Tag Archives: hospital

Thursday 9th January 2025 – IN A STARTLING …

… new development, putting the pins for the dialysis machine into my arm was totally painless. I’ve no idea what went wrong or went right, but here we are.

Mind you, that was at first. When the anaesthetic began to ease off I knew all about it. And so if it proves anything at all, it proves that this anaesthetic does actually work. And that’s good news too because I was beginning to have my doubts.

As for going to bed before 23:00, it’s not a question of having my doubts but more one of an absolute certainty that I’m never going to make it into bed by then.

A concert from the Marshall Tucker Band stopped me dead in my tracks last night, and it’s not just the Southern Rock music, but Southern Rock played sometimes on a flute, and in that, the Marshall Tucker Band is unique. But of course, what helps are the songs. Good old country-rock songs played with an energy that you don’t find in many places, and with Toy Caldwell on guitar.

If you’ve never heard them live, have a listen to BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAIN SKIES. "CAROLINA’S WHERE I’M AT, AND I’LL ALWAYS LAY MY HAT …". And I wish that I was at Carolina right now, for not the least of reasons that I can catch up with Rhys. It’s years since we last saw each other.

Anyway, have a listen to SEARCHIN’ FOR A RAINBOW. I can listen to Southern Rock music all night.

After the Marshall Tucker Band I went to bed, and there I stayed until about 06:55. I say “about” because I didn’t know the time. I’d just awoken and was musing on the idea of showing a leg but instead the alarm beat me to it.

After a trip to the bathroom for a wash and shave I went into the kitchen to take my medication, remembering to forget the anti-potassium powder that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. This was another one of these dreams that goes on for ever. It concerned a group of people, probably in their 30s. There was one woman quite in love with one of these guys but somehow or other they never quite hit it off. They had some kind of business together, this entire group did, and it involved cars. One Monday morning they went to check the cars and they found that her car had travelled 7,300km that weekend. They checked the tacograph and found that the tachograph had been removed. They checked the time, and it had been removed at something like 04:00 so they were trying to figure out exactly where the car had gone. They worked out that Vietnam was halfway of the distance so the car could have gone to Vietnam and back. There was certainly someone whom this woman knew in Vietnam so they were busily trying to work out how to approach this when they had another incident that required them to send another car to Vietnam. They thought that they would send this girl to see if she could repeat this journey. This Vietnam journey was more complicated because the woman to be picked up might not want to come. A couple of hours later they saw the woman and without saying anything about the tachograph they explained this new job to her. She understood it and seemed to be happy to go. They said that this woman must get into the car at all costs. “You should be prepared for difficulties but you shouldn’t hit her too hard”. This woman’s eyes opened and exclaimed “too hard?!?”. They explained again that “it’s because she has to climb into the car at all costs and you shouldn’t feel squeamish about having to persuade her. You have to do exactly what’s necessary to make her get into the car no matter how unpleasant it might possibly be to you”.

If someone can drive from Europe to Vietnam and back in a weekend they deserve a medal. And in any case, Vietnam is a darn sight more than half of 7,300kms away. However, that dream really was a vivid one and for some reason or other it’s stuck in my mind. I can’t see what relevance it has to anything that’s been going on around here.

The nurse was late coming today. He was armed with his blood-testing kit so that means that not all of his patients have given up on him and are waiting for Isabelle the Nurse. Apart from that though, he didn’t stay long and was soon gone. I could get on and make my breakfast.

MY BOOK is grinding along slowly. The author has spent this morning pooh-poohing the theories of several other writers on this theme, who probably at the same time were expending their energies pooh-poohing his theories.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall a reviewer who said that his book was "a flurry of argument and counter-argument" and I can certainly see what he meant.

Back in here afterwards I spent some time tracking down some music for the next radio programme. That’s all remixed and re-edited now but it needs to be cropped down as it’s likely to overflow my one-hour slot. Once I’ve done that tomorrow morning I can write the text, and then dictate everything on Saturday night.

Once again, I was caught unawares by the cleaner who came without my realising what time it was. She fitted my patches and then I had to wait for the taxi to arrive.

It was a new driver today so he was late, and wasn’t sure where I lived. Then I had to show him where our other passenger lived. Once we were all together we had a good drive down to Avranches.

With late starting, I was late arriving but as everyone else was early they were already plugged in so I didn’t have long to wait.

The dietician came to see me this afternoon, and someone brought me the details of an appointment that they have made for me with the heart specialist – in June. They believe in keeping up to date with everything. But that date is after I will have regained possession of my apartment downstairs. Look how quickly time is approaching.

But apart from that, they left me pretty much alone and I spent the time preparing an order for LeClerc which I’ll send off in the morning.

The girl who compressed my arm after the dialysis was over had volunteered because she wanted to talk to me about air fryers. And we had quite an animated and lively chat.

Being late starting meant that I was late finishing, but that was good news in a way because the driver who brought me home was a lovely young girl, complete with long brown hair, whom I hadn’t seen before. She was a very lively character and insisted that we speak English so that she could practise.

She has a love of travelling but hasn’t been far yet and is afraid of flying. However she has a burning desire to visit Canada, and I resisted the temptation to say that I’d carry her in my arms all the way there. Had I been 40 years younger and in good health, I wouldn’t have needed asking twice.

Back here my faithful cleaner watched as I made my way upstairs. And once I’d settled down I made some dough for bread

For tea tonight, I was doing my “Mr Carmichael” impressions and SUPPER WAITS ON THE TABLE INSIDE A TIN. I couldn’t think of anything else to do tonight – I wasn’t in the mood

So right now I have things to do and then I’ll go to bed. The bread has finished baking so that’s one less thing about which to worry I suppose.

But this talk about carrying the girl across the Atlantic in my arms reminds me of when I stumbled upon that woman at that lighthouse in Labrador.
She looked at me, looked at the car, a Chrysler PT Cruiser, looked at me and asked "have you driven from Baie Comeau in THAT?!?" – bearing in mind that the road from Baie Comeau to the Labrador coast was 1800kms of the worst-ever roads in the World.
"Ohh yes" I replied. "It’s not the car on roads like this, it’s the driver who makes the difference. And for my next visit to Canada, I’ll be crossing the Atlantic on a motor bike."

Saturday 4th January 2025 – ANOTHER THREE AND A …

… half painful hours of agony today in the Dialysis Centre. There’s definitely something wrong somewhere with it being as painful as it is. That’s just not normal.

Still, I’ll find out on Monday for sure when I go for an X-ray. At least the taxi is confirmed for Monday morning, which is good news

So, hoping not to fall asleep in mid-notes as I did last night, I suppose that I had better make a start on writing about my day. Or, rather, my night, because once more I wasn’t in bed at anything like a reasonable hour.

Once I’d finished my notes I loitered around for a while, having found a few interesting websites to read in order to keep myself out of any mischief, and it was once more about 01:30 when I finally crept into bed. Sound asleep quite quickly, there I stayed until the alarm went off at 08:00.

But not asleep. This blasted stabbing pain in the foot has started up again and won’t leave me alone.

It was a struggle to rise up from the bed this morning, and even more of a struggle to make it to the bathroom. I had a good wash and then washed my clothes and hung them up to dry.

Next task was to write out the Mince Pie recipe for Isabelle the Nurse.

I’m not sure why because it’s one of the easiest recipes around here – cut out some circles of flaky pastry dough to fit in your tart mould, half-fill them with bottled mincemeat, and then cut out more smaller circles of pastry to go on top of the pastry and mincemeat in the mould. Prick a hole in them to let the steam out, and bake at 180°C until brown on top.

Nothing can be easier.

Of course, you can tidy them up as you like by brushing the tops with milk to brown them, sprinkling icing sugar over them etc, but all of that is up to you. I grease my mould with margarine so the pies come out easier too.

When she came she was late again and once more, in quite a rush. The bad news is that she can’t come here at 10:00 on Monday to fix my patches. My cleaner is at work so that rules her out so I’ve no idea what I’m going to do now.

After Isabelle the Nurse left, I made breakfast and then carried on reading MY BOOK

Caesar has come ashore, been involved in another pitched battle or two, reached the Thames and forded it to the other side, having given battle to the native British yet again, and then mysteriously returned to the coast.

It’s true that a storm has devastated his fleet and according to HIS MEMOIRS he returned to attend to the affair.

It’s important that it’s all repaired of course, but he doesn’t need to be there to do it. It’s far more important that he subdues the Britons before the winter storms come roaring down the Channel.

One thing that has struck me about this is that he seems to be really concerned about the winds and seems to be able to forecast their arrival with some ease. Was the climate so different and the storms so much more regular 2,000 years ago? Storms can be predicted and planned for in many regions of the World, but was the English Channel like that back in Caesar’s day?

Back in here, I transcribed the dictaphone notes. I was with my youngest sister and one or two other people. We’d been doing something like fighting dragons. On our way back we came to some kind of takeaway food place. The other girl who was with me, she said that she had bought something for another person because instead of it being €2:85 it was only €2:10 but now she was short of money. I said “I suppose that you want me to buy you the food in here, do you?”. She replied, “no, my order is for me and my sister” so I went in and ordered for me and said that my sister will want the soup, the magnificent soup. She said that she wanted something else too. When they worked out the bill it came to €15:30. My sister actually had that money in her hand because she knew exactly how much it would cost. She handed it over to them – 2 notes of €5:00 and 3 notes of €1:00

How I wish that I could buy something at €15:30 with just €13:00. Maybe I ought to bury my differences with that part of the family, seeing that they insist on disturbing my sleep like this, and send her to do my shopping for me if she can produce this kind of results. However, fighting dragons is a strange thing to be doing during the night.

My cleaner showed up to fit my patches and then once she’d finished we had a good chat until my taxi came – a chat mainly about cats.

It was the guy who seems to be involved somehow in the running of the business who came to pick me up. It was just me in the car so I expected to have a good chat all the way down but for some reason he was quite quiet. I tried on a couple of occasions to entice him into talking, but to no avail.

At the Dialysis Centre there were only five of us, but with two nurses we were seen quite quickly. And painfully, as I have said.

The worst thing about it is that they wanted to run an electrical test to see how much water was in my body. They have to plug some electrodes into patches that they stick on my hands and feet.

“But I have elastic compression socks on” I said

“Ohh” replied the nurse. “If we had realised, we would have told you not to wear them today” So I could have had a good lie-in without the nurse.

With a pain from the dialysis in my arm and this intermittent pain in my foot, I was left pretty much alone. The doctor (not Emilie the Cute Consultant) was on the prowl around the ward but he kept well-clear of my bed. Too afraid of receiving an earful, I shouldn’t wonder.

To pass the time I was reading – firstly a pile of reports about the latest archaeological investigations of Norse sites in North America and First-Nation sites where Norse artefacts have been discovered.

It’s no wonder that there have been so many different claims for the site of “Vinland”, given the widespread discovery of artefacts. One or two have even been unearthed on the western side of Hudson’s Bay.

In fact the more that I read, the more mileage there is in James Enterline’s claim that the original sighting of land in North America was in Ungava Bay but the subsequent voyages recorded in the sagas missed Ungava Bay and sailed into Hudson’s Bay.

Most people though are sticking to L’ANSE AUX MEADOWS on the grounds that “only one settlement is noted in the Sagas, and one settlement has been found”.

However, “absence of evidence” and “evidence of absence” are not the same thing at all, and in any case, the Sagas note a few other camps that the Norse created.

The final thing that I read was a report into salmon-fishing in Newfoundland and Labrador, commissioned in 1909, talking about the history of salmon-fishing in each river from the earliest recorded date. It’s interesting, like all of these books, to see how prolific these rivers used to be, and just how the netting and over-fishing destroyed a whole breeding environment.

To return, I had to wait a few minutes for the taxi to turn up. It was the same driver who brought me and once more, he was very quiet. He certainly seemed totally distracted today, as if he had a lot on his mind and that’s not normal.

We’d come home in a rainstorm and it was even worse back here. But I made it up the stairs to the lift with my cleaner in attendance. The broken handrail has fallen off completely now and it’s dangerous so I’m having to by-pass it.

Back in the warmth I made my tea – baked potato with vegan salad and breaded quorn fillet followed by chocolate cake and soya dessert. Thoroughly delicious

So I’ll loiter around for a while and then go to bed. Tomorrow I have bread to make and soup to drink for lunch but that’s about it. Nothing really in the way of culinary activity. But it’s my last day of my holidays because I’m starting work again on Monday as much as I can with all of these hospital appointments.

