficulty and black runs are the most difficult) which I reckoned would be the one that I wanted, but I couldn’t work out how to get there. Maria said that she knew the way but was surprisingly evasive when it came to actually telling me. I was looking for a map to take with me but there wasn’t one available and so I was feeling really disappointed about this as I had really been looking forward to revisiting this ski run.

On that note of disappointment the alarm went off and I came downstairs. And then had a long loooooooooong wait for the nurse to come. He’d forgotten that it was blood test day and was busy doing his rounds elsewhere while I was sitting here starving.

And talking of blood tests, here’s a shock. I have an id and password so I can go to the laboratory’s website any time after 16:30 and pick up my results. And this evening I found that my blood count has NOT gone down. Now there’s a surprise. I wondered why I had not been “summoned to appear at nine o’clock in the forenoon to answer to the aforesaid” at the hospital.

But this brings with it it’s own problem. I mean – this is good news, make no mistake – that if the blood count is down on Monday, I may well be called in on Tuesday, but I’m being admitted to hospital on Wednesday for my operation on Thursday. On Wednesday I’m definitely having a transfusion (I’ve been told that for definite) and it’s likely that on Thursday and Friday they will be carrying on (assuming that I’m still here on Friday). Too much strange blood all at once can provoke a strange reaction and I don’t want one of those while I’m under the knife. I would have been much happier to go in tomorrow regardless.

But apart from that, I’ve had a quiet day in the house doing not very much at all. I’ve not even set foot outside (although Terry took his van for the controle technique – it passed, by the way). There was a huge mega-sale of items on the 3D site that I use so I spent a little money today (and I would have spent a great deal more had I had it to hand) and I pressed on with my 3D Animation course.

The course set us an interesting challenge. We are doing computer-generated 3D animation now (the part of the course that is of most interest to me) and the aim was to produce a bedroom and fit it with items so that the occupant of the room could be clearly identified. I have therefore been scouring www.sharecg.com – the leading free resource community for the 3D program that I use -for items and happily building a bedroom for my K4 character. She now has a bed with teddy bear, a desk with homework scattered about, a chest of drawers with a boom box on it, a wardrobe with clothes hanging in it (it took me hours to do that), a skateboard with helmet and also a pile of clothes scattered about the floor. No prizes for guessing who is the occupant of THAT room.

Apart from that, I’ve had a shower (so that’s me sorted until September) and a change of clothes (ditto) and done badger all else. And ask me if I care.

But I suppose that really, I do care. I can’t go on like this. I’m not looking forward to the operation and I’m looking forward even less to the week or so that will follow. But I need to do something positive and put my life back on the rails. Much as I enjoy being here, I really want to go home and get on with everything.

Wednesday 20th January 2016 – I HAD YET ANOTHER BAD NIGHT …

… last night. I was still awake at 01:00 and nowhere near going to sleep, although I must have done at some point because at 02:45 I was awake again and off down the corridor.

Between falling asleep the first time and going off down the corridor, nothing much happened. Or, at least, if it did, I know nothing about it. But between then and the next time that I woke up – round about 06:30, an enormous amount had been going on – to such an extent that I dictated almost 7 minutes of notes.

And this, dear reader, is what you have to sit through for the next few minutes or so.

We started off driving through a town somewhere – turning right at a set of traffic lights just before the centre. Once we’d turned, we noticed a big sports field on the left where there was a huge bowling competition taking place. All around the town and on the bus (because I was upstairs in a double-decker) there were people who all had little white lions (like the old Egg Marketing Board stamps) stamped on their body. The jacks had been stamped with the white lions and the marks on the bodies were where the people had been holding the jacks against themselves. A little farther on was a left turning where we swung around into the town centre and where were all of the shops. Just along this street was a branch of Woolworth’s (shows you just how old this all was) where we were heading but today it happened to be closed. Nevertheless, I found my way in and went for a wander around, particularly on the upper floors, having for some reason been separated from the others with whom I’d been travelling. But I was captured, and held as a kind of prisoner (during this part, I was actually a spectator, watching myself being restrained and tied up). The person who had imprisoned me had a heavy pole, something like a foot-length piece of sawn-off scaffolding tube and his intention was to use it to beat my head into a pulp. But thinking quickly, I said “hang on – isn’t that someone pulling up outside the building?”. He wandered over to the window to see and as he passed, even though I was still tied up, I managed to grab hold of the metal pole, wrestle it from his grasp with one quick movement and slosh him on the back of the head with it. I could then make good my escape.
We then descended into things that resembled even more like James Bond activities and I was partnered in these activities by a young girl who has featured a couple of times on my voyages. She was wearing a heavy dark blue hooded cloak something similar to Little Red Riding Hood’s cloak but with a much more pointed hood and which put her face well into the shadows, but I knew that it was she. I’d been searching through this house and ended up being accosted, and was being interrogated. I had to think quickly of a way to escape from this predicament. There was a an old vintage car in this room so I was thinking that if I could bolt some bolts though the holes in the sills so that the threads were protruding, and coat the exposed threads with a deadly poison, I could somehow contrive to have these people back up against the car, bang their legs on the exposed threads which would then inject the deadly poison into their bloodstream and that would be curtains for them (how I was going to do all of this whilst under constant surveillance didn’t appear to worry me, apparently). But while I was trying to work out all of this at the same time as answering all of these questions, I looked up into a dark corner of the room on top of the car but just underneath the ceiling, and there was the pointy blue hood and the dark shadowy face. I said out loud to the person interrogating me that it’s a shame that the girl (mentioning her name) wasn’t here with me because she would soon make short work of him – once he had backed up against the car, she would give him a real headache. His response was “don’t be silly – of course she isn’t here”. Of course, my little speech was to give the girl a clue as to what to do. It goes without saying that sooner or later, the guy in charge was leaning against the car, his elbow resting on the car bonnet while he was talking, and of course the inevitable happened. This girl wielded the scaffolding pipe (we still had that) to great effect. It was the matter of seconds to overwhelm the others and the girl and I made good our getaway.
I was back home after that and I had emptied out my van. There were all kinds of papers that needed to be sorted out, which I was doing. I’d left in the van a few books on submarines to read while I was on my travels but when I was going through all of these papers there was yet more stuff on submarines that should have stayed behind. One thing that I found was a rare postage stamp, a fidelity card for something, and a copy of a message – a parody of the “England expects” message issued by Karl Dönitz to his submariners on the eve of the surrender in 1945. I tucked this message into the plastic cover on the inside of my dairy thinking that I’d deal with this later. But with this rare postage stamp and fidelity card, I took them round to the girl who had accompanied me on my James Bond adventures. I knocked on the door and her mother (but it wasn’t her mother) answered the door, so I explained why I had called and asked if daughter was in. Daughter came bounding down the stairs with a huge smile on her face to collect these items. In exchange, her mother and granny (who was also there) gave me the post that they had been collecting for me in my absence and also a pile of used stamps. I was looking for Indian stamps as Bill had been looking for 50 rupees-worth to send off an application for something or other – and it didn’t matter if the stamps were used and franked or not.

