Tag Archives: doctor

Thursday 19th September 2024 – DAY FOUR OF …

… my dialysis today, and the trick cyclist came to see me. They are obviously taking this really seriously

And she’ll come back to see me in a fortnight, she says. "Maybe you’ll feel differently about the needles and tubes and so on by then"
"If I’ve not grown accustomed to tubes and needles over seventy years" I said "fifteen days isn’t going to make much of a difference"

God alone knows where they find these people.

If you had come by my apartment last night at my official bedtime of 23:00 you would actually have found me in bed. And asleep too because it didn’t take a fraction of a second before the light went out in my head.

As usual there were a few awakenings and tossings and turnings during the course of the night but nothing too much to disturb me. When the alarm went off I really was miles away.

When the second alarm went off I was on my way to the bathroom with an armful of clean clothes. Who knows? I might meet Emilie the Cute Consultant so I have to look my best

That meant a shave too, and then I washed my trousers and undies in the sink so that they’ll be ready for another time. I have to keep abreast of my clothes because I don’t have many here.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had been going on during the night. At 04:30 the front doorbell rang. I awoke thinking that the nurse will be here in two minutes. Why hasn’t the alarm gone off? Then I looked at my watch and it was 04:30 and I’d obviously dreamed the doorbell going again. At that point I was actually somewhere else, doing something within a small family. There was a little girl who’d been fostered there for some reason. She was chatting away and suddenly announced to everyone that it was me whom she’d dreamed about the previous night. Of course I was extremely interested to know what the dream was but we never actually reached that point because of this doorbell

So now, as well as phantom alarm calls we’re having phantom doorbells. I’m really not doing too well with things like this. But then again, maybe it was a real one, although I doubt it. And being the subject of someone else’s dream? I wonder what it was all about. It’s a shame that that dream ended.

We were at a police station and someone had been brought in for questioning. He was proving to be rather difficult and wouldn’t answer any of their questions hoping that he could sit and sweat out the 24 hours and then be let go. We were listening to it – I can’t remember what we were supposed to be doing – we were far more interested in what was happening in this room. When the interview was paused so that the interviewer could go off somewhere I went in to see him, the interviewee, and began to chat with him thinking that maybe if he were more relaxed he might actually let loose a couple of hints but the alarm went off at this point – the real one.

And that’s a well-known interviewing trick – to pause the interview but send in someone sympathetic to the victim. It was almost de rigeur in World War II with captured prisoners and everyone was warned against it, but hundreds still let their tongues run away.

The nurse came along and didn’t stay long. He moaned about my puttees and said that tomorrow we’ll try the elasticated socks. Well, it will give me something else to hand-wash, I suppose.

But I wish that he’d cheer up. He’s supposed to be helping me improve my morale but it’s not working when he looks and acts like a wet weekend in Weymouth.

After he left I made breakfast and went to read my book for a while. We’re discussing Roman funeral monuments today and that’s something that I know something about, having been on one of these free courses from Oxford University.

Yes, that’s right! I’ve studied at Oxford University! Not that it’s done me much good.

Back in here I spent the morning going through yet more of my live concerts trying to find the dates. And apart from being able to identify another half-dozen or so, there won’t ‘arf be a big surprise in due course

My cleaner came round at lunchtime and put on the anaesthetic patches for me. And then she put on one of these tubagrip bandages over the arm to hold them in place and stop them falling off

The taxi came a little early so it was a bit of a panic to prepare myself. We had someone else to pick up out in the back of beyond so we didn’t go straight to Avranches.

The driver today didn’t have anything at all to say for herself so the three of us drove all the way there in silence. I’d given up trying to stimulate some conversation.

But by God! Didn’t she go down some of these narrow lanes at a hell of a rate? Not that it bothered me because it’s how I drive – but only when I’m on my own. Nevertheless wouldn’t we have had a problem had we encountered a herd of cows or a harvester?

It was a different nursing team on duty today and they had, well, issues trying to come to terms with the equipment and it all descended into something like chaos.

And I remain convinced that they deliberately waited until after the two hours when the anaesthetic wears off before they came to deal with me.

But the cleaner and her tubagrip bandage did its job. The patches were still there and it only hurt … errr … somewhat. Nothing like it did on Monday

They gave me a kind of echograph test and told me that I have six litres of water still in my body, despite all of the medication that I’ve taken. Whatever must I have had before?

And then the trick cyclist turned up. Painted-on, forced smile and patronising discussion. She probably thinks that I’m some kind of old, doddering has-been or, perish the thought, maybe even a coconut (no comments, please)

She had the typical psychiatrists’ trick of these long, pregnant pauses that are designed to embarrass the other party and make them feel guilty, thus encouraging them to talk. But having had the family and the upbringing that I’ve had, nothing embarrasses me any more and she’ll have to try harder than that.

But of course these people are professionals and even a stony silence will tell them something.

After about 15 minutes she asked me if I’d like her to come to see me again.
"I’m here to be cured" I said. "If the doctor thinks that I need it and sent for you, it’s for him or her to decide"
"No-one sent me" she answered, turning her head and whistling into the breeze. "I come to see everyone."
"Well you’re the professional" I replied. "If you think that I need it …"

And after more pointless, aimless discussion she agreed to come back in a fortnight. And why not? It’s free and I may as well have my money’s worth. But God help her when the going gets tough.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there as well and she waved at me – with all four fingers raised, not just two. But she soon P155ed off when they threw me out of the clinic

The driver on the way back didn’t have much to say for herself either – maybe she’d been warned about me – but she was friendly enough

There was something of a reception committee here when I returned. My cleaner was here to keep an eye on me as I climbed the stairs and she was chatting to another neighbour who had just come home from work.

Tea was something out of the European Burger Mountain with pasta and veg, with roly-poly and soya cream for pudding.

So now I’m off to bed. I have bread to make first thing in the morning as I have now run out, and my cleaner will be here to check the medication before she goes into tow,

But the story of the psychiatrist reminds me of why we have ten commandments

Jehovah appeared to Moses on Mount Sinai and said "hey, Moses! Do you want a commandment?"
"How much are they, my Lord?" asked Moses
"To you, Moses, they are free"
"Well in that case I’ll have ten"

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Monday 16th September 2024 – SO THAT’S DAY …

… three of my trip to the Dialysis Clinic. And you probably knew already because you may well have heard me scream when they stuck the needle in

These anaesthetic patches are no use whatever if they fall off inside the sleeve of your jacket and, without thinking, you stick them back on in the hospital so the staff doesn’t know that your forearm isn’t anaesthetised.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I never make a mistake. Instead I just learn a lot of lessons, and some of them are very painful, believe me. They had to douse my arm in alcohol.

Another lesson that I haven’t learned is the one about going to bed early. Last night’s early effort was just a flash in the pan because tonight is going to be horribly late

That’s because last night everything was all done and dusted quite quickly and, for a change, I was feeling a little more like it So with no distractions, like recovering from a painful arm, I headed for bed quite quickly.

At some point during the night I awoke but I can’t tell you when because I didn’t notice. It was dark so I just went back under the bedclothes and there I stayed.

When the alarm went off I staggered into the bathroom and sorted myself out, having a shave too in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant, and also washed the puttees that had been soaking in a bowl of water since about for ever. They are now hanging up to dry.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what I was up to during the night. We had a small chauffeur’s office and in the office next door were a couple of girls. We all got on extremely well. We used to cook communal meals – we’d cook a couple of things in our room and they’d cook a couple of things. We’d just go along and help ourselves to bits from everywhere. One day I was working on something and hadn’t noticed the time. Suddenly my two colleagues said that they were off out and there were sausages in the room next door if I wanted. I had a look and they had cooked some peas and mixed them with spaghetti and tomato sauce which didn’t look very appetising. Nevertheless I went next door and there wasn’t very much left at all, just a couple of potatoes and a sausage. The girls gave me something of a lecture about waiting until the last moment – if they hadn’t been so kind someone else would have eaten that. In the end I had to borrow a plate, scrounge some bread and start to serve myself this bit of an ad-hoc meal. As I said, the peas with spaghetti and tomato sauce didn’t look appetising but it was food all the same.

Wouldn’t it have been nice if our office had been as friendly as that? I had endless runs-in with my boss and my colleagues, as I have mentioned before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … and weren’t they glad when my Director’s Directorate moved to a different building. There just happened to be a spare room going begging and "if you were to move there you wouldn’t have to fight the Kortenberg traffic every time he wanted to go somewhere". . Yes, I’ll do that. And we all had some peace.

But the cooking in the office reminds me of school. The remodelling and modernisation of the school meant that the Sixth-form common room had previously been the old cookery lab and they hadn’t removed the appliances. And so for a group of us, lunch was a large tin of baked beans and a large sliced loaf divided four ways. And when we went running afterwards we would set record times without any trouble whatsoever. And that lasted until one of the boys casually mentioned that his uncle and aunt kept a pub just down the road.

Isabelle the nurse came in and did her best to raise my morale. She was on the point of giving me another shopping list when my cleaner stuck her head in for something. And so I let them get on with it between them

Breakfast was next and my book. We’ve moved on from abandoned towns (did you like that view yesterday) and on to abandoned villas, not so easy to spot from the air. But the story did go on about the ruins of a villa in private hands.

This was discovered in a forest in the 19th Century and excavated in 1882 by some amateurs who did more damage than good, and roofed over by a lean-to of corrugated sheets. In 1923 the roofing was described by our author as “in poor state, used for breeding pheasants” and in 1945 by another writer as “ruinous”. By 1979 “the sheds have now collapsed and the remains are suffering from weather and from the encroaching wood”. God knows what they will be like now.

Back in here I checked with the taxi company and they have me down for today, which is good news.

And so I wrote a letter that needs posting and afterwards had to contact my health insurers for a document that I need. That involved scanning a couple of documents to attach to my demand

All of my stuff needed sorting out for today too, and to put away what I’d baked yesterday. And you’ll be amazed at how quickly the time flies.

My cleaner arrived next, to put the anaesthetic patches on my arm and we had a little bit of a gossip before the taxi came for me.

It was my favourite Rastaman at the controls, and he had another passenger with him – an English woman.

She and her deceased husband had bought their house in 1997 (well, he wasn’t dead then, but never mind) and they came to live permanently in France in 2014. Despite that, she couldn’t string together two lucid words of French.

And yet these are the kind of people who complain about foreigners who come to the UK and can’t speak a word of English after just five minutes living there. I despair.

When my driver whispered in my shell-like about her and said “an Englishwoman – you can make a friend” I explained that I’d left the UK to come away from people like that.

We stopped in Sartilly to pick up another passenger, a retired doctor who didn’t say a word to anyone in any language, and we drove to the clinic.

My bed was right at the far end and so it took me a couple of minutes to make my way there and install myself. I had to be weighed, my blood pressure checked, all that kind of thing before they could plug me in

And that was when my torment began. It was totally agonising

But eventually the machine set off on its cycle and it’s quite strange because the pulses of the machine coincide with a tingling in my fingers, and I was having cramps in my left calf and that strange pain that I have in the sole of my right foot.

That was one day that I hope that I don’t have again, especially as they forgot the coffee and I had to harass them for it.

There’s a change of book too. I’ve finished Colonel Carrington’s report and I’m now on a book entitled CURIOUS CHURCH CUSTOMS. I’ll let you know if I find anything exciting.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was in the building today but she didn’t come to see me. I don’t think that she loves me any more. Instead I had another side-kick who came to see me, just for the sake of form, I suspect.

Someone else also presented herself to me – as the Assistante Sociale. Wouldn’t surprise me if she isn’t the trick cyclist in mufti sizing me up, or else she’s the mortician’s assistant sizing me up for the correct size of coffin.

Eventually they unplugged me and I went out to meet my chauffeur who would bring me back home. And we had the same man coming home again. Once more, he never said a single word, except when the driver asked “who wants to sit in front?”. Then he opened his mouth pretty quickly.

The driver didn’t have much to say for herself so I was glad to return home and see my cleaner, who made up for all the silence. She watched as I took myself upstairs, disintegrating puttees and all, and back in here where I collapsed into a chair, totally exhausted.

Eventually I could summon up the courage to go to make tea. Horribly late again, but it was another nice stuffed pepper, with plenty of stuffing left over for those who say that I need it.

So late as usual, I’m going to bed.

But the story of the Mortician’s assistant reminds me of my operation in January 2016 where I vented my spleen rather permanently.
There was a choice of two venues for the operation, the private clinic and the State-run hospital, and I chose the State-run hospital
"Why on earth did you do that?" I was asked on several occasions
"Have you seen where the clinic is situated?" I asked
"Nothing wrong with that" was the response. "It’s a nice part of town just there"
"I don’t care whether it’s situated in the Garden of Eden" I retorted. "No-one goes for a surgical operation in a clinic where the other side of the wall is the local cemetery. One false move with the knife, and then under cover of darkness there will be a ‘thud’ over the back wall and no-one will be any the wiser."

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Saturday 14th September 2024 – SO THAT’S DAY …

… two of the rest of my life in the dialysis ward sorted out.

And to my surprise, apparently I’m something of a celebrity. The doctor in charge of the dialysis department listens to my rock programmes on the radio and has told the rest of the clinic who I am.

We’re not at the stage where people are asking for my autograph or where I’m being besieged by groupies (more the pity) but still ….

That’s the advantage of living in a small place – it’s much more fun being a big fish in a small pond than it is being a small fish in a big pond (or maybe talking about fish, I should have said “place”). I’m not cut out to be a city-dweller

Another thing that I’m not cut out for is going to bed early. It was another horribly late night last night, but that’s because the Highlights (if you can call it that) of Y Bala v Aberystwyth.

Over the last few seasons Aberystwyth have been getting worse and worse. They narrowly escaped relegation two years ago, and it was only an administration issue affecting Pontypridd United that saved them last season.

This season, slugging it out with Y Fflint for the other relegation place alongside LLansawel, they are doing badly and were swept aside by Y Bala last night. In fact the highlights had them in the Bala half just once

It’s a good job that it wasn’t the live match this weekend because it would have been painful to watch, I reckon.

So I was soon in bed after the final whistle and once more I didn’t need much rocking before I disappeared into the ether.

Just one or two brief awakenings but I went back to sleep almost straight away and there I stayed (for a change) until the alarm went off.

In the bathroom I had a good wash, a shave and a change of clothes. After all, at the Dialysis Ward I might even meet Emile The Cute Consultant so must look my best.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were working for a Sports Radio. There was an apartment available to let and we’d been asked to show some people round it. It was only a single-roomed apartment, bedsit-type of place that doesn’t take much showing around. The guy who came to look at it was extremely interested even though it was untidy and dirty. He asked a few questions about the gas fire, whether it was connected to the mains and whether it was a good connection. While I was poking around in there having a look I came across firstly another key which had presumably been left down underneath the fire and some money too, some Euros and some £5 notes totalling (thinks) €30:00 and £10:00. There was something about this €30:00 but I can’t remember what it is. There was certainly rather more to this dream but I can’t recall it. The guy was extremely interested in this place. Finding the key and the money was the icing on the cake as far as he was concerned but the place was dirty and needed a really good clean-up after the previous tenant had left. It looked like the person smoked and there was cigarette ash everywhere.

And in a minute I’ll tell you a funny story about a Sports Radio. But finding stuff hidden under the gas fire is one thing, but it’s not where I would have hidden it. In the book of THE MALTESE FALCON Sam Spade hid the falcon in the ice compartment of his refrigerator

A friend of mine from Chester was talking about the collieries at Llay. It turned out that that was where a friend from school had gone to work. He said that it was his first real job and his last one too because the colliery had closed down. It was just over the Christmas period and never reopened. The people knew that it was closing but the fact that they didn’t reopen it after Christmas showed that they had changed the plans without communicating this to the workforce. The workforce was of course all laid off, part of the industrial desolation in North Wales. The site was left to rot for several years but eventually it was cleared away in some kind of demolition control. The Wrexham Maelor Council was left to look after what was left of the property. The site was now some kind of industrial estate. My schoolfriend said “why don’t we go to have a look at it?”. I thought that this was something that we should have done a long time ago, many years ago, but I suppose that now as as good a time as any. It would have been nice to have been there fifteen years ago when it was working but you can’t have everything

Llay has been in the news over the summer. The local football club won promotion to Wales’s second tier in dramatic circumstances. The name of the club, Llay Miners Welfare FC, recalls the days when there were collieries in the area. And if the family Bible is anything to go by, my grandmother’s people came from Penrhiwceiber in South Wales and likely came north when there was a wave of pit openings in the early years of the 20th Century.

But there’s another question. I rescued her Bible from a skip where it had been thrown after her bungalow was cleared out. Who’s going to rescue it when my apartment is cleared out after I’ve gone? Apart from the fact that it has her family tree in it, it’s actually one of the rare Bibles that was written in Welsh

I dreamed that some woman had come into my bedroom and began to lick and hug my door. She said that she was my teacher but I didn’t recognise her from school at all

And what on earth is that all about? Women coming into my room and licking and hugging my door? Obviously I’m not famous enough yet despite what goes on in the clinic and I’ll have to work hard at that.

There was also a dream about two German women coming out of a cafe. One of them was saying to the other about her daughter can stay with her for a couple of days and then return home, then her son could go to stay with her too. This woman was something to do with the German military. The subject came up about a motorbike somewhere in a town along the Rhine. The woman wondered if it would be suitable for her son so she went to ask some kind of German officer if she would borrow some kind of transport to go down to pick it up but the German officer was not impressed at all and told her that he’d already said in the past that she’s not allowed to borrow any transport for this kind of purpose

That’s not very relevant to anything at all that I can think of. I’m clearly losing my grip.

When the nurse came, she sorted out my puttees (which fell down again later), issued an order for supplies and tried her best to give me some encouragement for this afternoon. I asked her what time I should apply the anaesthetic patches and she told me to ring the hospital

And it’s a good job that I did because they didn’t have me down to come and they hadn’t therefore booked the taxi to bring me

And then I could finally make breakfast and read my book. And do you know? I can’t remember what it was that I read today

After breakfast I watched that new Sports programme showing the highlights of Newport City’s game last night. And the reporter "and (the ‘keeper) hangs onto the ball like my missus hangs on to an Easter egg" .

That’s my style of commentating so I sent the commentator a mail of encouragement and we struck up quite a conversation

There was some photocopying to be done so I attended to that, interrupted by my loyal cleaner. She’d brought up the post and was going to apply the anaesthetic patches.

The post had some good news, for me and for her. That Society that deals with personal autonomy who came to see me the other week considers that I need at least 13 hours of assistance per month (instead of the current 8) and will give me a grant for the extra hours.

One of the tasks for which I need assistance apparently is “moral support” – although what moral support I can have in 13 hours is a matter of debate.

The taxi came and whisked me off to Avranches. The driver was a rocker and so we had rock music all the way which made a nice change.

And who should be on duty today at the Dialysis Centre but Emilie The Cute Consultant. It really was my lucky day.

Today I was in the public ward where it was rather warmer but I was still stretched out on a bed and thus unable to work

Instead I carried on reading Colonel Carrington’s reports about life on his frontier post “across the lines” in Indian Territory. And we reached a crucial point in the narrative today.

He’s been accused by his own junior officers of timidity in confronting the Native Americans but it’s clear in that sending troops to the forest to bring trees back to build the stockade, to cut planks to make the buildings etc, he doesn’t have the time or the resources to go on the offensive.

However, one of his subordinates takes a couple of troops, totalling 80 or so men, on an independent command and disobeying all his clear orders, goes in an impetuous chase of a party of natives.

It goes without saying that this group of natives is just an advance guard for an ambush, and of all the palefaces, there’s not even one survivor.

When we were there IN 2019 and walked across the battlefield, you could see just how ideal it was for an ambush

Carrington noticed it too when he went to retrieve the bodies, and in his notes he describes – in lurid, gruesome detail – the mutilations that they had suffered, many of which had been committed while the victims were likely still alive.

When they were disconnecting me and unplugging me, they talked about my “unwillingness” to become involved in the more gruesome parts of this dialysis procedure.

They talked about sending the psychiatrist to see me and asked if I would like that. Well, apart from the fact that I think that anyone who wants to see a psychiatrist needs his head examined, I am actually quite comfortable with my problems. And if anyone can help me overcome them it won’t be a trick cyclist. I shall have to do it myself.

It was a silent drive back here with a very taciturn chauffeur, and then my cleaner watched as I fought my way upstairs alone

And Rosemary had sent me a message. She tells me that this morning she saw the snow on the Puy de Sancy. Winter’s on the way already.

Having mentioned Aberystwyth’s disaster last night, it’s even worse because Y Fflint surprisingly beat Hwlffordd this afternoon to pull away up the table.

Tea was, for a change, a burger on a bun. It’s been a while since I’d had one of those, made with the stuff that my friend in Munich had sent me ages ago. I’d made it up and then frozen the burgers to use bit by bit.

And my roly poly was delicious too.

So now I’m off to bed – when I’ve dictated the radio notes that I’ve written during the week. High time I went back to work

But on this psychiatry thing, the last time I was there they gave me the Rorschach test
The psychiatrist showed me a photo of an ink-stain and asked "what’s this?"
"Rorschach test image number six" I replied
"Ohh come on" he urged. "Be serious"
"OK" I said. "It’s a loaf of bread"
"And this?"
"A dragonfly"
"And this?"
"An octopus"
"And this?"
"Eeeuurrgg" I shuddered. "That’s an evil parasite that sucks out the lifeblood of human beings and gorges itself on their energy and shrinks the willpower …"
The psychiatrist looked at the card. "I’m very sorry" he said. "But that’s a photo of my wife"
"But was I close?"
"You were close"

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Thursday 12th September 2024 – I CAN’T EVER FORGET …

… my friend’s daughter who, on being told that what she was going through for the first time at 11 years old was what she’ll be going through every four weeks for the next forty years, stormed upstairs in a fury and slammed her bedroom door in a fit of pre-teen angst .

And now I know exactly how she must have been feeling, after having gone through what I’ve gone through today and knowing that I’ll be doing it three times per week for the rest of my life.

They said that it would make me feel better, but I’m hardly running around like a spring chicken right now.

“It takes time” they tell me, but how much time do I have?

Not enough last night, apparently. I eschewed a trip out around Central Scotland with one of my groundhopping friends and was in bed relatively early. And asleep quite quickly too, which seems to be becoming a habit these days.

However I awoke not long after 06:00, and couldn’t go back to sleep. By 06:45 I had totally given up the idea and was so wide awake that I arose from the Dead a good 15 minutes before the alarm, not something that happens every day.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, changed my undies and washed the previous pair in the sink. I must keep on top of things otherwise it will all let go and I’ll have no idea where I am.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was an athletics meeting taking place, a World Championships of some description. I was working as a driver. At one stage I had three people in my car, a couple of girls and a guy taking them from one place to another venue. One of them was actually talking about staying illegally in the UK because he had no passport or his passport had expired. The story he was telling was how he was staying with his aunt and how she had left sounded so fishy that it was unbelievable, the type that you hear every day from thousands of people, exactly the same. He was asking about going to Canada and whether he’s receive asylum there. The Canadian girl was very suspicious and was giving very guarded answers. It was all extremely complicated. When I reached my destination I unloaded my three passengers and stayed to listen to the news. They were talking about them on the radio saying that they’d absolutely loused up the first leg of their athletics tournament and so they had been sent away somewhere off-campus to a private room out of the way of the media where they could rebuild their confidence etc ready for the second round of the event. The radio was saying how this was a good thing to do in the circumstances of these three people. But I was listening to these stories and was just extremely suspicious about them all. I was sure that there was far more to it than just a simple “take them out of the public eye for a couple of hours”. It was one of the most suspicious things that I’ve ever encountered

And believe me, in my life I have encountered a great many suspicious things. I have had something of a chequered life in a couple of previous existences and one of these days I might actually say something about it. However, I have to be mindful of the fact that the UK is one of these countries that has a very minimal Statute of Limitations.

And then we were discussing the situation at Celtic where the manager had left, a new manager had come in and there was a lot of turbulence around there with players openly talking about leaving the club. One of them was interviewed on TV and was discussing it. It turns out that another one was released over twelve months ago and has yet to find a new club. I said “surely he can find a job working on a building site or something like that and play part-time to keep fit. I could find him a job tomorrow”. I told him of a job that I knew was going. Whoever it was to whom I was talking was some elative of his and said “I want him much fitter than that. He’s 29”. The discussion continued and it was extremely interesting that I’d dreamed that Rodgers had left Celtic and they had a new foreign manager

So why would I be interested in Brendan Rodgers and Glasgow Celtic? It’s not the usual kind of topic that is forever on my mind. Not at all.

The nurse came in to see me later to apply my puttees (which fell down later). She gave me the copies of my prescriptions that she’d photocopied and also gave me some other paperwork that the clinic wants to see. She wanted to tell me what was going to happen but I didn’t want to know.

My faithful cleaner had been past too and dropped off the unused injections for me to take. Apparently they put a blood-thinning product in the mix when I’m being dialysed so they’ll start with my injections, so as to use them up

After everyone had left, I made breakfast and read my book on ROMANS IN BRITAIN.

We’re discussing Roman Roads at the moment but I’m thinking about the camps at Caersws and Caerhun that we’ve seen on those aerial maps.

When our author was writing his book, it was 1923, a long time before the advent of aerial photography and aerial mapping, something pioneered by Sidney Cotton (inventor of the “Sidcot” flying suit), whose steps we stood in IN NEWFOUNDLAND, when he came to the UK in the late 1930s.

So we can see these things quite clearly thanks to Cotton and those who followed in his footsteps … "or vapour trail" – ed …, but these people in 1923 when they were writing these books had no idea of aerial photography, so what they were able to discover and identify is really quite astonishing.

After breakfast I had to telephone the bank in Belgium. There have been payment issues with a card and I ned to check. But it wasn’t any use. According to the bank they don’t have any marker at all on the card and it should work fine.

We shall see.

What was left of the morning was spent backing up the big computer onto the memory stick on my keyring, and I ran out of time because the taxi came early for me.

There was someone else to pick up and then off we set, two passengers and the taxi driver from Hell, to Avranches. If they give me a blood pressure test as soon as we arrive they’ll have a shock.

When we arrived, there I was struggling along on my crutches so they took me to the cubicle the farthest away from the door.

They slapped a few anaesthetic patches on my arm and then we went through a pile of paperwork and forms. Then they gave me an injection and I closed my eyes as they did what they had to.

All I did was to lie there in bed. They had all the windows open and the air conditioning going full tilt and I was freezing. So much so that I couldn’t concentrate on any work at all – and that’s something that I’ll have to sort out.

Instead I read the report of Colonel Carrington about life at Fort Phil Kearny, which was permanently under siege by the native Americans and the site of which WE VISITED IN 2019. Now THAT’s what I call an interesting document.

There were also times when I drifted away with the fairies and on one of my little trips Roxanne came to see me and I remember distinctly kissing her cheek.

They eventually uncoupled me and I had to wait around for half an hour while they checked that the joint would close correctly. And FINALLY I could go to the bathroom – and not before time. And with my puttees around my ankles.

There were three taxi drivers waiting in the foyer so I asked "who’s drawn the short straw?" and one driver knew exactly what I meant.

We had another person and so the return trip home, much more sedately this time, went via the Centre Normandy to drop him off.

My cleaner was waiting but she stood and watched as I hauled myself up the stairs without help. It’s a struggle, but it works.

There’s no bread so I made another loaf. And in a wild fit of enthusiasm I made a jam roly-poly.

That was easy – make half a bread mix, after it’s risen, roll it out flat and rectangular, coat it with Jacqueline’s lovely home-made jam, sprinkle some desiccated coconut and raisins, and then roll it up, sprinkle with icing sugar and bake it in the other side of the oven while the loaf is a-doing.

While all that was going on I made tea – a burger from what’s left of the European Burger Mountain with pasta and veg done in tomato sauce

But now I’m off to bed and I’ll tell you tomorrow how the bread and roly poly have come out.

However, I started this entry today talking about repetitive tasks. And that reminds me of a Trades Union meeting that I attended years ago to discuss new work proposals
"We have agreed" said a negotiator "a 10% pay-rise, an extra week’s holiday, a Christmas bonus, and as from now on, we only have to work on Wednesdays"
"What?" howled a discontented voice. "Every bloody Wednesday?"

0

Tuesday 10th September 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

… since we’ve featured an old car on these pages?

Or, more to the point, how long is it since we’ve featured a photo?

old cars Panhard C24 coupe sartilly Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo 10th September 2024So here you are – a photo of an old Panhard C24 Coupé

One of the very last models made by Panhard, this vehicle would have been built some time between 1963-1967, but this vehicle may well be manufactured later in the range rather than earlier judging by the restyled tail lights.

Not exactly my favourite old car, the styling of these 850cc flat twins was supposed to be aerodynamic and while well in advance of its period, I didn’t find it to be an attractive design at all

Another problem was that, unlike Fords, they required a lot of care and attention to keep them on the road, and the bodywork contained some notorious rust-traps

It’s a shame that the photo hasn’t come out too well, but it was taken on the camera on the phone in the miserable grey afternoon from a moving vehicle and through the car windscreen.

No-one can be the best in these circumstances.

And neither can I, seeing as I had a horribly late night again last night.

One of my ground-hopping friends was out and about and was somewhere near Bathgate just outside Glasgow, watching the game between Armadale Thistle Ladies and Bonnyrigg Rose Ladies.

Bonnyrigg were unbeaten this season but my friend thought that Armadale would give them a good run for their money tonight so he went along and streamed the game.

He was right too. Armadale matched Bonnyrigg all the way, and their Khya McGurk scored what surely must be a goal-of-the-season contender to win the game for Armadale.

Although the game was somewhat short on skill, THIS PIECE OF SKILL ought to be enough to win any game any time anywhere in the world. Thanks to NORRIE WORK for the video clip. You can hear him going berserk in the background of the clip!

You’ll notice the copyright logo on the video extract. I’m currently experimenting with a few videos and a couple of editing programs. Until I settle on a good version and pay the unlocking fees, I’m stuck with free versions and their copyright logos.

If anyone can suggest any programs worth trying, drop me a line. There’s a “contact me” button on the bottom right of the page.

So with a horribly late night again, I crawl off to bed and there I stay until the alarm goes off. That might sound as if it’s good but believe me, I’ve slept for much longer than that and called it a bad night.

In the bathroom I had a good scrub up, a shave, a complete change of clothes and I hand-washed my trousers and undies. That was rather drastic, and dramatic too, but I’m off out this afternoon, waging war.

First task though was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I can’t believe that I’m standing in a queue at an event somewhere or other and there are four people around me. Every single one of them speaks Welsh. There’s me, there’s that girl who looks like my friend from Trefynnon, there’s a guy called Gareth Owen and he’s speaking Welsh to Nerina who’s replying. I thought that there’s something totally strange happening here. We’re just in queue for a coffee at some kind of festival

That’s what I dictated anyway. And you wouldn’t have caught Nerina speaking a different language. She was a mathematician and computer person and therein lay her talents. But it’s not every day that I’m dreaming in Welsh. It’s really getting to me, isn’t it?

Isabelle the nurse came to see me too. She gave me the injection and fixed my puttees (which fell down shorty afterwards) while she told me about her walking holiday in Brittany. It was of interest to me because one summer in the mid-70s I went hitch-hiking around Finisterre and enjoyed every single minute of it.

Our Welsh course started up again today so I did some revision, of the wrong unit as it happened (which depressed me immensely) and then I had to abandon the lesson because the taxi came early.

We then had to drive around Granville picking up two others, and then the driver made a complete hash of leaving the town and we ended up stuck for ages behind a tractor. Mind you, if we’d gone the way that I would have gone, we’d have been ages earlier but we’d have missed the Panhard

That vehicle crossed our path somewhere near Sartilly and we followed it until it turned off on the outskirts of Avranches.

The hospital where I had all of these problems is installing a pay barrier, and that tells you everything you need to know about the hospital, its financial situation and why it’s trying to do its best to hang onto my money.

Because of our problems, I was late for my appointment and the doctor was waiting. I’d hardly got into my stride before he was full of apology for what had happened and was issuing instructions to his secretary.

The appointment didn’t last long. He looked at the reports, didn’t even look at his work, and gave the all-clear for dialysis to start. Apparently I’ll be “hearing from” the dialysis clinic.

There was then a phone call – from the hospital administration. Full of apologies (and excuses) but they have prepared a cheque and it will be sent to me “in the next couple of days”. We shall see.

The driver to take me home was my favourite Rastaman driver. After we’d dropped off some other passengers around Avranches and he’d given me a sightseeing tour of the town we set off for home.

He’s the most amenable of the drivers and as there were now just the two of us we stopped at the bank in Sartilly where at long last I was able to activate my new bank card, which pleases me no end.

At Granville my faithful cleaner was waiting and she stood and watched, impressed beyond belief, as I took myself up the stairs without help.

How long this will go on I really don’t know, but make the most of it!

She had some good news to tell me too about my ground-floor apartment. We’ll see how that develops too.

After she left I had a very late lunch and came in here where, true to form these days, I crashed out.

Just before I slid off into oblivion the dialysis clinic rang. I will have my dialysis on Thursdays, Saturdays and … errr … Mondays. Putting my foot down about Tuesdays has worked.

Afternoon though, not morning, but you can’t have everything I suppose. At least I have two full days in the week free. Roll on the Physiotherapy classes!

And then they called me back. I’ll have to go earlier than planned because the nurses are refusing to apply this anaesthetic cream stuff. But don’t worry – they’ll organise the taxis.

With some time to go before tea I attacked the paperwork again and sorted out some more stuff. The desktop is positively empty at the moment. How long will that last?

Tea tonight was a delicious taco roll followed by apple crumble. What a good pudding that is. There’s still enough for a couple of days, and then maybe I’ll make a chocolate sponge for pudding next week

But not right now, because I’m off to bed. And maybe another dream in Welsh. Who knows?

Unless it’ll be a dream like the one where someone went to speak to the hotel management where he was staying.
"Last night" he said "I dreamed that I was eating a marshmallow, but it went on for ages this dream."
"It must have been a huge one" said the management. "A veritable giant"
"I suppose it was" said the guy
"But what’s that got to do with me?" asked the manager
"I just wanted to tell you" said the man "that when I awoke this morning, I couldn’t find the pillow"

0

Tuesday 3rd September 2024 – I HAD A LOVELY …

… surprise last night. Zero came to visit me.

How long is it since one of my three favourite young ladies came to visit me during the night? I was really worried in case they have dropped out of the picture, as The Vanilla Queen seems to have done, but here we are.

It’s quite surprising really, because as you might expect these days, it was quite late when I finally went to bed last night. But once again, I didn’t need all that much rocking before I was away in the Land of Nod

As for how the night went, I’ll talk about that in a minute but it was a very weary, bleary me who made his way into the bathroom for a good wash and brush up ready to hit the streets

Yes, it’s a good idea to have a really good scrub because I’m being inspected by someone at the Centre de Re-education (or so I thought) later this morning.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been and, more importantly, who had come with me. And wasn’t it exciting? Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming that I’d met Zero. She’d figured in one of the dreams that I’d had while I was dreaming. Ironically, much later on when I “awoke” from that dream but was still asleep, deep in the major dream on the first level, Zero was actually there in the other room while I was asleep. She was talking to one or two other people and I wondered whether I’d actually manage to speak to her. I really hoped that I did of course. Eventually she came in so I told her that I had dreamed about her. She asked me to tell her all about it so I began to talk but I hedged some of the bits. She seemed to know that I was hedging so she asked me outright to tell her everything. I began to tell her about the dream and what had happened in the dream. But then I had a panic attack because I found that I couldn’t remember it. It was that that awoke me. I felt really upset and distressed by this – having Zero on my plate for the first time for ages and once again not being able to get my fork stuck in it.