On the way back in the taxi we were listening to the news, and there was a report of a girl who had been arrested for trying to open the door of an aeroplane.
My driver was listening intently so I told him "on the PA announcement on the ‘plane, they tell you that if you are sitting next to an emergency door you should make sure that you are able to open it, so when I was sitting next to one once in Canada, I went to make sure"
"And what happened?" he asked
"The flight crew went berserk" I replied. "We were at 37,000 feet at the time."

Thursday 2nd January 2025 – I HAVE GONE …

… from one extreme to the other with the story of this blasted alarm.

Having forgotten to switch it off on New Year’s morning and having to do so in a panic, guess who forgot to switch it back on last night … "this morning" – ed … before going to bed?

It was “this morning” too – a good few minutes after midnight when I stopped messing around and went to bed. I’d found plenty to do, as usual, after I’d finished my notes so I loitered around for a while until I was ready to go to bed.

Once in bed I was asleep quite quickly and there I stayed until about 05:20 when I awoke in a panic thinking about the alarm – I’m not sure why. However I realised quite quickly that I hadn’t set the alarm to ring and soon put that right.

It’s interesting though that my subconscious state should awaken me like that. It makes me wonder what else my subconscious is trying to tell me when I have had these other dramatic awakenings. There have been a few of those just recently.

Back in bed, I slept until the alarm went off and then hauled myself off into the bathroom for a god wash, scrub up and shave, although I think that I have had any chance of impressing Emily the Cute Consultant with my charm, intelligence, wit, beauty and, most of all, my modesty.

On the way out of the bathroom I was caught in flagrante delicto by Isabelle the Nurse who had arrived early this morning. We had something of a chat while she sorted out my legs and repaired the damage to them by their not being treated yesterday.

After she left I made breakfast and read MY BOOK

We’re discussing Caesar’s first invasion of Britain in 55BC and the author favours a starting-point of modern-day Boulogne. However, modern research renders this unlikely.

Although he recognises that the coastline on both sides of the Channel has changed dramatically in the last 2,000 years, modern research shows that it has changed even more dramatically than even he imagined. Back in those days there was an inviting inlet that led up to the gates of St Omer which, after having studied the effect of tides and wind, an expert considers that this inlet would have been perfect for an invasion fleet to set sail.

Back in here I transcribed the dictaphone notes from the night, such as they were. At some point during the night there was something going on about an ancient warrior but I’ve no idea what it is because the moment that I reached for the dictaphone everything completely evaporated. I lost sight of everything which is a shame

And it is too. It’s something that seems to be happening more and more.

Then I was back at school again. All that I was doing was just walking around the playground. Occasionally someone would come up and chat to me but for the most part I was just walking around. There was nothing to mention or to notice about any of this

It goes without saying that I remember nothing whatever about this. Wandering around the school playground admiring some of the nice girls (and there were some nice girls in our school) must surely have been something well-worth remembering.

When the alarm went off I was busy designing medieval houses, not that they were houses as we would know them but more like huts made out of wattle and daub in which the people lived. Some of them were quite small and very poor but others were quite large and luxurious. I suppose that it all depended upon the success of the person concerned and his agricultural activities at that particular time as to how his house was built. They were certainly not complicated or substantial as we would want to have them today.

At one time a couple of years ago we were having quite a talk on medieval housing. I’d been to the SITE OF AN ABANDONED VILLAGE IN THE PYRENEES where contemporary notes written by a Papal Legate state something along the lines of how a person had lifted up the roof of a house to have a listen to the conversation inside.

This led us to the conclusion that the houses back in those days can’t have been all that substantial – and an animated discussion ensued. But why that should rear its ugly head during the night is another one of these mysteries that seem to surround my dreams

Another mystery that surrounds me, only in real life, is “to where does everything disappear in this blasted apartment?”

There were bills that had to be paid quite quickly and one of them, the most important of all, I’d put in a safe place so that I could lay my hands on it quite easily.

So where is this “safe place”? I’ve looked everywhere that I could think and there is no trace of it at all. The rest of the stuff I could find and that’s all paid, but I’ve no idea where this important one is. Not at all.

In the middle of turning my room upside down and tearing out my hair, my faithful cleaner appeared to apply my anaesthetic patches. It’s that time already. She sorted me out and helped me prepare for my taxi, and then I waited.

The drive down to Avranches was done in total silence. I tried once or twice to engage the driver in conversation but to no avail so I left him to his thoughts, and me to mine.

At the Dialysis Clinic it was another painful three and a half hours. The first pin went in painlessly but the second one made up for that.

But they have given me an appointment for another echograph, presumably of what they have fitted into my arm to find out why it’s so painful. That’s on Monday morning at 11:15 so I need to find out what’s happening about this anaesthetic because if my cleaner does it at 10:30 before the taxi comes, the effects will have worn off a long time before my 13:30 Dialysis session

As well as revising my Welsh, I was reading some notes that I’d downloaded years ago about “Outardes One” – one of the very first hydro-electric power stations harnessing the water that cascades down the Canadian Shield into the St Lawrence down the “forgotten coast” of Québec.

It’s long-since been abandoned but I’d VISITED THE SITE in 2015, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, and taken a few photos and written a few notes. It’s my intention to update everything, when and if I can, at some stage in the proceedings so it’s no harm to start right now

Once they had unplugged me I staggered out to the taxi to bring me home, which was already waiting. The driver, one of the usually chatty ones, was also silent today for no particular reason that I could see. Maybe I ought to change my deodorant and underwear more often, I dunno.

But my faithful cleaner was at her post waiting for me when I returned and watched once more as I climbed up the stairs unaided. Only halfway though – they still haven’t fixed these handrails.

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry and naan bread followed by the last of the ginger cake. But at least there’s now room in the fridge for the chocolate cake which I’ll start tomorrow.

But not tonight, Josephine. I’m off to bed for a good sleep, I hope. I really need it too. And then tomorrow I can devote more time and effort to finding this missing piece of paper

However, there’s a little story doing the rounds from 2,000 years ago when Caesar walked into a bar in Portus Iltius before setting sail for Britannia, and asked the bartender for "Martinus, please"
"Don’t you mean ‘Martini’?" asked the bartender
Caesar leans over the bar and grabs him by the lapels "If I had wanted more than one, I would have said so!"

Monday 30th December 2024 – REGULAR READERS OF …

… this rubbish will recall that HIS NIBS and I have been to the town of Lech in the Austria Tyrol ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

It’s a town that has some kind of significance for me. When Nerina and I were on our way to Italy on our honeymoon to see her family, we passed through Lech. We thought that the place looked lovely but being pushed for time – the story of our lives – we didn’t stop. However we vowed one day to return.

Of course, the lack of time and other factors intervened and then circumstances changed. However, I kept my vow and have been back a few times. I often wonder if she ever went back.

It wouldn’t be a good idea to go back today though. Apparently someone took nine hours just recently to dig his car out of the overnight snow that had fallen. All of that snow would have been great if I had been already there and wasn’t planning on going anywhere. It would have been like that time that I was SNOWED IN IN ANDORRA

However, I’m right here at the moment having a good think about what went on today.

Last night was quite easy. After I’d finished my notes and backed up the computer I loitered around for (quite) a while, and it was about 01:00 when I finally crawled off into my stinking pit.

Once I was in there, that was that. I remember absolutely nothing at all until the alarm went off at 08:00 (I’m still in “holiday” mode here). It was quite painless. No-one was more surprised than me that I’d slept like that.

When the alarm went off though, I was in the middle of a dream about elephants dancing in a circus and someone beating a kind of drum with a hand. Someone had offered to teach me how to dance in time to the music too but unfortunately we never came round to that because the alarm went off and that was that.

It’s just as well too. Seeing me dancing would not be a very pleasant sight and I’m glad that we were spared that.

In the bathroom I’d only just begun to wash myself when the nurse put in his appearance. Nothing else for it – he had to wait for me to finish what I was doing and so, like the White Rabbit, he would lose the time he’d saved.

We had the usual banal questions that so irritate me and then he cleared off. It’s his oppo now for the next seven days so things might be looking up.

Breakfast was next, and I read MY BOOK.

A couple of days ago, I talked about the location of specific Neolithic (or otherwise) stone circles and menhirs … "PERSONShirs" – ed … in Britain and how it looks to me as if succeeding waves of invaders have pushed the previous wave further into the less favourable areas of the British Isles and so on in further waves.

This morning he was discussing these waves of invaders (without mentioning the stone circles etc) and saying "It would be surprising if these conjectures did not attain some measure of truth ; but those who will not accept guesses even from the highest authority without testing them will perceive that they bristle with difficulties"

He seems to think though that new waves of invaders pushed their way through the existing settlers and headed freely and willingly to the less-favourable areas, something that, knowing human nature, I consider most unlikely, and he pours heaps of scorn on a writer who tell us that the latest invaders "were last in the held, were not forced to seek distant abodes, but conquered the best parts of the country which were nearest to the Continent.", a scenario that I consider to be much more likely.

Not two paragraphs further down, he speaks of the Belgae – the final wave that arrived in Britain – and says "The Belgic conquest, which brought Britain into closer connexion with the Continent, gave a powerful impetus to the spread of Late Celtic art.". Now how could they do that if they had pushed through all the others and gone to the more remote parts of the island?

After breakfast, I tidied up. I cut up the cake and the flapjack into individual helpings and put them all in tins and boxes. But I really need to make toom in the fridge. having resolved all of the difficulties about the freezer, it’s the fridge about which I’m worrying these days, wishing that I could make more room in it.

While I was at it, I started to put away the washing up from yesterday, but I need much more time than I had available to do that this morning.

My cleaner turned up to fit my anaesthetic patches, and it’s a good job that she was prompt because my 12:30 taxi turned up this morning at 12:18. There were two passengers already in it – from the Centre de Re-education on their way home to the back of beyond near Rennes, and I was being picked up and dropped off en route

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … whilst I’m not complaining about these new Social Security regulations, I’d love to know what will happen if an infectious disease springs up amongst the clients of a taxi service because of all of this.

Being early to be picked up, I was early to be dropped off too and was actually second to be plugged in, which made a change.

And while I was undergoing treatment I was reading up on the various periods of the Stone Age (Palaeolithic, Mesolithic and Neolithic) and the change in existence from hunter-gatherer to settled agricultural community. As I said yesterday, the site at Hallstatt begins right at the very, very end of the Neolithic period and takes us through the Copper Age, the Bronze Age and into the Iron Age.

What had piqued my interest was the existence of Hearne’s Copper Indians – still living clearly in the Copper Age from a tools point of view but a Palaeolithic Age from the point of view of hunter-gathering.

But this takes us back to another point I raised from a couple of days ago about the survival of Palaeolithic Communities in isolated upland areas of Britain well into Neolithic times. They did it for the same reason that the Copper Indians had one foot in either of their camps – because that represents the best use of the resources that are readily and locally available.

The doctor, the uncommunicative one, came to see me too. He asked me a few more questions about my foot and later on, handed me a big envelope full of papers to hand in at Paris. Maybe he’s asking them to follow up this issue. I’ll have to have a sneaky look.

Almost-first in means almost-first out so once Alexi had unplugged me, I was out of there like a ferret up a trouser leg and a rather uncommunicative driver brought me home.

My cleaner was astonished to see me home so early, just as I was astonished to be here so early, and having climbed up the steps and used the lift, I was back in the warmth of my apartment. It was freezing outside.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with pasta in tomato sauce followed by ginger cake and soya mince. Tomorrow, I’m having my New Year’s Eve dinner so I shall have to work up an appetite.

But before I do, my dream today made me begin to think of the time at school we were discussing the sexual reproduction of worms.
We were looking at works through a microscope, examining their reproductive organs, and it struck us that something was missing
"There is no testicular substance there" we exclaimed
"Worms are devoid of testicular matter" explained the teacher
"What does that mean?" asked little Johnny at the back of class.
"It means" I shouted "that worms don’t have any balls!"
"Please Sir" asked little Johnny "why don’t worms have balls?"
And the teacher sighed. "Because they can’t dance, you fool!"

Saturday 28th December 2024 – I NEARLY CAME …

… home by myself this afternoon – without a driver from the taxi company.

When I came out of the building, the car was there but the driver wasn’t. He’d had to dash off as an accompagnateur in one of the ambulances to take an ill person home. So there I was, sitting in the car like Piffy on a rock waiting for things to happen

But I can promise you – had the chauffeur left the keys to the car behind him, that would have been the last that either he or his company would have seen of the vehicle.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, I was up yet again until 02:00 – in full holiday mode. No rush at all to go to bed. After I finished my notes and backing up, I had a little project to do, about which I’ll talk in due course.