From here I went down to breakfast and my injection, and afterwards carried on with some work on the laptop. But Terry said after awhile that “none of this is getting the work done” and proposed to go out and cut the rest of the wood that we hadn’t finished yesterday.

Working yesterday had worn me out but I can’t be an ungrateful guest, so I went out to help. I was there for another hour and a half or so and then we came in for coffee, having picked up some bread from the boulanger who came round today.

After coffee, Terry went out to carry on, but I was done for and that was my lot. I carried on with what I had been doing beforehand and then prepared everything for lunch.

Terry went out after lunch to price up a job and I stayed behind – I’m not up to all of this yet. I had a doze and then played around with my 3D program, had a doze and then did a pile more of my animation course. I’ve now finished week three (minus the practical work) and I’ve now started week four. I go into hospital next Wednesday and I want it finished by then.

Liz made a quiche for tea and I had an individual one, made with a kind of cheesy garlic and herb paste, together with baked potato and a kind of coleslaw salad. Really beautiful it was too. I do have to say that the food here is thoroughly excellent and I shall be very sorry to leave.

Now I’m relaxing, and then I’m off for an early night. I need one after yesterday’s and today’s efforts and the bad night that I had had last night.

And no 3D characters and no family members and no taxis in my voyage last night? I wonder where they all went.

And I wonder who will turn up tonight to accompany me on my travels.

Tuesday 19th January 2016 – TERRY’S HAD ME …

… hard at it today.

Sitting there finishing off our post-prandial coffee, when he announced “let’s go and cut some wood!”.

Terry’s wood is free. The commune of Sauret-Besserve has a huge communal forest and part of the privileges of the commune is that you can have a couple of trees. Each year, you lodge your demand with the mayor and he sends round a forester to inspect the forest. Trees that are condemned are then allocated amongst the villagers who have lodged demands, but they have to cut them down themselves.

Terry works with the neighbour across the road to cut down their wood together, and it’s all stacked in 2-metre lengths in a big pile. So we coupled up Terry’s big trailer to the Jeep and went to fetch a trailer-load.

We then had to unload it, cut it into 40cm lengths, then split it into manageable chunks and stack it in the barn. All in the pouring rain, because it really was wet. I managed an hour or an hour and a half and then I had to come in and sit down. I’m definitely not up to it yet, although it is an improvement from when I last tried to do some work. It really was heavy work lifting all of that wood into the trailer.

Apart from that though, I didn’t do a great deal. I didn’t even do anything on my animation course. I’d had a bad night, en early start and so I was pretty much out of it for quite a while in the morning.

Last night, I didn’t end up going to sleep until late – my guilty conscience must be catching me up. And when I finally did go to sleep, it was a fitful night of restlessness and awakening, punctuated by some more impressive nocturnal rambles.

We started off by featuring once more some of my 3D characters. There was some kind of sports tournament involving them and there are loads and loads of people and other 3D characters watching from the sidelines and most people are dressed in fancy dress. I remember a kind of medieval knight in chain mail and someone else wrapped in what looked like an Argentinian flag.
From here, we moved on to a pub somewhere. It was one of these 1950s type of housing estate pubs, the Greenall Whitley type that you used to see everywhere. At this pub, something had happened and the landlady had to be evicted from the premises. However she’d been to the court and obtained a stay of execution of the eviction. One day, though, she had to leave the pub for some reason or other, and on returning, she found that the brewery had taken possession and locked her out. We had all gathered outside the pub to show our support for the landlady and to try somehow to get her back into her property. This involved my brother, my youngest sister’s husband (them again?) a set of steps and a short ladder. We had to use the steps and the ladder to climb up over the verandah and up into a window on the first floor. It was all down to me of course because they certainly weren’t interested in climbing up, and they were making life extremely difficult for me because they didn’t have the ladder in the right place for me, not being able to find the steps, not putting the steps in the right place. They couldn’t do anything correctly. Anyway,to cut a long story short … "hooray" – ed … we couldn’t find a way in there and so had to try another route, up and over the porch over the front door and in through the window above. It wasn’t long before the owners of the pub, the brewery, the clients and the new temporary landlord realised what was going on and they all came surging out. This led to a pile of gratuitous insults being hurled and it all became quite offensive and unnecessary. One person in particular was particularly uncooperative and unpleasant and wanted to know who was in charge of our party. I replied that I supposed that I was. He mentioned something about music so I pointed him in the direction of the manager of the rock group in which I played. He asked the manager if our group could quickly learn 12 songs to play for his audience. In principle, that wouldn’t be too much of a problem but there was a big discussion, if not argument, about how safe would the young girl who sang with us be, walking up to these premises on her own by the main road at night with all of the traffic around, would she be able to cross over the street into the pub?
I ended up back on the taxis again after that. We were on a weekend, a Saturday night in fact. Things were starting to wind down a little and another taxi driver came to see me, rather annoyed, wanting to know what one of his regular passengers had been doing in one of my taxis. It was a really good fare to Wigan too. I had a look in our day book and it seemed that it was a fare from a pub called the Farmer’s Arms (there’s one of those at Ravensmoor, near Nantwich). he was annoyed, saying that none of his regular passengers would ever willingly get into a taxi driven by anyone else, however our records showed that it was a call from one of the employees of the pub that had summoned our taxi and we knew no more about it than that. The driver concerned happened to be on duty and we asked him about it, and he confirmed exactly what I had said, without being prompted. The fare had actually come to £37:00, and that was in early-1980s prices too, so I could understand him being quite upset about losing the fare. We smoothed this over anyway and eventually ended up talking about Air Products at Elton and British Salt at Cledford (two places where my father had worked in the past). It seemed that the landlord of this pub had had something to do with Air Products and that was the connection between me and the Farmer’s Arms. It seemed that this taxi driver had given my telephone operator a hard time over this affair and just at this moment she was there in the street (which bore a passing resemblance to Vine Tree Avenue) so he asked me to go over and present his compliments to her and explain that the matter had been resolved. Most unlike taxi-driving in Crewe, this was.
As an aside, I’d said to my taxi driver that I’d see him back here at work tomorrow morning, but he replied that I wouldn’t – he was going to have a day off. So I had had a look at the job sheets for next morning and saw that we had jobs booked in from 06:00 on that morning, meaning that I would be finishing here at 04:00 as we had jobs booked right up until then, and then back out at 06:00 (not that this kind of thing had ever bothered me too much when I really was doing it back then) but I said nothing, and put on a cheerful face about it.
But on the subject of taxis and British Salt, where’s our Leyland Princess? As a matter of fact, I did have one of those at one time. It was near Christmas 1988 and Nerina and I just happened to be at a car auction and a beautiful 1800 Princess, W reg, went through, with a long MoT and 5 months tax for just £270. But it had the wrong driveshaft in it and it kept stripping the hubs (as I was to find out later). In the end, I went down to the scrapyard and dismantled the entire front end of another one and spent a whole day swapping it over. And then it ran fine until the clutch went. But I digress. But last night, the car was in the hands of one of the mechanics at British Salt (and not George either) having some work done on it, and it was now Friday and we still hadn’t had the car back. I went over to the garage there to talk to the guy to see what had happened to it (strangely enough, the garage was almost a reverse image of how it really used to be). I met up with the guy who told me that it was having to have the servo changed and it will be ready some time next week. But it was now Friday and we were always really busy over the weekend and I couldn’t afford to have the car not on the road. I told him that we really needed it – we were rushed off our feet. I couldn’t afford to wait until Monday for it. So this ended up in some kind of dispute.
But from here, another person entered into the story. A Greek girl called Maria with whom I worked when I was in Brussels. Right now, I can’t remember how or why she fitted in to some part of these adventures last night, but she was certainly there.

