… to have an early night last night – in bed by 22:00 or thereabouts, would you believe?
But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it doesn’t do me any good at all because I simply wake up correspondingly early. However, waking up this morning was rather special. I heard the alarm go off and I didn’t feel like getting up, so I thought that I’d wait for the second alarm.
However, the second alarm never sounded. I waited for a good few minutes and then I thought that I’d better check the time. And it was 04:34. I must have had another one of those phantom alarms. They are becoming far too frequent for my liking. I wish that I knew what was causing them.
So at that point, I turned over and went back to sleep. And there I stayed, fast asleep, until the alarm went off. When I review it like this, it seems that I had a pretty good sleep all in all, although it didn’t seem like it at the time.
When the alarm finally did go off, it took me longer than it usually does to struggle to my feet and head to the bathroom, but once I was there, I had a good wash and scrub up and also a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis.
Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone but there was nothing on it from the night. However, there was a dream going round and round in my head, so I’ll print it here for your enjoyment.
That dream was turning back the clock almost forty years, to be sure, and there’s more than just an element of truth in what’s underlying it. Certainly, what I’ve seen of North American car bodywork (and what regular readers of this rubbish will recall having seen WHEN I’VE POSTED SOME CAR PHOTOS ON LINE) has underlined what was written on that list about the car registered in the USA.
As for the spare taxi plate, that’s another story that the World is not yet ready to hear.
Isabelle the Nurse wandered in to deal with my feet and legs, and she told me an interesting story about La Rafale, the local bar down the road in the old walled town. She told me that back forty-odd years ago, when where I live was a military barracks, the soldiers used to go into the bar for a drink. Sometimes, when a ship was in port, the sailors used to go there too.
What Isabelle the Nurse told me was that when there were both sailors and soldiers in there, people used to leave the bar just as easily through the windows as through the door.
When my cleaner came in later, I told this story to her and she told me about how the walled town used to be when she first came here as a child. She did, however, say that the brothel, the “Vert Galant” in the rue du Nord, had closed in 1946.
After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.
Not very much more because, once more, I was sidetracked by all of the names and the stories that the author was mentioning, so I went off to take a further look.
Our author tells us that there are stories of a sunken city in Llyn Llangorse and speculated that it might be the lost Roman town of Loventium, but Loventium was subsequently identified as being the Roman fort guarding the Dolaucothi gold mines at Pumsaint.
After I’d finished breakfast, I came in here where there were a few things to do, and then I attacked the radio notes. And I found that, in a wild fit of enthusiasm, I had written half of them by the time that I had to knock off. I wish that I could work like that every day.
When the alarm sounded, I went into the kitchen to sort out what I needed for dialysis and to fetch a disgusting drink and the midday medication. My cleaner came in to apply my anaesthetic, and while she was doing it, she was telling me all of the stories about the walled town that I mentioned earlier.
After she left, I waited for the taxi, but I didn’t have long to wait as he arrived 15 minutes early. We had two other people to pick up, one at the Old People’s Home behind the Mie Caline in the rue d’Avranches and the second one was our usual Thursday passenger from the Aqua-Gym in St. Pair sur Mer.
Despite the deviation, our driver put his foot down and we arrived four minutes early at dialysis.
It took them much longer today to connect me up. One of the experienced nurses wanted to show a couple of the new ones how to use the echograph machine, so they looked for a member of their captive audience. As usual, the choice fell on me, not that I minded. At one stage, I had six gorgeous young nurses standing around me, and who could argue with that?
After I was up and running and everyone had cleared off, I settled down to watch the rest of Y Barri v Rhydaman. Y Barri were 1-0 up when I finished last time, and they soon scored another goal. Their possession and share of the play were streets ahead of their opponents, so how on earth did this finish 2-2 with Y Barri throwing away their lead with just minutes to go? They should have been down the road and out of sight a long time before the final few minutes of the game.
It’s been said on numerous occasions that the clubs at the foot of the table will mostly be picking up points against each other, but a point from the club in second place, and away from home at that, is a heroic achievement.
There was also time to watch the final few minutes of Hwlffordd v Trefynnon that I had missed the other day.
While I was being dialysed, a nurse came round to interview me. She had a questionnaire that needed filling in about the pain suffered during the session. Apart from sometimes when I’m being plugged in, I don’t feel the pain, so it was probably a waste of time asking me.
When it was time to unplug me, the nurse was already waiting, so it didn’t take long to do. And when I weighed myself, I was under my dry limit. I was convinced that they had done the calculation wrong when I arrived, but I wasn’t going to say anything as it was in my favour, and so it seemed. So less to take out on Saturday.
The taxi was a few minutes late, so I had to hang around, but he drove as if the hounds of Hell were on his tail and I was home by 18:30. My cleaner helped me in and stuck a disgusting drink into my hands when I was sitting down. After she left, I sorted out some crackers (I wasn’t all that hungry) and came in here to write my notes.
Now that they are done, there are just a few more little things to do and then I’m off to bed. I’m hoping to have a good night’s sleep and to see what tomorrow brings. However, as far as the good night’s sleep goes, I have a feeling that I’ll be disappointed.
But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about brothels … "well, one of us has" – ed … in an office at work, a couple of men were spraying perfume on each other.
One said "don’t spray that stuff on me. My wife will think that I’ve been in a brothel."
Another replied "I’m not all that bothered. My wife has never been in a brothel so she won’t recognise the smell."