Eventually though, at 02:00 I struggled off to bed and there I stayed until 08:00, when the alarm rang and I fell out of bed.

The nurse caught me in the bathroom doing my washing. He’s coming earlier and earlier these days, not giving me time to do anything.

We had the usual banal questions and then he left, leaving me to make breakfast, and to read MY BOOK.

We’re discussing stone circles at the moment, and he tells us that "stone circles are to be seen in the northern counties of England, in Derbyshire and Staffordshire, Shropshire and Cheshire, Oxfordshire, Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, Dorsetshire, Devonshire, Somersetshire, and Cornwall; and also in Glamorganshire, Orkney, the islands of Arran and Lewis, Argyllshire, Perthshire, Inverness-shire, Banffshire, Aberdeenshire, and Kincardineshire"

However he also reminds us that "menhirs, or isolated standing stones, and stone rows are found in this island only on Dartmoor, in Cornwall, Northumberland, Scotland, and Wales"

It’s interesting to note that there’s a very strong geographical separation between the location of stone circles and the menhirs. The menhirs … "PERSONShirs" – ed … seem to be situated in the areas that are either more isolated, further from the sea or further from the south-east of England, the traditional place of arrival of invaders from the European mainland. Those stone circles in the North of Scotland would be in places more easily accessible by sea.

And yet again, the areas close to the South-East are devoid of anything.

It seems to me that it may be possible that the population in the isolated areas has been pushed there by the weight of numbers of whoever arrived and who brought with them their own traditions of stone circles, followed by another wave of invaders with a different culture again but who didn’t spread out so far.

What’s more unusual about all of this is that these really isolated locations where we find menhirs are the areas where 200 years ago the Celtic languages (Gaelic, Welsh and Cornish) were strongest. Could it be that the “flight to the west” of the Celtic people generally attributed to the arrival of the Saxons took place a couple of millennia beforehand and took place under threat from a completely different invader?

And is that why we have all of the hillforts from this era? To defend the area from these new invaders?

Back in here I transcribed the dictaphone notes. I’d been taken by the dwarves, a bunch of whom lived in the valley nearby, and was taken to their main stronghold in the mountains. There I was imprisoned, at least for several weeks, but the start of a great layman offensive cooled the spirits of the nuns somewhat and after a few minutes of fighting they put me on a scale and weighed me outside the village hall, that everyone could see that in fact I’d gained 3kg since I saw them last and that brought this rescuing party to a dead stop while they configured out what would be the next move.

So we were out with the Hobbits again last night. I must stop getting into these bad hobbits. But yes, I really did say “nuns” just there in that dream. The weighing and gaining 3kg – that’s just like in the Dialysis Centre at the moment. But by the looks of things, I seem to have merged two dreams together somehow.

And then I noted that “so far we’ve had two phantom alarm calls tonight, one at 04:25 and the other one at 07:05”. And I remember nothing whatsoever of those. I certainly can’t recall dictating those notes

My cleaner turned up and fitted my anaesthetic patches and then stopped for a chat for a while.

We had a new taxi driver today – one from Villedieu-les-Poèles – and she had difficulty finding my address. But once we were in the car we had a lovely chat all the way down to Avranches.

At the Dialysis Centre I wasn’t the last to be plugged in today, which was a change. But although the first pin went in totally and absolutely painlessly, the second one more than made up for it.

The unfriendly doctor came for a prowl around and didn’t have much to say for himself. He asked if it hurt and when I told him that it did, he said that he would prescribe some Paracetamol for me. I suppose that it’s different than Doliprane, and in any case I forgot to pick up the prescription.

After I’d had my customary doze, I had work to do. In fact, I’ve been undressing women so that they were totally nude

The project to which I referred earlier came about as a result of a conversation with Rosemary the other day, and in particular the manipulation of photos and voices by Artificial Intelligence to represent something that they are not.

Back at the ran … errr … apartment I’d managed to find a voice clone on the internet and I’d been experimenting with it. Even with the free version of this clone, I came up with some pretty impressive results.

This afternoon though, I tracked down an Artificial Intelligence photo manipulator designed simply to remove someone’s clothes to reveal what the AI robot might think the person wearing them looks like underneath.

This manipulator is dynamite. It was the freeware version, like the voice clone, yet the results are stunning.

In just a few hours of practice with a freeware set-up I could produce enough “evidence” to dynamite someone’s entire life and career, so heaven alone knows what an experienced operator with a “paid version” could produce.

This is terrifying for everyone. No-one is now safe and if this Artificial Intelligence is the future, I’d rather go back into the past, or "past into the back" as Bush once said, and promote a return to Natural Stupidity. I’ve had years of experience of dealing with that and am quite used to it.

When they unplugged me I wandered off to look for my taxi. One of the other drivers pointed it out to me and so I climbed in, and there I waited. And waited.

Eventually the ambulance returned and my driver climbed into the car and we set off. And for the first time with this company, I had a driver who made me feel uneasy. I’ve driven with thousands of other drivers and no-one has been less at home behind a wheel than the one this evening.

My cleaner watched as I strode upstairs with purpose, and after she left I had a slice of Christmas cake, delicious as always.

Tea tonight was a breaded quorn fillet with baked potatoes and vegan salad followed by ginger cake and soya dessert – really nice as it always is, and I could certainly eat it again.

There’s nothing to dictate tonight as I’ve had a week off, so I’ll lounge around and then go to bed.

Tomorrow I’m baking – a new cake for pudding and another flapjack. Supplies are running out.

But before I clear off, while we’re on the subject of removing clothes … "well, one of us is " – ed … Milady crept into the garage late one night and sidled up to the chauffeur
"James" she said "take off my blouse"
"And now, take off my skirt"
"Now, James, take off my bra"
"And now, take off my panties"
"And now, James, if I ever catch you wearing my clothes again, you’re fired!"

Thursday 26th December 2024 – MY CHRISTMAS PUDDING …

… is just as excellent and tasty as last year.

For pudding tonight I tried a helping with some nice custard and it really was delicious. This lot will be all gone at the end of this holiday season and I’ll have to make some more for next year if I’m still here, and I hope that if I do, it will be just as tasty as that which will have gone before.

Anyway, retournons à nos moutons as they say around here. Last night, it was quite late by the time that I’d finished my notes and done my backing-up, but I didn’t go straight to bed. It’s the holiday season so I stayed up and listened to some of my live concerts from the past.

One of them that came round was a Lindisfarne concert, the one at Newcastle upon Tyne City Hall in either 1977 or 1978. It’s the best time to listen to Lindisfarne, Christmas-time, especially with one of their Newcastle ones.

And they have some very happy memories for me. There was a big Lindisfarne fan club, of which I was a member, at school and I went to see the group in 1971. That was the famous concert where most of the group were locked out, leaving the harmonica player alone on stage playing his 10-minute harmonica solo for 25 minutes, and where I led my rather young girlfriend astray, much to the anger of her parents.

OH WHAT IT IS TO BE YOUNG, hey?

So somewhere round about 02:00 I called it a night and staggered off to bed, and there I stayed, sound asleep until about 07:40.

Yes, 07:40. I’d decided that as it was a Bank Holiday I’d set the “Sunday” alarm, which goes off at 08:00. However something rather dramatic awoke me. Once more, I’ve no idea what it was but I was awake, bolt-upright, with no possibility of going back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 08:00 I was already up and about, having a good wash and a good shave just in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. Then back in here to listen to the dictaphone and await the arrival of the nurse. There was a group of natives wandering around somewhere. I happened to join them as part of their trip was taking me past one of the sites that I wanted to visit. I noticed that for breakfast every morning two guys there ate nothing but breakfast so I asked the chief what was the story behind this. He replied that whatever it was (…fell asleep here …) anyway the special meal that they had was taco rolls. They made the taco themselves by heating oil in a pan and dropping a few spoonfuls of this liquid in it. The heat caused the liquid to solidify into the taco and was really quite nice and was going to save me all of £20:00 on the delivery

So I’m now writing cooking recipes in my dreams. But that recipe is pretty much like a Breton crèpe recipe or even how bread would be baked out on the trail in the Nineteenth Century in North America and elsewhere, and probably even today in certain places. And if it’s going to save me twenty quid with every LeClerc delivery, then I’ll certainly be trying it.

The nurse didn’t stay long today. He was in and out and that was that. Then I could make breakfast and continue to read MY BOOK.

We’re now wandering around Dartmoor, where "like the people who dwelt on the Yorkshire Wolds, the inhabitants were poor and backward ; for the extreme scarcity of spindle- whorls and the abundance of the flint scrapers used for leather-dressing that lay scattered in their abodes seem to show that they were commonly clad in skins"

One thing that the upland areas of the British Isles, like Dartmoor and the Yorkshire Wolds, had in common and in abundance, was wildlife. Down in the fertile valleys and lowland plains, the pressure of population would have meant that most of the wild animals would either have been driven off or hunted. There would still be plenty up in the hills, so there would be plenty to skin and catch, and no need to make clothing out of cloth

This way of thinking can be seen in places like Canada. Stone and then brick have long-since been used in the construction of houses in most Western countries but they are still built in wood in rural Canada because there is just so much of it so close by.

After breakfast I came back in here for a relax for a couple of hours and then had to go to prepare myself for departure.

It’s a good job that we were ready early tonight because the taxi, booked for 12:30, turned up at 12:08. The driver has to go up the coast to pick up someone else and seeing as he was already in Granville, he thought that he may as well come here first.

Not that I’m complaining. These new Social Security rules means that I’m having loads of guided tours of all different parts of Normandy, seeing the sights and so on. It’s getting me out of the house and, as regular readers of this rubbish have remarked, I ought to get out more often.

Having picked up our passenger we had a belt all the way down the express road south and then off towards Avranches, where we arrived early.

Just for a change, I was one of the first to be plugged in and although the first pin was totally painless, the second one killed me. I have never had such a painful experience in the Dialysis Centre as this one, and I can still feel it even now.

There were no interruptions today, which was just as well. After I’d had my usual doze, I watched the football – Caernarfon v TNS.

Caernarfon were doing really well at one stage, with the score at 2-2, but two killer goals in just a couple of minutes killed off the tie and TNS even scored a fifth later in the game.

TNS’s play was much more technical and competent, but Caernarfon’s tactics of the long ball over the top for Louis Lloyd, their lightning-fast winger to chase, had TNS’s rather pedestrian defence in a few difficulties here and there.

After they disconnected me I went to look for my taxi and it was already outside so, for a change, I was home really early after all of that. The driver who brought me home was the young, chatty lad and we had an interesting conversation all the way home.

Coming back up the stairs was easier tonight than it has ever been in recent times, and I was soon back in here where I watched the highlights of the rest of today’s games. And today’s results, with Llansawel’s dramatic victory against Cardiff Met, means that Y Drenewydd have been sucked into the relegation dogfight.

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry with naan bread followed by a delicious Christmas pudding and custard (I still have a small amount of custard powder left)

So now that I’ve finished my notes I’m going to hang around for a while before going to bed and have sweet dreams of Castor, Zero and TOTGA.

But talking about that dream of making taco rolls and home-made field bread … "well, one of us is" – ed … the recipe is actually in the Boy Scout cookbook
The Scouts were introduced by Lord Baden Powell when the British Army was blockaded by a group of recalcitrant Dutch farmers in Mafeking in South Africa. He became a War hero and later went on to write a book to encourage young boys to take up the outdoor life.
One day, someone went into a bookshop in London and asked "may I have a copy of Lord Baden Powell’s autobiography, please?"
"He never wrote an autobiography" said the sales assistant. "He only ever wrote one book. It’s called ‘Scouting for Boys’"
"Isn’t that his autobiography then?"

Saturday 21st December 2024 – JUST FOR A …

… change, the two pins that go into my forearm at the Dialysis Centre went in totally painlessly today, and it’s been a long time since that that has happened. I was so relieved when they went in without making me scream “blue murder”.

All we needed now was a dialysis machine that works, but you’re greedy if you have everything, aren’t you? I felt really sorry for Alexia and Naomi who had to keep on running to my machine every five minutes to give it a kick to shut it up. The poor girls must have been exhausted.

One thing that I know however was that I wasn’t quite so exhausted this morning. I was up (but not necessarily about) this morning before the alarm went off yet again

It wasn’t as if I’d gone to bed early either. It was another late-ish night where it took an age for me to find the motivation to haul myself off out of my chair and into my bed just one step away. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.

Once in bed though I was asleep quite quickly and there I stayed without moving until I awoke quite suddenly and dramatically. I had a look at the time and it was 06:54. I’ll be moving myself out of bed in six minutes so I may as well rise up now and start the day as I intend to go on.