3D models, taxis and taxi drivers, British Salt, Maria, my brother and brother in law? We’ll be having Godzilla putting in an appearance next.

Monday 18th January 2016 – WHAT A NIGHT!

I know that I went to bed early and tried to doze off to sleep but it wasn’t much good. Half an hour later, I was wide awake doing something on the computer again. It was beyond midnight eventually before I settled down and still couldn’t doze off. It’s been months since I’ve felt like this, hasn’t it.

As for my nocturnal rambles, I didn’t have the chance to go very far because it really was a fitful night. Although I only wandered off down the corridor once, I was awake, tossing and turning on several occasions. There’s clearly a great deal on my mind at the moment. And what rambles I did go on were quite disturbing – they certainly disturbed me and I shan’t repeat them on here because you might be eating your tea or something like that. Let’s just say that they were not for the faint-hearted, and anyone suffering from Coulrophobia (12% of the population of the USA apparently) will certainly not appreciate them.

I was up and about at the usual time and had to wait for the nurse – but I didn’t have to wait long for the nurse. I passed the time by making the fire flare up and putting more wood in it – we still had glowing red embers at 08:00. The nurse was unlucky today. He couldn’t make any blood vessel in my left arm work and in the end had to switch over to the right – something that I’ve been trying to avoid since I had my blood clot. But at least there was some blood there – I’d told him that the reason why he couldn’t find anything in the left arm was that it had all gone.

But it hasn’t all gone – in fact my blood count is up to 8.7 at the moment – the highest that it’s been for quite a while. The transfusion that I had last Friday evidently worked. But it will diminish over time and I’ll probably be back in there this coming Friday – they certainly didn’t call up tonight.

And that’s just as well because we’ve had a really heavy snowfall today. Although most of it melted by late afternoon, at 14:00 it was looking quite ominous and I certainly didn’t fancy going anywhere at all. And neither did Liz and Terry. They had a car to rescue from near Menat and when it started snowing at about 09:30 they nipped off quickly before the roads became too bad, leaving me behind to hold the fort and man … "PERSON" – ed … the fire to keep it topped up.

In exchange, I asked Liz to post the letters that I had prepared and to pick up the next load of injections for me from the pharmacy in St Gervais. It’s pointless sending two cars out to the same place, particularly in this kind of weather. I stayed in and did some 3D work and some of my Animation course.

What we are studying this week is an animation technique called pixilation, which is where you use stop-motion photography to film humans so that it seems as if they are very realistic cartoon characters. It’s not what I would call animation and not what I want to learn, although many others on the course disagree. I’m hoping that pretty soon we’ll get onto Computer-generated animation, which is what I really want to do. However, it makes a great deal of sense to study the basics and learn the techniques.

Liz made a beautiful vegan chili for tea. Nice and hot which was just as well because earlier she had cut our hair. Mine is now really short and so the weather will certainly get at me if I have to go out, so loaded up with red-hot chili is a sensible solution.

So that’s it. I’m off for yet another early night. The joys of Swansea City against Watford I will miss tonight.Too much excitement is bad for me.

Sunday 17th January 2016 – I KNOW FOR DEFINITE …

… that I didn’t go outside today. Cold, grey and miserable – but that’s enough about me, let’s talk about the weather.

In fact it wasn’t that grey at all. Although we had been promised some snow during the day, it didn’t arrive and there were quite a few patches of blue sky here and there throughout the day. But not enough to tempt me out of doors.

I stayed put, did some of my animation course and then watched the football all afternoon, bored to tears because the matches were atrocious. Whenever Liverpool play Manure, I’m in a dreadful dilemma in that I don’t know which club to hate. I wish that it was possible for both teams to lose the match.

As for Arsenal against the Clayheads, watching the Clayheads try to kick the opposition off the park might be amusing to some, it totally broke up the match as the foreigners in the Arsenal side didn’t know how to respond to Sparky’s organised thuggery. Not that this form of football is unknown in the Potteries. The Clayheads have had a reputation for this for years, harking back to the days of Eric Skeels and Bill Asprey. It was once suggested that whenever a match was level after 90 minutes, the teams should play on until someone scored, but those players who had received yellow cards should be removed from the field for the extra period. Someone else then pointed out that in the case of a match between the Clayheads and Uruguay, there would be no-one left on the pitch to contest the extra time.

As a matter of fact, that was not all that I did. After breakfast (which was rather late today), Liz produced some envelopes and I sat down to sort through this immense pile of paperwork that has been accumulating around here. I have prescriptions, invoices, receipts, correspondence, medical reports, all kinds of things, and it’s in such a mess. So I spent quite a while sorting it all out, photocopying what needed to be done and then completing a couple of forms that I had to send off to my insurance company.

Just as I was finishing, Liz suggested stopping for lunch. “Blimey! That’s early” I thought to myself. But a quick look at the clock showed that in fact it was already 12:45. Time certainly flies quickly when you are busy, that’s for sure.

