… this has been today. But not for any positive reason – in fact, quite the reverse.
And yet last night, things were looking rather better. Although I seemed to have taken a positive age in finishing off everything, it couldn’t have been before 22:30 when I finally crawled into bed. Not to worry, though, because with it being a Sunday, if things go according to plan … "some hope" – ed … I don’t have to move until about 08:30 when Isabelle the Nurse arrives.
So once under the quilt, and when the wracking fits of coughing stopped, I tried to go to sleep, but as usual, it took longer, much longer, than it ought.
And that was all that I remember until I awoke, for the usual reason. At that point, I checked the clock and it was just after 06:00. I’d slept for about seven and a half hours.
Back in here, I climbed back into bed and I was dead to the World when Isabelle the Nurse arrived. She sorted out my legs and feet and then she cleared off, and I went back to sleep. Once more, it was a really, really deep sleep.
It was another one of those dramatic sitting-bolt-upright awakenings, something that I haven’t had for quite a while. It took me a while … "as usual" – ed … to summon up the energy to go into the bathroom to sort myself out, and then on arrival in the kitchen, it was 10:30. That’s a nice time to start the day.
But going back to the night, at some point, and I’ve no idea when, I had one of those coughing fits that was so intense that I ended up being violently sick again. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I can’t stand much more of this.
The first thing that I did was to switch on the oven to let it warm up. Next was to brush with milk the croissants that I’d made yesterday and, when the oven was hot enough, put them in for fifteen minutes.
While they were baking, I made my porridge and strong, black coffee.
Breakfast was really nice this morning, and the croissants were excellent. And while I was eating, I was reading some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.
Today, we are discussing the Saxon system of civic organisation. He quite rightly says that very little is known of this, and so we have made a quantum leap into the ninth, tenth and eleventh centuries where there are plenty of charters and decrees extant that give us some idea of how things ended up before the arrival of the Normans.
However, this is probably a rather biased way to look at things because half of the country was held by the Norse and much of the rest was under Alfred the Great, so it’s hardly a fair and representative capture of the true situation.
Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.
Whatever time this was dictated, I must have been really tired. I do, however, admire how I kept on going after the first two fallings asleep and only threw the towel in at the third hurdle. That’s some perseverance. But it’s another dream that means nothing at all to me, although imagine meeting Jimmy Saville.
There were other things to do, and then I had a little footfest.
The first game was Morton v Airdrie United. Both clubs were fighting to escape the relegation playoffs, with Morton needing to avoid defeat – something that was not looking very likely after their dreadful performance last week.
And when Airdrie took the lead, we were all thinking “here we go again!”.But late in the game, Morton managed to equalise, and, even more surprisingly, managed to hang on until the final whistle. So Airdrie must face the winner of the promotion playoffs of the league below.
The next game was Elgin City v Stranraer. There was nothing really for which these two teams were playing so Stranraer’s manager gave an outing to a huge batch of fringe players.
On the bench was Robbie Foster, and how nice it was to see him back after over ten months out with a serious injury. And the script couldn’t have been written any better. He eventually made it onto the pitch and, believe it or not, scored the only goal of the game. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen a football player try so hard with such little reward as him in the past.
After that, fatigue caught up with me and I was unable to respond for a good couple of hours. Eventually, I staggered into the kitchen and made the next loaf of bread, but it really was a struggle. The loaf, however, is excellent.
No pizza for tea. Instead, I had a taco roll with salad. Much as I didn’t want to, it will help keep the lupus from the porte, as they would have said in Ancient Rome.
So now, after finishing my notes, there are one or two things to do and then I’m off to bed, ready for dialysis tomorrow … "I don’t think" – ed … What a waste of a day this was.
But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being sick … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the sign in the parish church at Neston on the Wirral when we all went there for Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve fifty-odd years ago.
"Will patrons please note that the box marked ‘for the sick’ is restricted to monetary contributions only."