When the alarm went off I was sitting on the edge of the bed and it was quite an effort to go farther than that this morning but eventually I managed to haul myself into the bathroom.

After a good wash and shave I filled the washing machine with stuff and set it off on its travels. That’s all of the washing done now – until the next time, at least. I don’t know where all these dirty clothes come from

In the kitchen the task for today was to put away all of the paper bags in which LeClerc’s order arrived, put the carrots into the freezer now that they have finished draining, and then put away all of the washing-up that I did yesterday. Once I’d done that I could then take my medicine.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what was going on last night while I was asleep. There was some kind of stately home that had fallen on hard times due to the effects of Inheritance Tax etc. They were all talking on the local market about how very soon it would be the first home in the UK to admit paying visitors in order to recoup some money. They interviewed the former head gardener who was now leasing the vegetable garden there. He was saying that he was in the process of growing 2cwt of lettuce for sending to Manchester and talking about how much of a shame it was about this stately home.

That’s weird, isn’t it? I can’t think of anything that has happened recently that has any connection with any of this at all.

Isabelle the Nurse came around, late again. We had a good chat about Christmas decorations and the like in town. She things that those of us up here in the haute ville ought to make more of an effort to decorate the place. Apart from the lights in the Place Cambernon I’m the only person here with anything like any festive decorations.

My opinion is that in the little square we ought to have a Christmas market with little cabins selling craft articles and there should be a hot wine stall too. Isabelle thinks that I should run for mayor, but I don’t even have the right to vote, never mind stand for election.

After she left I made breakfast and began to read my book. This one is about Britain in the period immediately prior to the Roman invasion. At least, it’s supposed to be but we’re now at page 18, still in the preamble and the author is still taking a light-hearted sideswipe at several authors and archaeologists who preceded him.

That kind of thing is not the stuff of which serious books are made. It’s all very well writing in the vernacular for people who aren’t experts in their field, but at least you should do it with dignity (said he, having just written “that kind of thing is not the stuff of which serious books are made”)

After breakfast I hung out the washing. And there were tons of it too. I’m really working my little washing machine quite hard these days. It could do with a rest, just like me, I suppose.

And then I had things to do, and once more I was caught unawares by my faithful cleaner who came to fit my patches.

We had a laugh and a joke for a few minutes and then she cleared off leaving me to wait for the taxi to come for me.

It was the guy who seems to have an “in” on the administration of the company who came for me today. We went to pick up the other guy who comes with us and we had a chatty drive down to the Dialysis Centre.

Plugging me in was painless but once more it caused me to crash out once the machine began to pump. And then the machine misfired, whined, I awoke, a nurse came running and that’s how it went on

But on the VIRTUAL LIBRARY that I use, I struck gold. Not only have I found all seven volumes of the legendary “War In The Air” – the official account of all air operations concerning the UK in World War I – whether committed or on the receiving end – but I’ve also found the official Military History volumes, and there are dozens of those.

So while I was there I made a start on the downloading, and I’m going to be there for ever downloading them, never mind reading them.

These are the books that have been used as sources for so many other books by other authors when their memories, or the memories of the respondents have failed them. I’ve always said that being on the internet is like living in the biggest library in the World.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today and even though she walked several times past my bed, she studiously ignored me. Ahh well! You can’t win a coconut every time … "are you allowed to say that these days?" – ed …

My favourite taxi driver brought me home this evening, and so we had a running commentary all the way back. She’s a real chip off the old block, just like a real taxi driver

My faithful cleaner was at her post, waiting for me, but I was busy looking at my Christmas lights. They do look pretty from down here and I wish that other people would make an effort. I’m not even festive but I still have my lights and my artificial Christmas tree.

Tea tonight was baked potato with one of those breaded quorn fillets and a vegan salad, followed by ginger cake and soya dessert.

So I’ll dictate the radio notes for this programme that I wrote during the week and then go to bed. There’s a lie-in until 08:00 which is just as well because I have a lot to do. And thanks, Rosemary, for the recipe for icing.

But there’s more building work going on at the hospital. I asked one of the nurses what the new building that they were erecting was going to be for.
"It’s the Memory Unit" she said. "It’ll be where people who are suffering from loss of memory will go"
"That’s a waste of money, isn’t it?" I asked.
"Why’s that?" she asked
"You don’t need a building for them" I replied. "Just give them a random appointment and they’ll forget to turn up"

Thursday 19th December 2027 – I CAME BACK …

… from Dialysis in an ambulance this evening!

But don’t worry. There’s no reason to be upset or concerned. With these new Social Security arrangements, I was having to wait half an hour for the other patient from Granville to finish his dialysis session and then we could come home together in the same taxi.

However there was an ambulance that had come to drop off someone at the hospital across the road and was going back empty, so would I like to thumb a lift?

If it means coming home half an hour earlier than I otherwise would, then it’s no problem to me and I clambered aboard.

Still a big problem though going to bed early. Once more, it was round about 23:30 by the time that I’d finished my notes and done everything that I needed to do. And that included taking the Christmas cake out of the oven, wrapping it in baking paper and tinfoil and putting it in the fridge.

Marzipanning and icing over the weekend, I reckon. And then we’ll see where we are. I need to make some mince pies too one way or another. I have several jars of mincemeat thanks to Liz who brought some over when she came here last year but I need to keep an eye out on when anyone else is coming over because at some point I’ll run out of stock and I can’t find the ingredients to make my own.

So there I was, in bed late again last night, and I fell asleep quite quickly. I remember nothing, nothing at all, until the alarm went off at 07:00.

It was even more of a struggle than usual to haul myself out of my stinking pit but I wandered off eventually to the bathroom where I did some washing and had a good clean-up and shave ready for this afternoon.

In the kitchen I prepared a drink to wash down my medication, remembering not to take the medication that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what I’d been doing during the night.

I was in hospital, but I’d been recruited for the Secret Service and was supposed to wander around and make little enquiries, find out who was doing what and what information there might be that was being leaked to a foreign power. In the end I spent a lot of time there. But my room-mate was extremely difficult and seemed to think that I needed organising, taking in charge. Everything that I did in my personal life, he was there making comments and observations. For example, when it came to my slippers, he told me not to wear my slippers any more. I asked why and he told me that they were rather large, I might slip and trip over. I ought to find some slip-on slippers my own size. That’s OK, but I have trouble putting them on and taking them off. I can manage with the ones that I have, whether I’m wearing socks or whether I’m wearing these bandages that I used to have. I had to try to explain to him without going into any great detail exactly why I was doing the kind of things that I was

And there’s more truth in that dream than I would ever care to admit.

Isabelle the nurse was in a rush once more today. It can’t be easy for her having to do all of the blood tests and injections for her little circuit of patients, bearing in mind that she has a partner who, for reasons known only to himself, fails to produce “the touch” that makes it all look so easy and makes it feel so painless for the patients.

It seems to me that she’s ready for her seven days off after just the first day of being back on duty.

After she left, I made my breakfast and had a look at my archaeology reports on this abandoned Gallo-Roman farm. They’ve now uncovered several buildings that belong to the period in France called Antiquité Tardive – “Late Antiquity”.

That’s roughly corresponding to what the British call “The Dark Ages” , the period following the collapse of the Roman Empire in England, and the absence of any written record of contemporary events, until the renaissance of English culture under Alfred the Great and the monks of Jarrow.

In France though, there was no such period. Orderly, civilised life went on for the most part and the religious institutions and the court of the Merovingian Kings as well as several writers such as Gregory of Tours kept contemporary records, although it’s fair to say that there’s nothing like as much as I would like there to be.

Anyway, they are cracking on with this excavation, discovering building after building, trench after trench and road after road, not to mention the countless post holes that they have found in the ground.

Back in here I had a few things to do and once more I was overwhelmed by the arrival of my faithful cleaner who came to fit my anaesthetic patches.

It didn’t take long to do that and then I had to loiter around for the arrival of the taxi. It was a chatty driver who picked me up and then we went round to pick up the other passenger who we take, and then rolled off to Avranches.

Once more I was last to be plugged in and once more, one of the pins went in painlessly and the other one hurt like Hades.

It was one of those days where there was a constant stream of visitors. The nurses were checking up on all kinds of things today, and even the dietician came to see me.

With being a vegan I have a low protein count and this dialysis is making things worse so she has now prescribed a food supplement for me. That’s one more medication to add to the list.

She needed to have the prescription signed and so went in search of the doctor. It was Emilie the Cute Consultant on duty today who signed the prescription.

And I remembered that she was going to come to watch the nurses connect me up and use the echograph to see what the problem might be. In fact, the nurses had done all of the preparation, however she never showed up.

"Maybe she’s forgotten you" said a nurse. And that’s put the tin hat on it, hasn’t it? How could anyone forget me? Especially Emilie the Cute Consultant?

Still, my LeClerc order is complete, ready to be sent off tomorrow morning. I did manage to find some time in my busy schedule to do something.

As I aid earlier, I came home in an ambulance tonight. There’s a kind of rumble-seat in the rear of the ambulance and I came home sitting in that. It wasn’t easy though to climb in. First I had to sit on the floor of the vehicle and than haul myself up with my arms and fall into the seat.

That can only mean one thing – my upper body strength must be quite impressive these days.

Back here, I climbed up the first flight of stairs with less difficulty than previously but had to come up in the lift from the half-landing to the next half-landing and walk halfway down again because the handrail outside here still hasn’t been fixed.

Tea tonight was more steamed vegetables with vegan sausage and vegan cheese sauce followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. Lovely as usual.

So now that I’ve finished I’ll think about going to bed ready for a day radioing tomorrow.

What I was wondering about this dietary supplement is whether or not this might be the same supplement that they have tried to give me when I was here in the Summer.
"You have a very low protein count" said the dietician. "It’s probably because you’re a vegan and your diet doesn’t allow you to eat many things high in protein. Take this supplement."
So having accepted the bottle, "excuse me" I said. "You just told me that as I’m a vegan and my diet prevents me from taking many foods, I need a food supplement"
"That’s right" said the dietician, smiling
"So if you know that I’m a vegan and don’t eat many things" I said "what are you doing giving me a food supplement that is milk-based?"

Monday 16th December 2024 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

… the session at the Dialysis Centre this afternoon was almost totally painless. I don’t understand that at all

Added to that, I was lucky enough to have had a visit from Emilie the Cute Consultant. She came to see how I was and if I needed anything. Anything medical, that is.

Mind you, whatever rift we have had hasn’t healed quite yet because our chat was quickly business and she didn’t say “goodbye” as she left. It’s fair to say that she doesn’t love me any more, and that’s sad, especially after our cosy chats in the Summer with her perched on the edge of my bed, spending hours discussing nothing in particular.

What else that doesn’t happen any more is me being in bed at a reasonable time. Once more, it was long after midnight when I crawled into my stinking pit but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … much as I would like to be in bed before 23:00, I’ve given up rushing and am now taking things easy. I’ll go to bed at whatever time I happen to finish.

Once in bed though, it didn’t take long to go to sleep and there I stayed, dead to the World, until the alarm went off at 07:00.

BILLY COTTON’S DULCET TONES aroused me from my slumbers and I staggered off into the bathroom to prepare myself for the ordeal

As well as a good wash, I had a shave and then washed my undies ready for Wednesday when I hope to have another shower and make myself all nice and clean. These showers are not very convenient only once per week. When I have the apartment downstairs and the shower is all nicely installed, I’ll be having a shower every Dialysis morning, and probably a few more besides

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. To my surprise and disappointment, there was nothing on there this morning but I have vague memories of being a singer/songwriter being at some kind of concert, or going to play at some kind of concert. We had to arrive at a certain time and camping was very sauvage in a field. When I arrived there was already a mobile home with someone and a tent from someone else. There were some restrictions on what you can play – you couldn’t play anything that anyone else was going to play etc. That’s really all that I remember of that.

Pretty much similar to what happens at the Harvest Jazz and Blues Festival in Fredericton. Camping is on the National Park out by the reservoir and although the pitches are pretty well set out, it’s still quite wild camping and every now and again a deer or a raccoon scurries across your path.

But not as wild as that camping ground in Upstate Maine where I stayed one night, where everyone was told to make sure that all their food is kept well inside their vehicle as the bears that roam through the place at night will otherwise steal it. As the Park Ranger explained to me, "there’s a considerable overlap of intelligence between the smartest of bears and the dumbest of tourists, and we have them both here"

In the wild of course, you’d throw a rope over a branch, tie your sack of provisions to one end of the rope and then pull the sack up aloft, out of reach of the bear.