And so last night, I was back working on my 3D program yet again (as if I don’t already do enough of this in my waking hours without it invading my night-time ones too) looking for some poses for my K4 character. I’d seen some on the internet and I’d actually bought them – paid good money for them too, all of $2:22 in fact but when I downloaded them and tried them out, I was pretty much disappointed with them and I thought that that’s some of my good money wasted then, isn’t it?
From there, I moved back into an office where I was working and I had a whole pile of papers arriving on my desk saying how bankruptcy proceedings were about to be started against someone who owed about £25,000. In the course of this enquiry it turned out that the cause of his bankruptcy was that he was owed £27,000 by another person, and this could explain and account for everything. I had to get on the trail of all of this and collect the one money owed in order to pay off the other. So I set off in the van (not sure now if it was Caliburn) and lived in there for a few days while I was on the trail of this money and ended up in this town where the relevant County Court was – it might have been somewhere in West Yorkshire from what I remember. I needed to go to the County Court and so I asked for directions. But following the directions, I ended up in the car park of a big expensive hotel somewhere at the end of a cul de sac. There was a small, midget-type guy at the hotel and he told me where I had gone wrong, pointing across the car park to a hedge, the other side of which was the rear of the County Court. I’d turned somehow into the hotel car park instead of carrying straight on. It was too late now to go to the Court and too dark to do anything else so I reckoned that I would book a room in the hotel. It would have cost me £53:00 for the basic price but I received a good discount, costing me £48:00 including breakfast and two free showers. First thing that I did as soon as I arrived was to go off and have one of those. Once I’d organised that, I went off to make enquiries about this money and whoever I was talking to put me in touch with three people who had to take me to another part of the hotel. We went through an enormous labyrinth of corridors and doors in this luxury hotel, and up some stairs and along a passage that crossed over a road that ran through the middle of the hotel and back down the steps at the other end. Here, we picked up a girl who joined us, and it turned out that although she wasn’t the person who was owed this money, she knew everything about it and had had some very intimate dealings with it. We needed to sort out all of her finances in order to set ourselves off on the road to dealing with the finances of the other person. I spent some time with her dealing with all of this and we had to go to the cash desk of the hotel to withdraw some money. She had some on her but it was all in different bits and pieces. She paid off a few bills and other things that she had to pay, reorganised her finances and instead of having all of these bits and pieces, she ended up with £25,000 in notes of a large denomination, and two pence. She was quite dismayed about this because she needed some money to spend but she had only just enough money to equate to this bill that this guy owed – not forgetting the 2p that was left over. After all, she had to live and had to eat too and there was all this kind of quandary going on in her head about how she was going to solve this issue.

Saturday 16th January 2016 – I’M TRYING TO THINK …

… "always a difficult task" – ed … if I went outside yesterday. And the answer is that I did, briefly, to buy a loaf of bread when the mobile baker came round. That was the sum total of my adventures outside in the snow today.

But there wasn’t much in the way of snow. The promised downpour during the night never came and instead we had maybe half an inch and that didn’t last too long. The gritter finally found its way down here too this morning so at least it’s possible to travel around, if you wanted to.

But no-one wanted to. We all had a day in watching England dispose of the South African Test team in what can only be described as an eventful day’s cricket, and then watching the football. And probably the most exciting Premier League match that I have seen in years – the second half of Aston Villa v Leicester. A game that was played in exactly the fashion of how a good old First Division match of the 1970s would have been played instead of the boring, monotonous garbage that’s served up today where teams will pass the ball all the way back to the goalkeeper from the opponent’s penalty area if it means keeping possession of the ball rather than going on an all-out attacking rampage.

I’ve caught up with the second week of my animation course too. Back right on schedule although I’m the first to admit that I’ve not done the practical work. I don’t have the facilities here to do any of it so I’ll have to wait until I return home, whenever that might be. Furthermore, they make available the animation software that you need, but only for an i-Phone and my phone is a long way from being one of those.

But here’s something amusing. The postie came by this morning and brought three letters, all of which were for me! One was my blood test results and the other two were the long-promised letters from the hospital. I now know what is wrong with me and what they intend to do with me, and I also know that it’s going to be of long durée. so after this operation, I won’t be out of the woods – I’ll just have moved into different woods instead.

But it’s pleasing to know that I don’t have Hepatitis C, I’m not HIV-positive and that there are no traces of alcohol, tobacco or … errr … toxic substances in my blood. Not that there ought to be any of those things of course, but you never know what it is that’s going on when you are being injected with needles at least twice per day and receiving pints of blood from unknown sources.

So having had a nice, restful day, I can tell you about my nice restful night because for once these recent nights I didn’t get up to all that much. I started off doing something with one of the kids characters that I’ve created with the 3D modelling program that I use but I can’t remember what it was and which character it was (it was very likely K4). Anyway, someone (it might have been Cécile or Nerina) came around so see what I was doing but I explained that I don’t like people looking at my work until it’s finished so I wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea. There was a new release of poses (for those who can’t create their own) for the character but these had to be applied only under certain circumstances. I applied them under all kinds of different circumstances regardless, but the characters came out all very wooden. I was wondering whether this was because I’d applied the poses in the wrong circumstances, or whether something else was going on.
I can’t remember where I was after that but it was Manchester or somewhere like that, at a concert venue below street-level and Man were due to appear. Instead of hanging around waiting for them, I went for a little wander around in the immediate vicinity and found another concert hall almost right next-door and this attracted my attention for a while. Then, returning to my venue, I could hear the music drifting upstairs so I dashed down, just in time to miss the last number! Drat! So I went to buy a beer (I haven’t had a beer in over 25 years, by the way) and there, sitting on a stool behind the counter as if he was supervising the place, was a boy who lived in the same village as me and who was on the same educational path and whom I haven’t seen for probably 40 years. But to buy a beer, you had to queue down a line of trestle tables until you reached the end, which was right up against the wall of the building, but the seats were so close to the trestle table that it as quite a squeeze to come back with your full beer glasses.

What? Me drinking beer? This really is becoming quite nostalgic. I’ll be eating cheese next, you just wait and see.

AND JUST IN CASE YOU ARE WONDERING why your comments on these postings aren’t appearing automatically these days – WordPress (which supplies the technical support for this blog) is being hit badly by another mega-spam-surge and we are being overwhelmed with spam-comments.

I’ve therefore had to delete the “automatic approval” setting for now and approve (or otherwise) all comments manually until the panic dies down. Normal service will (hopefully) be restored in early course (if I can remember how to do it).

Don’t let this hiccup stop you from adding your pearls of wisdom to my remarks.

Friday 15th January 2016 – THE ROAD TO MONTLUCON …

… wasn’t too bad this morning. I was up bright and early … "well, maybe not so bright" – ed … at 07:00 and by 07:25 I was on the road with a nice thermal mug of hot coffee to keep me going.

I took it fairly easy and although Caliburn slipped around in a couple of places we didn’t have any big issues. Even going down the Font Nanaud wasn’t anything like the challenge that I expected it to be, and by the time that I reached whatever the name of the place is in between Marcillat and Villebret, the road was pretty clear. All in all, it only took me 10 or so minutes longer than usual and I was parked up at the hospital by 08:30 as usual.

Mind you, I’d beaten all of the staff of the day hospital into work so had to hang around 10 minutes before the doors opened up. And then, being first in, I could have my comfy spec in the armchair in the corner by the radiator and the power point.

It was the student nurse who came to fit my drain and that filled me full of foreboding. She was the one who had had three tries the other week before abandoning the job and calling for a friend. But today, to my surprise, not only did she do it in one, it was the least painful of all of them.

And here we had the confusion, much to my dismay. It was the young doctor who had telephoned yesterday to summon me to hospital, and although he had probably told the nurses that I was coming, there had been some confusion about the ordering of my blood. Consequently, I had to wait until about 11:15 for the blood to arrive. Then we had the new marvels of modern 21st-Century technology for warming up the blood – to wit – me stuffing it up my jumper.

At about 11:40, someone brought me a nice hot cup of coffee. I’d only been waiting since about 09:00 (the first time that I asked). But in the meantime I’d not been idle. I’d downloaded another whole pile of stuff from www.archive.org and now I reckon that I have a whole decent set of radio programmes to keep me company. I’ll have to check to see if I can find The Men From The Ministry because I forgot about that.