“Disturbed” isn’t the word. I’ve been lying here awake for hours and I just can’t simply go back to sleep. I’ve no idea what I’m going to be like in the morning.

It was actually two hours and forty-three minutes later that I dictated that line there. I don’t think that I’ve ever been so disturbed about a dream as I was with that one. However it’s interesting that I was dreaming that I was dreaming. There are some people who can layer up a couple of dozen layers but I think that the most I’ve ever managed is three layers. It was interesting that it was about Zero too instead of some banal subject, and it was also very pleasant that she was still there when that “dream within a dream” finished.

However I wonder what bits about my dream with Zero that I was hedging on telling her. Can you imagine it? But that’s just another example of my wretched luck. Nothing seems ever to run as I would like it and the thought of what I’d missed totally disrupted my morning.

So for two hours and forty-three minutes at least, I was tossing and turning according to the timestamps of the sound files. Meanwhile, twenty-seven minutes later I went out for a wander around and came to a town centre where there was a huge queue of pedestrians going all the way down the High Street. I wanted to turn into the High Street but it was impossible. But some of the pedestrians hung about and presented a gap so I pulled out of the side street into it. Then all the pedestrians in front of me who had scrunched up then spread out to give themselves some space. Those in front recoiled backwards and collided with my car so I shouted at them to be careful. However I had my words all mixed up so they had a few things to say. It seems that I’d fallen into the middle of a big group anyway so everyone was all around shouting to each other. It was a queue for a shop, a sewing and seeds shop so I thought that I’d have a look in for my friends. They were selling some seeds for some kind of jasmine plant for £0.89 so I bought a bag. I thought that it would be OK for one of my friends but I couldn’t remember which one. When I went to pay I suddenly realised that I’d picked up a card. I had it in my inside pocket. I made a light-hearted joke about being so forgetful. The woman replied “don’t worry. We’d have frisked you down anyway before you left. So, rather impressed, I paid for the card and seeds and then cleared off

So which friend was it who was going to receive a packet of lavender seeds and a card? I don’t have that many friends I suppose so it’s not a wild, mad choice amongst a large selection of people.

The nurse and I had another row today. Tomorrow I have to leave early and he doesn’t like the idea. Well, that’s rather a shame, isn’t it? He’ll be here at 08:05 by the latest or else I’ll go without him and he can either come back later or send another nurse. But I’m not disrupting the work of the taxi company or the clinic in Avranches just because he can’t be bothered to arrive here early for once.

Isabelle, his replacement, is quite reasonable about it. She can’t/won’t come here early but if I ‘phone her when I return she’ll pop round at a convenient moment with no complaint at all.

Once he’d cleared off I could have breakfast, and read my book.

The author, Edward Thomas, refers us today to a friend of his, another poet called Ralph Hodgson

Hodgson’s claim to fame is that he wrote a poem called “To Deck A Woman” and with a title like that, I just had to hunt it down to read it

So after much searching and tracking down, here you are – “How To Deck A Woman” by Ralph Hodgson
"I know a place of summer doves,
Rapt lizards in its alleys lie,
And mostly there a linnet loves
To mend a wanting melody*

No men talk there ; no pit or gin
Trips Beauty on that sunny hill ;
Its voice is ever gracious din
Of bee and song-bird never still,

And anthem yet from other quires :
The muffled diapason gushed
From lips occult and privy lyres
And pipes of Eden never hushed —

The pipes and lyres and lips that are
In sods and bubbles, stones and trees
And flying seeds from woodlands far
And wandering airs and essences*

Within, about, above, below,
Sprites elemental, Night and Day,
And winds and climbers, frost and snow
And wild things only, know their way"

It’s certainly not what I was expecting, with a title like that, but it’s an example of how much has language evolved over the last hundred-odd years.

The taxi turned up bang on time to whisk me down the hill. It’s a girl whom I know who was the driver so we had a good chat and then she helped me sort myself out at the Centre de Re-education. I saw my favourite doctor but it wasn’t she who was looking after me today which was a shame.

The one who saw me today was also quite cute. I’d seen her before, the last time that I was here, so she wanted to know

  1. why I hadn’t organised the physiotherapy sessions that she had prescribed
  2. why I hadn’t gone for the echograph on my knee

Sometimes it’s very difficult to explain to people that even with the best will in the World, you are often overtaken by events over which you have no control

She’s re-prescribed the physiotherapy and she’ll fit me in for a day at the Centre for a complete reassessment. Unfortunately there’s a terrific backlog and she won’t be able to fit me in for quite a while.

So I enquired when that might be

"Quite a while, I’m afraid" she replied. "October, maybe even November"

It’s a good job that she doesn’t work in the UK where a “normal waiting period” would be about eighteen months, never mind “quite a while”.

Back here there was no-one to help me up the stairs but I managed on my own with some (considerable) effort. That was something to celebrate. But at least the taxi driver didn’t moan, like the last one did.

Having made a pot of coffee I came in here for my Welsh class and if you think that two units of the book was going some, we did three today and I am totally whacked.

So much so that while I didn’t actually crash out (well, maybe for 10 minutes or so) I was in no fit state to do anything.

Tea was a taco roll with rice and veg, delicious as usual, followed by yet more strawberries. I really have some wonderful neighbours.

So right now I’m off to bed. Avranches in the morning to see the nurse and find out what’s going to happen about dialysis. I shudder to think.

But I hope that Zero comes to see me again tonight. I can just picture the scene if ever I’m lucky enough tonight to be all alone with her –
"I dreamed about you last night, Zero" I shall say
"Did you?" She’ll ask
"No" I’ll reply. "You wouldn’t let me."

0

Wednesday 28th August 2024 – MY GINGER CAKE …

… is really delicious. Not quite fiery enough, I reckon, but that kind of thing comes with practice. The consistency was exactly what it should have been, except that it was cooked more at the top than underneath.

Usually that would mean lowering it in the oven, but that won’t work as it’s already on the lowest possible shelf, so it’s going to be to turn down the oven and prolong the cooking time.

But that won’t work if I’m baking bread at the same time, so it will have to do.

Consequently, given the shortcomings of my table-top oven, it was a resounding success. Just wait until I have a real oven, whenever that might be.

At least the sponge rose up as it was supposed to do.

While we’re on the subject of rising up as it is supposed to do … "well, one of us is" – ed … I rose up as I was supposed to do this morning when the alarm went off at 07:00

That was helped by the fact that for once I was actually in bed before my ideal curfew time of 23:00. Not by very much, I have to say, but even one minute is some kind of progress.

After I’d finished my notes last night I did everything that I had to do and then headed for the hills.

Once in bed I remember very little. I started my little bedtime mantra but didn’t get very far before I fell asleep. And apart from a couple of awakenings at various times, there I stayed quite comfortably until the alarm went off.

In the bathroom I had a really good wash and clean-up, followed by a shave and some clean clothes. I must look my best for my trip out today. Who knows? I might even meet Emilie the Cute Consultant.

While I was at it, I washed my trousers and undies in the sink ready for next time. I try to keep ahead as much as I possibly can.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. Nerina and I were going through one of our phases and were walking down Hospital Street in Nantwich or driving down there, but we stopped at a pedestrian crossing to let a pedestrian pass. I recognised him as he walked past. He was a musician and after listening to his album thanks to a recommendation by a friend I’d actually gone out and bought a copy. I just happened to mention that I’d bought a copy of his album and we ended up having a very lengthy discussion about the music business before he left. He noticed a cut on the side of my face so told him that it was nothing to worry about and began to sing a parody of the Dire Straits song I’D PUT A BIT OF PLASTER ON MY FINGER, PUT A BIT OF PLASTER ON YOUR THUMB. He came running back wondering where he’d cut himself. I had to explain to him that that’s the lyrics of a song. Once he’d worked it out he went on his way quite happily.

But I’ll tell you something for nothing, and that is that if I can write parodies of modern (well, for me anyway) songs while I’m asleep I’m doing really well here. And walking through Nantwich and encountering rock musicians would have been quite a usual occurrence in the mid-70s with a host of garage bands in the area and recording artists like Strife. They were some really good times with the pubs in Nantwich like The Wickstead, The Rifleman and The Bowling Green. There was a time when my friends and I were thrown out of most of the pubs in the town at one time or another.

There was a boxing match out in Aston, a girl from our class, whatever her name might have been. We set out in the car to go to see it. It was taking place outside the church. We knew that we had to rush. Nevertheless we arrived late and the fight was under way. It looked as if she had been hurt because she wasn’t her usual lively self for boxing. Her opponent, an older man, was there and they were standing toe to toe trading blows. She was fending off more of his but then she caught him with a beautiful overarm right just as he was trying an overarm right. It was a very painful, tired overarm right as well as if it was her very last effort that she put into it but it made a perfect connection on the point of his jaw and that was him out for the count. She won the competition again but this time it was much closer than it had been in previous attempts so we were going to have to work on why this was the case and do something about it for the next time

What beats me about this is that I actually mentioned the girl’s name. She would have been one of the most unlikely candidates for a competitor in a boxing match (having said that, had any of the girls in my year or thereabouts come up against a male boxer, my sympathy and commiserations would have been entirely with the boxer) but not only that, I don’t think that I’ve ever spent even a minute thinking about this particular girl since I left school. So what’s brought her suddenly to the forefront of my mind?

Later on we’d been sorting out some music concerts. There had been a complaint from one of the washrooms that all of the towels had been used by a certain group wiping the lipstick off their faces after being kissed by thousands of girls so there were no clean towels in the washrooms. A certain guitarist was also there on tour. He was a nightmare to handle as everything had to be absolute perfection but perfection according to his standards. He had no spatial awareness and no awareness of anyone else around him and their feelings and so on. Everything was all about him. It was a very complicated issue to deal with him. He was sacking everyone after the first show, replacing his staff and then firing them again after the second and we just couldn’t keep up with all of the changes. Neither could he. It was beginning to deflect from his show but he wouldn’t have it at all and wouldn’t listen to explanations from anyone that maybe he ought to moderate his unnecessarily high standards in order for a compromise to be made that would mean that everything would go ahead. The more people he upset and the more people he fired, the fewer people he would find who would be willing to work with him

Anyone in the music business would be able to name this guitarist – I did in my dream but I edited it out – whose constant search for perfection has had exactly the opposite effect to that intended. Anyone of any great competence will look at the speed at which our guitarist has been hiring and firing and decide that he’s better off where he is. It’s not at all like Neil Young who has often been criticised because of what is perceived to be the lack of ability of his backing group, Crazy Horse. But as he has said on many occasions, he’s here to have fun and a good time with his mates and make everyone happy, not to launch himself into an eternal quest for the unattainable goal of perfection.

The taxi was late coming for me but it was a lovely drive down to Avranches even if the driver kept the windows closed.

The letter that I had notifying me of my appointment showed a different time from the time that they had noted so I’ve no idea what was happening there.

Anyway, I was eventually seen and the first thing that the doctor did was to rip off the plaster and give me a lecture about having it covered. I felt like a small child up before the headmaster (although where I would find a small child up before the headmaster in that hospital I really don’t know).

So I have to keep it uncovered and let the air get to it, and like it. So far, I’ve managed to avoid not seeing it. How long I can keep that up I really don’t know.

The doctor ran her echograph machine all over my arm right up as far as my armpit, and passed it fit for service. So on the 4th September I’ll know when dialysis will begin.