It’s certainly though a case of “disappointment” that there’s nothing on the dictaphone. Something else that I’ve said before … "and also on many occasions too" – ed … is that the only excitement that I have these days is what goes on during the night.

The nurse was early again and didn’t say much. He’s probably still smarting from yesterday. He was in and out in five minutes, which suits me fine, and then I could carry on with something more exciting.

Like making my breakfast and reading my book. It’s the story of the accidental discovery of a Roman … "Gallo-Roman! GRRRR!" – ed … building on a field, which led to an archaeological investigation that uncovered a farm dating from the 1st Century BC to the 4th Century AD

At the moment they are digging down and have uncovered a cellar with the steps that go down to it

The site isn’t as rich in artefacts as any site in the UK. That’s mainly because there never was the dramatic rupture of private life of the inhabitants as there was in the UK with the arrival of the Saxons, then the Danes, then the Normans.

Anyone abandoning the site in France generally had time to pack up and take his possessions with him, or if not, come back and fetch them when the emergency was over. In the UK, the arrival of the barbarians led to wholesale destruction and massacre, with nothing left worth taking and no-one left alive to take it anyway.

It’s the difference between “orderly evacuation of a site” and “panic-stricken flight”.

Back in here I carried on with my Welsh homework, but it wasn’t finished when my cleaner came to fit my anaesthetic patches. I’m leaving early today to go to the hospital.

The taxi came, driven by a very taciturn driver, and what he lacked in conversation he made up with speed and we had one of the quickest trips that I have ever had down to Avranches.

He pushed me in a wheelchair to the X-Ray Department and there he left me, although he may as well have waited because I was in and out before he’d probably had time to find his way out of the building.

Armed with some pretty impressive photos of my foot, I waited for the next taxi to arrive, and a very pleasant woman took me over the road to the Dialysis Centre.

For a change I didn’t have to wait long to be seen, and the plugging in was almost totally painless. I had the usual crash out once the machine started and then everything went OK.

As I said earlier, Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me but our conversation was on a professional level. The two of us, and Anaïs who seemed to be the nurses’ shift leader, had a chat about my forthcoming trip to Paris and they could indeed, exceptionally, fit me in on the Wednesday morning beforehand.

That’s quite inconvenient, but it can’t be helped, I suppose. And I thought that I’d better arrange it and tell Paris what I’d done rather than leave it to them and find that they have forgotten to do it.

As for reading matter, I came across a book about infamous Cheshire personalities. And to my surprise, I’m not in it. But the author is an unashamed and unrepentant fan of that politician who was called A LIAR AND A CHEAT by the Grauniad and never ever went through with his promise to them for libel, something that led many people to wonder what might come out in evidence if he actually did take the paper to Court, and why might he be afraid of it so doing.

He champions several other Cheshire people who were caught up in various allegations of sleaze and dishonesty, and one thing that all these people had in common was that they were all members of the Conservative Party when he wrote his book.

Most of them have by today though been found even too extreme for even the current batch of Tory politicians and have been pushed out to the Fascists where they belong. But I digress. These pages aren’t about politics.

When the time came I was uncoupled, and clutching the Christmas present that the Dialysis Centre gave to each one of us, I headed out to the taxi that was already waiting.

The run back home was quick and I was soon back in the warmth of my lovely apartment.

Tea tonight was a delicious stuffed pepper with pasta in tomato sauce, followed by ginger cake and soya dessert.

Tomorrow there’s no Welsh lesson, but I have homework to finish and then I’m baking my Christmas cake. I can’t believe how quickly Christmas has come. It has taken me by surprise and I’m nothing like ready. But this evening I installed my strings of lights in the windows here and they look quite nice, seen from the street.

Before I go to bed, on the subject of professional behaviour, at the hospital today I overheard two doctors conversing
"Didn’t I see you last night" said one "in the company of Madame X, the notorious local prostitute?"
"I’m afraid that you did" replied the other. "But you needn’t worry. It was for purely professional reasons"
"I don’t doubt you for a moment" answered the first. "The question simply is, were the reasons concerned with your profession or hers?"

Saturday 14th December 2024 – SO HERE I AM …

… late again. Not even going to be in bed before midnight at this rate.

But there was so much exciting stuff on the internet this evening, and we are at the stage where there is only one club from te Welsh Premier League through to the next round of the Cup, and they had a struggle too.

There’s one more team that is playing their match tomorrow and I don’t think that they are in any danger, but you never know. There have been some crazy results this last round or two.

No danger of me being in bed before 23:00 last night either. I’ve given up rushing, stressing myself out, and all for no good purpose too. I’ve decided that I’ll take it easy, enjoy myself and if I have to sleep during the dialysis sessions, then so what? It’s not as it I do much else while I’m there.

So late again last night into bed, and asleep quite quickly too. For a change, nothing disturbed me and I slept right through until 07:00 without moving a muscle.

When the alarm went off I struggled to my feet and went into the bathroom for a good wash, a scrub up, a shave (not that Emilie the Cute Consultant will be there) and to hand-wash some clothes. I have to keep on top of how the wardrobe is doing, seeing as there isn’t very much in it.

Into the kitchen was next for my drink and medication, and remember to take the “Sunlight” medication too. Apparently the doctor thinks that I ought to get out more often, a sentiment that I’m sure is shared by every one of you.

There was time to check the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise, there was something in it.

I’d gone to Burma and was living there for a few months. I’d met a young girl and fallen in love with her. After a while I discovered that there was a way by which people could sponsor young people in Third-World countries like Burma. It involved the filling on of a form. I applied for a form and it told me that I needed some kind of form from the Burmese. I went off to my Burmese local council and spoke to a woman there. She found a form for me and told me basically how I should fill it in. She very carefully asked me if our relationship was any more than that of sponsor/guardian to which I hedged my bets rather, although I was sure that she picked up on the fact that there was something going on. She warned me about the consequences if anything like that were to be discovered. She had to find a chair for me to sit upon while I filled in this form. She wandered off and came back with a chair. Then she found that she didn’t have a chair herself upon which to sit. This was starting to become complicated. She asked about my intentions. I told her that I was embarrassed about how we in the West were so rich and had so much going on in our favour yet we deliberately wanted to shut out the Third World from participating in our success. I carried on in that kind of vein for a few minutes. She sympathised, and blamed everything on the EU. I told her that it isn’t really the EU’s fault. It’s the individual countries that are pushing for tighter border controls and cut down on aid to poorer nations, very much forcing the EU’s hand. Anyway, we continued this discussion for quite a while and drifted away from our original purpose which was me sponsoring a Burmese girl.

This is in fact one of the most interesting dreams that I have had and there is a lot of mileage in it, and not just because of my sentiments either.

For a start, it’s not just in the Third World that this lack of resources and assistance is going on. In 2002 I passed through a Navajo Reservation and in 2019 through a Sioux Reservation in the USA and in 2018 and 2019 I was amongst the Inuit in Canada and Danish-controlled Greenland. As well as that, I have on several occasions passed through the Innu lands at Sheshatshiu and the Mikma’q Reservations at Burnt Church in Canada. How these developed nations treat their own ethnic minorities brings shame and disgrace upon them. And I’ve seen desperate poverty that you cannot imagine amongst the poorer people, both black and white, in South-Eastern USA. When I passed through these places, it filled me with shame and embarrassment too.

But falling in love with girls from Burma reminds me of the Burmese girl whom I met in Brussels. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I had a strange e-mail years ago telling me this sad story of how the writer had struggled through the jungles of Burma into Thailand where she escaped and arrived in Brussels on an aeroplane and how she desperately needed papers. If it looks like a rat, walks like a rat and smells like a rat then it’s a rat and I smelled it all right, but my curiosity, which has always been my downfall, was ignited. I wanted to know how she’d obtained my e-mall address and why she thought that I might be able to help her. So we met, and the first thing that I noticed were her clothes – beautifully tailored denim jeans and jacket. Then her hair – perfectly coiffured. This is no fleeing refugee. So once she was in my car I drove her to a little spot that I know where I can check that no-one is following us, because I’m not as stupid as I look, and then took her to a park where we walked and she talked.

And what a yarn she spun me.

But to me, she was well-worth the effort because she really was beautiful. Nevertheless, I was sure that she was trying to entice me into some kind of indiscretion just as I was trying to entice her into my bed. After all, you don’t get something for nothing, as she would find out if she carried on trying. Eventually, after much binding in the marsh, she admitted that she did after all have a passport with her in Belgium, which I had guessed all along, and so I was by now even more curious to find out what was her game. But once she realised that I wasn’t even going to begin to discuss anything without her staying the night at my place, all contact ceased.

In the end I suspected that this was something to do with work. We mixed with all kinds of different company at work and in my official car, and knew all kinds of information that would have been of interest to many people, so it wouldn’t be unnatural for the Service to want to know how easily we might impart this information to people who had no right to know it. But some of us aren’t as green as we look

This dream intrigued me so much that I had a look on the internet at a certain couple of sites and to my surprise she is there, with her full career history, although there’s a gap of four or five years between when she finished her studies – in London, would you believe – and started work in Belgium, which covered the period about which we’re talking. Seriously, I have half a mind to write to her to say “hello” and remind her of our meetings. And how I wish that I could be there to see her reaction when she receives the message.

It’s interesting that the EU figures in this dream too. A great many people blame “the EU” for many things that happen in the World but in fact “the EU” is nothing more than the Civil Service of the member countries and makes no decisions of its own that aren’t provided for in the various treaties signed by the member states or agreed by the Ministers of the member States at the various meetings. And even then, some countries have a veto or can negotiate an opt-out. I have seen with my own eyes Ministers from certain countries (one in particular, of course) vote in favour of a measure that they know is going to be unpopular back home, don’t negotiate an opt-out or a veto, and then when it’s applied and the population is restless, blame “the EU” for the issue. The hypocrisy of many of these politicians is astounding.

That wasn’t all that was on the dictaphone either, but you don’t want to know the rest, especially if you are eating your meal right now.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, the nurse didn’t stay long today. He asked the usual banal, meaningless questions and then cleared off quite quickly

With him being early, I was early making my breakfast so I had plenty of time to sit and read ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

He’s taken to a canoe with his friends, but they’ve been upset in some rapids, so they’ve gone to seek help at a local farmhouse.."The people here were extremely civil; they assisted us in making fresh paddles in lieu of those which we had lost the night before; and for the trifle which we gave them above what they asked us for our breakfasts they were very thankful, a most unusual circumstance in the United States.".

The last few words of that quotation really made me laugh

So having equipped himself and his party with new oars, they set out again and arrive in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania where, disembarking from their canoes on the banks of the Susquehanna River, they fell in with a community of Moravian farmers. He’s astonished to find that the children of the community don’t live at home but go to a boarding school. Then on leaving, live in communal houses, one for each sex.

And the editor of Aunt Judy’s magazine would be quite at home here in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, I’ll tell you that. Weld tells us that "the young persons of different sexes have but very little intercourse with each other; they never enter each other’s houses, and at church they are obliged to sit separate". I’m just surprised that they have any at all.

Marriage amongst the Moravian young people is interesting too. When a young man in the Men’s Home catches a glimpse of a girl in the Girl’s Home and likes what he sees, "it is only in consequence of his having seen her at a distance perhaps, that a bachelor is induced to propose for a young woman in marriage, and he is not permitted to offer his proposals in person to the object of his choice, but merely through the medium of the superintendant of the female house. If from the report of the elders and wardens of the society it appears to the superintendant that he is able to maintain a wife, she then acquaints her protegee with the offer, and should she consent, they are married immediately, but if she do not, the superintendant selects another female from the house, whom she imagines would be suitable to the young man, and on his approval of her they are as quickly married. Hasty as these marriages are they are never known to be attended with unhappiness; for being taught from their earliest ¡infancy to keep those passions under control"

Judging by the number of divorces and so on in the World today, it’s as good a proposition with as much chance of permanent success as any other. But I’d love to see how I would be able to keep my own “passions under control”.

Back in here I had things of my own to do and was so engrossed in doing them that my cleaner took me by surprise yet again. She fitted my patches and then I had a long wait for the taxi while this new system of controls continues to create havoc.

At the Dialysis Centre I was last to arrive so of course I was last connected. And the two girls managed it with much less pain than usual.

That meant that I could have a sleep, so I duly profited. And why not too?

But I still found time to read my Welsh and to tidy up and re-sort some of the books that I have downloaded in the past.

When it was time to go I was uncoupled, compressed and then shown the door where I had to wait a few minutes for the taxi. We were two passengers coming, so we were two passengers going, and I arrived quite late back here.