Running so late, I ordered lunch, and ended up with asparagus and tomato for starters, rice and boiled carrots with a bread roll for main course, and then apple purée and an orange for desert. Not the most exciting meal that I’ve ever had, by a long chalk, but it was quite filling and actually tasted quite nice.

It was 14:50 by the time that they had finished with me and I was really disappointed by this. But every cloud has a silver lining, for Ingrid was in the hospital and due to finish what she was doing at 15:00. So go down to the shops or have a coffee with Ingrid? No competition really, is there?

By 16:20 I was on the road and by then, the return journey was a very different story. There had been a flurry of snow in Montlucon at lunchtime and everyone had rushed to the window to see it. But by the time I reached Villebret there was much more than just a flurry and it gradually worsened the higher into the mountains that I climbed. The drag up to the Font Nanaud (height, 934 metres) was exciting, especially as there had been no snowplough or gritter south of Pionsat (I eventually met one, coming towards me from St Gervais) and I was right behind a Mercedes Vito towing a plant trailer with a mini-loader on the back.

He of course had no chance, but he did his best. Rear-wheel drive is useless in this weather when you are pulling something like that and he was sliding everywhere across the road, fighting for grip. He ought to have realised that it was pointless and should have turned round on the old railway track bed to go back down, but he pressed gamely on.

It wasn’t very long before the inevitable happened. He completely lost traction, slewed across the road and came to a shuddering stop. I couldn’t stop to help him because I would have lost traction too so I chugged on over the top and down the bank towards St Gervais.

The conditions round by St Gervais weren’t quite so bad as up on the Font, and the farther south that you travelled, the easier the route became.

By the time I got to Phoen … errr … the Centre Ornithologique, things had cleared quite considerably and the roads were much easier to move about, which was good news for me.

I stopped here to take a few photographs of the snow, to record it for posterity. St Gervais, over there on the hill about 100 feet higher up than where I am, looks particularly covered and you can tell by the sky that there’s more to come.

Pulling away from here wasn’t easy either, with a couple of traction issues to get over the ridges made by the car tyres in the snow. But I was soon off and back down here to dig myself in for the foreseeable future.

I have no plans for going out anywhere else until my next hospital visit. And that’s a thought to depress just about anyone

Just in case you are wondering, we had none of the usual suspects, no family members and only one slight mention of a place of my previous existence during my nocturnal rambles of last night.

I’ve no idea where I was when I started off last night but it was a place that I certainly didn’t recognise, somewhere on the coast of the UK. It was a holiday resort, at a part of the town that was inland a little and high up with a view over the bay. There was quite a group of us and we’d heard that one of our rock heroes or bands was playing in this place at the carnival on the seafront. The word “Jubilee” was mentioned, and it turned out that Jubilee was a suburb of this particular town with access to the sea, so I was making a few enquiries to find out which trams we needed to catch to go there. There was a tram stop just outside the building where we were staying and I was trying to read the timetables and tram routes. But I was there for hours trying to find out which tram it was that went to Jubilee, with trams passing in front of me and all around me. In the end, I went back into the building, which was the hospital where I’d been a few days ago.
We then had an old woman putting in an appearance. I’ve no idea who she was but last night she was living next door to me and I had her doing quite a few of my affairs for me. I’d just turn up out of the blue and she’d do a few things for me and then I’d go off again. When I was there last time, and had her go along and do something for me, and as a reward I had paid for her haircut at the hairdressers. She said that she had only just been, so I told her to go again and have the same cut done, or something else, a second time. And so she ended up with almost no hair. She also said that next day she was going into hospital for an urgent operation but that cut no ice with me. I was supposedly in Crewe by this time, Alton Street or somewhere around there. I had wandered off somewhere and a couple of days later I was back, still looking for this Jubilee. I went into the local hospital and here I came across this woman. she’d had her surgery and I’d forgotten completely about it, so I had to pretend to be interested and to talk to her about it. I’d intended to go to see her later in the day in fact because this was really early in the morning when I arrived. But she was awake this early so we had the chat about her operation
From here I went off to work as a general handyman for some rich old lady. We were somewhere in an urban French environment and she took me with her, beckoned me to follow her around and through these old outbuildings into a large barn-type of place and through into a garage that fronted the street. I had to open the doors to let her friend in with a car. These buildings were full of what I thought were dead insects but she explained that they were immature crabs. She’d bought a huge pile of them but ended up with 100 too many but rather than take them back she’d just dumped them out of the car and they had all died. So we managed to bring the car in and then we went off, her beckoning me to follow once more up to a gallery place with a metal walkway. She’d erected a kind of metal fence around it that went around a kind of headland that she owned or had something to do with. It seemed that the neighbours had objected to the fence (it was merely strands of barbed wire) and so it had to be pulled up, so that was my job. Some guy who worked for some Civil Service body was watching me, telling me what a good job it was in the Civil Service and how I ought to apply to work there. But I was busy pulling up these stakes and coiling up this wire. He wanted to know what I was going to do with this wire so I replied that I was going to keep it – one of the perks of my job. He had quite a moan about that. meantime, I’d noticed that this wire was swinging around all over the road so I had to go down and coil it up properly. I’d also had to consult my telephone to see what was going on because someone else had started this job with me but had gone again, so I wanted to see where he was. However, I somehow managed to connect to a film on this telephone – a black-and-white film of the 30s with some film star appearing in it and I couldn’t stop it – each time that I tried to press “stop” or to switch it off, I had a “buy it now” screen. The volume was set quite loud – I couldn’t lower that and everyone in the area could hear it.

And so despite my trip to Montlucon today, I reckon that I’m still cracking up far more miles during the night. It’s hardly any surprise that I’m so exhausted these days.

But I do wonder what it is that they are putting in my food to make all of this happen.

Thursday 14th January 2016 – SNOW!

This was the sight that greeted me this morning.

Well, actually, no it wasn’t. When I came downstairs, it was dark. Too dark to take a photo with the camera on the phone and I had to wait until it was lighter. By that time, some of the snow had melted and so it didn’t look quite like this, but still it’s the first snow that I have seen this winter.

It’s not actually the first snow of the winter, but when we had that, I was incarcerated in the hospital and never managed to see it.

The nurse managed to remember to come this morning, which was just as well because it was blood test day and I couldn’t have my breakfast until afterwards.

Once the nurse had gone and I had had breakfast, I didn’t do too much at all. Watched the first day of the 3rd Test with Terry and did some more of my animation course.

For tea, I made myself a pizza with peppers, mushrooms and olives, covered by grated vegan cheese. And I remembered to put the herbs on too. It didn’t half taste nice. And then I had a really early night – at just 19:45.