While I was waiting for my taxi back I bumped into Emilie the Cute Consultant’s sidekick and we exchanged a few words. And then the taxi came for me

All the way back (with the windows closed again) and the taxi driver had to help me up the stairs – something that she found extremely difficult and so did I. Seriously, if my cleaner’s not available to help me it’s going to be a real struggle

First thing that I did back here was to have a very late breakfast. I’d had nothing to eat or drink all day as yet so I was ready for some food.

It was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse. "I was here at 08:20 but must have just missed you"

"Yes" I thought. "And the taxi was late so it was well after 08:30 when we left" but I didn’t say anything.

After breakfast I had a lengthy chat with a friend in the UK. We have a project on the go and that involved some lengthy discussion.

It should also have involved a transfer of money but the battery has gone flat in my card reader so I had to order another and the money will have to wait.

There’s some bad news about this project, but it’s not unexpected so it’s no skin off my nose really. But with having a professional on the job, there are already some considerable savings that have been made so it’s “swings and roundabouts” really.

Liz was on line too so we had a lengthy chat. She was keen to see how today went and what the plans are for the immediate future so I filled her in.

The cleaner was here too and she whizzed through the apartment.

Once everyone had gone and things had calmed down I went for a very late hot chocolate and a slice of ginger cake. And it really was delicious as I said.

But now I know that I can substitute things in my basic recipe, how about a coffee cake? What about strawberry cordial instead of water to make a strawberry cake, with real strawberries in there somewhere?

But this is how most recipes work – trial and error. Sometimes some of these experiments work in spades and other times they are absolute disasters.

After that I made some naan dough and put most of it to freeze but kept one ball for tonight’s leftover curry, which was delicious as usual and the naan was perfection.

But now I’m off to bed. I have no plans for the next two days so I might even do some work. But right now I’m listening to a live concert by a Canadian group called “Black Mountain” so I’ll be going nowhere for a while

But on the subject of Liz and “filling in” I’m reminded of the guy who went for an interview for a job at the Ritz Hotel in London
"You should fill in our questionnaire" said the receptionist
"Very good" he replied, and went outside and beat up the doorman.

0

Thursday 22nd August 2024 – I AM NOT …

… turning into a politician, or a Conservative.

The heart specialist had a play around with his machine and after much searching and so forth, actually managed to detect a heartbeat.

So something is working where it ought to be working and that can only be good news

The better news is that he seems to think that he can do something for me. And if so, that will take a great weight off my mind. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I’m being pumped full of blood-thinning products in order to ease the strain on my heart. That has some unpleasant side effects, such as my blood being so thin that I bleed at the slightest excuse.

And that was the reason why my early night last night ended up not being an early night at all. And once more we have a rail of blood all around the apartment from when I had to wander off and look for the sticking plasters.

Yes, in the distance that it took me to go from my chair into the bathroom I managed to knock myself and bleed all over everywhere.

It was quite a while before the blood stopped flowing enough for me to consider going to bed. And once more, it didn’t take any effort at all to go to sleep. That doesn’t seem to be a problem anyway.

What does though is whatever it is that keeps on awakening me in the small hours of the morning. I’ve no idea what time it was this morning but it was still dark. But no chance of my leaving the bed. I PULLED THE BEDCLOTHES HIGHER, DREAMED OF SUMMERTIME INSTEAD until the alarm went off at 07:00

In the bathroom I had a really good wash and shave (for a change) and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a hold-up on the motorway and everyone was detained while the hold-up was fixed. It took several hours through the night and at one stage the Police had organised an impromptu football match between various members of people waiting in the queue. A lot of people weren’t happy and were making complaints but there was nothing that anyone could do. Even so they were coming up with the most incredible excuses about having to see the Queen, things like that. There were several young families there and entertaining the children was a huge priority. Although this was going quite well in one or two places it was quite bad in a lot more. No-one seemed to be able to get to grips with any of the issues that were arising, whether it was the passengers. Of course, the longer the delay went on, the more urgent some of the passengers became and the more targets the Police and Customs had to pick to search, which only aggravated the issue even more. It was all part of some natural disaster and wasn’t a man-made issue that had blocked the motorway

Later on there was a huge thing about illegal immigrants and with the Pole Board blocked the immigration service was going through interviewing anyone and absolutely everyone about their immigration status. It was upsetting to a great many people but nevertheless it was something that was carried out and it was interesting to see different people’s reactions. Some took it quite calmly. Some took it quite emotionally. It was absolutely everything there. In the end it turned out that what it actually was was tickets for a Scottish Cup Game between Rangers and someone else at the other team’s ground. The Police had this barrage there to control the arrival of fans. After Rangers had won the match they contacted the club that was hosting the next round game to ask them about ticket arrangements but Rangers were quite happy for it to be a “pay on the gate” game. They didn’t seem to think that it should be a “ticket only” match so the Scottish FA was giving the matter some consideration about simply making it “first come first served” for a seat

This may not seem to make any sense at all but that’s not surprising. Hardly anything that I do or say in a dream seems to make any sense at all. But then again it’s probably not supposed to.

The nurse was very late coming here today. She’d been across the road to take a blood sample from someone and it had proved to be more difficult than she imagined.

She was pleased that we have some new puttees on the way and that her supplies have been ordered. She saw my prescription for a blood sample and is going to take it on Saturday

After she left it was too late to have breakfast, which was just as well that I didn’t start anything because the taxi was early. The driver helped me down to the car and we had a nice, pleasant drive to the Medical Centre.

But that’s twice now that I’ve been out and about in the sun and it makes me yearn to be in the apartment on the ground floor where, with a folding chair, I could sit outside and enjoy the beautiful weather

Being early at the Medical Centre I had to wait for a while before I was seen. The doctor remembered me from three years ago and asked me what happened to my cure.

And so I recounted to him my story about being passed from pillar to post in Belgium to such an extent that I lost interest. He pleaded with me not to lose interest this time.

So fair enough. Let’s see what he’s got under the hood, as the old saying goes. Can he really conjure up something to help ease all of my issues?

He wasn’t impressed with the fact that I’m covered in bruises and wanted to know if I’d had a fall. I explained about how I bruise really easily while I’m taking all of these blood-thinning products.

While I was waiting for my paperwork I encountered one of my neighbours, just back from holiday. We had a little chat and then my driver came to take me back home.

He helped me up the stairs as far as the lift and I could go the rest of the way on my own. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that the lifts are only on the half-landings and don’t go all the way down to the ground floor, which is an inconvenience.

Back here I finally could have breakfast which I took at an extremely leisurely pace, and then joined my Welsh class.

My Welsh Summer School seems to be going very well, which is nice. I can’t think what I’m doing right. I wish that I knew because I’d do it all the time

During the lunchtime pause I made some dough for the next loaf, and in the afternoon break gave it its second kneading.

At the end of the lesson, in a mad fit of enthusiasm I made a pie using a couple of vegan burgers that I diced, along with onions, garlic, sweetcorn and lentils.

All of that went into the oven with the bread and some potatoes, and I ended up with a lovely tea tonight – baked potatoes and pie with vegetables in gravy. There’s enough pie left for three more meals so it’ll go in the freezer when it’s cooled down enough

My faithful cleaner stuck her head in the door too. We went through the medication so that she knows what to order on the next prescription supply from the chemist’s.

She says that she’ll go tomorrow, but I reckon that she’ll need a lorry to bring it all back.

So on that note I’ll go and give my puttees a good wash and go to bed, see if I can have a decent sleep ready for my last day for now in a Welsh Summer School (there’s a third week later). We have piles of homework to do and that will keep me out of mischief.

But not before I tell you the story about the Eye Clinic in the Health Centre.
A patient went in and told the doctor that he was having difficulty seeing and needed his eyes testing.
"Fair enough" said the optician, and turning to his secretary, said "take your clothes off, Miss Smith"
The patient was outraged. "I’m the one who needs his eyes testing" he said. "Why should she take off her clothes?"
The optician turned to the patient and said "if you can’t see why she should take off her clothes you really DO need your eyes testing."

0

Wednesday 21st August 2024 – "ONCE YOU START …"

"… the dialysis procedure, all your problems will be over."

Yes, and we’ve all heard things like that before, haven’t we? If something like that could really solve all my problems I’d have done it a long, long time ago. Long before this.

In actual fact, it might solve one or two but I’m not expecting a Damascene conversion where I pick up my bed and walk. That’s being rather optimistic. But what we have learned from all of this is that it appears that dialysis is very much on the agenda.

Well know more after the 28th of August. That’s when everything is being inspected. They’ll make a decision very shortly afterwards. So if you see me leaping around like a two-year old, you’ll know that it’s done the business.

But for the moment let us return from our flights of fantasy back into the Real World.

After I’d finished my notes I wandered into the bathroom and there I put my puttees in the bowl to soak. The other pair I rolled up and put them ready for use in the morning.

Eventually I managed to make my way into bed, hours later than intended, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Something else awoke me at some point but I’m not sure what and I’m not sure when. This “not wearing a watch” is embarrassing but I’m scratching myself to death when I do.

The alarm summoned me to my feet at the usual time of 07:00 and I headed to the bathroom for a good wash and scrub down followed by a change of clothing. You never know – I might get to see Emilie The Cute Consultant this evening.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. This is another dream that involves some kind of panic attack. It was at one of these fairground places and there was a lot going on that didn’t seem to work correctly. There was a human cannonball who was fired from a cannon but the cannonball wouldn’t fire. It just rolled out of the bottom of the gun. It rolled over to by I think my youngest sister’s husband so what they had was this guy and this girl who had to climb inside the cylindrical thing where my brother in law was sitting. He was going to do something with the cannonball and they were going to intercept it but it was a terribly confined small space and I was there expecting some kind of panic or riot as the people concerned were unable to effectively escape from this claustrophobic environment. Luckily it passed off without any major incident. I certainly didn’t want to have to do it again with anyone and go through what was potentially a panic-stricken routine to extract them from this cylindrical tube thing while someone does something silly with a cannonball which seemed to be totally superfluous and ridiculous to me but that’s how it was

It goes without saying that I’ve no idea what’s going on there with that. The last thing that you’d expect to dream about is a human cannonball

A bunch of white track suits with a slogan on them were found to be mistyped. The slogan was wrong when I examined them as such and were counterfeit. They were able to test that by using a blob of chewing gum on the dragon’s head that was part of the label. There was a special technique for testing whether they were correct or not, in using chewing gum. This test failed so all the track suits were seized and were donated to refugees who were held in one of these detention centres

That sounds much more plausible. Forged sports equipment is quite a racket and I’m sure that we’ve all heard stories of famous mistypes in counterfeit sports goods. Without them there wouldn’t be famous sporting quotes like
"She was only the football supporter’s daughter
But she liked her ‘Uddersfield and her Arsenal"

When the nurse came, she moaned about my puttees losing their elasticity and asked me to arrange for a new pair. And on top of that there’s another issue. She has an electronic key to enter the building. She had it from my neighbour who has now moved into a Home and so wants her electronic key back

This will upset the nurses as the will then have to ring to be let into the building. And it would upset me because a couple of times now the nurses have intervened in my health issues when I’ve been unable to respond.

Consequently giving them unfettered access to the building is essential from my point of view and from theirs. Could I oblige?

So after she left and I’d had breakfast I put wheels in motion and made a phone call or two

Once more the Welsh lesson passed off well but I was still glad that it was over. In the pauses I’d chosen the missing track and written the notes ready for dictation so that’s that all done now.

The taxi came early for me so I was in a hurry to prepare but I ended up having everything to hand, for the first time ever, and we were there in plenty of time.

It wasn’t Emilie the Cute Consultant which was a shame, but her sidekick. And he tells me that he’s become a faithful listener of my radio shows. That means I have an audience of at least one.

We ran through everything and he told me that his Social Services department is on the trail of this Clinic in Avranches. He’ll let me know how it pans out.

