… even though it’s not quite 19:30, I’m starting to write my notes ready … "he hopes" – ed … for an early night.
After last night’s slightly better … "and only slightly, too" – ed … night, I’m determined to try to push on and try to capitalise on any sign of slight improvement.
Last night, there didn’t seem to be much sign of improvement. It ended up being later than I imagined and had in fact gone past 21:30 when I finally snuggled down into my nice, clean bed and although it took, once more, longer than usual to drop off, I was well out of it.
At one point I did actually wake up, thanks to another coughing fit. Whatever time it was, I have no idea because I didn’t bother to look. I went to walk the parapet, coughing continually as I went, and back in bed afterwards, the coughing fit continued and increased in intensity so that, once more, I was violently sick.
Eventually, though, I fell into that one position where I don’t seem to cough and went off quite quickly to sleep. And I remember nothing more until the alarm went off at 06:29. That was what I meant about the “improvement”.
In the bedroom, I sorted myself out and then went into the kitchen, where I made my hot drink to wash down the medication. Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.
This was an enormous barn, with loads of people in it, but it would be just like me to opt out of a party and go for a walk around the nearby town. Meeting strangers in bars is, however, most unlike me. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s not like me to be sociable.
Finding Ford Cortinas in Moscow would be unlikely, although Nerina and I almost managed to take a Mk IV Cortina estate into the USSR, but that’s yet another story that the World is not yet ready to hear.
However, there is an actual story about something like that. Did you ever wonder why you never saw many second-hand Ladas on sale at the Lada garages in the UK back in the early nineties? When Percy Penguin and I were skiing in Bulgaria in the early nineties, we saw several right-hand drive Ladas with Bulgarian plates. It turned out that Lada could obtain a better price for a second-hand Lada back in Eastern Europe so those that their garages were buying back were simply shipped out there.
We seem to be spending a lot of time in Virlet just recently. And describing the state of the barn as “utter chaos” is not too far wide of the mark. Not that the house is much better.
Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual this morning and although she chatted a lot, she didn’t really say anything. After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.
Today, we’re discussing the Roman system of governance, and it seems that reality might be beginning to hit home with our author.
We mentioned a few days ago about his putting all his trust in the “works of Richard of Cirencester”, unmasked as a fake at least one hundred and sixty years ago. Today, in this chapter, we are starting to see hiù quoting more and more from the “Notitia Imperii” of the late fifth century instead of the aforementioned.
And tucked away in a little paragraph a few pages in, we find him making a mention of the “single and dubious authority of Richard of Cirencester”. So, after all of the research that he’s carried on to arrive so far into the book, he’s now becoming less and less convinced of the authority of Richard’s book.
Something else that is quite interesting too is that he’s uncovered a few memorial tables where some of the names, usually of disgraced Roman emperors, have been chiselled away. He asks "How often have we, in modern times, seen a name cast out with loathing, which yesterday received the incense of a world’s flattery?". So nothing seems to have changed, even in our modern World where statues are being continually toppled.
Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I had a little “relax” before starting work, but I didn’t start for long as Liz messaged me for a chat. We ended up having a Rosemaryesque chat that went on for ever. Not, of course, that I’m complaining because it’s really nice to talk to friends.
After that, my Welsh group and I had a delightful chat for half an hour as one of our members produced the photos of her new baby, born a few days ago. We all gushed and cooed as you might expect, but we have to show our respects to the new arrival.
Not to be outdone, Rosemary called me too, and we just had a very brief chat today, only one hour and forty-eight minutes. There are a lot of issues going on right now round by where she lives.
At some point during the afternoon, I tried a new departure. When I went for my disgusting drink break and early afternoon break, I made myself a taco roll with cheese and salad. I hadn’t forgotten about the cheese sandwich issue from yesterday evening, so I thought that I’d give things a little try, to see if I could keep at least some food down. We’ll see how it goes.
After all of that, I finally managed to start the radio programme, and I’ve chosen all of the music, tracked down what I needed … "and that wasn’t as easy as it might have been, either" – ed … reformatted, re-edited and remixed it. I’ll have to see how far I can go with everything else tomorrow morning before dialysis.
But right now, I’m off to bed in the hope of having another improved sleep tonight.
But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the USSR … "well, one of us has" – ed … while I was walking around Moscow with this guy from the bar, I asked him "why is it that Soviet policemen always go round in threes?"
"That’s easy" he replied. "The first one can read, the second one can write, and the third one is there to keep an eye on the bourgeois intellectuals."