I had to go out to Caliburn though before retiring – to lift the wiper arms so that the blades aren’t touching the screen and to fetch my thermal mug, as I have an early start tomorrow. They’ve had my blood test results and despite the two pochettes that I had on Tuesday, my blood count has barely struggled up to 8.0. It’s clear that I’m starting to lose this fight and they have called me in to the hospital tomorrow for more blood.

As for anything else, members of my family are continuing to feature quite regularly in my nocturnal travels, and I still seem to be stuck in not merely a time-warp but a place-warp too, back in my old stamping grounds of my younger days. There’s clearly something significant, if not ominous, about all of this.

I started out last night by watching a film – one of these types of surreal horror film of the 1970s which centred around quite a few events. There was a girl aged about 9, rather a large girl, all covered in blood and gore. Anyway, there was a pile of us, all young kids, all living in a big house with a big bedroom. We all had our bed and that was about it – nothing else, and beds were crammed into the room everywhere with hardly any place to walk in between. We’d been doing something or other and I’d come back to crash out on the sofa. Also on this sofa were two jewel boxes that belonged to my mother and she asked for them back. My older sister however replied that she couldn’t get them back as I was asleep right there. At that, I woke up and asked her why she hadn’t reached in to get them? It wasn’t as if there was any big deal about this instead of making all of this comedy about everything. I crawled off into the bedroom and into my bed which was along the long wall. My parents came in and the whole thing erupted. There were all kinds of nightmare characters in these beds, we’d seen highlights in flashbacks from this film, rather like in Catch-22. My parents then went into a second bedroom where there were loads of kids, all of whom had the faces of gorillas and hippopotamuses and so on – astonishingly surreal. And the doctor had said something to this young girl – telling her to keep herself very clean and take care of her body.
From there, we moved on to another party designed to say goodbye to my niece and her husband, who had come over from Canada specifically for the party so that we could say goodbye to them! There were so many people milling around that we had to apportion them into all kinds of different vehicles. In the end they shot off to wherever it was that they were going for this meal, that was starting at 13:30. However I had a lot to do so I knew that I would be late, and I ended up at Alvaston Hall (or at least, what I reckoned last night was Alvaston Hall). When I finished, I had to get over to where this meal was taking place and for once in my life I had to take a taxi. At Alvaston Hall there were loads of people and loads of cars, but not a single taxi loitering in the vicinity. However, I noticed that at the table having lunch were three taxi drivers who I knew and who worked for a small company in Crewe. I went over to them to ask if any of them fancied a fare over to wherever this meal was taking place. They however insisted on their lunch-hour, so I asked them what time they had started. They replied “12:00” – which made no sense at all to me (even in a nocturnal ramble where nothing usually makes any sense) seeing as it was now 13:30. I asked them how long they would be, to which they said a half-hour or so. Totally crazy, but I was wondering that if I called someone out from Crewe, it would take that long for them to reach Alvaston Hall anyway. I then managed to lay my hands on a car, an old one of the type of the 1920s, and I planned to go off in that. However a group of young environmental campaigners was protesting against it. Of course, I was sympathetic with their aims but I was also in a hurry so when I made to drive off, they started to spray it with water and foam. I chased them all off but one young guy was really spoiling for a fight and was so insistent that in the end I had him on the ground and tied his hair to the railings in the best Vinny Jones fashion. “Get out of that without moving!” I then quickly cleaned the car, but when I opened the glove box, a pile of rusty water and old rusty Printed Circuit Boards fell out. One of these environmental protesters was there watching me do all of this – a young girl with blond curly hair, a green jumper and light brown slacks. We ended up having a rather heated dispute. She started to leave so I followed her to continue our argument and we ended up passing through the foyer of this 1950s-type glass and concrete conference centre and outside on the concourse. She didn’t make too much of an effort to escape so our argument continued, and suddenly, for no good reason, I put my arms around her in a rather passionate embrace. She offered me no resistance whatever – in fact she was rather encouraging.
I then found myself briefly in Italy with someone else and loitering around somewhere in the street. There was a young girl selling ice-cream from a mobile trolley so I went over there, took a cornet, filled it up with Neapolitan ice cream and stuck it back in the cornet holder. This girl didn’t make half a much of a fuss as I would have imagined.

It’s all still happening, isn’t it?

Wednesday 13th January 2016 – I’VE BEEN WORKING …

… today. And outside too! Snow is forecast from Friday until next Wednesday and the woodpile is starting to look a little low. Terry had salvaged some beams from a previous construction project and so he set out to cut them up. He handed me a small hand-axe and I went to attack another pile of waste wood in order to reduce it to kindling.

We were out there for an hour or an hour and a half or so and ended up with quite a respectable pile that will keep us going for a while. But I’m clearly not fit – even chopping up a pile of kindling was wearing me out.

But that wasn’t the most exciting part of the day. That was reserved for something of a non-event. There I was, up and about and all ready, a good few minutes before 08:00, and waiting for my nurse to come and give me my injection. And waiting. And waiting. By the time that 11:30 came around, I realised that he wasn’t going to come at all and I could have had a decent lie-in.

When he came round in the evening, he was surprised to learn that he had forgotten. he had had quite a few blood samples to take (and they always have to have priority – no-one likes to hang around for too long waiting for breakfast) and then was carried away with the rest of his work. I’m not complaining though – as you know, I’m fed up of being used as a dartboard and if I can have half a day off, then so much better for me.

After lunch, Terry went out on an errand to visit someone out near Menat and I stayed here (just for a change). I didn’t do too much in the afternoon except work on my animation course. I wasn’t up to much and ended up going for an early night.

But then again I’d been on yet another major mega-ramble during the night and having the dictaphone right by my bed, I had recorded almost everything that had happened. And this news is bound to depress you because there was tons of stuff, a great deal of which totally surprised me when I came to type it out for I didn’t remember even half of it. It does make me wonder what I’ve been missing out of my nocturnal rambles over the last few years when I’ve not had the dictaphone to hand.

And so – here we go. You have been warned.

Terry and I were watching Convoy but, as well as I know this film, it was a Convoy with loads of scenes right at the beginning that I had never ever seen before. We were discussing the relative merits of the “cab-over” and the bonneted cab configuration of modern lorries. I said that Darren, my niece’s husband, hated cab-overs (which is hardly a surprise when you consider the machinations that a mechanic has to go through in order to reach the engine). We went out in an American lorry (and I’ve no idea what cab configuration it was) and we came upon a peloton of American cyclists who were all cycling nude. This led us onto a scene where there were two young girls, one of whom had had a text from her boyfriend referring to something about her going to have a really good seeing-to and the second making a joke about it, and then telling her mum that she had to go because she was “needed elsewhere” with all kinds of other things to do.