Apparently my doctor had written a new prescription for me on 13th August. Where it’s gone, I don’t know but he printed it off, all … gulp … 19 items of it. And he added on an additional prescription for some new puttees, which will please the nurse.

He thinks that this dialysis will solve all of my problems, but he doesn’t even know what problems I have so he’s a very brave man

Back here my cleaner, who had been tidying the apartment, was waiting for me and she helped me upstairs where we sorted out the paperwork. We’ll check the medication on Friday and order some more.

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry with naan bread, cooked to perfection. But that’s the last of that batch of naan dough. I’ll have to make some more.

Now I’m off to bed. I have the heart specialist tomorrow morning so will he find a heart? Or am I turning into a politician? Watch this space.

But talking of human cannonballs, we had Gandey’s Circus who used to winter at Arclid near Sandbach. I had a friend who worked in the Crewe Employment Exchange who told me "Gandey’s are looking for a human cannonball. Do you fancy the job?"
"I thought that they already had one" I replied. "What happened to him?"
"Apparently he was fired last week" she replied.

0

Thursday 18th July 2024 – LAST NIGHT I FINISHED …

… my notes with "Which way did it go?"

So which way did the early night that I promised myself go last night?

It ended up being long after midnight with the cleaner and I mopping up blood yet again and I tell you that I’m thoroughly sick of all this.

When I took off my jacket while undressing there was a blood-soaked bulge on my arm where a plaster was supposed to be. Of course I’m not touching anything like that (I really am nesh) so in the end my loyal cleaner came down.

It’s really lucky that she’s here. She has all of the first-aid certificates and the like so she was able to clean everything up, inspect the arm, consider that there was no real damage and bandage it up again.

It took her long enough but she did a really professional job and bound it round with a long strip wrap to hold everything in place until the morning so that at least I wouldn’t bleed to death during the night.

After all of that I could go to bed.

But not to sleep. I wasn’t in the mood which was hardly any surprise. All in all, things were pretty miserable and there was nothing on the dictaphone of course. Zero didn’t come back to continue part II of our voyage which was a disappointment.

When the alarm went off I staggered into the bathroom and a cursory inspection showed no signs of anything unusual or out-of-the-ordinary, no trails of blood anywhere so I had a good wash and came back in here to wait for the nurse.

When she came, she had a look at my arm. She changed the dressing, commented on the good job that my cleaner had made, and remarked that she thought that my wrist was swollen.

She did a check of my fingers to make sure that everything moved as it should but she still wasn’t satisfied. She urged me to contact the hospital as soon as she left.

Not quite as soon as she left though. I wasn’t going to do without my breakfast.

When I was sipping a mug of coffee afterwards I rang them up. Apparently the surgeon is only there on Tuesdays, but his secretary will tell him that I called with a problem. So I can’t see what use this “24-hour number” is to anyone.

Meanwhile, the nurse called me She’d had the same irrelevant response when she phoned them so she went to see my doctor who has his office in the same building where she is.

He’s away on holiday, of course he will be at a time like this, but he has a locum and she will come round at lunchtime.

Meanwhile, my cleaner came round. She’d brought back more supplies, and wanted to know how I was getting on so I gave her the good news.

This locum – the first thing that she did when she came round was to hold my hand and feel my pulse. And I’ll tell you – she can hold my hand and feel my pulse any time she likes.

She thinks that my wrist is running a temperature but she didn’t want to disturb any of the bandaging as there doesn’t seem to be a problem as far as that goes.

She made several ‘phone calls, gave me a couple of phone numbers that are more likely to produce a response than the one that failed so miserably, and told me that if all else fails I mustn’t hesitate to telephone the emergency services.

She then wrote out a prescription for yet more dressings, which my cleaner came down to fetch.

An hour or so after everyone had gone and come back, I had a ‘phone call.

The neurosurgeon’s secretary called me. "we’ve heard from your doctor" she said. "We’re all quite concerned here. Can you come tomorrow at 11:30 to see the neurosurgeon and have an echograph?"

So that’s the taxi booked for 10:45 then. I wonder at just what point the Social Services will become fed up of paying for me to go gallivanting across northern France at the taxpayer’s expense.

In between all of this I’ve been trying to prepare a radio programme. I’m chosen all of the music, paired it off and begun to write the notes.

Not that I’ve gone very far, and I could have done much more had it not been for a little wobble at one point. But with no sleep last night it’s hardly a surprise.

There’s been no food tonight either except a bag of crisps and some biscuits. I’ve been watching the football, and watching hearts break all over Europe

Caernarfon clung on to win through to the next round but Bala were cruelly denied progress by a very late goal in Estonia and Connah’s Quay in Wales by two very late goals, one right at the end of normal time to be pegged back and then a killer punch right at the end of extra time.

But the fact is that there’s a wealth of difference between teams in Europe and teams in the UK, in style of play and in temperament too.

British teams tend to ride their luck instead of relying on technique and fitness. There’s too much of the “it’ll be all right on the night” about them.

When I interviewed Granville’s manager a while back about fitness levels between full-time teams and part-time teams, I brought up the subject of part-time teams running out of steam.

He poo-pooed the idea, and then Granville conceded three very late goals after matching Olympique de Marseille toe-to-toe for 75 minutes.

After tonight’s results, I’m more-than-ever convinced that there’s something in what I said to him and one day I’ll produce some statistics.

But not tonight because I’m going to bed in the hope of a decent sleep and some pleasant dreams, preferably in the company of Zero if she comes back after the other night.

But on the subject of statistics, and vital statistics at that,; I remember a civil servant friend of mine who went to buy a new bra for his wife
"what size, sir?" asked the shop assistant
"Sixteen and a half" he said
"Sixteen and a half?" repeated the shop assistant, rather puzzled
"That’s right" said the customer "My bowler hat is size eight and a quarter …"

0

Wednesday 26th June 2024 – WE HAVEN’T FINISHED …

.. yet – not by a long way.

Two more appointments to add to the list of liaisons, two more pills to add to the mountain of medication. My poor cleaner is running her socks off to help me up the stairs here and going to the chemist’s on my behalf. As she put it so succinctly – "I spend more time here than I do in my apartment. I may as well move in here."

Nothing is guaranteed to make me recover quicker than a threat like that. I value my independence and, strangely, my solitude. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I just wasn’t cut out to live with anyone else.

Poor Nerina, Laurence (and Roxanne), Marianne and Cécile. They all tried, bless them …

It seems to be the thing that I can’t even live with myself these days either. Once again it was late when I crawled into my lovely bed, and that was that.

Totally and definitively too. I don’t think that I moved a muscle and depressingly, there was nothing on the dictaphone to break the monotony.

When the alarm rang I was confused again but managed to work it out in enough time to beat the second alarm five minutes later. In the meantime I had hauled myself off into the bathroom to sort myself out and find some clean clothes.

The nurse doesn’t come for an hour or thereabouts so I had to loiter around doing a few bits and pieces until he put his sooty foot through the door.

For a change just recently he was quite chatty and told me several stories about life in the town, including the story of the “Aryan” posters being posted by the Fascists in the area.

After he left I made myself breakfast.

Much of the rest of the day has been spent organising the paperwork. There were several bills to pay, and thank heaven that much (but not all) of French administration has gone onto “payment on line”.

But how they have set it up is crazy. They have indexed everything under the file number of the bill, which means that if you have three bills to pay, you need to log in and go through the procedure from start to finish for each bill.

What they should have done is to register the bills under a person’s identity, like his social security number. Just log in once, “how much do I owe in total?” and one payment would clear the bill.

Next step was mail and letter writing, trying to catch up with where I left off with piles of outstanding correspondence.

Halfway through I came across my Tax Return which is now several weeks late. And so I’ve been collecting information for that too. Not that I’ll owe very much at all but one has to go through the motions

The cleaner came round as usual this afternoon and whisked her way through the premises. It now looks as if someone lives here, which is probably not a good idea. I’d have to fight off callers.

The taxi turned up early for me and I was dropped off at the medical centre in plenty of time. However, the driver insisted on accompanying me upstairs to the waiting room.

That was a shame because I wanted to go to the supermarket on the corner. I don’t know if I’ve explained the issue about my new bank card – how it has to be authenticated by making a shop purchase with the PIN. That should have been my chance just then

The vehicles that we use are chartered to take you from “X” to “Y” and so if it says “third floor, Pole Santé du Port then “third floor, Pole Santé du Port” it is, direct and in a straight line, with no turning, no deviation, no passing “Go” and no collecting £200.

It’s a question of Insurance, so I’m told. And having worked for an Insurance Company straight from leaving school, I can believe it.

Emilie the cute consultant’s sidekick was not pleased with my lack of progress and neither am I. Of the weight that I lost while I was in hospital, half of it has gone back – in a week!

Consequently he’s upped the dose of the diuretic that I take. I’m not convinced that it’s doing me much good but we shall have to see.

While I was there he gave me two appointments for August. How many is this now? And August already? Would you believe it. Time is melting away.

While I was there I asked him if he had a card machine so that I could pay for this consultation with my card and unlock it that way. But “No”. All of his clients are Social Security cases like me So “bang” goes that idea too.

The third idea was a “no-no” too because the driver came up to the waiting room for me so I couldn’t nip out to the shop on the corner even now.

And then the battery in the ‘phone was flat so that I couldn’t ring my cleaner to say that I was coming back. We had to ring her doorbell to attract her.

She seemed to think that my ascent as a little easier than yesterday. All that I can say is that it must have been bad.

But in here the two of us sorted out the medication (resurrecting a long-suppressed medication! What a surprise!) and sorting out the appointments.

Then teatime – a leftover curry lengthened with potato and peanuts and accompanied by rice and naan bread. As usual, absolutely delicious yet again

But right now, I’m off to bed for what’s left of the night, and to wonder how I’m going to fit all of these appointments in.

It was so much easier when I was with Nerina. I was once called in as a result of a blood test and the doctor gave me a thorough going over.
He telephoned Nerina the following day to ask to speak to her so she went in to see him.
"How is Eric?" Asked Nerina. "Is he going to be OK?"
"Eric is suffering from severe nervous strain and overwork." said the doctor. "He’ll be fine but only if you follow these rules very carefully. Let him put his feet up at home, feed him breakfast in bed every morning and cook him light meals three times per day. Gently tuck him up in bed and pander to his every whim"
So Nerina went back home and I asked her "what did the doctor say?"
She looked at me and said "I’m terribly sorry but I’m afraid you’re going to die."

0

Tuesday 28th May 2024 – “YOU ARE REQUESTED …

… to come for an appointment at the hospital at Avranches on Friday morning at 09:00. Ohhh – and bring your overnight things”.

Things are moving faster than I even expected and it’s rather important because this weekend I have friends coming over from Germany to visit me. I bet that they didn’t expect to come to visit me in a hospital bed.

But yet more visits? More visits this year than I’ve had in all the other years combined since I’ve been living here. Anyone would think that I’m dying or something.

Last night I actually felt like dying. I’d done all that I could to have an early night and then the fates conspired against me, one thing led to another, and once you begin you’ve no idea how many other things there are. As a result I was late into bed once more.

However I actually found it a little easier to crawl into bed last night and turning over through the pain barrier into the only position in which it’s possible at the moment to be comfortable was nothing like as painful as it has been

My legs were well inside the bed too which meant that I didn’t fall out once which was an improvement on the previous night. Nevertheless I was awake a long time before the alarm went off and wandering around the bathroom when it finally did ring.

No blood test today for some reason. He’s going to do it tomorrow, which probably means that I won’t have my injection of the Last Resort until Thursday, if it’s not too late by then

But I do wish that he’d stop moaning. Things may well not be pleasant for him around here right now, but imagine how they are for me. Don’t you think that I’d change things if I could?

After he left I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There wasn’t actually anything on it but that’s not to say that I didn’t go anywhere.

In fact I had the greatest memory of another one of those really long dreams that I’m sifting through my head before I dictate them, just like the other night. This was a lengthy newspaper article that I was writing about how unjust it is to blame goalkeepers for their errors on the field. A keeper who lets a shot roll in under his body has no more lost the game for his club than the centre-forward who misses a sitter. Yet you see plenty of “goalkeeper error” videos but very rarely a “centre forward error” one.

What started this. I suppose, was a game that I saw the other day between Annan Athletic Under 17s and Threave Rovers Under 17s when the Annan keeper was yellow-carded for “deliberate handball” giving away a freekick that led to a goal by Threave Rovers. The game was being played on a sports centre pitch where there were five different sets of markings and he simply carried the ball out to the wrong set of lines. So what I was doing in my sleep was going through lists of games where a keeper had made a mistake and conceded a bad goal and a striker had missed a sitter in front of goal, and comparing who was blamed for the defeat.

Of course, each time that I thought that I’d had my list ready to dictate I remembered something else and had to start my list again. But I was awake before I could do that.

Coffee and delicious flapjack were next, then back in here I didn’t do all that much for a while.

A ring on the doorbell, a real one this times, jogged me into action. It was the doctor. He took one look at me and almost collapsed with shock.

He gave me a good going-over and reckoned that I ought to have a spell in hospital – “and not just a couple of days either”. He’d “have a word with the nephrology professor” at Avranches about me

So after he left I began to bring my medical file up-to-date, weeding out all of the time-expired stuff and adding in the new stuff. You’ve no idea how much has changed over the past few weeks.

My prescription – I’d given than to the nurse this morning. I had to print off another one along with yet more paperwork.

In the middle of all of this the hospital at Avranches rang up with the convoquation. So here we go.

Firstly, I had to book the taxi to take me. Secondly, I had to tell Paris where I was going just in case I can’t make their appointment on the 10th of June.

The doctor’s office rang me back later too “there’s another medicament …” so I had to contact my poor cleaner. And having one hospital take me off the Burinex for something else, Avranches has now put me back on the Burinex. And that’s just as well because I never had these problems when I was taking that.

In the middle of all of this I’d been doing some radio stuff. I’d started by choosing some music for another programme but with the news that I had, I verified three more programmes and sent them off. I told you that it’s a good idea to have a few prepared in advance.

At long last I could go for tea – a taco roll with rice and veg. Totally delicious as usual. I really do like my boring meals. They are totally different from what I’ll be eating in a few days time. I hope that some of you will be sending me food parcels.

But that’s for another time. I’m living from day to day here – in fact, from minute to minute. Getting into bed is the next challenge

The hospital should be fun – in the sense of interaction with others. I don’t see enough people, stranded as I am in my apartment. I know that regular readers of this rubbish will recall having told me that I need to get out more.

But it’s going to be a struggle for them at Avranches. Last time I was there I heard more than one nurse say, as I was climbing into the taxi to take me home "if he comes back, I’m leaving!"

0

Monday 15th April 2024 = I’M IN HOSPITAL

The emergency department of our local hospital in Granville. I made a brave face of it just long enough for the nurse to take one look at me as she came into the apartment.

After she’d dealt with my puttees and the plaster on my foot she sent me to bed and sent for the doctor.

The rest is, as they say, history.

What’s disappointing about all of this, from my point of view is that I’d made a special effort to be in bed really early and so at 22:00I was tucked up in bed with STRAWBERRY MOOSE to keep me warm hoping for a really good sleep.

As it happens, I can’t remember very much at all about last night. I was totally out of everything. There is some stuff on the dictaphone too and it’s certainly one of the strangest things that I’ve ever dictated. One of my failures was a failure of politeness and whoever was in charge of issuing the politeness had failed to endorse me so I’d fallen down on that, which meant that the Controle Technique on the van had failed as well and I didn’t know what I was going to do about it. I pretended to ignore it and went out anyway one day. I was in the van looking for this Minister of Politeness and went past the Police Station. A police car pulled out from the side of the road to perform a U-turn but stopped to let me go past. I stopped to let him pull out because I thought that I’d rather have him where I could see him in front of me and know what he’s up to. He drifted off with his superior and they went off to look for something else. A few other people had gone to look for this Minister of Politeness which left me there without my certificate and I was going to be in quite a few problems

When the alarm went off I staggered off for the medication and then for a wash and brush up to look pretty for when she arrives. Not to mention setting out the room as she likes
… "setting out the room as she likes?" – ed …
Didn’t I just tell you not to mention that?

So she came, she saw and she complained. Off I went to bed like a rather naughty child and tucked myself in.

One thing that I did do was to tell my cleaner that I was tucked up in bed. I sent her a message. She pops in every now and again to drop off something and I didn’t want to frighten her.

Actually, she stuck her head into the bedroom later on to see how I was doing and if I needed anything, which was nice of her. She told me later that the sight of me frightened her to death – by which of course she means about how ill I looked. I usually frighten people to death every day for other reasons.

The nurse rang me and told me that she’d seen the doctor’s secretary and he’d be here after his morning surgery closed, which was fair enough.

Sure enough, at about 13:00 he turned up, and he was horrified by my sight too. He gave me a good going-over and then recommended the hospital.

Once I’d agreed (there’s no point having his advice and not taking it) he called the taxi company that handles my affairs and they said that they’d be here in an hour.

Just enough time to sort out my papers and pack a bag (which I didn’t take because I didn’t know if I’d be staying) and then Antoine from the taxi company took me to the Hospital’s Emergency Department.

Having been categorised by an Emergency doctor as “non-urgent” by which they mean “not about to die” judging by the state of some of the others, and having been given a blood test I was put on a bed in the corridor to wait my turn.

There was soup and coffee being passed down the line (not like at Riom where Liz had to run out and purchase supplies) but it didn’t reach me and I was in no mood to ask. And when I’m off my food, you know that here’s something wrong.

There was plenty of time to observe the goings-on and I was glad that I’ve not been arrested. The French Gendarmes don’t mess about asking people to “come quietly”. There were at least two detenus brought into Emergency in handcuffs for a check-over after helping the Gendarmes with their enquiries.

They didn’t actually get round to me that night and I was pushed, bed and all, into an empty office where I was left alone in the dark with the occasional visitor to check on me.

As for me, I felt like death and I could feel that I was going to be worse.

But my faithful cleaner sent me a lovely message – "Courage! The whole building chez nous is with you!"
To which I thought "Blimey! It must be a pretty big bed"

0

Monday 22nd January 2024 – THIS PERISHING RUBBISH …

… that I’m taking to control the potassium in my kidneys is going way beyond what is reasonable.

After having the helping at 07:30 or so with the morning medication by 09:05 I was out like a light and the next thing that I remember was that it was about 11:00. It was really as if someone had simply flicked a switch.

And when I awoke I was in a state of utter confusion that has continued to some extent or another throughout the day

Surprisingly, I found that I had even been on my travels while I was crashed out on the chair. I was in Nantwich and noticed that there was a big hotel right opposite the railway station, right by the bus station (which it isn’t) so I had this idea of going round France and the UK, finding similar hotels located in similar good positions and marketing holidays aimed at the pedestrian tourist with luggage. When Hawkwind awoke me with ANGELS OF DEATH I was busy setting up a stand at a railway junction in the Gironde somewhere in order to greet my passengers who were changing trains there.

That’s exactly how deep a sleep it was.

But returning to last night, I didn’t need much rocking when I went to bed loaded up with this anti-potassium stuff, that’s for sure. I was soon away with the fairies.

And quite literally too. I must have travelled miles during the night. I dreamed that I’d had one of those drinks again (and that’s bad news, isn’t it?). I remember so vividly mixing it and drinking it and thinking that this time of course it didn’t taste so bad so what was I worried about? Thinking that it was the nicest one yet. When I turned over I awoke from the pain in my leg. I looked at my watch and it was 00:25 and I was still in bed so it was something that I obviously must have dreamt but it was so real.

Later on I was in my blue MkI Cortina. I was out with a girl again last night. I had to take her home so we drove home. As we went through Haslington there was a sign that said “Winsford Station” and it was 8.5 miles away. I thought that that was a strange thing to see. I brought her home and parked outside the door to her apartment. I asked her for a kiss but she thought that it was rather too much of a public place. But we had a bit of a kiss etc parked outside her door then she went in. I wish that I knew who she was. She was very familiar to me but I just can’t think whether I knew her or not. Just round the corner from there was a golf club. I wanted to use the bathroom so I thought that I’d go there. I went in and did what I needed to do. I thought that these toilets are much higher than the usual ones and I felt much more comfortable sitting on these than I did on the one back at home at the traditional height. It was easy for me to dress afterwards. As I turned to wash my hands I noticed that someone had left a golf cart and golf clubs right by the sink. I washed as well as I could. I picked up my crutches but there were some other crutches there too. I picked those up and walked outside. There was a cleaning team there because it was time to go home and close the building. I explained to one of them, a young guy, that there was a set of golf clubs still in the toilet. He thanked me and said goodbye. he told me not to forget all my crutches. I realised that I had the ones that weren’t mine so I told him about those too and handed them to one of the people.

But I wish that I knew who that girl was. She seemed so familiar to me that I’m sure that I recognised her but I just couldn’t put a name to her. And isn’t that a shame?

And then it was common knowledge that I was leaving the hospital so a day or two before I was due to go a whole crocodile of people passed by my bed in a kind-of conga dance to say goodbye to me. I was drugged up to the eyebrows so I was rather unaware, rather unsure. One of the very last people to go was something small dressed in pierrot’s clothes and a STRAWBERRY MOOSE hat on it. With it being small it can’t possibly have been someone who worked there. Then I remembered that one of the staff had a very young daughter and brought her into the hospital every now and again. She’d been to see me a few times so I reached out, touched her arm and began to stroke it in time to the music. A horrible thought came over me “I wish that I knew who this was and I hope that it was that young girl otherwise this is going to be a terribly embarrassing situation in which to be”. I forgot to mention that right at the very beginning I was asleep. It was someone blowing a hunting horn of some description that had in fact awoken me, just blowing 2 blasts on this horn so I was awake and that was how, because of this horn

Next off I was with Nerina in a house somewhere. I can’t remember very much about this dream. I’d prepared a programme for the radio and had sent it off. Very near the end what I’d put in there was wiped out and Thierry’s voice came over, introduced a song but it only played so many seconds of it before it cut to the News. I heard him say “oh blast!” but I wasn’t sure whether it was for real or on the radio. After the news his voice carried on and went well over the hour so I had no idea what was happening. In the meantime I was planning on buying a house. I’d seen one out in Brittany that I’d liked , a farm cottage type of place on the edge of a village with outbuildings at the back for the cars. I’d bought it but trying to obtain possession was proving to be really complicated. I knew that it would happen and I knew that it would come but trying to actually physically obtain it was proving to be extremely difficult

After that, someone came along and awoke me and said that it was time so I began to get up but I thought that it was rather early. My pianist, who was sleeping in the same room got up and told everyone that she would help me. That seemed to satisfy them all. After some debate and discussion they all left. In the meantime I went back to sleep again. Then I awoke and wondered why the alarm hadn’t gone off for a second time. I looked at my watch and it was 05:46, a long time before the alarm goes off so that part must have been a dream too.

And who was this pianist? Surely not the 12-inch pianist that my rather deaf fairy Godmother brought me once.

When the alarm went off I was busy being interviewed by a Colonel from a Home Guard regiment in Normandy. They were creating this to defend the land against the invading Germans and wanted volunteers so I went along. He laughed and said that I wouldn’t be any good. I explained that I couldn’t march and couldn’t run but I could fire a gun. I could be the battalion reserve. In case of invasion they could just put me somewhere with a machine gun and I could act as their hold-up man while they went off and found some better positions somewhere.

There was even more that this but you really don’t want to know about it, especially if you are eating your lunch right now.

So I staggered on my crutches into the kitchen to pump myself up with more medication, and then back in here to check the mails and messages. and I do appreciate all of the mails and messages that I receive.

Having transcribed the dictaphone notes I promptly crashed out as I said just now.

It was a very bleary-eyed and comparatively incoherent me who had to speak to the nurse from the hospital ringing up to find out how I was. I told her about the problems with the anti-potassium medication and about water retention, the ack of ability to walk etc.

She replied that she’d speak to the doctor about it but as yet no-one has come back to me. They are probably waiting for the result of this week’s blood test.

And so am I if it means that I can stop taking the blasted stuff.

There was an exciting phone call over midday too. I was speaking to my neighbour on the phone when suddenly she had to go because there was someone at her door.

No sooner had she come back and restarted the chat when I had to go because there was someone at my door. It was my long-suffering cleaner who had brought me my next lot of injections. And there are more to come too, which will be here on Wednesday. I hope that there will be some room in the fridge.

We finally managed to finish our ‘phone call and then I had to chase up this bon de transport to go to Paris tomorrow. And the doctor had actually already sent it – to the taxi company.

And he’s put the address incorrectly. It’s not actually the Hospital Pitié-Salpetrière where I’m going but the Hospital St Antoine. I hope that the taxi driver knows the way and it won’t cause any complications, because the doctor has filled out bon de transport is for the Hospital Pitié-Salpetrière.

The ambulance company that brought me home on Friday rang me too. There’s some confusion in their office about my health cover

Apart from that I’ve been weaving my way through the next radio programme. I listened to the one for this week and sent it off and then made a start on another.

And how difficult is it when you have all these interruptions and your head is going round and round after this drink? It took me an age to choose the music and pair it off, and I’ve only written half of the notes. I really ought to be doing better than this.

But not right now though. I’ve had tea – a stuffed pepper that somehow didn’t seem to be as nice as usual and I don’t know why, and now I’m off to bed ready for my … gulp … 06:30 alarm clock.

Before I go though, I’ll leave you with THE HIGHLIGHTS of the game from the weekend. When that ball hit the bar after 55 seconds, I could hear it from here, never mind on the computer.

In case you’re wondering, which I’m sure you are, the team in purple are under-21 stars of a team that’s pushing for promotion in the English Championship. The team in white and green are basically Saturday afternoon players from Wales.

But look at their third and fifth goals. Aren’t they peaches?

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Monday 8th January 2024 – NOW THAT I …

… have figured out how to tether my phone to my computer using “bluetooth”, I can access a phone hotspot with the computer and post the days’ entries directly.

In fact, you might have noticed that the completed entries for the last 3 days are now already on line.

Once again, I make no apology for anything that is contained therein that might distress or upset people.

Firstly, I have no control whatever over what goes on in my head during the night. And how I wish that I did! I’d have Zero, Castor and TOTGA in there all the time, with a succession of other people who have been so nice to me in the past. Even Nerina. After all, she had a lot to put up with in the old days.

Secondly, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … as this illness unfolds and heads towards its inevitable climax, the state of my mental health is just as important as the state of my physical health and needs to be controlled in a similar manner. And so any intemperate or unpleasant outburst needs to be recorded in the same way that a blood pressure recording is.

Thirdly, these are stressful times and you have no idea. Having a blood test on Wednesday, a desperate ‘phone call on Thursday and a 350-km dash in a taxi early on Friday morning is enough to tell you that something has gone horribly wrong.

And so here I am. Like the famous Maréchal MacMahon, "j’y suis, j’y reste" – “here I am and here I stay”.

So here I stayed, all through yet another miserable night of doors banging, people talking, trolleys rattling and the like. And by 06:00 I’d given up all thoughts of sleep.

Mind you, with the amount of stuff on the dictaphone, and no hallucinations either, I must have done a lot of sleeping at some point somewhere.

First port of call is the bathroom for a wash and brush up and to put on my day clothes. Then an endless stream of visitors to see me – nurses, nursing orderlies and the like, taking my temperature, taking my blood pressure, giving me my medication etc. You can imagine.

There’s been a change of crew too and it took “some negotiation” to have a second roll of bread when breakfast eventually came.

They aren’t very willing to hand out the coffee either and as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, that is a catastrophe of tsunami-like proportions.

Once the breakfast was out of the way I sat down to try to decipher the huge mass of notes from the night. The girl who was here a couple of nights ago was there again last night, at school. We were all at school and it was the fancy dress ball so everyone was dressed in fancy dress. I had on a pair of tights and a girl’s skirt which actually belonged to a girl with whom she was friends but I’d carefully concealed it about me somehow even though I was wearing it. She was wearing white tights and a pink top. I didn’t really notice if she was wearing anything else. We both came out of the school door together, she on one side and me on the other and headed for the lift. There was a German World War II jeep heavily camouflaged with bales of hay etc. I always had a great deal of affection for this vehicle and the people who drove it and I even happened to like one of the girls on it, whom I was hoping to bump into at some point. We were all waiting there for the lift. The lift came and the jeep drove on, then it looked as if the lift was about to leave. I said “oh no, it’s not going to leave, is it?” but it stayed so the girl and I boarded. At that point, all through this dream Alquin had been playing YOU CAN ALWAYS CHANGE. that was one of the tracks that we were going to play on stage during the concert. I had a feeling that the girl was going to talk about the track, or someone was, and I wanted to keep our selection secret but it was going on and on and on as this dream continued. When I awoke it was actually playing on the computer.

Then we were making arrangements about times to go to do the family banking for the family business that we had. I noticed that I was down to go between 14:30 and 14:45 which was going to be rather difficult because I started work after lunch at 14:00. Trying to evade myself out of the office every day for any length of time without anyone noticing is going to be extremely difficult as I’d already been back that late on a couple of occasions. In the meantime there was something going on in Brighton where there was a killer on the loose. His modus operandi was exactly the same as a series of murders several years ago so naturally the police were following up the trail of the murders committed then. One of them was by a bookcase in a side street so they arranged to set up some kind of dummy person there that this guy could shoot. But a journalist went along with the police and he decided that he’d arrive first and case the area which of course was a really bad thing to do because the guy would notice him but he turned up on his train but there were problems with his train. This meant that the journalist couldn’t get out there at the time that he had planned to be there, maybe 10 minutes before. It was cutting it extremely fine with the journalist doing his dummy run there and the correct kind of time that the murderer committed the crime on the previous occasion at the spot. There were all stories about how the journalist was going to totally wreck the police trap and spoil the show.

When the alarm went off I was in the middle of a dream musing on the state of the world and thinking of a particular woman who had left the oven on too low and too long and had dried out the food that she was trying to cook. There were 11 articles in there altogether to replace articles that had been cooked in the microwave and the previous table-top oven. I had a quick look and the time was only 04:00 so i was obviously a false alarm for some reason – maybe I dreamt it I dunno. Anyway I checked that I wasn’t supposed to be leaving the bed at this time and went back to sleep.

I was home from work and was with Laurence. A woman from work came round. The living room was in a really appalling state with stuff everywhere. I was quite embarrassed and apologised to the woman. I began to pick up clothes but most of them were Roxanne’s. I explained “it’s really difficult trying to live with a preteen daughter. Roxanne is 11 and is at .that age”. I walked out into the hall and threw these clothes upstairs but they missed, fell down and draped all over the stairs again. The woman said that she had a daughter who was 10 but was extremely well-behaved in that matter. I said that Roxanne was very well behaved and was a lovely girl but was in the “attitude” kind of stage. It was very difficult to try to make her see things from maybe our point of view. But it wasn’t just Roxanne’s stuff that was everywhere. It was ours as well. But as I said, it was all extremely embarrassing having people round from work with our place as untidy as it was.

Roxanne was in fact 9 years old when her mother and I separated so I’ve no idea what she was like as a preteen. But she was a normal, happy, healthy, well-adjusted kid when I knew her and there’s no reason to suppose that she was any different than any other kid of that age.

Did I tell you that she was an actress?

It all started one Sunday morning. Where we lived was right on the border between Jette and Laeken (I liked Jette very much) to the north of Brussels and on the house next door to our apartment building was a big sign dating from the 19th Century with the name of the town on it.

One Sunday morning up rolled a TV crew. They set up a sofa in the street underneath the sign and had actors and actresses sit on the sofa and shout “TV Brussel” – the name of the Flemish television company.

Of course, quite a crowd gathered and we looked down from our balcony.

One of the actors was a little girl, black as the ace of spades, and when they looked up they saw Roxanne, blonde as blonde could be with her long hair down past her waist, they called her down and they had the two kids sitting on the sofa, one in contrast to the other, shouting “TV Brussel” together, and she was shown on the cinema and television for months.

They obviously liked what they saw because they took our name and address and a short while afterwards she was asked to appear in a TV film as a schoolkid playing in a school playground. She passed the audition and the screen test and off she went.

Sometimes I wonder if she continued afterwards.

There had then been some sort of firework display in the vicinity. A friend of mine had been to see it and had come back horrified with stories of what had been going on. A little later on we’d been somewhere and come out, and bumped into a woman. She was talking about her 2 daughters who had been to the firework display. One of the daughters had come out with ” mummy why didn’t you disappear as quickly as (her sister)?”. The woman with me again told her story about what she’d seen. As we all turned to go afterwards there was a big sign pinned to the wall over an advertising hoarding “hey Eric, your websites in April had more visits than this discussion” which I thought was quite funny. A little further on we came across an internet box, one of the street internet boxes where all of the connections to the individual homes were wired. This one had been smashed open. All of the glass was smashed and it was difficult to see whether the cables were still intact. There was a policeman there examining it so we had a chat about that, the internet and things in general

Finally there was a dream where the Welsh rugby team were playing the New Zealand All-Blacks rugby team. I was explaining the rules and regulations to someone but I was actually dreaming and speaking in Welsh at the time during the dream. We were interrupted by breakfast coming early but I noticed that on the tray there was no coffee. I asked the boy who was delivering them if he could go along and fetch me a very large coffee from somewhere. Of course, that part about the coffee and the breakfast coming early was certainly a dream. It never ever happened.

Last it may well be, but not “finally”. There was more stuff than this but you really don’t want to know about it, especially if you are eating your tea right now.

It took an age to transcribe these notes as the doctor, the one who had given me the lumbar and thoracic punctures, came to see me.

Apparently the creatine and potassium in my kidneys are preventing them from functioning correctly and what could happen risks being fatal. So they intend to give me all kinds of teratments to try to reduce the levels.

They also have to stop giving me certain medication too, and for that I have to be under constant medical supervision as most of the suppressed medication is my cardiac medication.

All of this is much more serious than it sounds, apparently. They think that I might be at Death’s Door but I mustn’t worry. They’ll do their best to pull me through.

There was the continual procession of nurses and orderlies, and I managed to blag a coffee here and there, but after they coupled me up to a perfusion – apparently I need rehydrating – I didn’t see anyone for hours and it wasn’t until 18:30 that I had a cup this afternoon, much to my dismay.

Ingrid rang me for a chat this afternoon, one of our usual multilingual chats, and I’ve also chatted to Liz, a couple of neighbours and Isabelle the infimière ambulante

Tomorrow I need to chat to the Centre de Re-education and the taxi company to cancel everything that they have arranged for this week as I won’t be here.

Rosemary sent me a brief message to say “it’s snowing here”. I replied “so what? It’s snowing here too”. And it is. Quite heavily too but it’s not sticking – yet. Not that I care because here in The Land Of Yellow And Orange I have the heater going full-tilt and for once in my life I’m warm.

But that’s not all that counts. The food here is pretty dreadful, I’ve had to have another needle in my right hand now for a perfusion as the one in the left arm had to be changed.

This perfusion will last for 24 hours, so I’m told. It’s already had me flat out on my back for several hours. But just now I’ve had to have one of these sodium sulphide drinks so I’ll be out of my head for the next few hours.

Either I’ll be dead to the world in a few minutes and we’ll have a blank page, or else you’ll be in for the most exciting dreams of your life.

Watch this space.

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