There was only just enough time to grab a quick baked potato and salad before the football started – Connah’s Quay of the Premier League who won the Cup last year, against Yr Wyddgrug of the Second tier.

It was an exciting match, but it was clear that Connah’s Quay had much more skill than their opponents. That meant nothing because you can have all the possession you like and it makes no difference if you can’t score.

Yr Wyddgrug had a few chances too and should have done much better with one or two of them, but it was Connah’s Quay who scored the decisive goal, in a goalmouth scramble. But I do have to say that if the referee were to have seen the goal again from the camera behind the goal, as we did, it would have been an indirect free-kick to Yr Wyddgrug for offside.

So now, much later than intended, I’m going to dictate my radio notes and go to bed.

But this dream – and in particular my commentary – reminds me of an incident when a cowboy riding across the desert in the USA came across a young girl who, by way of being tortured by the Apache, had been buried up to her neck in an ant-hill
"Ohh do dig me out, please" she pleaded. "I implore you!"
"If I do" said the cowboy, licking his lips "what’s in it for me?"
"Why" said the girl. "Ants, of course."

Thursday 12th December 2024 – IT SEEMS TO BE ..

… confirmed that the X-Ray that I’m going to suffer on Monday is in fact on my right foot. I was handed the summons and it definitely says pied droit so there we are.

But having said that, I’m not sure if it is in fact my foot. I know that that sounds strange but I had a colleague once who lost a leg in the war and he still had severe pains in the foot that he no longer had.

In the end, in his case, it turned out to be a trapped nerve and that what makes me suspect that I have something similar going on.

Rosemary came up with a good idea the other day too, and that is that your foot is controlled by the same nerves that control other parts of your body, and it might be something to do with the other part of the body rather than the foot.

Intrigued by this, I had a look to see what I could find, and some reflexologist has posted a map of the foot and which regions of the foot, he thinks, are related to other parts of the body

So I found about one hundred maps of the foot, and about one hundred different plans. So if the reflexologists can’t agree, what chance do I have?

But seriously, if it’s not one thing which me at the moment, it’s another and I’ve no idea when it’s going to end, if it ever will. I seem to be fighting a losing battle.

Going to bed before 23:00 is also a losing battle. I’d finished everything quite early but once more, I was side-tracked by a concert that came round on the playlist so I stopped up to listen to it. And one thing inevitably leads to another, and once you start, you’ll be surprised at how many other things there are.

Once in bed though, I slept the Sleep of the Dead all the way round to about 06:55 this morning. And just as I was wondering what time it might be, BILLY COTTON told me.

In the bathroom I had a good scrub and even a shave to make myself look pretty, and then went into the kitchen to make a drink and take my medication, remembering not to take the medicine that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a new female nurse starting to work in a castle. Her job was to look after this tribe of Europeans who were settled near her. She had to go out to inspect the health of one of the leaders of the people, some young guy who was big and powerful. He hadn’t met this girl before. Quite naturally he became attracted to her while she was busy trying to do her job. He was asking her all sorts of questions such as “how long have you worked there? Where did you come from originally?” all of this. She was aware of what he was trying to do and was also very careful not to give any sign of any particular encouragement because that could only lead to complications amongst tribal people like this but she wondered how long it would be before some kind of approach is made.

Some nurse once told me that on average she received about one proposal per patient per week. Proposals of marriage were quite frequent too. It became quite an art to side-step them. I’ve also heard that someone from some medical establishment that I’ve visited (and shall remain nameless for the purpose of this discussion) whose job it is to make home visits to the elderly and infirm has had more than just proposals, which only goes to show that these people aren’t as elderly and infirm as they pretend to be.

Later on, I was back in work again. It was a Thursday and I was finishing at 16:00 because I was driving to Munich in my old Mercedes to go to my birthday party which was on the Saturday. As I was going to be away for a couple of weeks I tidied out my drawers, made sure that there were only about half a dozen files in there that needed work, and everything was all ready with about an hour to go. So I found the “post out” pile and decided to review that. I was reviewing the “post out” and came across a letter where the typing had typed over several lines twice. I took it back to the colleague who had dictated it and explained to her that it couldn’t go out like that. Could she retype it? But the boss was there chatting to her so I had to wait until after he left. When I finished explaining to this girl I walked back to my desk. The boss came up to me and said “I hear that you’re on the move tonight”. I explained to him that I was off to Munich in the old Merc. He said “you should have a good time”. I replied “I know, because it’s not where you are or what you are doing, it’s who you are with that counts”.

It’s quite a change for me to dream that I’ve finished my work. When I was going through that series of dreams about work, it was always about retiring spontaneously leaving a huge pile of work behind. And as for my old Merc, that’s festering down the field back on the farm along with a Ford Cortina and an old diesel Transit for company. The final sentiments of that dream are sentiments with which I concur wholeheartedly. That’s why I’m happiest on my own. Not even Percy Penguin could change that, and how she tried!

The nurse came early again and having ordered twelve boxes of plasters that he wanted, he’s now decided that I don’t need any at all. Judging by the piles of unused medication around here, the Social Security would save a lot of money if they were to dispense it in smaller amounts.

After he left I made my breakfast, and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

He’s now left the First-Nation and Native American encampments, and his final words on that subject are not too encouraging. "The filthiness and wretchedness of their smoky habitations, the nauseousness of their common food to a person not even of a delicate palate, and their general uncleanliness, would be sufficient, I think, to deter any one from going to live amongst them from choice, supposing even that no other reasons operated against his doing so. I had fully determined in my own mind, when I first came to America, not to leave the continent without spending a considerable time amongst them, in the interior parts of the country, in order to have an opportunity of observing their native manners and customs in their utmost purity ; but the samples I have seen of them during my stay in this part of the country, although it has given me a most favourable opinion of the Indians themselves,, has induced me to relinquish my purpose. Content therefore with what I have seen myself, and with what I have heard from others, if chance should not bring me again into their way in prosecuting my journey into the settled parts of the States, I shall take no further pains to cultivate a more intimate acquaintance with them."

Having said that, however, he’ll probably change his opinion somewhat for on his departure down the Great Lakes, his ship was driven onto the rocks by a storm and he came within an ace of being shipwrecked. Luckily the wind changed round just as the ship was about to break up, so that they could steer it down from the rocks

There’s no doubt that he’s having some serious adventures on his travels.

Back in here I had things to do and was so engrossed that I hadn’t noticed the arrival of my faithful cleaner who had come to fit my anaesthetic patches

After she’d done that, I collected my plastic bottle and waited for the taxi.

It was one of my favourite drivers today. She helped me down past the broken handrail and outside into the car, and then we shot off to pick up our other passenger who comes with us on Thursdays and Saturdays.

The drive down to Avranches was rapid but uneventful, and for a change, I wasn’t last into the ward. In actual fact, I was connected quite early but it was still just as painful as it usually is.

However I went to the bathroom on the way in and on the way out of the smallest room, struggling to open the door, someone outside opened it for me. And it was none other than Emilie the Cute Consultant. Had she known that it was me, she probably would have leaned against it to keep it closed.

According to the nurse who connected me, the doctor wants to discuss the follow-up to the examination that I had the other day in the hospital. However, no-one came to see me. If Emilie the Cute Consultant is the one on duty, she’ll probably leave off talking to me and send an oppo on Saturday.

No-one interrupted me at all today. I could sleep for half an hour (which I seem to be doing every time the machine starts up now), revise my Welsh and carry on with my LeClerc order. In fact I was so engrossed in that that I was taken unawares by the end of the cycle.

Uncoupling me was painful but straightforward, I only had to wait five minutes for the taxi, and it was a quick drive home. Once more, we had another passenger in the back whom I didn’t notice at all until she said “hello”. It’s a good job that I didn’t commit any indiscretion when I climbed in.

Back here my faithful cleaner was waiting and she watched as I climbed up to the lift. I’m going up in the lift from the first half-landing and then coming back down on foot as I can’t do the second flight of stairs with this handrail hanging off.

Tea tonight was steamed veg and vegan sausage in a cheese sauce, all of which was cooked to perfection and was delicious, especially now that I have some cauliflower, broccoli and sprouts. The ginger cake and soya dessert were delicious too. My meals may not be exciting but they really are delicious.

Right now though, I’m off to bed. Tomorrow there ‘s nothing of any importance except the cleaner and in the evening, Connah’s Quay Nomads v Mold Alexandra in the Welsh Cup

But Isaac Weld is still struggling with his ship in the storm. All the masts have been torn away so the ship is powerless.
The captain comes on deck with a pile of planks and says "I’m going to give out two planks to each passenger and you’ll have to do your best to row to the nearest port"
Isaac Weld turns to one of his friends and says "this is going to be quite an oar deal"

Saturday 7th December 2024 – IT’S NOT THE …

… bells on her toes that matter. It’s the ring on her finger that counts.

It only seems like yesterday when I was bouncing a bonny, tiny baby on my knee as her mother wrestled with the controls of a GMC “Jimmy” through masses after masses of snowdrifts in the foothills of the Appalachians in Canada

That was in late December 2003, and here’s that bonny, tiny baby now, 21 years later on, proudly displaying her ring.

"One ring to rule them all
One ring to find them
One ring to bring them all
And in the darkness bind them"
it is not but it’s just as hard to find. The wearing of this ring signifies that the wearer has completed a degree course at Canada’s most prestigious (in my opinion) University, Saint Francis Xavier University in Antigonish, Nova Scotia

Our family isn’t all a load of tat as you may think, judging by what I have a tendency to write. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, my maternal grandmother was one of Canada’s leading singers in the period 1915-1924. Even though her father (my great grandfather) re-enlisted in the Canadian Army after retirement, one of her distant cousins was SENTENCED TO DEATH IN WORLD WAR I as a conscientious objector (I have in my possession some of the letters that he wrote in prison).

And going even farther back, that distant side of the family is related in some way to Edward Kenealy, the barrister who defended the Tichborne claimant so vigorously that he was struck off.

It’s obviously that side of the family where all the brains are, because my great little niece (or is it my little great niece?) is now the second member of our family to qualify for her St.F-X ring.

So well done, Ammie. I’m proud of you!

Not so proud though of the time that I went to bed last night – or, rather, this morning. I’d finished quite early what I had to do last night but as usual, finishing work is one thing. Going to bed is quite something else. I hung around for quite some time trying to summon up the courage to pull myself out of my chair.

Once more though, once in bed it took an age to go to sleep but once I did, I was gone for good and the howling gale outside didn’t disturb me at all, which is surprising.

When the alarm went off it took quite a while for me to stagger to my feet and head to the bathroom, rounding up a pile of clothes on the way because, having changed the bedding yesterday, it’s washing day today.

After I’d had a good wash, I had a shave and then loaded up the washing machine. And believe it or not, there’s still a pile of stuff that wouldn’t fit in. This is becoming ridiculous.

Next port of call was the kitchen for a drink, and while I was at it, to take my medicine. And I was so distracted that I took the medication that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day. Still, you can’t take it out once it’s gone in.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out what I’d been up to during the night. There was something strange going on at school. There was a group of us, boys and girls of all ages, who used to hang around together. I suspected that one of the girls was becoming rather too friendly with me – that is, rather more friendly than “just being friends”. I decided that I might encourage it a little and see where it goes but we were interrupted by the bell to go back to lessons. A little later on a few of us met again, including this particular girl. I happened to mention obliquely something along the lines of “girls who seem to find older boys at school more attractive” and “there seems to be one at least who might be tilting her cap towards me”. This girl replied “yes. I’ve noticed that, Eric” and she mentioned two girls, one of whom was a daughter of a friend of mine, and a second one. But the daughter of a friend of mine was even talking about obtaining a marriage certificate. I found that really hard to believe because I hadn’t really noticed anything. This discussion went on, more complicated, until it was time to go back to the lessons so I said to these girls and boys, and in particular to the one whom I mentioned earlier “I’ll see you all at lunch then”. She replied “don’t forget to go to talk to these two girls. One of them is in her Physics class”. I had a bottle of beer with me that I’d opened so I walked up to the Physics class. They were all crowded around a bunsen burner talking about something so I took a piece of kitchen roll, rolled it up tightly and used it as a stopper in this bottle. I smiled at this particular girl and that was when this dream ended.

Imagine that! There I was with the bird on my plate, just about to get my fork stuck in it, and “poof!”. It comes to a shuddering halt. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … there is something going on in my subconscious that is preventing me from Getting The Girl. It seems to happen every time (with just one or two exceptions). So what does my subconscious know about my relationship with girls that it doesn’t want me to proceed any further than this point?