A bit later on, we had yet another family reunion as my brother once more entered into the fray. And as usual we were arguing. This time about a car workshop manual. And this took place as we were walking down the street in Welsh Row, Nantwich. I ended up tearing it into shreds, throwing it into the street and telling him to … errr … go away. And as I turned to storm off down the street I heard him call out “Goodnight” to my eldest sister, mentioning her name. And I didn’t know if she was really there or not, or whether he was merely saying that to make me turn round. Anyway, I didn’t turn round and carried on walking down the hill. It was pub-closing time when I reached the town centre. Everyone was milling around at the night clubs and I walked through the Crown Hotel (which wasn’t the Crown Hotel, but since when has that ever had anything to do with where I go and what I do at night?) where all of the people were leaving and the staff was busy clearing up the place. I walked out of the other door into the corner of Pillory Street and Hospital Street (which is of course nowhere near the door of the Crown Hotel) right opposite the old Boots shop to confront a big silver Mercedes saloon coming the wrong way up the one-way street, to the hoots and derisions of all of the pedestrians on the pavement. We ended up watching one of these tests about “what do you do if you have all of these chemicals and fireproof blankets and a fire breaks out?” The person running the test told us how to make a cocktail of these ingredients (which I shall be trying just as soon as I go home, believe me) and what effect it would have, but it’s also a by-product for treating eczema. And if you are treating someone with eczema who has been possessed by the devil, you don’t need to earth them to make the devil leave when you paste this tomato-like paste on their eczema.
Now here’s a thing. Of all of the family who have been recently making an appearance, you will be doubtless wondering when my niece in Canada will be putting in an appearance. Well, wait no longer because tonight, she finally walks onto the stage. We set out with me back home, packing, making ready to go to Canada, but for some reason, when I was all ready to go, I ended up not going. However, I went off to my office with all of my suitcases. My colleagues were curious about this and kept asking me where I was off to and so I explained about my trip to Canada. I then had to go to speak to someone, and I learnt that they were in the swimming baths – and I’d just come from there! All my swimming clothes were wet but nevertheless I had to go back there, change into them, and then go back into the pool. And the person for whom I was looking was no longer there. I went back to the dressing room and changed, being fed up, cold and wet, and went back to the room where my suitcases were. We then had a lengthy discussion that instead of me going to Canada, I was going off the Germany for a few days. But I had to book a bus – and you REALLY DID have to book it too, you couldn’t just turn up and get on – and I hadn’t done that, with just an hour left before the bus departed. Anyway I set off for Germany but it wasn’t Germany to where I was going but somewhere else and here I met up with my niece and her youngest daughter. We were having a really good chat but the surrounding were quite uncomfortable so she suggested that we all go back home again. For my part, I wasn’t too concerned and felt that it would be okay if I were to find a put-u-up bed or something. We each had a hot cup of syrup – mine was mint but I can’t remember what the others had. However my niece decided that she wanted hers cold so I had to put some seawater in it to cool it down. Daughter and I set off to find the seawater (the idea that the syrupy drink would be cold long before we returned never entered our heads) but outside the building was a pile of puppies and a kitten. Daughter saw them and fell in love with them of course. Someone in the neighbourhood shouted a puppy’s name and all of the puppies and the kitten scampered off. We walked off up the street and here we met someone with a pet raccoon. Daughter fell in love with that too and so we ended up having a good chat to this person. We eventually ended up where this water was, and it bore more than just a passing resemblance to the back of the city centre of Chester with the little streets that went down to the by-pass (which was the water line for us). The tide was in and the water had come up to the steps so in principle you could just wade in a grab some. However, the water didn’t look very clean and the faster-flowing water closer to the centre of the river would be much cleaner and so that was the place to go. This involved climbing up a stairway and along a raised brick and stone walkway to a tower right at the end, all of which was fenced in by a tubular metal hand-rail. But to reach there, with the tide being so far in, you ended up to your neck in water. I told daughter to make sure that she stayed on the steps on the shore and I set off , wading out to these other steps to take me up onto the walkway. However, the stairway was fenced off so I had to retrace my steps and swim right around to find a way up (how I was going to bring this water back without spilling it was yet another thought that hadn’t occurred to me). When I finally clambered up onto the walkway, someone was around there shouting to everyone to keep away as there was a raw sewage outlet just offshore a little further out. Daughter then put in an appearance – she hadn’t stayed where I had told her to stay. And so we had to think again about where we could obtain some more seawater.
The three of us (me, niece and daughter) ended up driving through Stoke on Trent with another guy in the car. I was explaining to him just how derelict The Potteries was, showing him many of the derelict sites around the city. We were heading from Hanley out towards Ash Bank and came to a big roundabout (bearing more than a passing resemblance to the roundabout on the outer ring road of Brussels right by the Woluwe Shopping Centre) but the roads over it, particularly the slip-road heading to the south, was completely overgrown with weeds. We had quite a laugh about this as I did a couple of laps of the roundabout, but despite the roundabout being very large, I ended up with two wheels on the kerb at one point. We took the exit that led off to Longton (which bears no resemblance whatever to the “real” Longton) and found the town to be crowded, loads of people around. We arrived at some temporary traffic lights controlling traffic at some road works. One of the workers had a pneumatic road-breaker digging up the road, but when the lights changed to green, he carried on digging so no-one could move. The lights changed back to red, and then to green, and he was still there digging. I rolled the car forward until it was right up against his spine but he still carried on. In the end, I left the car and switched off his machine so that he could hear me and I could ask him why he wasn’t watching what was going on and watching the traffic lights and so on.

It’s hardly surprising that I was totally worn out after all of that. How long can I keep this up? 2023 words tonight and it’s enough to give me another dose of writer’s cramp.

Tuesday 12th January 2016 – I REALLY DON’T KNOW …

… why they pay some of these people. If I were in charge, they would be paid in washers.

It’s no surprise to anyone to learn that neither of the two letters that I was promised, by two different secretaries of the hospital at Montlucon, has been prepared – let alone signed and posted. And so we had another fifteen minutes of unpleasantness at the reception counter when I went to collect my droit d’entrée to go to see the anaesthetist.

However, this was resolved in rather dramatic fashion while I was talking to the head of the accounts department. She told me (again – because she had told me this three or four weeks ago) that I needed to have the authorisation of my insurance company for the hospital to send the bills for consultation directly to them, and for this, I needed a letter from the doctor who was treating me.

I then (rather patiently for me) explained that I was in total agreement, but having asked for those letters on 23rd December from my Doctor and again on 4th January from my Surgeon, I had still received nothing despite the re-assurance on the telephone the other day, and in fact the letters hadn’t even been typed out.

At that news, the head of the accounts department picked up the telephone, dialled a number and had what can only be described as “a frank exchange of views” with someone on the other end of the line, including the phrase “do you realise that you are holding up the work of the hospital?”. And after she hung up the receiver, she gave me the form that I needed.

I don’t need all of this stress, and even less so when I’m ill like this. And I just go back to the very first day that I was admitted to the hospital, back in late November, when I handed my insurance card to the hospital. As you may remember, the hospital refused (and on a couple of occasions too) to telephone the insurance organisation as I was admitted. Hod they done so, they could have opened a file ON THE SPOT and established all of the information necessary to establish the necessary procedures and coverage ON THE SPOT and all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided. I don’t know enough about hospital procedure to be able to explain to anyone else what is happening and what to expect (from an accounting point of view), and the procedure in Belgium (where my insurance organisation is based) is so much different from that in France.

It’s all so unnecessary.

But abandoning yet another really good rant for the moment … "thank God!" – ed …
let us retourner à nos moutons, as they say around here.

The alarm went off at 07:00 and I crawled agonisingly out of my bed. I’d had an early night and crashed out really quickly.

And during the night, I’d been trying to go to a rock concert somewhere but I had never managed to make it. And so I was at home somewhere or other (a house that I actually know but I can’t put a name or address to it, although it strongly resembled Davenport Avenue), and the musicians arrived! The three of them fitted into my tiny bedroom and started to play, just for me. The group might have been “Rush” or it might even have been “Strife” (I’ve been talking a great deal about them on my social network account just recently) but one thing was sure and that was no matter who it was, there was just one musician – the bassist – from the group and the other two members were the guitarist and drummer with whom I used to play back in the 1970s. And when they finished, the bassist said something along the lines of “that’ll teach you to come to our concerts next time”.
So from here, the drummer, guitarist and I had to catch a bus back to Crewe (we were in Chester at the time apparently – scene of many of my earlier musical successes) and so we waited – and waited – and waited – and no bus came (back in those days the C84 ran every hour). Eventually another bus came. This was a bus of the type of the mid-60s – an early Bristol RE single-decker with a green lower and white upper, but with large windows and very curved rather than angular corners – and on the headboard it was indicating “Whitchurch”. Buses heading from Chester to Whitchurch usually travel down the A41 through Christleton and that way but this bus was on the road out of Chester in the general direction of Tarvin, so I assumed that it might be going to Whitchuch via Nantwich, from where there were buses every 15 minutes to Crewe. But chatting to the driver, it appeared that he was only going so far down the Nantwich road, turning off just after Tarporley somewhere in the general area of Bunbury. And so we were there for a good while – the guitarist, the driver and I debating whether or not to take the bus, alight where it turns off the main road and wait for the very late C84. But what if the C84 overtakes us along the route? We’d then be even later and that would clearly be no good (the idea that if our C84 wasn’t running, we would be stranded wherever we were hadn’t entered our heads at all, apparently). The driver said that he could as a favour, pass by Aston Juxta Mondrum (which is nowhere near where we want to go and in any case didn’t have a bus service to anywhere) and drop us there, but we stood for ages at this bus stop, haunted by indecision and being totally incapable of making up our minds.

I was on the road by 07:30 and pulled into Pionsat at more-or-less the same time as the nurse (she who runs the pie hut at the footy) and so paying for my consultation from the other day was quite straightforward.

I arrived at the hospital in Montlucon at 08:30, having found a good spec to park Caliburn, and despite having had a little adventure on the way. It was pouring down with rain and round about St Gervais, the driver’s side windscreen wiper became attached from the arm. Luckily, I was able to rescue it and replace it but it came loose again and so I drove all of the way there without wipers (once you go through the initial 5 minutes of blindness, you’ll be surprised at how clear the view is through a “liquid windscreen”). Subsequent enquiries in the daylight revealed that the blade hadn’t been fitted correctly and I was able to deal with that.

It was just as well that I was early at the hospital. Once more, I had the choice of seats (the one in the corner by the power point) for we ended up 5 people in a room made for two and they were turning people away, to wait in the waiting room until there was a space for them. It really is no surprise that they couldn’t fit me in last Monday afternoon if this is how busy they are in the day hospital.

It was the efficient nurse who dealt with me today. Not only did she fit my drain at the first attempt, it hardly hurt (in comparison to all the others who have tried). And then we reverted to the marvels of modern 21st-Century technology, warming up the blood by stuffing it up my jumper.

I took advantage of my stay there by having a browse through www.archive.org. I discovered a while back that they are now grouping as *.zip files many of the old-time radio programmes instead of having them as individual downloads, but 1.4GB is beyond the capacity of my internet connection at home or here chez Liz and Terry. But not at the hospital where a real (as opposed to “notional”) 600kb/s is readily available, and so I downloaded all of Beyond Our Ken, all of the Sherlock Holmes radio shows of the 40s and all of the Philip Marlowe radio shows.

If I’m back next week (which is more-than-likely) there’s the Clitheroe Kid and the Navy Lark to download. And then I’ll be keeping an eye out for ITMA and Much Binding In The Marsh. And if it keeps on and on and on, I’ll end up with more radio shows than the BBC.

I declined the lunch that was offered, and for two reasons too.

The food in the hospital is disgusting
I was hoping to be in and out long before I became hungry

and wasn’t all of that a silly mistake?

I was indeed finished early – at 12:45 in fact. So much so that I had time for a coffee in the café, but I won’t be doing that again. Coffee from the machine is just €0:60 but in the café it’s €1:70, and it’s not as if the surroundings are any more pleasant than the hospital foyer. It did give me an opportunity to spy out the land there and check the food on offer (I need somehow to supplement the hospital diet) but there was, as I expected, nothing there that I could eat.

Then it was time to deal with the anaesthetist, and this is where we had all of the nonsense mentioned above. By the time that I had finished, it was almost 15:00 and how I wish that I had had lunch in the hospital earlier.

I gave the usual spiel to the anaesthetist. “I hate tubes, injections, internal cameras and all of that kind of thing. I don’t want to know what you are going to do to me – just do it and get on with it. if you find anything else when I’m opened up, do that too because I don’t want to come back a second time. But when I wake up, I want to have both my hands and both my feet, and I don’t want to see any tubes, pipes and cameras”.
“Both your hands and both your feet?” said the anaesthetist? “Not your head?”
“I lost my head years ago” I replied.

So we had a nice friendly chat. He’s an old guy, probably my age, with a sparkle in his eye and a devilish sense of humour which makes a change from most French people whom I know. I wish that there were more like him. And then I went for another spy around the 3rd floor to see what I could see. There seems to be a nurse there who would love to sooth my fevered brow, but I’ll be b*gg*red if I let him.

I did some shopping at Amaranthe, the health food shop. A pile of vegan cheese (we’re running low here) and a few other vegan bits and pieces. I bought myself a big pile of vegan muesli biscuits for lunch and nibbled them throughout the afternoon Liz didn’t give me a shopping list for the Carrefour so I had to improvise, and ended up forgetting a pile of stuff that would have been useful to us.That’s a shame, because I feel that I ought to be paying my way while I’m here, and a load of shopping each week would certainly help.

A new pair of slippers and a few pairs of sock was on my shopping list though. The slippers that I have are falling apart and my socks are … errr … quite religious. There was a special offer of 6 pairs of socks at €5:99. Terry asked me if they would last any kind of distance, to which I replied that maybe I only need to worry until the 27th January.

I didn’t feel like much in the way of tea. Too stuffed up with muesli biscuits I reckon. And then I had an early night, leaving you to digest a mere 2000 words this evening.

And serve you b*gg*ers right too!

EPIC HALL

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