… night when I’ll be going to bed without any tea other than chocolate cake and some of the new batch of home-made chocolate ice cream.
And while I’m at it, I shall be hoping for a better night than the near-catastrophe that was last night, when I was so looking forward to a good sleep.
After coming back in here after my cake and ice cream last night, I wrote out my notes, did what else I had to do and then made ready to climb into bed. And by the time that I was tucked up in bed with my head stuck under the quilt, it was just a minute or so after 22:00.
And there I stayed, as snug as a bug in a rug, until all of … errr … 00:45.
At that point, I had to leave the bed for what seems to be the usual reason these days, but back in bed afterwards, I couldn’t go back to sleep, no matter how I tried. I definitely remember seeing 03:00 come around on the clock. I’m not sure what happened after that, but one thing that I do know is that when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was definitely asleep. And I wish that I’d stayed asleep too.
As usual, it was something of a struggle to rise to my feet and to head off into the bathroom. But I managed to sort myself out eventually and head, rather later than usual, into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication.
Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And it was, yet again, something of a disappointment.
There are dozens and dozens of these sportsmen’s books written by ghostwriters “on behalf of” famous football players etc., but usually these days, they aren’t worth the paper on which they are written. And I’ve never heard of any written in the Welsh language except for one by that rugby referee Nigel Owens.
As for the dream itself, I’ve no idea from where it has come, because nothing about it rings a bell with me.
The nurse turned up after his week’s rest, telling me all about his week off and the home maintenance and cleaning that he did.
After he left, I made breakfast, back to banal toast again, and started my new book. It’s called THE CELT THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.
It’s uncertain why “The Celt” is included in the title, because it only mentions them briefly in passing, and then almost always in relation to the Romans. It’s a disappointment on that score. And seeing as the book was written in 1874, a lot of assumptions that Wright makes and conclusions that he draws are now long-outdated, as more-modern discoveries have moved us forward.
Back in here, I had things to do and things to tidy up, and then seeing that there’s no Welsh class today with it being the Easter holidays, I had another look at the radio programme that I started yesterday.
Despite the fact that the edits aren’t so good, I decided to leave it pretty much as it is because editing it will only make it worse. I’ve done one or two little things, but that’s about all. It could be better, but I’m not quite sure how I would do it.
After I’d finished, I sat down and wrote out the notes for it. I needed about one minute and fifty-seven seconds of notes, but without even trying, I managed to make two minutes twenty-eight seconds. I don’t mind being over. I prefer that and have to edit a few things out rather than fall short and have to add things in.
After my disgusting drink break, my faithful cleaner appeared. And the first thing that she did was to shoo me in underneath the shower. So now, I’m a nice, clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … looking forward … "he hopes" – ed … to a decent sleep tonight.
And the apartment is nice and clean too. I wish that it would stay like that, because I always seem to let it go out of control, and I’m not sure why.
Once she’d gone, I had a few things to do, such as to make a few ‘phone calls, more of which anon, and then I could crack on.
The next radio programme is going to be more complicated than most. It doesn’t feature any musicians (although, of course, there will be music) but a person associated a long time ago with the music industry.
And as he’s still alive, I shall have to be very careful what I say because he was an extremely controversial character back in those days and although a lot has been written about him that is not very pleasant to read, I have yet to find any substantiated sources for much of it.
Finding the music will be complicated too. His company disappeared well over fifty years ago, and the master tapes went with it, so I can’t rely on my “usual sources” to conjure up a hatful of magic. But I have various “connections”, and we shall have to see what they can find for me.
So far, I’ve tracked down a few bits and pieces and, to my surprise, I have some stuff here too, so all is not lost. I’m sure that I can conjure up something.
All of that took me right up to teatime, so I went for chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream. And Bane of Britain forgot to put the mint syrup in with the final forking. It’s probably too late now, regrettably. But never mind – it’s still delicious. Heating up half of the chocolate milk and adding the cornflour worked really well, but what I need to do next time is to start much earlier, heat up all of the milk, add the cornflour to thicken it and then let it cool for half an hour or so.
So right now, I’m off to bed, in the hope that I really will have a good night’s sleep before too long.
But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about having a shower … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of two girls from Crewe sharing a flat together.
One of them, who is in the shower, shouts to the other one "quick, can you bring me the shampoo?"
The other one replies "but I put it in there an hour or so ago."
"Yes, I know" replied the first girl. "But that’s for dry hair. Mine is sopping wet right now."