It’s interesting too that this is always the kind of thing that occurs when I’m an adolescent in my dreams. It’s true that my adolescence was not a happy one, for a variety of reasons, and a loyal and reliable girlfriend of the type who would have helped me weather the various storms would have been a very great comfort to me. But my subconscious is not letting me go down that route at all, and in any case, teenage girls like that are very rare birds indeed.

Then there was some kind of confrontation between a Jewish school and the local community. When it came to the end of term the kids had to be taken away by buses to another centre. They had all tried to arrange times with their parents but it was impossible. For a start, the E40 was always blocked on school chucking-out days so people would arrive home quand ils s’amusent – when they could. I was driving one of the buses with someone else and we had a police escort. We reached the school and handed the ticket to the teacher who was on the door. She directed us to the school theatre where a group of pupils were singing some kind of pseudo-religious song from the stage. It really was wonderful. After they finished I turned to my colleague and said “we aren’t allowed to applaud in a church, are we?”. He asked “you thought it was that good, did you?”. I replied “yes”. He said “quite frankly I have never ever heard it done better”

This second dream relates to a concert I’d been watching before going to bed. It was a concert from 2016 commemorating the 100th anniversary of the Battle of the Somme and was taking place in Exeter Cathedral. One of the tributes was from a well-known folk group who performed a musical tribute, a poem by my favourite poet A E Housman with music composed by George Butterworth who was killed at the Somme. And when they finished, everyone in the congregation applauded. And I remember thinking last night as I was watching that applause in a Cathedral shows some pretty bad taste

And the confrontation with the Jewish school presumably relates to something that I’d read, also yesterday evening, about a couple of obscure Jewish sects burning copies of the New Testament.

Isabelle the Nurse came early this morning and didn’t hang about. Not that I can blame her because this storm in increasing in velocity and it’s going to be much worse than this. But I’m glad that she wasn’t here for long, because it means that I can start making breakfast early.

And armed with breakfast, I can go to carry on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

Today, his book contains the longest footnote that I have ever read in a book. It spans four complete pages, and is a really good rant about the peevish relationship that the USA is trying to cultivate with Canada in an attempt to absorb it. He very presciently observes that "there is more reason to imagine that the Floridas, and the Spanish possessions to the east of the Mississippi, will be united therewith" than there is of Canada uniting with the USA, for the "people of Upper Canada are refugees, who were driven from the States by the persecution of the Republican party and though the thirteen years which have passed over have nearly extinguished every spark of resentment against the Americans in the breasts of the people of England, yet this is by no means the case in Upper Canada. It is there common to hear, even from the children of the refugees, the most gross invectives poured out against the people of the States and the people of the frontier states, in their turn, are as violent against the refugees and their posterity and, indeed, whilst Canada forms a part of the British empire, I am inclined, from what I have seen and heard in travelling through the country, to think that this spirit will not die away."

As well as that, I have had a fascinating lecture on how to build a blockhouse, if ever the need should arise.

After breakfast I sorted out the washing and hung up that which needed to hang. In my present state of health where I’m totally unsteady on my feet, that was a rather complicated issue but I managed in the end. Mind you, in this weather it will take an age to dry.

My faithful cleaner fitted my anaesthetic patches for me and then I had to wait around for the taxi. When he arrived I was hustled out into the gale-force wind and staggered as best as I could to the car. The waves on the water were magnificent in this weather, I noticed as we passed by. What wouldn’t I have given to have gone for a walk?

We picked up our second passenger and then headed for Avranches. Strangely, away from the coast, the wind was much less.

In the clinic there were very few of us today. Maybe the wind was keeping the others at home. Julie the Cook fitted my connections today. The first was absolutely painless. I felt nothing at all. But the next one was different and hurt throughout the session.

Once more, I drifted off for a few minutes at the start and once I’d recovered I revised my Welsh and then read some more of Hakluyt. He’s repeating the legend of “King Arthur” and his presumed voyages to subdue the Norsemen, basically copied from Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae. That’s quite a shame, but he had no other sources to use and didn’t have the archaeological knowledge or access to papers in the Danish Royal Library that we have today.

No-one bothered me at all today and I was out quite early. I had a chatty driver bringing me home and she brought me through the town to see the Christmas lights, which was nice of her.

Coming home was one thing – coming to the building was something else. My cleaner was there waiting, and even with two women hanging on to me, I was almost blown over twice. I’ve never known a storm like this one.

To add insult to injury, the handrail fell off the wall so I had enormous difficulty coming upstairs.

Tea tonight was a baked potato with breaded quorn fillet and vegan salad followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. So now I’ll dictate my radio notes and then go to bed for a nice lie-in.

Yesterday though, we left Isaac Weld hunting on the shore of Lake Erie. This morning the wind had changed direction so the captain called him up on his mobile ‘phone
"Where are you now, Isaac?" asked the Captain. "What are you doing?"
"I’m hunting bear on the shores of Lake Erie" said Isaac
"Well, put your clothes back on and come back to the ship. The wind has changed direction and we are ready to sail"

Thursday 5th December 2024 – “THERE SEEMS TO BE …

… a series of scars …”

“That’s enough”, I replied. “I really don’t want to know any more”

“OK” said the doctor. “But there’s this series of scars …”

You can tell that I went for the scan on my implant this afternoon. And what is it that people don’t understand about me not wanting to know any more? It’s almost as if they go out of their way to make like difficult for me.

All in all, it was a long, tiring day today. Not helped by another late night again last night. I don’t even think that it was before midnight when I finally retired. It seemed to be long after that.

Once in bed I was asleep quite quickly and there I stayed until the alarm went off at 07:00. I was dealing with … "you mean ‘dreaming about’" – ed … the USA last night when the alarm went off, about someone who had acquired all of the land West of the Mississippi at a price that worked out at £00.005 per acre, which might sound cheap but he was obliged to undertake certain infrastructure works within the next five years. If he failed to do so the purchase would be voided. That’s as far as I went into this dream.

This is something else in ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. Land speculators, and the amount of money they make by doing it, is another one of his favourite subjects.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up but I forgot to have a shave. I shall look like The Old Man Of The Sea at this rate. Instead I went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. It’s going to be a long day.

While eating it I read some more of ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. He’s now reached the Niagara Falls – well, sort-of, because we are on the eleventh page of today’s journey and he’s still waxing lyrical about the effect that the noise and mist is having on him, and he’s not yet even seen the Falls as yet.

However, he does venture the opinion, and quite rightly so, that "the great falls of the river must originally have been situated at the spot where the waters are so abruptly contracted between the hills; and indeed it is highly probable that this was the case, for it is a fact well ascertained, that the falls have receded very considerably since they were first visited by Europeans, and that they are still receding every year"

Isabelle the Nurse turned up to deal with my legs and to fit the anaesthetic patches. To my surprise she didn’t know where the patches went and asked me. As if I know? So I hope that she fit them in the correct place.

The taxi turned up on time and, for some reason, it was the wheelchair transporter. I don’t know what I’d done to deserve that. It’s higher than the standard saloon cars so it’s easier to enter and exit.

The driver didn’t have much to say for himself and it was a quick drive down to the Dialysis Centre in comparative silence.

At the Centre we had a moment of hilarity. We have to weigh ourselves when we go in and hand the ticket from the machine to one of the nurses. When I handed mine to her she said “Look how much weight you have gained!” However, it turned out that one of the patients before me had forgotten to take his ticket and I had picked it up.

The nurses weren’t impressed with the positioning of the patches. However I suppose that it’s difficult when you don’t know. One pin went in quite easily and painlessly while the other one was much more of a painful struggle, although it actually worked today, the first time since I don’t know when.

The doctor came to see me, but he soon beat a hasty retreat when I tackled him about this scan that I had the other day. He really has no interest in his job, which is a shame.

For once, the machine behaved itself this morning and I wasn’t interrupted at all – not even for a coffee. I seemed to have missed the morning hand-out. Instead I revised my Welsh, listened to music and carried on reading Richard Hakluyt’s PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS.

Apart from the usual sycophancy towards his patron, the Earl of Nottingham with loads of lines such as "here by the way mo?t humbly crauing pardon, and alwayes ?ubmitting my poore opinion to your Lord?hips mo?t deep and percing in?ight, ", pages and pages of it, he has a delightful turn of phrase, such as " our Engli?h nation, at the fir?t ?etting foorth for their Northea?terne di?couery, were either altogether de?titute of ?uch cleare lights and inducements, or if they had any mnkling at all, it was as mi?ly as they found the Northren ?eas,"

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I adore Hakluyt’s cynicism.

They eventually unplugged me and threw me out into a waiting taxi that took me across the road to the hospital. There I was unceremoniously pushed into a hospital wheelchair and pushed around the hospital until my driver found out where to take me.

There was quite a wait until they could see me, and then we had all of this performance with the doctor and the scanner. The doctor was not at all impressed that they’d sent me straight here from being dialysed.

Eventually they could let me go and I was then pushed by my taxi driver down to the waiting car and driven home.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and she watched as a very weary me hauled myself up the stairs into the apartment where at last I could sit down comfortably.

Having bashed out some dough for the next loaf, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. We were all in a hospital. There were people who came from many different countries in Europe. It seemed that the treatment wasn’t the same. Someone was astonished that the knock-out drops that they administered to people to make them pass out for operations etc were given to the people when they were awake. I said “there’s no point giving them to someone who’s asleep. If he’s asleep, he wouldn’t need them”. Someone else talked about things that took place in other parts of Europe with regard to the administering of anaesthetics. When I came to be discharged they handed me a huge pile of information, including some stuff on a tape. I asked what the tape was for. They said that it was because I’m someone who isn’t courageous enough to confront the issues of the illness that they are having to give me the information like this, first of all to make sure that I hear it and secondly so that I can pass it to anyone else who is going to make any kind of medical intervention on my behalf. Once again; other people in this ward were quite surprised that it was necessary to give me this kind of information. Why shouldn’t it be available to the general public?

My thinking about anaesthetics might sound logical, but I wouldn’t want anyone to test the theory on me. As for me not having the courage to know about what’s going on, you can make of that what you will.

Later on I was playing with Quicksilver last night. There was just me and Dean Freiberg … "David Freiberg" – ed …. The two of us were keeping the group alive. We went to the airport to see off Jefferson Airplane on some kind of tour circuit. They blockaded our car so we couldn’t leave. This went on for a while until in the end I said to Freiberg “would you like to go to play with Jefferson Airplane?”. After much prevarication he admitted that he did so I told him to go over to their car and join in, and I’ll sort something out. I went back home, worked on one or two songs and collected a few ideas together. They I was out one day and someone pointed out Don Airey to me, a British musician and his drummer. I went up to say “hello” and to ask them what they were doing in the States. They replied that they had come over to join a group but it had all fallen through. So seeing as we now had a keyboard player and bassist, I said “I have some ideas if you want to join in”. We ended up going to a motorway service café, one that I knew really well where the girl on the till was quite jovial and joking. She was reading a newspaper but when she saw the three of us walk in she immediately put her newspaper on the floor. I walked over and asked “what’s in the news today?” to which she laughed. She recognised Don Airey and said “oh he was in earlier. He broke a cup of coffee and offered to pay for the cup”. Someone said something like “well, he’s British, isn’t he? Not American. He would offer to pay for it”.

Actually David Freiberg did leave Quicksilver and later, play with Jefferson Airplane and Jefferson Starship. But what Don Airey, organist of Deep Purple, is doing in all of this, I really don’t know.

Tea wasn’t up to much tonight. I tried a plate of baked vegetables and butternut squash in the air fryer but it didn’t really work out, so we’ll dismiss this one as a failure. But at least the oven was nice and hot for the bread and made a lovely loaf. And my ginger cake was lovely too

So right now, I’m exhausted and I’m off to bed. It’s been a tough day today and I can’t wait to take to my lovely bed.

Anyway, Isaac Weld was on a boat with a Japanese tourist and their American guide, the boat drifting helplessly and out of control towards the Niagara Falls.
Suddenly, a genie appears. "I can only give you three wishes" he said. "That’s one each"
"I love my country!" shouted the American. "Give me a heavenly choir to sing ‘The Stars and Stripes’ before we go over"
"I love my country’s food" said the Japanese. "Give me a banquet of raw sushi, raw sea slug, sea urchin and pickled omelette"
"Do me a favour" said Isaac Weld to the genie. "For God’s sake kill me off before those other two wishes are granted"

Tuesday 3rd December 2024 – IT’S ALL STARTING …

… off again around here.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that medical appointments seem to come in batches . They are like London buses – you don’t see one for ages and then half a dozen all turn up at the same time.

