… bombarded with alerts and warnings from just about everyone, from the French National Government down to the corner shop, about the storm that is heading our way. And the siren … bombarded with alerts and warnings from just about everyone, from the French National Government down to the corner shop, about the storm that is heading our way. And the siren sound that the Government and Préfecture use on your mobile ‘phone to alert you will do much more than John Peel’s “View Hullo!” ever did to awaken the dead and the fox from his lair in the morning.
But anyway, more of that anon.
Meanwhile, back at the ran … err … apartment, it was another late night for no particular reason. Everything seemed to drag on and on and to complete some of the tasks, this steam-driven computer is simply not rapid enough. For example, I’m having to type my notes into a text file and then upload it via “cut and paste” because it’s quicker than watching the cursor crawl along as I type into the interface.
So it was 00:10 when I finally made it into bed last night, and I can’t say that I’m sorry. And although I awoke once or twice during the night, I was flat-out asleep when the alarm went off at 06:29.
As seems to be usual these days, it took a while to pluck up the courage to leave the bed and head to the bathroom for a wash and shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis.
After the hot drink and medication, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And despite it being only a short night, I had travelled miles.
I was with one of the nurses from dialysis last night. We were discussing religion. She was concerned about the number of visits that priests and people were obliged to make to their congregation, rather than the congregation going to see the priest. I explained that, in general, the people who required the visit of the priest were the dissenters. She asked what I meant by that. I explained that these were people who did not necessarily believe in the literal word of the Bible and didn’t take the literal word to be the exact truth. I gave her a couple of examples, such as when Jesus said “go forth and multiply”, that didn’t mean that you had to leave the meeting and go out and have sex, or anything like that. It was a case of putting some kind of logical interpretation onto those words. As we were doing that, we were walking round the side of the church, then round and into some kind of hall. There were lots of people there, and I noticed that a couple of them were girls whom I knew. They were secretaries for someone or other, so I wondered what they were doing here and why they had come. Had they come with their boss or anything like that? However, the dream drifted away before I reached the point of asking them.
Religion is, for some reason, a very touchy subject for some people. The number of people in the World who have been killed because of religion must be horrendous. It’s sad that many religions that preach “tolerance”, “understanding”, “respect”, “peace” and “love” will massacre at the drop of a hat anyone who interprets the religion differently. Everyone reads their sacred text and interprets it differently, and there is not one single way that is “right” or “wrong”.
We were going to watch a Welsh Premier game between Y Bala and another team. It was the biggest crowd that I’d seen for years. There were probably three or four thousand people there. At one corner of the ground, there was a group of noisy fans who were chanting and shouting, and creating a great atmosphere. I even saw my oldest sister’s husband. I thought that this would be something if he’s coming to watch a game in Wales. Y Bala ran out onto the field, to lots of applause, but the other team came out in some sort of horse-drawn caleche. When it reached the centre of the field, a group of about eight or nine people went to take the body off the wheels to put onto the floor, but it was too heavy and at one end, they dropped it, so of course everyone cheered. Eventually, the teams lined up for the start and the game kicked off. I was standing on the side of the ground. The game had only been going for about five minutes when suddenly, there was a huge torrential downpour. There wasn’t very much in the way of cover at this ground so the whole crowd practically dispersed. I went and stood inside some kind of in-let in a wall, chatting to someone else who was there. Gradually, my attention was distracted by some kind of newspaper article about, how at Wells Green, a huge quantity of gold had been dug up. Apparently it was the contents of some kind of ship and had been collected between the period 1810-1816 and had been buried when there had been some kind of problem with the ship, whether it was towing another one or whether another one was towing it. I thought that it was an astonishing thing and I was determined to find out more about it. In the meantime, the rain stopped and the crowd slowly gathered again, but the players were off the field. Presumably it was half-time. When a player came out from the back behind the bar and was ready to merge into the crowd, someone asked him what the score was. He said that it was sixty-five for six sixty-seven for eight, whatever that was supposed to mean. We couldn’t understand it. The player was dressed in his civilian clothes, almost as if he was no longer going to take part in the game, and no-one seemed to have an explanation for that either
You aren’t ever likely to find a big crowd at a game played at Y Bala. With a population of only two thousand or so, they could all fit into the ground at Maes Tegid, and with plenty of room to move around. The fact that the club has made it to the Welsh Premier League is an achievement in itself. You will, however, find plenty of rain. It’s one of the wettest places in the UK , with, on average, about fifty-three inches of rain each year.
Incidentally, Wells Green is about sixty miles from the sea, so any ship that found itself there really would have a problem.
I was doing another pick-up for Shearings, picking up in three or four towns. I had the coach ready and was ready to go. It was a route that I knew quite well and I’d done it on several occasions. I knew that today there were going to be problems because in one of the towns, there was a market and all of the town centre was closed up, so I was trying to work out how I was going to arrive at the pick-up place. One of the guys from the office came along and said “never mind. I’ve drawn a plan for you and I’ve put it in your paperwork”, which was nice of him. So I set out and went to the first stop where half a dozen or so people boarded. On the way to the second stop, I had to stop at a road junction, but for some reason the brakes were really heavy on this vehicle. I just managed to slither to a halt right on the line. Some tractors coming across from the right-hand side of this junction had their indicators on for turning right, but instead of turning right into the road that was directly opposite mine, they turned right into a particular field on that corner. Then, we set off when the lights changed and I had this really long sweeping curve which I took far too wide and almost ended up in the hedge but I managed to keep going. We stopped for two minutes at someone’s house, I’ve no idea why. The mother came out to talk to the daughter who was on board the coach, but the coach was now a little Renault 4 type of van with a rollback canvas hood. I went round and quickly dusted off the vehicle, which caused some amusement from this mother. I explained that it had to be done. Then, ready to go again, I climbed into the vehicle and looked at the map that this guy had drawn for me. It was nothing like useful because he’d assumed that I went into the town a certain way, but he’d just shown me a quick diversion around one particular street, but that was nowhere near where I actually do go into the town. I go in a different way. This map that he’d drawn was of no help to me whatsoever. So we set off, and we were coming into the edge of this town. We could see all of the ancient fortifications and the city walls, a really heavy, complicated thing all overgrown with mould and ivy. As we approached the city wall, ready to go into the medieval town, I was still wracking my brains as to how I was going to arrive at this pick-up point.
This is becoming a regular theme these days, isn’t it? Driving coaches to towns where there are all kinds of chaos in the town centre on a market day or something like that.
I had a vague memory of Emilie the Cute Consultant. She was telling me that my weight had climbed right back up again. I replied that I was convinced that the weight reading the last time was incorrect, rather than being a problem with my weight. However, I didn’t write that down and that’s all that I seem to remember of that.
This is connected to a discussion that I had on Monday. There is less and less liquid to extract these days. It’s true that I’m controlling my liquid intake very carefully, but that’s not the whole story. I’m eating less and less so I’m sure that my “dry weight” is going down. But as they only check it once a month, I shall have to wait for the next control.
Isabelle the Nurse was late arriving today. Apparently, she’d bumped into my cleaner outside and they had had a little chat. I have heard a little rumour that all is not well in certain quarters and that there is a story likely to unfold at some point.
She caught me in the bedroom working, and that was inconvenient for me, but there is no argument when she has made up her mind about something.
After she left, I went into the kitchen to make breakfast, and managed to eat everything today, which makes a change. But I was running late for just about everything. There was plenty to do after breakfast, which meant that there wasn’t much time left to work on my radio programme before my cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic.
It was round about then that the ‘phones went berserk with alerts. Major storm warning, batten down the hatches, 18:00 curfew, no-one moves. Gusts of wind up to 160 kph expected.
Bearing that in mind, she applied the anaesthetic quickly and shot off to do her afternoon’s work to be back before the storm hit.
As usual, when there’s a rush on, the taxi was late. We also had to go to pick up someone else so we really were late arriving at dialysis.
Luckily, I was seen quite quickly and I managed to persuade Emilie the Cute Consultant to reduce the time. After much discussion, she agreed to knock fifteen minutes off, so that I would be finished before 18:00.
No internet today for some reason, so I watched NIGHT TRAIN TO MUNICH, another Launder and Gilliatt film with the dynamic duo of “Charters and Coldicott”, followed by half of ROME EXPRESS starring one of my favourite actors, Gordon “Inspector Hornleigh” Harker.
In the end, I was disconnected at about 17:50, which made a nice change, but the panic amongst the taxi companies to deal with the unexpected flood of passengers meant that I had to wait half an hour for mine to turn up. Luckily, it was one of my favourite drivers so we had a nice chat all the way home.
At Granville, the wind had already sprung up, so I had to be dropped off at the rear entrance to the building where there is the fire escape. The car can come right up to the door there, so it saves me the twenty-metre walk in the teeth of the gale.
My cleaner helped me into the building (and I needed it too) and after she left, I made tea – pasta and veg in tomato sauce with a vegan burger. But once more, I left some on my plate.
Back in here, I had a little “relax” for fifteen minutes, and then, hearing the wind increasing in velocity, I made an executive decision, which for the benefit of new readers, of whom there are more than just a few these days, an executive decision is a decision that if it turns out to be the wrong decision, the person who made it is executed, and decided that I’d go to bed while the going was good. If the velocity increases, the chances are that it will be too noisy to sleep later on.
But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the wind … "well, one of us has" – ed … they were still out on the golf course playing away as the wind velocity increased
One player was taking an age measuring up his shot, calculating the wind and the direction from which it was coming.
"Get a move on, can’t you?" urged his partner
"My wife’s over there" said the other. "I have to make this shot absolutely perfect"
"Does it really matter that much?"
"Ohh yes. If I don’t get it right, I might miss her."