And so this morning I had a ‘phone call from the Dialysis Centre. “Could you come in during the morning on Thursday because we’ve arranged for that scan on your implant to take place during the afternoon at 15:00?”

So at 10:00 in the forenoon I have been summoned to answer to the above, not at a Court of Law, but at the Dialysis Centre. And they will arrange the taxi at the appropriate time.

Shortly afterwards, Paris finally called me back in answer to all of the messages that I had left them. I told them about this appointment there with the neurologist on 23rd January so if they wanted to perform this blasted biopsy, could they do it round about then?

“That was why we are ringing” said the voice. “If you can tell us the contact details of your Dialysis Centre, we’ll get them to do the dialysis on the Wednesday and have the taxi bring you here straight away, giving you two days before you go back home again”.

It’s taken them long enough to come round to it, but now that they have their fingers on the pulse again, things might begin to happen.

One thing that won’t be happening is me going to bed at a respectable time. It was another late night last night.

This time though, I was asleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until the alarm sounded at 07:00, without moving a muscle or batting an eyelid at all.

It was a struggle to haul myself out of the bed but I beat all of the alarms at the correct places and had a good wash and scrub up.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I had been during the night. I was running a small solar energy business as I did before. I was in Canada. I’d registered my business in Canada and done a little work there. I’d managed to rent someone’s front garden where I’d put a portacabin and a few other bits and pieces on there and that I used as a Head Office. When I crossed over the border between Canada and the USA I noticed that there was now a Customs office. It was inviting traders to register there. I was thinking that with the difference in tax between the USA and Canada it may well be of interest to me if I’m bringing stuff across the border. If I do that, the tax that I pay that is more will be refunded to me. If I buy stuff in Canada and take it over into the USA to sell, then I’d receive a deduction on the difference between the Canada and the USA tax. We went round there but it was closed so I thought that I’d go there again. On our way back we went past where my property was and I noticed that the house was for sale. I said to my niece to let me know when it’s sold because I couldn’t see me being allowed to stay there on the front lawn by a new owner. We stopped to have a look. The owner was outside. He buttonholed us so we went in and had a chat. No-one said anything about the property being for sale. Then it was time to leave. We had to leave downstairs through the basement so it was a case of locking all the upstairs. That gave us an opportunity to look into the rooms and we saw that work was still going on. It didn’t look as if they were ready to leave any time. The boy of the house ran back upstairs after we’d all gone down even though we’d closed all the lights and locked the doors. His father was rather short with him. The wife carried on talking to us as we walked through the house and basement and saw all of the lovely work that they were doing, turning what had been the living room into an office and the conversation carried on

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, back in 2012 and 2013 I was actively exploring the possibility of setting up a business in Canada and had even taken steps to initiate something. But like everything else, I was overwhelmed when my ill-health began.

There was also the famous Motel venture, when I had my eye on THAT PLOT OF LAND THAT WAS LEFT OVER when they finished the Trans-Labrador Highway over the Mealy Mountains in 2010, and there was also the other little plot of land left over when they built the Trans-Canada Highway and for which I actually made an offer, before being well and truly wiped out by Irving’s Petrol Stations who paid ten times what the land was worth.

Isabelle the nurse was late today. And not just late but very late. 08:50 when she finally appeared. "Sorry but I had a lot of blood tests to do this morning" she said.

No surprise there of course. People are withholding their prescriptions when her colleague is on duty because he doesn’t have “the touch” like she does.

On the subject of holidays I told her not to bother to come on New Year’s Day because I’m having a lie-in. Nevertheless she insisted on coming, but she’ll come on the midday round. The question is “will I actually be up by midday?”.

After she left I made breakfast and began the second part of ISAAC WELD’S BOOK

We aren’t many pages into it before we read something that underlines just what I was discussing the other day about the morals of the Europeans who went to North America. He tells us that the First-Nation people whom he met at Lévis opposite Québec were "{qualid and filthy in the extreme, and going about the ?treets every day in large partics, begging, pre?ented a mo?t melancholy picture of human nature; and indeed, if a traveller never ?aw any of the North American Indians, but the mo?t decent of tno?e who are in the habit of frequenting the large towns of Lower Canada, he would not be Jed to entertain an opinion greatly in their favour. The farther you a?cend up the country, and con?equently the nearer you ?ee the Indians to what they were in their original ?tate, before their manners were corrupted by intercour?e with the whites, the more do you find in their character and conduct de?erving of admiration."

If that’s not a damning indictment of the behaviour of the European settlers in Canada I don’t know what it is. But I’m convinced that Isaac Weld would have had a good relationship with the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine. They have a lot in common, although he is more in tune with the First-Nation peoples of North America rather than Aunt Judy’s Magazine editor’s fairies.

Another thing he discusses, after having visited a convent in Trois Rivières and meeting a young novice, "the fair Ur?uline, who came to the Iattice, ?eemed to be one of tho?e unfortunate females that had at la?t begun to feel all the horrors of confinement, and to lament the ra?hne?s of that vow which had fecluded her for ever from the world, and from the participation of tho?e innocent plea?ures, which, for the be?t and wi?e?t of purpo?es, the beneficent Ruler of the univer?e meant that his creatures ?hould enjoy. " is "the cruelty of the cu?tom which allows, and the mi?taken zeal of a religion that encourages, an artle?s and inexperienced young creature to renounce a world, of which ?he was de?tined perhaps, to be a happy and u?eful member, for an unprofitable life of ?olitude, and unremitted Penance for ?ins never committed"

Much, much later than usual I came back in here to revise for my Welsh lesson and then to take part therein. And once more, it went quite well too.

Earlier, I’d sent off my homework and I received it back, marked “brilliant” and with a note that my tutor loved my essay on James Bond.

After lunch I went on the hunt for music for the next radio programme. That wasn’t easy because some of it was quite obscure but in the end I managed to find what I needed. As well as that, a few gems fell into my hands too.

The trouble is that with this new program that I’m using to search and extract music, it’s not so good at finding the titles of the songs and becomes confused, so in the end I’ve switched off that option because it’s making more work than it’s saving. I’m having to do all of that by hand afterwards.

That’s probably taking more time than I’m saving with the speed of this program.

There was the break for hot chocolate of course, which was really nice. And while I was drinking it I rang up Isabelle the nurse.

Earlier in the day my faithful cleaner had stuck her head in at the door. She goes into town really early on Thursdays so if she fits my anaesthetic patches before she goes, the effect will have worn off by the time I’m plugged in. So she suggested that I telephone Isabelle and ask her if she would do it.

And so I did – and she agreed, which was nice of her. She’s much more friendly and serviable.

Tea tonight was a taco roll with stuffing and with rice and veg followed by the last of the chocolate cake. Tomorrow I’m starting on the ginger cake and I’ll tell you how it is.

But that’s tomorrow. Right now I’m off to bed.

But when Isaac Weld was in Trois Rivières I expected him to mention the enormous sundial in the town that I SAW WHEN I WAS THERE.
There’s a story about that sundial. There was one Québecois who asked another one to tell him the time
"I don’t have a watch" replied the second
"Well, go and look at the sundial" said the first
"Don’t be silly" said the second. "It’s dark outside"
"In that case" said the first "take a torch with you"

Monday 2nd December 2024 – I HAVE SEEN …

… my first “H” reg car today.

France isn’t like the UK – they simply issue all of the numbers consecutively until they run out, and then move on to the next letter and so on.

It’s about time that I saw one. They seem to have been stuck on GZ numbers for quite some considerable time, but this evening on the way home, parked in the Rue des Juifs there was an HA.

Interestingly, on the radio on the way home there was a talk about what the Press sees as the current financial crisis in France, with the cost of borrowing reaching 2.88% of GDP. That intrigued me because I don’t think that this amount is any big deal. Anyway I had a look, and found that the UK’s cost of borrowing is 4.4% of GDP – over half as much again.

In the USA it’s 2.86% – about the same as in France – and no-one is panicking over there. Interestingly, the USA’s borrowing is without anything even resembling the amount of social welfare that any other country pays out.

The record, by the way, according to the International Monetary Fund; is held by Ghana with 7.49%. In the Western World, it’s held by Iceland with 5.88%.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, I was late again going to bed but I didn’t care at all. And once in bed, although it took an age to go to sleep, I slept the Sleep of the Dead once more, all the way round to … errr … 06:20.

Whatever awoke me I really have no idea, but once awake I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I thought but I definitely had my head in the clouds at 07:00 when the alarm went off.

It took a while for me to gather my wits, which is a surprise seeing how few I have these days, and when the room stopped spinning round I alighted and headed to the bathroom.

After a good wash I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone but to my disappointment there was nothing on there. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I have these days is what goes on during the night.

The nurse came early yet again, which cheered me up because the quicker he comes, the quicker he goes. He’s on duty on Christmas Day, apparently, so I told him not to bother coming here that day. I’m going to have a lie-in.

Tomorrow, I’ll have to tell Isabelle the Nurse not to come on New Years Day either.

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK, which I have now finished – at least, part I of it.

He’s absolutely sold on Canada by the way. He lists several really good reasons why one should leave the UK and go West. And while the USA is the preferred destination for so many at the end of the Eighteenth Century, and for so many good reasons too, he goes to great lengths to explain why each of these good reasons is even better in Canada.

He concludes with "From a due confideration of every one of the before mentioned circumflances, it appears evident to me, that there is no part of America fo fuitable to an Englifh or Irifh fettler as the vicinity of Montreal or Quebec in Canada,"

Tomorrow I’m going to start on part II as he travels back to Montréal on the CHEMIN DU ROY but in the opposite direction to that in which I travelled when I wrote my magnum opus.

After breakfast I came in here to finish off my Welsh homework. I had to write an essay on my favourite screen character so I chose James Bond.

If I were to ask people to name the first two Bonds they would inevitably say Sean Connery and Roger Moore. In fact Moore was the fourth. Second was David Niven in the first version of “CASINO ROYALE and third was George Lazenby in ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE.

Having finished my homework I started to prepare the next radio programme but was interrupted by the arrival of my faithful cleaner, come to fit my anaesthetic patches.

This new series of restrictions on the use of taxis is biting hard. We were three passengers in the taxi down to Avranches today. The other two came from somewhere miles out in the back country going home from a stay at the Centre Normandy and the car was driven by a driver who had no idea where anything at all was in Granville.

We were a crowded clinic today. Every bed was taken and once more I was last to be plugged in. The first pin went in my arm totally painlessly and I didn’t feel a thing. The second hurt like Hades and then they found that it wouldn’t work, so they had to fit a branching pipe to the first. They needn’t have fitted the second at all.

I spent the time studying my Welsh and downloading more literature that I’d been able to find. It turns out that Isaac Weld had a nephew, Charles Weld, who wrote extensively on the Arctic so I downloaded as much of it as I could find.

He also followed his uncle’s steps around Canada and the USA 50 years later and also wrote a book about his adventures. That too is a must-have as far as I’m concerned and it took a while to find a copy that I could download.

As I mentioned the other day, I can now access my LeClerc account from the Dialysis Clinic so I was busy reviewing the site and adding products onto my shopping list. Can you believe that my next LeClerc order will be the last one before Christmas? Hasn’t this year passed quickly?

While I’m at it, I’ll have to work out what other on-line shopping accounts I can access. The hospital’s firewall is quite restricting and using my ‘phone to access the internet isn’t always possible if I’m in the hospital too deep to access a wi-fi signal.

As well as all of that, I was being force-fed orange juice as my glucose level was so low.

My favourite taxi driver brought me home. She was strangely quiet which was a shame because I quite enjoy her running commentaries, especially when she’s annoyed.

Once more, I strode out and climbed the stairs boldly. I’m a long, long way from being able to climb even one of them without dragging myself up by the handrail on the wall, but at least It’s quite a change from how it used to be.

Back in here I had a little rest and then I made tea – a stuffed pepper with pasta. It was quite delicious too. It was followed by chocolate cake and lemon soya dessert.

That’s the last of the lemon soya, and tomorrow will see the last of the chocolate cake that has done me so well over the last couple of weeks. The ginger cake is cut into slices and is in the fridge ready for the next set of desserts

So now I’m off to bed ready for my Welsh class tomorrow.

Talking of James Bond, I once met Sir Roger Moore and I had a chat to him about the character that he played
"That’s right" he said. "They called me ‘Basildon Bond’"
"Why was that?" I asked, rather naively
"Well," he replied. "Since I’ve been knighted by the Queen I have letters after my name."

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality