Tag Archives: hospital

Monday 28th October 2024 – I’M FED UP …

… of this blasted dialysis and the pain that it’s causing me. Everything that could go wrong at the Clinic did go wrong today and during my three and a half hours coupled up to the machine I was wracked with non-stop pain.

What made it worse was that of the three teams there, it was the team that I consider to be the best that was there on duty this afternoon.

There’s going to have to be some dramatic improvement in the way that things work in there because if it carries on like this, I shan’t consider the 18 hours per week that I waste going to the Clinic to be worth the effort.

It’s all very well saying that they are doing their best to keep me alive, which I’m sure they are, but if I have to spend the rest of my life in pain like this three times per week, then I’d rather not bother.

One consolation though was that I was in bed before 23:00 last night, which was really nice. In fact, it was a good half-hour before and that was something for which I’d been longing.

However, I failed to make the most of it. There I was, wide-awake at 06:00 and when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was already up and about.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, even applying a liberal helping of deodorant. I know that Emilie the Cute Consultant doesn’t love me any more, but that’s no reason not to make an effort. I even changed my clothes.

Back in here I had a bash at transcribing the dictaphone notes. This was another one of these chaotic houses with lots of things happening and lots of people living there, all their lives intertwined etc. People kept on changing beds and bedrooms for some reason or other. I know that a couple of girls changed their bedding and ended up in a bed where I had slept. I pretended to forget that it was a bed where I was no longer sleeping, and I ought to be ashamed of myself, but I’m not!. Next morning there were the usual things that needed doing but I was quite looking forward to the evening because I hoped that the beds would be like they were last night and I could carry on. I had a whole variety of tasks that I needed to perform. Round about mid-afternoon I decided that I’d sit down and put my feet up for five minutes because I was tired after having had very little sleep the previous night. I sat down and put up my feet, and the next thing that I remember, it was bright sunlight and there were a lot of people about. I looked at my watch and it was 07:35. It must have been the following morning and I’d slept. I went in and everyone was having breakfast. I thought “I’ve missed my chance again, haven’t I?”. While I was wandering around looking for people I ended up in some woman’s room. She was sitting there. She’d had an accident, her glasses were broken and roughly where her glasses were broken there was a huge scar in her head. She looked quite a mess. I told her what had happened but of course I left out the part about in bed, just the part about me falling asleep. She thought that it was quite funny and told one or two other people. It was really quite funny too, especially the way that it stopped me doing what I was hoping to do.

Actually, it wasn’t all that funny. For once in my life I managed to Get The Girl … "not ‘arf ‘e did!" – ed … and then miss out on the second occasion due to crashing out. It really is unbelievable although regular readers of this rubbish will recall the unbelievable part of it being that I actually had some good luck for a change. Quite usually the second part of that affair is par for the course where I snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. But chaos? It sounds just like home.

And then the vogue of child painting was starting to come into effect, people having their children painted by well-known artists. Where we were living there was the occasional quest, seeing as my wife could do painting and I could write verses etc. Then of course we began to receive real-life commissions. One of them was this small child aged about three. I sat him down and tried to make him calm etc but it was clear that mathematics was just not his thing. He yowled and yowled all through this ceremony and made a right mess of this photo because there was never ever a correct moment to take it

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … although I’m asleep when I’m dreaming and dictating, I usually have some kind of vague recollection that is triggered when I’m typing out the notes. But for this dream, I have no recollection at all. Not a single bit. I’ve no idea at all what to make of this.

Finally, another dream in the long-running saga of new houses. I finally moved into my new house and was slowly settling in. I’d had a look at the one that I’d had in Winsford and they were in a terrible state so I had a look at the windows of mine and they could do with some attention if not replacing so I took out the two at the back of the house, the dining room and the rear bedroom. I began to clean up the one in the dining room and made a pretty nice job of it. I fitted it back in ready to paint but I noticed that now the sun had gone in and there were really heavy storm clouds. It was starting to rain so I took the ladder to go to fit the window back in the bedroom but the rain beat me. We had this torrential rain but I continued, trying to make this ladder work against the rear of the house but I was having so much trouble because I can’t do with ladders very well. The rain went and the rain stopped so in the end I tried to go round to the front of the house but I couldn’t work out how to get there. I tried a couple of ways but there was no obvious way to go round to the front.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we’ve had several dreams about new houses, in one of which I had actually bought two new houses and couldn’t make up my mind in which one to live. But it did remind me of my house in Winsford and while I was at the Dialysis Clinic I came over all nostalgic about my little house. I wonder how my life and my future would have panned out had I not moved to Gainsborough Road in Crewe and stayed in Winsford.

But that’s not all, although you wouldn’t thank me for posting anything else, especially if you are eating your meal right now. As Thomas Allen Reed once said, "It was fortunate for my reputation that it never afterwards saw the light"

Isabelle the nurse came round and she collided with my cleaner, and they both came in together to assail me. My cleaner wanted my health card for the chemist and the nurse wanted to deal with my legs. They both did what they needed to do in here and left together.

After they had gone I had breakfast and read my book. We’ve now finished the speeches and we are having a lecture on geology. And I have to say that if anyone wants to take up the study of geology, they’ll do much worse than read this lecture because it’s fascinating.

In fact it’s the first geology lecture that I have ever seen where mathematical calculations are well to the fore, but if you don’t want to carry out the calculations you’ll have just as much interest looking at the diagrams.

Back in here I spent some time going through my live concerts and dating them as best as I can, and then I made a start on my Welsh homework. Even though there’s no lesson tomorrow (half-term) I want to crack on.

My cleaner came early to fit my anaesthetic patches, and it’s just as well because the taxi was early once more.

And here hangs a tale, because it was a driver who has taken me before. She’s usually quite chatty but today she hardly said a word and was rather snappy when she did. She had one of those auras that I could sense before she even said anything, and it wasn’t a good sensation at all.

At the Dialysis Clinic the nurse connected me up painlessly, but the machine didn’t work and nothing that she tried would make it.

With the aid of the portable x-ray machine they worked out that the needles hadn’t gone into the tube in my arm so they took them out and tried again. By this time though the anaesthetic had worn off.

Eventually they had a good contact but the machine still wouldn’t fire up. They eventually managed it but only if the pipes were in a certain position so they taped them in that position to my arm. At one stage I had five nurses and three nursing assistants standing round my bed and it’s a shame that I was in no condition to enjoy it.

That’s all very well, but you try lying like that for three and a half hours without moving your arm even half an inch. Eventually, they were so fed up of coming to deal with the plaintive wails of the machine every time I winced with pain that they rigged up a cradle with some kevlar padding.

Then I had no choice but not to move my arm

When I could I read through my Welsh and then finished off my “Curious Church Customs”. I’ll have to find a new book to read, something like HORRID CRIMES OF BYGONE CHESHIRE to see if any of my relatives are in it, and not as victims either.

The trick cyclist came by. She asked me if I was OK and when I replied that I was, she cleared off elsewhere and left me alone, which suited me fine.

With all of the excitement everything was running late, and when they came to unplug me, the compression on my arm failed again and once more the place was like a slaughterhouse

It’s no surprise that I was glad to see the back of the place and climb into the taxi to bring me home. It was another new driver and I ended up having to give directions after she took a wrong turn

My faithful cleaner was at her post again to help me out of the car but I managed the first flight of all thirteen steps without using my hand to lift my leg. If I can do that for a whole week I’m going to try the second flight up to my front door

And she had some news for me. One of the medicaments that I need is on special order and the chemist has had to send away for a box. So what’s the betting that that will be changed in a few days?

In the absence of a pepper, I made an aubergine and kidney-bean whatsit for tea. I had one helping with pasta and veg, and there are three more that are destined for the freezer

The apple-cake has almost all gone now, so I might persevere with a cake in the air fryer. The chocolate cake which I cooked and which is almost all gone now, ended up being something of a success despite the misgivings that I had at the start.

So now I’m going to be brave and go to bed, even though my arm is quite painful. I’ve warned my cleaner to take her ‘phone to bed and expect a phone call because I’m not convinced at all about how this compression is going to work. I don’t suppose that I shall have a wink of sleep.

But there’s a guy who comes to the Dialysis Clinic in an ambulance because he has lost both his legs.
He was looking on with interest at this pantomime this afternoon and eventually we struck up a conversation
"have you been coming to the Dialysis Clinic for a long time?" I asked him
"Ohh no" he replied. "I lost my legs during the War."

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Saturday 26th October 2024 – YOU AREN’T GOING …

… to believe this – or maybe you are, I don’t know – but do you remember that new prescription that I had just the other day?

And so here we are just 10 days later, and it’s already been changed. Furthermore, the medication that he added in? That’s been changed too. After just 10 days. I don’t know what the chemist is going to say when my poor cleaner goes there on Monday

The issue is that some of these pills and potions aren’t a regular order but have to be ordered specially. And you can’t order just one packet, you have to order – and pay for – a box full. Reimbursement isn’t made until the medication is prescribed and collected by the patient.

So if the chemist has ordered a boxful of rare stuff and only handed out one packet, she’s stuck with the rest until the expiry date at which point she has to throw it away, and she’ll be well out-of-pocket

In my opinion, she will have every reason to be upset by all of this and I’m glad that it’s not me who has to go to face her

But anyway, that’s something to worry about for another time.

Last night I struggled into bed just about at the correct time, just before 23:00. And glad I was too to be finally in bed

There wasn’t even time to start my little night-time mantra before I was asleep, but it didn’t last. Not that I was cold, because I’d gone to sleep in my tee-shirt, but it was a disturbed night nevertheless. I was awakening and going back to sleep on regular occasions too numerous to count.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I had a great deal of difficulty rising up out of my stinking pit and it was a very undignified stagger into the living room to collect some clean clothes.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, and even a shave, and then all of the dirty clothes that were hanging about went into the washing machine and I set it off on a cycle (a very clever washing machine, mine).

Back in the living room I put away all of the shopping bags from LeClerc ready to hand back next time they deliver, and then put all of the drained carrots into the freezer ready for the next few weeks.

Back in here I made a start on the dictaphone notes, but I didn’t get very far before Isabelle came. With everything that I’d done, I was running late.

She gave me my ‘flu injection, and told me that the side-effects might be a painful shoulder and ‘lu-like symptoms for a very short while, so I need to have the Doliprane standing by, so I told her to clear off. This whole country floats on Doliprane – the slightest problem that arises and “I’ll pass you the Doliprane”. If you’re hurting, there’s a reason and masking the pain can just make the problem worse.

After she left I had breakfast and read my book. We’ve finished fossils and we’re now discussing the notes that the speaker who had proposed the mushroom book had prepared and brought to the meeting to present to the assembled multitudes.

And we’ve yet to find out anything about Mr Houghton’s “photographs of a very curious and interesting character”. I’ll be sure to tell you when I find out.

Back in here I finished off transcribing the dictaphone notes. I started off going to flower shows, inspecting flowers etc. I even in my dream sent myself a message although I’ve no idea what it was about but it concerns flowers etc and that’s mainly because everything that I’ve been discussing I’ve been reading about discussions of mixed lists

It’s quite impressive that I can even in a dream remember what’s been going on at the breakfast table. But what interest do I have in flowers? My friend Lorna once said that the only time I’d ever take a photograph of a flower would be if there were a car parked on top of it.

A couple of years ago I’d had a huge, blazing row with a member of public about something or other which had turned rather ugly. Anyway I thought no more about it but suddenly a group of policemen turned up and said that they were going to take me off down to the police station. I thought that it might have been for questioning, something like that, so I went along. I met my boss who was there. I asked him what was going on and he told me that this was going to be the hearing about remand and liability. I couldn’t understand this. I expected the proceedings to be similar to how they were in the UK. He replied “oh now. You won’t have bail. You’ll be remanded and the case will be dealt with tomorrow”. “That’s rather quick”. He asked “what are you going to do afterwards? Are you going back to your old job in the UK?”. I replied “I’m hoping that I’ll stay here”. He answered “well you can’t stay here if you’re going to do this. You’ll lose your job. For a start” he said, showing me a spark plug “this won’t be able to fit under your vehicle”. I couldn’t understand any of this. There was the guy with whom I had this altercation. The police turned to him and asked “do you still wish to go ahead with this?”. He replied “Yes” so two policemen took me inside. One of them asked “you don’t mind sharing a cell on your own, do you?”. I asked if there was going to be any bail. He replied “oh, no. The case will be heard in the morning. You’re remanded overnight. They took me down into the bowels of the police station like in one of these old films. There’s a room there with about fifty people in it on a load of benches and they just sat me on a bench at the back. There were several other people around and we were watching a procession that set off – all people in brightly-coloured clothes and flags of the various nations. A whole group of people from Sweden set off followed by some people from Croatia. I was all completely bewildered by this. I hadn’t the least idea about what was going on

I stepped back into that dream later on and was driving back to the house where I’d been just now. There was a pile of mud on the floor with some traffic lights on red. I didn’t see the line where to stop so I stopped where I thought it was and found that I was in the middle of the junction. I raised my hand in apology to everyone and drove off. As I raised my hand a Rover 820 saloon, a silver one with a pattern part wing on it pulled out of a garage. I thought to myself “that’s the guy with whom I’d had this row and that’s his car. I hope that he doesn’t think that I’m waving to him”. I carried on driving and eventually turned up at the house where I was supposed to be. I was looking for a parking place because parking on the street was not allowed. They were parking two-abreast on the pavement. I could see that outside the house where I was supposed to go there was some parking and there was also some room in the drive at the back.

All of the above is quite surreal, especially the flags. It reminds me of Carnaval here in Granville. I’m not sure why the Police would want to come knocking at my door these days though. I’ve been doing my best to keep my head down, but even so, there are some people who just won’t leave you alone

I was dictating into my hand again here, which is something that I do on the odd occasion. There’s a village just off the headland here called “Pentref-Uchaf”, the “Highest Village”. It was a tiny village. It was the village Open Day at the garage. One woman there learned how to fit gas bottles which she said was going to be interesting. I learned how to make mint drinks which was also going to be interesting. On the headland by the village was a big house where we were kept as prisoners. You could see by the trees which way the winds were blowing because the trees were growing in all funny shapes, all pointing towards the east. When I arrived at this house on remand I was asked which bed I wanted. I said that I didn’t mind. Everything they offered me, I said that I’d take whatever they give me, I’m not bothered. I was helping another inmate in the kitchen. He asked me which set of cutlery I wanted, the big one or the small one. I said that I wasn’t bothered. He replied that I was the ideal companion to be incarcerated with. We were trying to make a meal for people but we couldn’t find anything. The guy giving us the instructions took far too long and we’d prepared half of it by the time we’d finished. It was all really strange, the third part of this dream.

This prison bit – I hope that it’s not a forewarning of something. It seems to be rather persistent tonight. But last night I was dreaming in French and tonight it’s Welsh. When I start dreaming in Innu then you know that the World is at an end.

The washing was now ready so I sorted it out and hung it up to dry. And then back in here I attacked the correspondence. Everyone should now have had a reply, but if I’ve missed you, let me know.

My cleaner came early to fit my anaesthetic patches, and it’s just as well because the taxi came early too. We had to pick someone else up so we went round there but she wasn’t ready to come back yet to Avranches so we had a good drive down there on our own.

Being so early I was first in and first dealt with, but even though sticking the ports in me was painless the nurse missed her target so she had to take them out and start again. They are doing their best to torture me in there.

Once it was finally up and running they pretty much left me alone. However the doctor was another story. He came round and asked how I was and then told me about the medication. Later on he sent me the prescription.

As to why they are actually changing the medication I don’t really know. It doesn’t seem to me to be logical to change it so quickly before anything has had time to act.

Once they left me alone, I read my Welsh, listened to music and read my “Curious Church Customs”.

The taxi was waiting for me and we had quite a quick return, where I could only manage nine steps before I had to use my hands to lift up my legs – a backward step … "very good" – ed …

There was football tonight – Hwlffordd v Caernarfon, and what a dreary match that was. Hwlfford played the nicer football but Caernarfon’s approach was rather agricultural. The whole spark seems to have gone out of Caernarfon’s midfield this last few weeks

The final score was 0-0 and both teams were lucky to get nil. This was a match that I’ll forget quite quickly.

Tea was baked potato, vegan salad and a burger on a bun followed by apple cake and caramel soya cream. Nice it was too.

But now I have some dictating to do and then I’m going to bed. It’s an extra hour in bed in the morning and I want to make the most of it.

But the doctor at the Clinic didn’t only see me. He saw others too and after he left, I noticed that one patient whom he’d seen was crying.
"What’s the matter with you?" I asked him
"It’s the doctor" he said. "He’s told me that I have to take one pill every day for the rest of my life"
"There’s no need to be upset" I said "Lots of people have to do that. I’ve been doing it for nine years!"
"It’s all right for you" he said "but the doctor’s only given me six"

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Thursday 24th October 2024 – THEY BROUGHT ME …

… home in an ambulance this evening.

Don’t ask me why, because I didn’t ask for it and I certainly didn’t want it. But nevertheless, there I was, strapped into a stretcher in the back.

My faithful cleaner thinks that it’s because none of the female drivers wants to bring me home on her own but I dunno. I’ve clearly upset someone somewhere if the only way that they are going to transport me is strapped down in the back of an ambulance

Actually, last night I might have been strapped down in bed because I certainly didn’t move at all, at least, not that I remember.

To cap it all, I was even in bed before 23:00. Not by very much, it has to be said, but enough to make it worth recording all the same. For some reason or other it didn’t take as long as it usually does to finish everything off. And there I was, tucked up nicely in bed.

Once I was in bed I didn’t need much rocking either. I was out like a light quite quickly and there I stayed until 07:00 when the alarm went off, and when was the last time that that happened?

When the alarm went off I had some kind of nurse living with me who was trying to organise me about going out because Tuesday afternoon I had to go to the bank and Wednesday afternoon I had to go somewhere. That involved a lot of organisation with the buses, all of that kind of thing. She was busy trying to make all of the necessary arrangements for me to go to do these tasks on the bus without having to use an ambulance or a taxi.

The only person who might do that would be Percy Penguin. She’s quite used to dealing with the elderly, the infirm and those people who might not have both paddles in the water but I think that even she would draw the line at sorting me out.

So at the sound of the alarm I hauled myself out of bed and made my way into the bathroom for a good scrub up and to prepare myself in case Emilie the Cute Consultant is there at the Dialysis Centre this afternoon.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were going on a coach trip somewhere. There was a big group of us on board this coach. I was on my own so I sat in a seat and everyone left me alone which was very nice. The coach stopped for a toilet break halfway along the route so I set up a coffee machine. With the cups that I had I started a little coffee production line. A girl came to help me and the two of us managed to keep it going with coffee. The driver said that he and the other two members of his staff had their own cups but I had to use the cups that I could find, which were not very good. Nevertheless, people drank it. There was one moment when I had to go to make some more coffee and I had to go to the end of the line where the machine was. I didn’t have the coffee so I shouted to the girl to bring the coffee back down quick but then found that I actually had the coffee in my hand. There was that particular moment but that’s all that I remember about this dream

Wouldn’t it be nice to find out how to keep 53 people happy with one coffee machine. I suppose that it’s the 21st Century equivalent of “five loaves, two fishes and a pot of tea for five thousand, please”.

There was an earlier dream about someone in the theatrical business who had a small, domineering personality. He had a lot of affairs with different women. He was at one time with a Japanese or Korean girl who was a member of a dancing troupe but he abandoned her for another woman. The newspapers said something like “he’ll certainly notice the difference with this large, overbearing Spanish woman compared to the girl he had previously who had barely entered puberty” that sort of thing but I can’t remember very much about that dream either except nothing really.

That was rather a strange thing to dream, and I can’t think of where it might have any relevance in anything particular.

In that last dream I did absolutely everything towards this play, writing and directing etc. The only thing was when it came to the orchestra, conducting the orchestra I had to step aside and let someone else do that because of some kind of agreement with the particular Trade Union that covers the engagement of musicians in their practical sphere.

And the same with this. A few more things to add to my nocturnal talents. If only I had someone who could organise and motivate me to do these things for real.

Hurricane Isabelle blew in a little later. She didn’t have time to give me my ‘flu jab. It’s booked in for Saturday when she has no blood tests to do. It’s no surprise really that she’s snowed under with requests for blood tests right now. She has “the touch” whereas her oppo doesn’t and people are beginning to realise it.

After she left I made breakfast and read my book. Our Naturalists are busy roaming about the estate of the President examining his trees, of which there are many historic ones.

But it’s a shame what subsequently happened to his estate. His family fell on hard times and it was sold, eventually becoming a hospital. It was used for severe cases during World War II and then abandoned, the house being blown up by the Royal Engineers in a training exercise in 1959

Back in here I spent the morning tracking down the dates of more concerts and, as usual, SETLIST.FM came up trumps yet again and helped me identify a dozen or so

My cleaner turned up at lunchtime and helped me fix the patches on my arm, and then the taxi came early for me. It’s a good job that I was ready.

We drove all the way to Avranches and at the roundabout the driver turned right towards the town rather than to the left to the hospital.

He quickly realised his error and performed a U-turn and a voice in the back said "did you forget something?". We’d gone all that way with a passenger in the back and I had never noticed at all.

With being early this afternoon I was first in at the clinic, thus first to be dealt with, which made a nice change.

A doctor came to see me, but only for two minutes and she didn’t seem to be too interested. And apart from the coffee, that was that. I read my Welsh notes, listened to music and finished off by carrying on with my “Curious Church Customs”.

They unplugged me quite early and I was free to go. That was when we had the pantomime about me trying unsuccessfully to climb into the ambulance.

After several attempts they gave up and brought out the stretcher.

We drove back in perfect silence to here where my faithful cleaner was waiting, and she watched as I made it up all thirteen of the first flight of stairs. That was really impressive, considering how much difficulty I had had with the ambulance.

Tea tonight was different. There had been a can of beansprouts festering on the shelves since it was triumphantly carried off the Ark by Noah, and so I made myself a spicy stir-fry. In fact, everything will be spicy now that I have a jar of chilis.

It was hot, and delicious, especially followed by apple cake and caramel-flavoured soya cream.

So now I’m off to bed for a nice early night, as it looks as if I’m going to have a visit tomorrow.

But while we’re on the subject of Noah … "well, one of us is" – ed … it reminds me of the teacher in Primary School discussing certain Biblical events with the children.
She asked them "do you know who Noah’s wife was?" and one boy at the back of class raised his hand
"Please, Miss" said the boy "I do!"
"So who was it, little Johnny?" she asked
And the boy replied "please Miss, wasn’t it Joan of Arc?"

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Monday 21st October 2024 – I’M STILL ACHING …

… just about everywhere that it’s possible to ache, and probably a few places where it isn’t possible either.

Mind you, I have to admit that I’m not aching quite as much as I was when I awoke this morning. I thought that a good night’s sleep might have helped everything ease off seeing as I was lying comfortably in bed, but it wasn’t to be.

A longer sleep might have been nice but once again, I missed by some considerable distance my target of being in bed by 23:00. It’s still taking longer than I would like to finish off what needs to be done, and there’s the added problem with the aches and pains that make me reluctant to move from my comfortable chair.

But once in bed I was soon asleep and I can’t recall any awakening until about 06:15. And even then, I turned over and went straight back to sleep again. When the alarm went off I was in a pub in London watching a pub band play. There were Keith Ginnell and his wife on keyboards. His wife had been a famous model in the past, Vicky somebody I think. On drums was Keef Hartley and the singer was Magic Michael. He was too tall for the stage and had to bend his head to fit under the ceiling while he was singing. he was singing that song “Giddy up, Bobby” and I was thinking how easy that was to play when I thought about it. Then I went to the bathroom where I overheard some kind of dispute going on between Keef Hartley and Keith Ginnell. I thought that it was a shame that they were arguing like that because they were a really good group.

What I didn’t dictate was that I was staying at that pub but had to clear out my room ready to leave. And in the WC I’d bolted the door behind me but nevertheless someone still came in and walked past me, and I wondered how they had managed to do that.

Now you are of course going to ask me who Keith Ginnell is and what the song “Giddy Up Bobby” is all about. And the answer to both questions is that I don’t have any idea at all. I know who Magic Michael is of course, and who doesn’t? He was one of the hangers-on with Hawkwind back in the early 70s and later on had a few singles out of his own, most of which sunk without trace. Keef Hartley was of course one of John Mayall’s drummers and later on had a group of his own, but Keith Ginnell and “Giddy Up Bobby” escape me completely.

What’s so surprising is that I could actually remember them.

While we’re on the subject of remembering … "well, one of us is" – ed … I didn’t forget someone’s birthday yesterday. Not at all. It goes without saying that I won’t ever forget it

So I staggered to my feet in a cloud of agony and slowly inched my way into the bathroom where I had a good scrub up and even a shave to make myself look pretty, even though it will take more than a scrub-up and a shave to make me look pretty.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And there was some stuff on there too. There had been a big riot somewhere. The soldiers were all hemmed in at some kind of barracks and had been completely overwhelmed. They decided that what they would so as a desperate kind of last stand for all those who were fit enough was to make some kind of fighting arrowhead and charge out of the building on their horses hoping to break through the enemy lines. So they charged out in this arrowhead and almost broke through but were held somewhere down at the bottom of Oak Street and Mill Street in Crewe. The fight raged round there for an hour or two when suddenly the enemy surrendered and gave up the fight. I’d been watching the events unfold and after the events went peacefully some kind of big American convertible, a huge car with a woman driver pulled up and said “taxi for Hall”. I climbed in and it took me off down Wistaston Road/Victoria Avenue. I was chatting to the woman – she’d been in London earlier in the day in the fog, just socialising. I told her that I’d been to Scotland and it really was foggy there. She was telling me how she did taxiing part-time, how she enjoyed it. She was working for Orange Cabs but she didn’t have a card with her number on for me so we carried on chatting like that and eventually she brought me home

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we were AT THE SITE OF THE BATTLE OF LITTLE BIG HORN with LITTLE BIG ANTLERS a few years ago and the question that was going through my mind then was “why did Custer and his men dismount?”

On foot they would have no chance of escaping the native Americans, as events were to prove. Knowing that there was a detachment of soldiers with the baggage train in the vicinity, if they had formed a “fighting head” – a triangular-shaped formation, they stood a very good chance of piercing a surrounding line of enemy and the weight of their charge would have pushed at least some of them through the encirclement and on to safety at the far end of the ridge

But as for riots going on in Crewe, it’s extremely unlikely. The people there have long-since lost any free will and initiative.

The nurse came early and caught me off-guard this morning. He refrained from upsetting me, which was good, and now he’s gone off duty for a week which suits me fine. It gives me a chance to gather up my sang-froid ready for the next bout.

Still, the earlier he comes, the earlier he goes and I could crack on with breakfast.

Today, the Woolhope Naturalists are having a lecture on Space and Interplanetary rotation, sitting at a picnic around a waterfall. Some of their propositions have long-since been contradicted by later discoveries but it’s interesting all the same to hear the state of knowledge in 1867.

What’s also interesting is that the 48 members present had to go into the back of beyond to visit this waterfall, and not only did the railway company agree to stop the train at an isolated spot, it built a railway platform and had three gangers ready to help the party alight.

Just imagine that today! It would take them ten years to build the platform, even if they were so disposed to do so, and there would have to be all kinds of Health and Safety surveys and inspections first.

And this “Health and Safety Culture” – do you know what’s brought it on? It happened the day that Solicitors were allowed to advertise.

Back in the old days if you stumbled on a pavement and hurt your toe, you shrugged your shoulders and moved on. But once we began to see the "had an accident? It might not be your fault. Contact us for a free interview" advertisements, everything changed overnight.

The Naturalists were also visiting the famous church of Capel-y-ffin, a site that became notorious later on with the arrival of “Father Ignatius” and then the infamous Eric Gill, whose famous sculptures and type design did little to counter the later unsavoury allegations about his private life that were to occur once his biography was published after his death.

Having finished all that I came in here and finished off as far as I could (because some of it requires access to a television) and then carried on selecting music for the next radio programme.

My cleaner turned up to help me fit my anaesthetic patches and while she was here I gave her my orders for the supermarket tomorrow. And the taxi for the Dialysis Clinic was driven by a young guy and we had a very lively chat all the way down to Avranches.

At the clinic they didn’t hang about to plug me in. The first one hurt like hell but the second needle, I didn’t feel it at all.

The nurses asked if I had any pain anywhere so I mentioned the issues that I’m having. They gave me a Covid test and that was that. No doctor came anywhere near me to make further enquiries so I don’t see the point in asking.

As well as the doctor in charge, Emilie the Cute Consultant was there too and although she went to see a few other patients, she kept well away from me. Julie the Cook did likewise, so she must be a regular reader of this rubbish too.

I read my Welsh and spent some time reading, and I also had a little doze. While I was away with the fairies, being careful to avoid drawing the attention of the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine to my activities, I was on a train in Tunisia. A Tunisian woman in local dress came to sit next to me. I suddenly realised that I hadn’t validated my ticket so I stood up and went to look for a machine. There was none in my carriage and the next one was compartmentalised with the curtains drawn and what looked like discreet security guards. I turned to a guy in the vestibule of my carriage to ask him. He told me that you don’t validate it – the ticket inspector does as he or she passes – so I went to resume my seat. However it looked nothing like it did when I left and the Tunisian lady wasn’t there

There was a similar issue about TICKETS ON TRAINS when I was in Tunisia a few years ago, and I can well-believe the presence of Security Guards and curtained compartments on certain trains.

They unplugged me and threw me out into the torrential rain where my taxi was waiting, and we had to wait for the guy who lives in Sartilly. And he had already reserved the front seat

My driver was friendly enough but didn’t say too much and as we stopped outside the building, the rain stopped, the sun shone and we had a rainbow.

My cleaner watched me upstairs, and it was a retrograde number of steps today, no surprise with me feeling not too well. And I was glad to sit down and relax for an hour.

Tea was a lovely stuffed pepper with pasta followed by apple cake and soya cream and now I’m ready for bed.

But the subject of having pains everywhere reminds me of the guy who went to the doctor.
"Every time and everywhere I touch myself" he said "I’m in absolute agony."
And he proceeded to prod himself in his leg, his arm, his torso, his neck, his posterior, everywhere. And each time he winced in pain.
The doctor looked at him for a moment and then took him by surprise, prodding him in his ribs
"Did that hurt?" asked the doctor
"Well, actually doctor" said the man "no it didn’t. What does it mean? Am I dying? Do I have a serious problem?"
"Not at all" said the doctor. "All it means is that you have broken your finger."

0

Saturday 19th October 2024 – THEY LEFT ME …

… pretty much to myself at the Dialysis Clinic this afternoon.

Once they’d plugged me in, they only came back once to deal with an alarm, one of the nursing assistants brought me a coffee, and that was that until it was time to unplug me

That’s much more like my way of doing things and if they can keep it up like that every time I go, I shall be much happier.

Another thing that shall make me much happier is going to bed early. Last night was ridiculous. Just as I was about to switch off everything and go to bed, round on the playlist came the classic Quicksilver Messenger Service version of Elias Bates (Bo Diddley to you)’s version of WHO DO YOU LOVE, all 25 minutes and 15 seconds of it.

Of course, one thing leads to another and once you start you’ll be surprised at how many other things there are and it was after 00:30 when I finally crawled into bed

For once though I had a good sleep. Apart from a brief, very brief moment, I was asleep for the entire night but I was still feeling the worse for wear when I crawled out of bed at the sound of the alarm.

First thing was to go into the kitchen. I’ve no bread left and so I set to work to make a loaf of bread, starting by making the dough and giving it a good kneading.

Whilst it was busy festering I went into the bathroom. With it being a Dialysis Day to day I gave myself a good scrub and even applied the deodorant, not that it makes much difference

Having organised myself I sorted out the washing. There’s tons of it, but I washed the bed linen today along with some of the stuff of which supplies are running low. When I came here from the Auvergne I didn’t bring everything with me – just enough to keep me going. But there’s no chance now of going back to the Auvergne to pick up the rest.

When the nurse came round he looked at the dough and asked “are you making bread?”. His asinine, patronising comments are getting on my nerves.

Luckily he didn’t stay long and was soon down the road, and I can carry on with breakfast and my book.

Today, the Woolhope Naturalists are at Llandrindod Wells where we hear them applauding the efforts that are being made in salmon conservation and calling for some kind of control of pollution of the local rivers – a good 100 years ahead of their time.

And then I put the bread in the oven.

After I’d started the washing off I’d made a start on the dictaphone notes but the arrival of the nurse had put paid to that. So after breakfast I carried on. There was this very small girl. She was very small and very lively, and very interested in everything that seemed to be going on around her. One day I had to go to the hospital. A car came for me – it was a big Austin A110. I climbed into it and it had to go to pick up some more people. A guy was picked up and he sat in the back, a woman or a guy – it seemed to change between the two. Then there was this small girl and this woman. The woman insisted on sitting in the front, so much so that she actually climbed into the front while I was in the seat. In the end I agreed that I’d step out of the car and sit in the rear. The little girl made some kind of comment so I said “God, I’m sitting next to you, am I?” in one of those harmless fun tones which started a little bit of a play argument. This all took place at the entrance to a car park somewhere but it turned out to be at the Earl of Crewe. We were all at the Earl of Crewe outside, all fooling around, all of us. Someone came up to me and said “You’ve forgotten that it’s her birthday today, haven’t you?” meaning the little girl. I replied “I didn’t really know”. “Don’t worry. The driver has bought a little present for her on your behalf”. I thought “that’s nice of him. That’s the second time that he’s done that. I’ll have to see about paying him back or something”. But I have half an hour when I’m not doing anything. I was planning on looking at a recipe that someone had given me. Instead, I can look at the recipe in the car and go to buy her a present then. We all ended up in some kind of old house with low ceilings and wattle-and-daub walls. We were all inside there and making conversation with each other and the little girl was doing her school homework. There was someone else there doing some work at the seat behind her. I was going to read this recipe but I thought that I’d go to talk to this girl and see what she’s doing. and this dream carried on like that for ages.

This dream certainly dates me if I’m being picked up by an Austin A110. I was still a teenager when those cars were top-of-the-range. And I often used (and probably still do) tease young girls like that. The incident of the woman wanting to sit in the front reminds me of that strange guy at the Dialysis Centre who never opened his mouth all the time except when the taxi driver asked “who wants to sit in the front?”.

Having had one phantom alarm call we have a second. And one of my friends seems to be coming “extremely close” to everyone who comes to her house. Tomorrow morning there is going to be someone new going so we should all be at the house and we should catch her. Se we were there and were waiting. Sure enough, someone came, a refugee from some island somewhere. She had a close encounter with him which makes the fourteenth in fourteen days. After that we walked home. I walked away over the hills and when I was round about at an arch some woman came up, a type of girl, not even wanting to talk to me about anything other than the items of clothing in my freezer bag that I had to give her, a freezer bag with eight items of clothing in there so now there was one piece of pizza and just three or four left. She wanted to search through them and wasn’t going to let me go home until I’d submitted to a search

There is actually one of my friends who behaves like that. Mind you, it’s a good 15-20 years since I’ve seen her and even then I used to keep a respectable distance. However, I don’t understand anything about the second part of that dream.

By the way, I have absolutely no recollection of either of those phantom alarm calls.

Finally I was in a bedsit room in Manchester. It was something of a mess but I was leaving today. I had a train at 18:00 that I absolutely had to catch. I wanted to see one of the many followers of this blog before I left but he could only fit me in after 17:00. As he lived in Altrincham that was leaving it rather tight to go out there to see him then come back to Manchester in the centre for my train. I’d have to have everything ready but it was now 09:25, I was lying there, I was hearing people washing so I arose, found a bearskin to keep me warm and then went to see if there was a washbasin free where I had a really good wash ready for going out catching the Underground and going off to do the things that I needed to do

If I could go across Manchester on the Underground, that would be something of a miracle. Any plans for an underground network in the city have long-since been scuppered which was a shame and today everyone has to go by tram and even then it’s not all that convenient. The “Northern powerhouse” promised by so many politicians is a myth, a vote-catching soundbyte and as long as the politicians won’t admit that there’s anything of any importance beyond the M25, so it will remain.

Having hung up the washing to dry, I sorted out the bread. One side of it hadn’t risen at all so we can call this loaf a failure, which is a shame. But I can’t understand why that would be because the bread was in the middle of the oven with the heat, in principle, passing equally all around it.

While the bread was cooling and the washing was drying I came back in here where I was supposed to be having a morning off. However, I made an interesting discovery relating to what might in the near future be an interesting radio programme so I followed it up.

Round about 11:50 I had a message – “could you be ready for 12:15? We’re short of numbers today and there’s a person needing to go to Avranches for 13:00. Would you share?”.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am being offered an extraordinary service that exists nowhere else in the World to my knowledge, and it’s all free to me. Who am I to argue about any of this? In any case, the earlier we start, the earlier we finish

It meant a mad panic though, for me and my faithful cleaner to prepare me for the trip and we only just made it. Just as she was leaving, the driver turned up.

It was someone who had taken me to Paris in the past and we had a good chat on the way down to Avranches.

With the taxi coming early, I was early arriving and so I was coupled up quickly, and then left to my own devices.

For the first time in a couple of weeks I crashed out (and isn’t that a change?). Only for twenty minutes or so and when I awoke I had the most appalling indigestion that plagued me for hours.

With no interruptions I reviewed my Welsh, last week’s and the forthcoming week, had a close look at the homework that I need to finish off and then tidied up the laptop. The whole desktop is far too cluttered and there are loads of tabs open in Waterfox and I’ve no idea why. They aren’t open now.

No-one bothered me or interrupted me and as far as I could see, there wasn’t even a doctor on duty. But for the compression stage of the procedure where someone has to clamp my arm for ten minutes I had Julie the Cook again
"You really ought to try to do this yourself" she said
"Clear off!" I replied. "How else am I going to have a beautiful girl sitting beside me for ten minutes holding my hand?"

When they weighed me I found that I’d lost another 2kg. My “unfit” target weight is now firmly in my sights and if I can reach it I would be delighted. But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … getting it off is one thing. Keeping it off is something else completely.

The taxi driver was a new girl. She was an ambulancier in the Champagne-Ardennes who moved here five weeks ago. She applied to the company for a job and in the kind of logic that only they think is reasonable but neither my driver nor me could understand, they put her to driving taxis when she’s no idea of where she’s going. At least as an ambulancier she’d be with someone, which would help her pick up the hints.

And for once in our lives, having left the Dialysis Centre early, at Sartilly we find ourselves in a long queue stuck behind a tractor (it’s that time of year again) and we crawl all the way to Granville at 30kmh.

My faithful cleaner watched me up the stairs, and today I could manage nine before I need to lift up my leg with my hand. This is certainly progress and I hope that it keeps up.

Back in here even though I was early I did nothing until tea time. I was exhausted. But I made myself a lovely tea of a burger on a bun with salad and baked potato followed by apple cake and soya cream.

Now that this severe indigestion has eased somewhat I’m off to bed once I’ve dictated the radio notes. Tomorrow I’ll be busy with the radio, with pizza dough to make and there’s something else that I need to make but I’ve forgotten what it is right now. I hope that I remember.

But I forgot to mention an incident that caused panic and embarrassment at the Dialysis Clinic today.
A man walked by mistake into the ladies’ cloakroom and a couple of minutes later two women walked in behind him.
Suddenly there were all kinds of panic as a couple of nurses dashed towards the cloak room with the emergency gear.
"What’s going on?" I asked
"It’s one of those two women" replied a breathless nurse. "She’s had a stroke!"
"What about the other one?" I asked
"She wasn’t quick enough" replied the nurse.

0

Thursday 17th October 2024 – SOMEONE IS GOING …

.. to have their nether regions given a good kicking in the near future. And I can’t say that I’m sorry.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that a few months ago I had an ugly confrontation in the private hospital at Avranches with someone on the accounts department that led to me writing to the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the company.

Today I’ve finally had a response, full of grovelling apology (I had a cheque sent back to me a week or so ago) and containing the ominous “your letter will be placed before our Committee who will examine your complaint”.

Having received full reimbursement, it’s obvious that my complaint has been upheld, after all, it’s not like a private organisation to hand back money without a fight, so all we need now is a good witch-hunt, complete with a ceremonial burning at the stake

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, after I finished my notes last night I had one or two things that needed doing so yet again I was rather late going to my nice, clean, fresh bed.

But once in it, I was away quite quickly and there I stayed, all curled up, until the alarm went off. There had been one or two minor awakenings during the night but I was soon asleep again.

When the alarm went off I was in the middle of a dream. I was auditing some accounts for some company, going through their office and checking everything. There was a guy and girl there working together. It was quite obvious that the guy had his eye on the girl. After he went out of the room I began to talk to the girl to find out a little more about her to see if I could encourage these two in some way. Then the guy came back and carried on talking. I could see that he was looking nervous and was glancing at me so I just said to him “oh, go ahead. Don’t mind me” and tried to encourage him to ask her for a date. Then I was at home and one of my friends was there. We were talking about diabetics. I was watching TV in French, a TV programme in French while she was working. She was wondering why I was sitting down and not doing things. She found that it was actually a programme about diabetes. They were talking about “if you’re having a crisis, have a fruit” but I replied that quite often when I have a diabetic crisis I don’t have any fruits any more. I’ve run out”. And then I was thinking “maybe it’s a good idea to go out and buy some, then we can have a coffee as well, things like that” but my friend had so much work on her plate that I thought “maybe it’s not such a very good idea to propose that we stop for a moment”

Eating a fruit is a good idea in a diabetic crisis and at the hospital they usually give me a cup of orange juice if I’m having a wobble. Then along came the dietician who tells me that fruit has loads of potassium in it, my potassium is too high and I must cut down on the fruit. But that is just how everything is – one thing going on is affecting something else so I need a pill for the side-effect, but that pill then affects something else so I need another. And so on. I counted once just recently and it was about 32 pills, tablets and medicines per day (it’s increased since then). And I bet it’s all on account of the first one that I started taking. It’s hard to believe that when I went to live in Leuven in early 2016 I was just taking four pills per day.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, a shave and applied plenty of deodorant, even though it probably serves no useful purpose. And then I came in here to listen to the dictaphone. I can only remember a small part of this dream but I had to go to the bank to draw some money out at a cash point. I drew out £80:00 when I went to the shops last Tuesday but I thought that if I was drawing out that sum every week it’s going to be an awful lot of money. I was driving down the hill to where the little bank branch was where there was a machine where I could draw the money but suddenly I found myself maybe half a mile further on at a road junction. “Never mind” I thought. I could turn left here, turn round and go back again. But the left turning was a one-way street. I thought “I’ve been here before and turned down here but it’s all really complicated but I can’t remember seeing the bank branch when I drove down here just now. I mean, it’s dark and usually all its lights are on and you can see it from quite some distance away but tonight there was nothing. I hope that it’s not been closed down while I’ve been going”.

And I’ve been down this road during a previous night too. It’s the road that I drove down once and waited on a corner somewhere in South London when I was on another nocturnal ramble. And although I can’t recognise the first part of it, I now recognise the second part where I tried to turn left last night and the corner where I waited last time. It’s in Saint John in New Brunswick, just around the corner from where my Canadian insurance broker has her office. Well, well, well. But I wonder if the dream is symbolic of the issues that I had recently with my bank card.

It was Isabelle the nurse today, seeing as her partner has had to go to the doctor (and doesn’t that inspire a lot of confidence in a nurse?). She was her usual cheerful self, blitzed through her task and then cleared off, leaving me alone.

And so I made my breakfast and read my book. Right now, I’ve read the introduction and all the members are taking the train in the middle of a blinding rainstorm, to go to look at the rocks at Colwall in the Malvern Hills. We’re having a long, complicated talk on geology and underlying rock strata, which makes me wish that I could remember more of my A-level Geography. All the time that I spent studying rock formation in the Arctic with Mark St Onge on our trips out there on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR seems not to have done me much good

Back here I cleared up a few bits and pieces and then made a start on writing the notes for the next radio programme. I’ve now done a few but this is turning into something rather more complicated than I had imagined. It’s not easy.

My cleaner came in and helped me with my anaesthetic patches, and then she tried some of the new tubi-grip bandage that we’ve acquired thanks to the prescription from Isabelle the nurse. That seems to work really well and I’m impressed.

The taxi came early and we set off, picking up another passenger on the way, for the Dialysis Clinic.

Being quite early I was soon installed in my bed with my laptop and music and the nurses didn’t hang about either. The first needle went in almost painlessly but the second one wasn’t so easy and they needed the echograph machine to test for the tube in my arm.

And when they finally found it and pushed the needle in, the anaesthetic had worn off.

It looks as if it’s definitely all over between Emilie the Cute Consultant and me.

She was there this afternoon and although she gave me a little wave of her hand, she kept her distance and that was that.

She certainly speaks English because there’s a monolingual English-speaker being dialysed and she was talking to him in English so she’s probably a regular reader of this rubbish and will recall a few of the comments that I have made. That’s enough to drive anyone away, I suppose. Let’s face it, I have enough trouble trying to persuade anyone to come near me in normal times, never mind when we are thrust together cheek by jowl to fester away in a hospital.

The other nurses came by every now and again to check the machine and to ask me to translate stuff for them so that they could speak to the English guy.

However I spent most of the time now that I have an internet connection trying to track down the dates of some of these live concerts that I have. I didn’t check many because it’s really had to do it when you aren’t comfortable, you only have one hand that you can use and that’s interrupted every 20 minutes by a blood pressure reading.

They carried out a diabetes test on me and sure enough it was at a critical level so they gave me a big glass of orange juice. Presumably they don’t think much of the dietician either.

After they unplugged me, disconnected me and compressed me, I went to weigh myself. I’d lost 3.1 kg in this session. All of that would be quite impressive if I wouldn’t put almost all of it straight back on again. It’s no good taking it off and it all going back on.

And a blood test report was sent to me today. After dialysis a few days ago the creatine was down to 283 (the required level in less than 100 and mine was at 450 which is close to fatal just before all of this started). However when I went back to dialysis a few days later it was up at almost 350 again. So not even that is staying put.

But never mind all of that. If I’m feeling better with just that much improvement, what will I be like if ever it goes down to less than 100 and I’m at my target weight?

There were three of us in the taxi and the driver was having an intense discussion with the other passenger so I sat in the back and relaxed.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and watched as today I made 8 steps without using my hand to lift up my leg. If I keep this up, in a couple of months I’ll be outside through the skylight climbing up the roof to the chimney.

My cleaner says that she’s noticed a major improvement over the last few weeks and thinks that I ought to try going for a drive. But that’s out of the question right now. There’s not enough force in my right leg to apply the brake and that’s that.

Tea was, as I said yesterday, a slice of vegan pie with vegetables in gravy and I forgot the herbs with the gravy. But the pie defrosted and warmed up really well in the air fryer and really was nice. I made the gravy thick and glutinous and stirred the veg in it so that the gravy stuck to all of them. That made it even nicer.

So right now, later than intended, I’m off to bed. But the talk of tying someone to a stake and burning them alive reminds me of a boy at our old school.
He came in one morning saying."I saw this incredible film last night. It was all about this man who changed into a bat and they killed him by hammering a stake into his heart. Can you imagine that? Killing a man with a stake?"
"That’s nothing" I retorted. "My mother can do that with egg and chips"

0

Monday 14th October 2024 – AT THE DIALYSIS …

… Clinic this time, with one of the usual nurses on duty, things went so much better today and she managed to avoid drenching the room and everyone in it with my blood.

Mind you, there’s still a few hours before bedtime so plenty of time to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory yet. I’ve told my faithful cleaner to stand by.

So last night was another late night – although it could, and should, have been an early one by the time that I’d finished what I had to do. However, the next two radio programmes that I need to do are also going to be celebrating special occasions and will involve a lot of work, and so the quicker I start, the quicker I’ll finish.

Consequently I put on my researcher’s hat and set to work. The preparatory stuff led to quite some progress so even if I did have to burn the midnight oil, it wasn’t wasted. And I’ll have to become used to it because I reckon that that’s how it’s going to be for a week or two.

And isn’t that a change from two or three months ago?

Once I finally made it into bed I didn’t need much rocking and there I slept until about 05:30. It was another phantom alarm call but I recognised it as such and was back to sleep quite quickly though – it hardly disturbed my rhythm.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I fell out of bed and hauled myself off to the bathroom for a good scrub up and to apply the deodorant. I didn’t bother with a shave because I don’t think that Emilie the Cute Consultant loves me any more

Having washed my undies I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night and see if Zero had come back. But no Zero last night. Instead, there was a strange dream about all of the women in our family being lined up and undressed. When they were totally undressed everyone stood in some kind of queue to welcome the arrival of the Roman legions. There was more than that in the dream but going back in the return of this dream is really all that I remember and I can’t remember anything at all about the actual dream itself which is a shame

In fact, no it isn’t and I’m glad that the dream stopped there because, had it carried on, it would have quite put me off my breakfast. If I’m going to be present when women are stripping off, I’ll choose them myself, thank you, not have them imposed upon me. Knowing my luck it will be a bunch of retired Bulgarian female weightlifters rather than the female members of an Olympic beach-volleyball team.

We had my white Passat estate and we decided that we’d put it back on the road. We went over it, made a list of everything that needed doing including the bodywork, bought all the pieces and began to clean it and weld it. It wasn’t as bad as we thought it was going to be and we did the most important parts. We found that we could drive it but the brakes were binding. I’d adjusted the handbrake but my father was going to climb underneath it. I said that it was either a 17mm or 19mm spanner. He felt it and thought that it was bigger than that. I noticed that he was trying to undo the void bushes so directed him to the correct area. Later on we were having a look. We’d done the rear of the boot but the sides of the floor needed patching so we bought some body panels for that and were busy measuring, preparing to cut out the old rot and fit the panels when the alarm went off.

Ahh yes! Good old Saltofix. A company in Oswestry that made replacement body panels and tailored patches for cars. The amount of stuff I bought for the Cortinas we were running must have kept them in business. There is still a stack of body panels and patches down on the farm that must be worth a fortune, especially the two rear quarters for a Ford Cortina MkIII in the back of the Luton Transit that are worth a King’s ransom. I wonder how much any body panels for the Vanden Plas in my barn would cost me these days. I should have bought them when I dragged the car out of that scrapyard in Belgium in 1998

Isabelle the nurse came along later. We decided (or, rather, she did) that we should try with just two plasters on my legs today. Like I said yesterday, I do admire her optimism. However she thinks that there’s a dramatic improvement already but I remain unconvinced.

After she left I made breakfast and read READ MY BOOK. Thomas Wright has now left Stonehenge and gone to look at the remains of Old Sarum down the road.

However before he left he made an interesting remark. Although it seems to be assumed that no archaeological excavations took place at Stonehenge until Aubrey’s excavations in 1666, he seems to be aware of an ancient book that states "in 1620 the celebrated Duke of Buckingham , King James’s favourite , did cause the middle of Stonehenge to be digged, and this underdigging was the cause of the falling down or recumbencie of the great stone there ."

Back in here later I made a start on my Welsh homework and in a mad fit of enthusiasm I worked my way non-stop all the way through two-thirds of it, leaving just one-third for next week. It’s not like me to race ahead of myself. usually I’m always struggling, miles behind relevant deadlines.

Having done that I carried on with my research into the next programme and I’m now beginning to choose the music that I want to feature. It should actually mean slightly less work because one track is over 17 minutes long and I’ve been waiting for an appropriate moment to feature this.

The cleaner fitted my anaesthetic patches onto my arm and stayed for a chat for a while. The taxi that came for me was the luxury car that’s usually driven by the boss’s daughter. However the driver was a guy who has taken me to Paris in the past and we had a really good chat.

Just five patients in the Dialysis clinic today. In fact the staff outnumbered the patients by about four to one. The young nurse who looked after me, Julie, is a self-taught pastry cook and she showed me photos of some of her creations. And I had to say that I was well impressed.

She was also quite good at wiring me up to the machine and I hardly felt a thing.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today, but she kept her distance and didn’t even come within my range of vision. I merely caught a couple of glimpses of her down the corridor.

Instead, it was the senior doctor who came to see me. "I have some good news for you" he said. "We can cut out one of the medicines that you’ve been taking".
However, without hardly drawing breath, he went on to say "but that will create a couple of side-effects so I’m going to give you a prescription for three more to counter the effects."

So is that now 36 per day? Or 37? I lost count a long time ago and quite frankly, I couldn’t care less. I’m sure that there are more medicines in this apartment than in the chemist’s shop in town.

As for the famous confrontation about the plasters and the compression socks, the doctor didn’t even bother. Julie the Cook took down (not “off”) my socks, took off the plasters, cleaned the legs with antiseptic and put the new plasters on. Exactly the same that the nurse does.

So I don’t understand any of this.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that the other day that I crowed about having driven the trick cyclist away. However it’s a mistake to underestimate your enemies. She’s made of far sterner stuff and was back today.

We had all of the usual pregnant pauses to try to provoke a response, so I showed her MY TRAVEL WEBSITE instead.

Because I don’t have a password to access the intranet I had to show her on a ‘phone instead of my laptop. And the result of this is that I now have a log-in and password to access the intranet. The World’s my oyster!

In recompense I suppose that I shall have to throw her a sprat and say how much I’m in love with my mother and how as a baby I had uncomfortable feelings about my nurse. She probably is a follower of Freud.

During the process I fell asleep – not a crash-out but a gentle slide into somnolence and a gradual fading out. And while I was asleep, Castor came to see me. She just stood there, at the foot of the bed without saying or doing anything, almost as if she was watching over me like a guardian angel. And I had a great wish to reach out to her but pipes and tubes in my left arm, a blood pressure brassard on my right so I couldn’t move. Can you imagine?

The unplugging was also painless and without complications and I was soon in the taxi to come home. In fact, it was the earliest that I’ve ever been out of there and after my cleaner watched me up the stairs (I managed seven before I had to use my hand to lift up my leg) I actually had some free time to myself.

My cleaner thinks that I’m much more motivated, much more enthusiastic and much more switched-on than I was before all of this started. If that’s the case, I wonder what I’ll be like in twelve months time.

Tea tonight was as usual, a stuffed pepper. Just as delicious as usual and with plenty of stuffing left over for the rest of the week. It was followed by a slice of apple cake with coconut-flavoured soya dessert for pudding. And nice it was too.

So bedtime now, ready for my Welsh lesson tomorrow.

Before I go though, seeing as we have been talking about psychiatrists … "well one of us is" – ed … I’m reminded of one particular person who went to see a psychiatrist
"And what can I do for you?" asked the psychiatrist
"I’m having terrible trouble" replied the man. "I keep on thinking that I want to kill myself. What should I do?"
"You should start" said the psychiatrist "by paying me in advance"

0

Saturday 12th October 2024 – WE HAD A …

… crisis in the Dialysis Centre this evening. The hole in the implant in my arm refused to close up after they pulled out the needle and we ended up with the place looking like a slaughterhouse.

“That’s the kind of thing that happens occasionally” said the nurse. And they want me to do the dialysis procedure myself at home. They must be joking. There is no chance whatever of that ever happening.

There was however a good chance of my going to bed last night at some kind of respectable hour. It wasn’t 23:00 by the time that I finished everything that I needed to do and crawled into bed but it was pretty close. There wasn’t much in it at all

Soon enough I was asleep, hoping to catch up on the sleep that I had missed the previous night, but it wasn’t to be. It was another one of these turbulent nights of which I’ve been having far too many. When the alarm went off Nerina and I were sitting in one of these plazas and were surrounded by food courts somewhere in Italy. We couldn’t make up our minds in which place to eat. We were being harassed by a couple of waiters from one establishment who wanted us to eat there. They were obviously making suggestions all the time. Nerina wanted to look at all the other menus so I had to stand up and go to the next restaurant, pick up a new menu, bring it back, read it, take it back, take the next one, all the way round the food court, all the time that these two waiters were harassing us about this and about that. In the end we decided, or rather, Nerina decided that the pizzeria in the corner would be the place where we’d order our meal so these two waiters went over with me to this restaurant to tell them that I was their best friend, all this kind of thing, but I suspected that there was something going on here that wasn’t quite right, about them receiving a commission or bumping up the bill or something like that. It all seemed to be extremely strange to me.

In the past we sat at plenty of places like that all over Europe. We’d wait for our holidays until the brats were back at school because the weather was usually nice, everywhere was still open and we’d have all the time in the World without being harassed by impatient waiters trying to clear us out ready for the next lot of tourists.

In one restaurant in Brest in Finisterre I remember that we were the only diners. They put us in a window seat to make the place look busy from the outside and then took their time serving us so that we stayed put. No-one came to clear away the table or give us the bill so we stood up. Still no-one came, so I worked out roughly how much the meal was, put the money on the table,, and walked out. And still no-one came.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment I staggered into the bathroom, had a good wash and scrub up, had a shave and applied the deodorant in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then loaded up the washing machine, forgetting to put my gants de toilette in there.

Once the washing machine was off on its way I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone notes, of which there were more than just a few. I was working a school holiday job down in the South of England as a teacher of some description. I can’t remember too much about this unfortunately but I know that there was something to do with a small child being carried by his mother into the showers. We were talking about trees, how deciduous trees all go to sleep in the autumn and the leaves fall off. I showed him another tree, which was a kind-of wire brush screwed to the wall of the shower which people would use to clean their football boots etc before rinsing them off. It was all extremely surreal and I can’t remember very much of it but that was it.

Me? A teacher? I think not. I wouldn’t be any good. I don’t “do” preparation but work it out as I go along and that would never work with a classful of screaming brats

Later on I had a nightmare about a whole pile of glass bottles on the table that was just on the point of falling off. I had a panic-stricken awakening to try to grab hold of them but what was actually happening was that my feet were sliding out of the bed at that point and just about to fall on the floor. Luckily I stopped that quickly enough.

That’s much more like my kind of dream, falling out of bed. I’ve fallen out of a few of them in my time, sometimes with no help at all and sometimes with some help from someone else.

So the alarm went off at 07:00. I left the bed and went to wash and dress. I happened to look at the watch and I was still in bed. It was 05:00 and all of that had been a lively, exciting, vivid dream.

Judging by the timestamp of the audio file it was actually 05:15 and it goes without saying that I didn’t actually leave the bed. But by the sound of things we had another phantom alarm during the night.

And finally it was in the immediate post-war period and I was wandering around Crewe. We’d seen a few tanks go through. As I went round a corner there was a motorcycle shop there, Paul Wolf Motorcycles. Outside was a Triumph Tiger Cub 200cc, one of the very early ones with the footboards and the accelerator pedal. It said “good home needed” so I thought “I wonder if this is for sale? Does he have anything else interesting?”. I went in, and it was a labyrinth inside, steps up and down into the bowels of the earth all the way down. There must have been thirty or forty flights of stairs to the level of the river where he had his kind-of garage and workshop. There was a huge row going on between him and a few other people about someone who should have come in to see something but hadn’t but he ws going to come in now. I saw a guy come in from the side door which was actually on the level of his reception desk about eighty feet below. I thought “that must be an easier way in”. Then I looked back behind me and realised that there were just as many steps back up as there were down. It was easier to go down than it was to come up. But then what if I couldn’t find my way back up from the ground level where his office was? I was beginning to have another one of these disturbed quandaries during the night.

It’s been a while since we’ve had one of these dreams littered with indecision. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that at one stage it was a regular feature like the cars scattered all over the town, so I wonder what’s bringing it back. I wish that someone would bring back Castor, Zero and TOTGA and even The Vanilla Queen.

And there was a Paul Wolf Motorcycles, in Market Street in Crewe in the old Co-op store years ago.

Isabelle the nurse didn’t have much to say for herself today. I think that she said it all yesterday. But after she left I hung up the washing on the clothes airer and went to make my breakfast.

The WANDERINGS OF AN ANTIQUARY have taken us to Bignor Roman villa today. Thomas Wright gives us probably the best account of how it looked when it was discovered and states that it was the largest Roman villa in the UK. But that’s before the full extent of the Fishbourne Roman Palace was known

Back in here I had a chat with Alison on the internet and reviewed the work that I’d done during the week ready for dictation tonight. I need to take more care of what I type but it’s difficult with my vision these days and so wfvr wzpq. Last time I dictated some notes I found myself in a frightful muddle because a mistype presented another word that completely altered what it was that I was trying to say.

My cleaner turned up to fit the anaesthetic patches for me to and the taxi turned up a little earlier too. This was a vehicle from the other side of Avranches that had dropped someone off at the Centre de Re-education and was no on its way to pick up someone from the hospital at Rennes to take them back home. I was apparently something to make the empty journey pay. Not that I mind, of course.

There were very few of us there today, both patients and staff. It was a weekend team and while they were efficient they were far from sociable. And it goes without saying that I didn’t get to see Emilie the Cute Consultant.

Once they’d plugged me in, I was left totally alone except for the doctor who asked if I was OK – five seconds of attention. I had plenty of time to study my Welsh, now that I have uploaded the correct book, and almost reach the end of the biography of Lewis Carroll

It’s difficult to know what to make of him. With the benefit of hindsight many of his remarks could be taken in the wrong way that would be quite alarming but in the late Victorian era were probably quite innocent. They certainly aren’t on the same level as remarks made by someone like Frank Harris.

And then when they took the needles out we had quite the drama. Compresses, anti-coagulants, you name it, we had it. It quite wore me out and I was just sitting there with my eyes closed.

It took so long that my taxi went with the other passenger and I had to climb into a later one that ended up going all around the back of beyond to drop off someone else. Not that I minded because it was one of the nicer drivers who had taken me to Paris once and I quite like her.

My cleaner was there waiting and she watched as I hauled myself up the stairs. Today I managed six steps without lifting my leg up with my hand. I’d lost another 1.3 kg today so that might explain it.

Tea was a burger on a bap with salad and baked potato, and I was ready for it too. So now I’ll dictate my notes and go to bed.

But the dreams tonight and the hospital remind me about the patient with a broken leg.
A new arrival asked him "what’s the matter with you?"
"Appendicitis" he replied.
"But all the plaster?"
"Ohh, that" he replied. "I fell off the operating table".

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Thursday 10th October 2024 – TODAY IT WAS …

… the turn of the dietician to come to bother me and disturb my pleasant … "well, sort-of" – ed … relaxation at the Dialysis Centre.

It’s remarkable (but no surprise really) that the trick cyclist never ever came back to see me for a second time, and I don’t know if this dietician will either after today, even though she promised to bring me a book.

Of course, here in any kind of French institution they don’t know what a vegan is and it’s cuisine à la Tricatel in these establishments so they are in no place to give me any advice about my diet. And in any case, as Kingsley Amis once said, "No pleasure is worth giving up for the sake of two more years in a geriatric home in Weston-super-Mare".

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I’ve no interest whatever in clinging on to life by my fingertips as long as possible just for six more months of agony or whatever. I intend to enjoy myself as much as I possibly can, growing older and riper and more degenerate

You should see the list of foods that she wants me to abandon. And there’s no chance whatever of that.

But last night there was every chance of my being in bed by 23:00 but, loitering around to no useful purpose, I missed it by five minutes. And once I was asleep there I stayed until the alarm went off and that’s something that hasn’t happened for a while.

So at the sound of BILLY COTTON I turned over and made a valiant attempt at leaving the warmth and comfort of my bed and only beat the second alarm by a whisker.

Having washed the clothes under the shower yesterday there was nothing to clean so I had a shave and applied the deodorant in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then came back in here.

There wasn’t much on the dictaphone this morning, as I found when I went to transcribe the notes. Someone came to see me during the night from Ireland and wanted me to leave the bed. They said some kind of motivational phrase, I don’t know what it was now but it referred to one of their towns so I sat upright and began to leave the bed. Then I had a rough idea of the time and thought that it’s not really worth it so I turned over and went back to sleep

So who was that who came to see me? I have a couple of Irish friends of course and one of those could quite happily have come into my bedroom and been quite welcome too but I couldn’t be that lucky

The nurse came to see me, her usual smiling face, and we had a little chat about nothing much. She forgot the prescription for the tubular bandage that my cleaner wants and promised to bring it tomorrow.

After she left I made breakfast and then read MY BOOK. Today we are wandering around the Devil’s Arrows near Boroughbridge. They are some peculiar standing stones embedded in the ground at a certain angle, not perpendicular.

Once more he was lamenting, lamenting the fact that one of them had been uprooted in a futile treasure hunt and then smashed to pieces and hauled away. How much else of the Country’s heritage has disappeared like that?

Back in here, in another fit of wild enthusiasm, I attacked the radio programme that I started yesterday. Now, all of the tracks are sorted and segued and I’ve written half of the notes already. I don’t know what’s come over me right now.

My cleaner came round to fit my anaesthetic patches. We discussed next shower day and she’s going to change the bedding while I’m under the jet. That means that on Saturday morning I’d better shift this backlog of washing in the bathroom so as to make a space to dump the dirty stuff

The taxi was late coming for me – it had been to pick up that British woman about whom I talked the other week. She’s becoming far too friendly for my liking and I’ll have to do something about this

At the clinic they were waiting for me so I didn’t have to wait for too long before I was plugged in

It seems that I now have a hospital appointment for 8th November. It’s for a scan and an electrograph on my foot to find this trapped nerve that I think that I have. Things in this respect are moving fairly quickly which is good news

As I promised yesterday I went to read my course book but I don’t have the new one loaded onto the portable laptop so I contented myself with the last chapter of the previous one. And then I carried on with reading Lewis Carroll’s biography.

There was nothing in there today that would have worried the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine, but there always were plenty of hints, rumour and suspicion about his activities that would have worried the editor had they reached her ears. It’s certainly true that his family destroyed many of the photographs that he took and tore pages out of his diaries before they were passed to his biographers.

One thing that made me laugh about the book was the account by the biographer of his job as curator of the Common Room at the University and especially the Smoking Room "hard by for those who do not despise the harmless but unnecessary weed, "

How times have changed since 1898!

But having posted that on the internet now via the medium of my blog, I wonder how long it will be before someone from Q-Anon or another one of these stupid sites goes around saying that he’s read something about smoking on the internet that the scientists missed, about it being harmless and its safe for everyone to light up again.

The dietician turned up to interrupt me. She gave me many instructions about my diet and so in return I told her about the scandalous meals that I’d been served in her hospital, and that took the wind out of her sails somewhat.

But having given me her instructions she’s going to order a blood test in four weeks time to see if I’ve been a good boy but Austin Powers KNOWS WHAT THE NEXT STEP WILL BE

Apart from that, no-one bothered me at all – no doctors or anything – until my machine sounded its alarm that the process was complete. Then I was uncoupled and weighed (I’d lost 1.7 kgs today) and then I could clear off

There was another passenger in the taxi back, a crabby old woman who was busy expressing an opinion that all foreigners should clear off back to where they came from, so I said “bonjour” to her in a perfect simulated English accent and that shut her up.

My cleaner was waiting for me and watched me as I climbed the stairs. And today, I managed five stairs without having to lift my leg up with my hand. Still a long way from when I could stagger up all 25 unaided, but if it keeps on improving like this, I might start to go back to the shops on Friday morning

Tea tonight was steamed veg and vegan sausage in a vegan cheese sauce, followed by apple cake and soya dessert. There’s no doubt that although my meals are plain, they are very very tasty and I’m not going to give them up without a fight.

So right now I’m going to bed as I have bread to bake in the morning. But before I go I’ll tell you about an incident that took place at the Dialysis Clinic today.
A nurse going past looked at me, stopped, and said "don’t you have such beautiful blue eyes?"
"Thank you" I replied
"Did your father have them?" she asked "or was it your mother?"
"Knowing our family" I replied "it was probably the milkman."

0

Monday 7th October 2024 – MY APPLE CAKE …

… tastes absolutely delicious. I cut it up and put it in the fridge this evening and there were still some crumbs lying about so I was tempted to have a sample. And I’m glad that I did. I made a mental note to make this for pudding another time because it really was nice.

What made a big difference was to whizz up the ingredients instead of mixing them in a bowl with a spoon. Everything was properly and thoroughly mixed in, and that is definitely progress.

So what can I try to make next?

One thing that I can try to make is a concerted effort to be in bed at a reasonable time. Last night I actually managed it too, and with going to sleep fairly early I had a good sleep all the way through to … errr … 06:00

That might not seem much, but it’s a lot better than some nights have been just recently.

And then I managed to drift off back to sleep because when the alarm went off, I was miles away.

In fact there was a dream going on. I was working with a girl and she had this very irritating habit of whenever i said something she gave her agreement by using some phrase and she said it two or three times and it really got on my nerves. I wish that I could remember the phrase now but the dream had only just started when the alarm went off.

In the bathroom I had a good wash, a shave and a wash of the clothes, including the socks. And I applied plenty of deodorant in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant and you can laugh all you want to, I don’t care.

Back in here I transcribed the dictaphone notes from the night. We were all back at work and we had a military unit that had come along and been transplanted in. The General was one of these people who was a stickler for propriety. Everything had to be done absolutely perfectly so it was only natural that people began to mimic his actions, his way of saluting, his way of talking etc. It became something of a standing joke. One day he happened to come across a group of civilians, one of whom was one of his fiercest critics. After he’d talked to them for a couple of minutes he turned to that civilian and said “well, aren’t you going to salute me?”. The civilian, rising to the challenge, gave him an absolutely perfect military salute, an exact copy of what he would have done, and came out with a phrase that the General would have used, and exactly in the right accent. The General turned to the civilian and said “do you know, Mr so-and-so, that is probably the best thing that you have ever done” and walked away. Of course it became quite a subject for discussion in the office canteen about the General having seen to be the right kind of person for the people to take the mickey, and a person who would appreciate a good joke

We did have a Military Unit in the office and the General in charge was a Finnish General whose claim to fame was that he had been kidnapped by one of the groups of militia in Lebanon and held to ransom. When his chauffeur was away somewhere and my boss was in the USA I was given the task of driving him around for a week and after I finished he gave me a huge lumberjack’s axe which I have down on the farm. In his apartment just as you go in was a big stuffed brown bear in pouncing pose on its hind legs. "I shot that" he proudly announced.

But there’s a funny story related to that. There was a party at his place and people from all over Europe were there, all speaking English no matter where they came from. One woman asked him about the bear and when he said that he’d shot it, she asked what they did. He replied "we ate it". There is a lot of miscommunication and misunderstanding when you are using a second language, and she went around telling the rest of the party how the General, having shot his bear, then sat down in the tundra under a tree and tucked in, presumably without cooking it.

There was then also something about me living at home and meeting up with a group of kids. There seemed to be a youngish girl who took something of a fancy to me. She would always seek me out and spend a lot of time chatting. I happened to quite like her so I used in some ways to encourage it. We ended up chatting to each other on the ‘phone quite a lot. On one particular occasion she went down to the swimming baths but I had to work until 14:00. I told her that I’d give her a ring when I’d finished to see how the water was. Round about 13:40 there was nothing else happening at all so I ‘phoned her and asked her about the water, asked her about everything and told her that I’d be down shortly. I put everything away and went to see my mother to tell her that I was going down to the swimming baths. She must have heard my conversation because she made some kind of remark. Then she brought me a cup of tea and I had the impression that it was almost as if she was preventing me from going. I wasn’t really sure why but out of politeness I sat and drank the tea. I know who this girl is too. I did actually quite like her and I’m trying to thing of her name but I just can’t

This girl is so familiar that when I saw her in my dream I didn’t mind that it was she rather than Zero who had come to see me. So I really wish that I knew who she was because I really have no idea and that is just so sad. And how familiar is it that a member of my family will try to spike my guns?

Telephones in the baths is a novel idea too. In my day it was wristwatches that caused the most problems. I flooded one or two beyond repair and so did many others. How many ‘phones would be flooded these days? I’ve not been to the swimming baths since the happy days at Commentry when I used to go every Saturday afternoon on my way home from the shops at Montluçon.

The nurse came round and we had an even quicker record time today. He’s really got the wind up about something. Maybe it’s my deodorant, I dunno.

But after he left I had breakfast and read MY BOOK. Our author, Thomas Wright is still poking around the Iron Age Hillforts on the Shropshire-Herefordshire-Radnorshire-Montgomeryshire border

On our way round we inspected a megalith that was standing in a field near the village of Whitcott Keysett. Sad to say, it was flattened and smashed as recently as 1944. I could weep.

Back in here I attacked the next radio programme and all of the music has now been chosen, paired off and segued. Next task was to review the programme that will be broadcast on Friday and then send it off. Finally I made a start on my Welsh homework.

There was also a moment to ‘phone up the Dialysis Centre to confirm that they had my headphones. And I hadn’t, until then, realised that I was entitled to a locker in the dressing room.

All of that took me up to 12:10 when my cleaner came to fit the anaesthetic patches on my arm. We had a chat and then she departed hence and I made a start on cutting up my apple cake, but once more the taxi came early.

We had a good chat all the way down to the centre where I arrived really early so they could start quite quickly. One of the needles was fairly painful but the other, I hardly felt at all.

They had put me in a room today, presumably because I misbehaved last time, I dunno, but it did mean that I was hardly interrupted and I could crack on.

My Welsh homework was finished quite quickly and I could carry on reading Lewis Carroll’s biography.

And what do you make of this paragraph? It was written by the editor of “Aunt Judy’s Magazine” reviewing one of Carroll’s works
"Some of the touches are so exquisite, one would have thought nothing short of intercourse with fairies could have put them into your head"

Of course when we look at words like “brilliant” and “fantastic”, they have long-since lost their literal meaning and modern usage has given them a completely different meaning

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today and although she gave me a wave, she kept well away from my lair. The chief of the unit came to see me and try to pitch me on this home dialysis. Instead I told him about the issues with my foot and he agreed that it’s probably a trapped nerve. He’s going to arrange a body scan and an IRM.

Eventually they unplugged me, weighed me and threw me out. Half of the weight that I had lost last time had stayed lost and today I lost another 1.7kg.

The driver who brought me home was another candidate for The Driver From Hell. As fast as it was possible to go and driving so close to the car in front that we would have all been done for if someone further in front had applied the brakes. I was glad to be home.

This evening I could only manage one step without using my hand to lift up my leg, and it was a struggle to make the last two stairs. That’s a backward step … "very good" – ed … and I’m disappointed by that.

After my cleaner had sorted me out and left, I checked the Welsh homework that I’d done and then sent it off.

Tea was as usual a stuffed pepper. And I’m going to stop buying tomatoes from LeClerc. They are going bad quicker than I can use them.

So now having finished my notes, I’m off to bed, later than I would have liked.

But seeing as we have been talking about second languages … "well, one of us is" – ed …what’s even funnier though is when people come out with something that you wouldn’t expect when they are speaking a foreign language. I have learned in many, many different languages of Europe certain phrases that would never be taught at school and many of my colleagues have learnt them in English, seeing as I was the only English-speaker in the whole of my unit.
One day I was looking for one of my Italian colleagues, and saw him down the far end of a crowded corridor.
"Domenico" I shouted. "What are you doing right now?"
"Eric" he shouted back in his lovely Italian accent "I am doing bugger all"
And there was a deathly silence in the corridor. How was I supposed to know that a committee from the British Permanent Representation, including the Ambassador, was being shown around the building?

0

Saturday 5th October 2024 – GUESS WHO …

… came to see me during the night last night?

That’s right. Out of the gloom and murk came none other than Castor, back again after an absence that has been far too long

Even now I can still see her, which is no surprise. After all, they say that absence make the heart grow fonder, and the absence has certainly been long enough to tax my emotional wellbeing. We need more nights like this – that goes without saying.

What might help considerably would be if I could manage to be in bed at a reasonable hour. Last night was of course especially late with the football running on like it did and then everything that I needed to do afterwards. And it would have been even later had I not washed up at half-time.

But once I was in bed I was in bed, and there I stayed. I don’t have many memories of anything much during the night and seem to think that I stayed asleep until the alarm went off at 07:00. And that seems to be a rare thing these days too.

After I’d closed down the alarm I staggered off into the bathroom to wash myself, my shorts and my undies. I need to keep myself and my clothes as clean as I can. Having said that though, I forgot to wash my socks. I must try to remember that.

Despite the raucous roars of laughter from my friends last time, I still applied a liberal helping of deodorant so that I smell nice in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant at the Dialysis Centre.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had been going on during the night. That was when I realised that Castor had been to see me last night. And not just Castor either but Castor AND Pollux. There was some kind of communal bathhouse place where everyone would sit around the lip of a bath underneath a jet of water where they could regulate the temperature themselves to whatever they liked, very hot or very cold. The idea was that it was more of a social thing than anything else and was very popular with the ethnic community. I had to go into Hanley as I was organising a raid on the market. I was wandering around looking at the products, looking at the men’s suits that were hanging there. There was an “Adult Shop” there and the girl who was partnered with me had never seen one so she was trying to peer into the window to see what was on offer while I was looking at the products that they were selling – from everything to start off the process all the way down later on through to the end and the kiddies’ pushchairs. They had some suits too and I though that that was a funny place to be measured. At the signal I moved a cart across the street that I was watching so no-one could leave and then we advanced in and herded all the people up to check their papers. When we came to the communal bathhouse I noticed Castor and Pollux sitting on the edge. I just discreetly walked up to them and turned on their tap so they had a soaking. I expected them to be outraged or something like that but Pollux said “ooh. Please turn the tap off for a minute but turn it back on again for the second half for 32 seconds”. I stood there and waited while they chatted amongst themselves. Just then some local Indian guy came up and began to talk to them. He pointed out something in the distance. It was a couple of people in a Jeep driving through the desert and some other activity out there. They began to talk about this and to comment on it. In the meantime I was counting. When it reached the appropriate moment I turned on the jet of water and soaked them again which completely interrupted the conversation

Whatever prompted this raid on the Market at Hanley? It would have been much easier the last time that I had been there because the Market is now indoors in the basement of the new shopping precinct that they built on the site of the old Port Vale football ground, and they could simply close the doors

And a desert in Stoke on Trent? What they are more likely to see these days is an industrial wilderness. All of the old heavy industry that used to be in the Potteries has now gone, and gone for good like in most other places in the UK.

There was also something about body positions … "presumably relating to the adult shop – ed" … in some kind of factory… "can’t be Stoke on Trent then – ed" …. Someone was saying that they didn’t know what use it was but maybe it’ll come in handy if they are doing first aid lessons. But that’s all that I can remember of that.

There’s also a very vague memory of walking – showing off my new-found skill to someone and proud of it too.

The nurse came rather later than usual and talked about not very much. He was soon gone and I could make my breakfast and read in peace. My reading of the excavations at Holborough came to an end and following yet another diversions, I’m now on the sands at Minnis Bay, just down the road from where my mother lived, investigating some Medieval wells that have recently been discovered

Once I’d finished breakfast I came back in here and I made an executive decision. For the benefit of new readers, of which there are more than just a few these days, an executive decision is a decision that if it turns out to be wrong, the person making it is executed.

Anyway, as I have far too much work to do to be able to take a Day of Rest on Sundays as I used to do, I have decided that Saturdays will be a couple of hours of rest – from the end of breakfast until the taxi comes at lunchtime, I shall emulate my namesake the mathematician and do three fifth of five eights of … err … nothing.

And so I did.

When the cleaner came she fitted my patches, helped me pack my things and we were busy chatting away when the taxi arrived. I was all on my own today down to the Centre and there weren’t all that many of us there today either.

The girls coupled me up a lot less painfully that on some occasions, but then it took them a good while to make the machine work. Everything was being difficult today.

Once we were up and running I listened to some music and read Lewis Carroll’s biography until it was time to go.

There weren’t all that many interruptions. My blood sugar level is still far too low so they were plying me with orange juice for much of the time that I was there. And now, at home I have to have a blood test. For that, I shall wait until next week, like everyone else.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there too but she gave me a wide berth and didn’t even give me a wave, which I found rather disappointing.

Once I’d finished I had a good ride back home where my faithful cleaner was waiting. And to my surprise, I could make three stairs without using my hand to lift my foot before I ran out of steam. It was still a pretty rapid climb compared to at the beginning.

Back in here I found that I’d forgotten my headphones. That’s a tragedy and no mistake I shall have to ‘phone them on Monday morning.

Tea was as usual a baked potato, salad and breaded quorn fillet followed by spotted dick and caramel soya cream. All very nice indeed.

But now I’m going to dictate this two lots of radio notes and then go to bed for a good sleep, in the hope that Castor comes to see me again. YOU WOULD GIVE A SMALL FORTUNE TO GET BACK IN YOUR DREAMS right enough.

But talking about the “Adult Shop” … "well, one of us is" – ed … reminds me of when one opened in Crewe years ago. When the guy next door wanted to sell his house, the Estate Agent used a previous picture of the house that showed the previous occupant of the premises next door – “The Christian Science Reading Rooms” and I’m sure that you think that I’m making this up. Personally, I don’t know which one would be the more embarrassing.

However, some woman wasn’t so embarrassed, and she sneaked in for a good look around.
Later that night in bed she mentioned “foreplay” to her husband, so he went outside and brought back three friends.

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Thursday 3rd October 2024 – I’VE HAD ANOTHER …

… early start this morning.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was actually in the bathroom having a good wash.

It wasn’t as if it was a particularly early night either. It wasn’t very far off 23:00 but still rather the wrong side of it by the time that I’d finished everything that I needed to do and found the energy to haul myself up out of my comfortable chair.

One thing though – and that I didn’t need much rocking. I’d barely started my little mantra before I was off away with the fairies.

It was something of a turbulent night too with a fair amount of tossing and turning as I struggled to make myself comfortable. And at least I wasn’t being wracked with pain from my foot like the previous night.

But wide-awake at 06:00 and I couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how I tried and by 06:45 I gave it up as a bad job and hauled myself out of my stinking pit.

Apart from a good wash, I had a shave and a change of clothes. After all, it’s dialysis later and I might even get to see Emilie the Cute Consultant if I’m lucky. I can but hope.

Back here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere. And I was astonished by the distance that I must have travelled during the night.

Oui – j’étais hospitalisé I was kept in hospital. I was taken away to a bed, installed there and then left. Some time later I had to race to the bathroom. I managed that and when I came back there were quite a few people standing around who seemed quite concerned about what I was doing. I managed to make my way through the crowd and back to bed which this five circles was some kind of burnt wrestling ground. Then going off along the coast I was being put away I passed the postal town of Sandwich so I explained to my aunt (…fell asleep here …) I’ve fallen asleep dictating again, haven’t I? So where was I? Yes, I was in a hospital. People were interested in me etc. I left the bed to go to the bathroom and when I came back there was a crowd of people around my bed. One of them was a doctor. She came over and began to chat to me, quite friendly and quite socially so I wondered what I’d done to her to make her behave like that.

What’s impressive about this is that I was “asleep” for 53 minutes and could still remember some of the dream well enough to repeat it. As for the town of Sandwich, we were there just now with Thomas Wright and that’s why maybe I remember it. It’s the old stamping ground of my mother who was raised just along the coast at Birchington so naturally her sister would be there too.

I had a girlfriend who had started work delivering pizzas at a new pizza place on Nantwich Road in Crewe near the Royal Hotel so I went along to see how she was doing. While we were chatting she had a job to do so she went out and left me behind. I noticed that the pizzas there were really cheap, starting at £3:50. I asked the girl who was serving if they were busy. She replied that they had only just opened. They had noticed that Nantwich Road was the main centre of nightlife in Crewe so they thought that they’d tap into it, people going all along Nantwich Road rather than down to the town centre. They’d had a branch in Nantwich at one time but they had closed it after a few weeks because they wanted to concentrate their efforts on Crewe, which probably meant that they weren’t doing anything in Nantwich at all. She was quite sociable too and had a good long chat with me while I waited for my girlfriend to come back

There was in fact an Italian restaurant that opened just along there and we went to it a few times. It wasn’t too bad, I suppose. For Crewe it was quite exotic but by Italian standards it was rather sad. The location, on the main road across South Cheshire to the M6, didn’t help matters much

A short while later we were in a blue Ford Cortina like PMB, a Cortina Mk I. We turned up at a car park and pulled up. I still had the lights on so a couple of people began to sit down and eating something. I told them that I was – my girlfriend told them that we were going to turn off the lights as we had to protect the battery and did they mind?. While we were talking their car rolled out of the parking space and rolled across the road and hit a van that was embedded in the wall, a Bedford CA. We then had to sort this out. We found the owner of the Bedford CA – he was someone living nearby. They arranged that they’d move their car back into the car parking space and push this van back across the road into this person’s drive. There was some scrap in their drive so they said that they would put the scrap in the back of the van and have it weighed in. Of course I went to have a look at the van to see if it was of any use to me. My girlfriend told me off. She said that I had enough vehicles as it was already. I thought that that was a shame because this CA seemed to be in a reasonably tidy condition.

It’s difficult to believe that I’m surrounded by girlfriends tonight after everything that I’ve been through – and girlfriends with their heads screwed on too. But the girl who was most associated with my blue Cortina was the one who, after she left school, went to Bangor University. She had her head well and truly screwed on correctly and she would have made my life hell. I would have been on a very short leash, I bet, if she had had her way.

There was a City of London University class, although it was supposed to be the University of Kent and they were building their models out of wire mesh and papier maché which I thought was interesting.

I met a lovely girl. She was young with long blond hair. I know who she is and I’ve met her before. We hit it off really well. We were chatting away and she was telling me about her car going for its MoT – Contrôle Technique – in Belgium etc. She announced, after we had been talking for about an hour that she had a boyfriend, which disappointed me but she was still extremely friendly and I liked her very much. She happened to mention that he was coming round to pick her up the following lunchtime. So I caught the bus to the town centre and walked all the way out to her house. I loitered around there for a while and sure enough this boy turned up and went there. She came out and climbed into her car, drove away and came back again. Then the two of them walked off somewhere. They walked back into the city centre so I followed them at a really discreet distance and watched them for a while. They were both in a café and when he left to go to the bathroom I just sent her a message saying coucou . I didn’t know how this would work but I had a nice, chatty message back. They walked off back into the town centre and were sitting in a café so I was quite some distance away watching them. He finally stood up and left so I walked over to her. There was a big, beaming smile on her face. She looked ever so pleased to see me. I sat down by her and we carried on talking. She was telling me that she’d been discussing babies with her boyfriend. I said “you’re not planning on having a baby yet, are you?”. She said “no, but loneliness catches up with us in the end. It’ll catch up with you, Mr Hall one day” so I laughed. We carried on having this really wonderful chat. It was ever such a nice dream and I was really sorry when it ended

It took place along Hoole Road in Chester which was where she lived and I know the café where we met the second time – a modern brick and glass place and she was sitting in a window seat. It’s a café in a shopping centre and I can’t think where. The girl, I recognised her. I know her from Hanley and she had cancer too at a young age. But following her about – perfectly normal behaviour in the perfectly normal 60s and 70s but in the paranoid World in which everyone lives today and is scared to death of just about everything, I’d probably end up with 10 years in prison.

As for babies, I have no objection whatever to taking part in the fabrication thereof but there would never be any possibility of me going into a delivery room to witness the final output. How glad I was that Nerina didn’t want a child because of that. Being the youngest in her family, she told me that she was fed up of babysitting and that was enough for her. She did though ask me once “what would you say if I said that I was pregnant?”. I remember it well because we were walking up Mill Street at the time and a comment like that took the wind right out of my sails. I replied that I’d be scared to death. I didn’t refuse outright – I would have been prepared to negotiate on one condition – that she went into the delivery room on her own and I didn’t want any recriminations afterwards about it. This phobia that I have about hospitals would never have dragged me into the delivery room but I’d be waiting when she came out. I had to go to see her once in hospital and I had a panic attack after 15 minutes and had to leave. It’s hard to explain this phobia and what I’ve been going through since November 2015. I’ve had eight years of nightmare and no-one can understand it.

And then there was another dream. We were in a car going into Crewe. It was a white Ford Cortina. When we reached Gresty we took the road that goes down through the Mucky Bridge and as we came out the other side we took the little grass road that runs into the back of Crewe. Some woman was there and for some reason she’d tied a barbed wire strand across the road but I drove right underneath it. That road brought us into Crewe by way of the old castle so I pointed out the old castle to everyone and I pointed out the view. I said that the view is so much nicer from the top of the old castle. I used to come here for lunch in the old days. We reminisced a little about those days when I lived at that end of the town, then we carried on driving into the town.

You can’t take a car down the track into Crewe from the Mucky Bridge, and there certainly isn’t a castle there. These days there’s a council estate but in my day it was open fields. In the dream though the road went along a crest with a beautiful view away down both sides across a wide valley far below. And at a certain rocky outcrop to the right there were the remains of a Norman keep. It really was stunning.

The nurse was in a much better humour this morning. I’ve not seen him like this for quite a while. He’s probably just been paid, I reckon. That’s what may well have made a difference.

After he left I made breakfast and read, not my book, but the REPORT OF THE EXCAVATION of the Anglo-Saxon Cemetery on which they were walking.

And if at any time you want to follow a course about identifying Anglo-Saxon artefacts, you can do no better than make a start by reading this publication. The author doesn’t just go into identifying an item that the team uncovered, he explains the physical characteristics of why it is what it is, and the absence of physical characteristics that makes it not something else.

It’s certainly a fascinating book from that point of view, and also from many other points of view too. It’s hard to believe that Thomas Wright and his friends, keen amateur archaeologists that they were, were walking on this cemetery without realising. And how many other Anglo-Saxon cemeteries there are that we are all walking on without realising it.

Back in here I spent the morning choosing the music for another radio programme, reformatting it, remixing it and pairing it off. That’s all done now and I’ll write the notes for it tomorrow. And I had a play on the acoustic guitar too.

My cleaner put in an appearance and put my anaesthetic patches on my arm and sorted me out, The taxi came quite early. It was one from Avranches who had dropped off a patient at the Centre de Re-education and was going to run me down the road on his way back. Not that I minded – after all, it’s free to me and I wouldn’t have this service in any other country.

We picked up a passenger on the outskirts of Avranches and our driver dropped both of us off at the Dialysis Clinic. And I must be in their bad books because I was put in one of the separate rooms today.

Emilie the Cute Consultant saw me and gave me a wave – all four fingers too, not just two. Mind you, she kept well away from my lair. She must be a regular reader of this rubbish.

There wasn’t much of a wait before I was coupled up, a lot less painlessly than some times, and I passed the afternoon reading the manual of a computer program that I’ve recently downloaded.

At one point I did doze off for about 20 minutes but after the night that I had, it’s not anything worrying.

Once they let me out there was a taxi waiting to take me home. The driver and the other passenger were in full chat mode and talked incessantly all the way home and I was exhausted just listening. After the other passenger left the car, it was my turn to be on the receiving end.

My cleaner was here waiting when I arrived and she watched me up the stairs. She thinks that there’s a great improvement in how I cope with the stairs now. Once more, I could climb the fist stair without lifting up my leg with me hand.

This is indeed progress of some sort, but we shall have to see how long it lasts. Maybe this physiotherapy and these 28 sessions at the Centre de Re-education might help me in some way. But it does seem that Paris has forgotten all about me.

Tea tonight was out of the European Burger Mountain, with pasta and veg in tomato sauce, followed by spotted dick and caramel-flavoured soya cream. I’m running out of spotted dick now and I have a fancy for an apple cake. Does anyone have a good vegan recipe, or shall I just adapt my oil cake? I seem to have some success with that.

So right now I’m off to bed. I’m baking bread tomorrow as I now have run out. I might even have ago at baking some baps, seeing as I have now run out. That will be an interesting project.

But seeing as we are talking about cemeteries … "well, one of us is" – ed …I’m reminded of the American who visited the Scottish cemetery in search of his ancestors.
He saw a grave with a headstone that read "Here lies Angus McTavish, a devoted father and loyal husband"
"Isn’t that just like the Scots" exclaimed the American "burying three men in one grave."

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Monday 30th September 2024 – I SAW EMILIE …

… the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

She came to see how I was doing and her first words to me were "have you considered having your dialysis done at home?"

It looks as if our little romance is over, not that there ever was one at the beginning.

After all, the Hippocratic Oath that all doctors are obliged to take goes something along the lines of "you can make a patient out of your Mistress, but not a Mistress out of your patient".

And, I imagine, these days with all of these female doctors, I imagine that the oath has now become unisex

Last night anyway I dashed off to bed in eager anticipation of a possible encounter today, but my encounter with my pillow was rather later than I would have liked. I still can’t find the way to my bed at any kind of respectable hour.

For a few hours I managed a decent sleep too but I awoke early and then just spent the rest of the time tossing and turning and occasionally falling asleep until the alarm went off.

At the sound of the alarm I was with a couple of girls in a café. We were discussing some obscure English. I was explaining to her about the diphthong “EA”, giving her the example such as “heather”. We were talking about that for a while. Then the subject moved on to the triangular sign that you would see on a cassette keyboard so we were reminiscing about the old cassette players, the triangular arrow and the two triangular arrows, one key with two triangular arrows going one way and another key with two triangular arrows going another way. Then there was the key with a square on it, a key with a red dot on it. We were talking about all of this. These girls had grown up in the era of media and those buttons wouldn’t mean very much to them.

That’s something with which I have difficulty coming to terms. Never mind computers, I remember life before cassette tapes. I forget how old I am and that many people don’t have the same experience. Back in the good old days before I moved into the Real World I was bringing a coach and a hostess back from somewhere and as we were empty I put on a tape.
"What’s this music?" she asked.
And so I told her what it was. And added "it was recorded in 1971"
"1971?" she exclaimed "I wasn’t even born then!"
God knows what a girl of 19 would make of my choice of music today.

In the bathroom I washed myself and then washed my socks and undies, picking a clean pair off my bathroom octopus that hangs from the shower curtain rail. And then I had a shave and applied a liberal helping of deodorant. Must look my best in case I meet the aforementioned.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. I was out on the West Coast with Marty Balin and that lot. They wanted a bassist because their last bassist had had trouble with the USA Government so they called for me to ask me if I would come down. I went down and met them, and happened to mention that I was having trouble with the USA Government too. It considered me to be a citizen and wanted all my taxes and for me to go to join the Military etc. The Chinese guy who was there said that I had told him to put my name down on the form. I replied that that was the Census that wanted to know everyone who was where at a certain place at a certain time. We had a lengthy discussion about that. I was sure that nothing would ever come of it, but anyway … That night there was a party so I went to join in. I was more talking about business. I was with a girl who wanted to know that if she subscribed, what would she receive for her money. I didn’t really know myself so I tried to tell her some kind of vague story but she wanted some more precise details from that. In the meantime there was a stash of money about the place. This was in danger of disappearing so I took it and hid it about my person. I was sure that someone would be bound to say something about it and point the finger at me but I thought that it was all getting completely out of hand, just like anything on the West Coast when once the evil substances started to be passed around, then anything could happen and usually did, and it was usually to the detriment of those who were naïve enough to think that they were going to do the best for everyone.

In the past I’ve met loads of well-meaning people and almost inevitably, almost all of them have been taken for a ride by the more unscrupulous members of society. And as for life in a commune, my experience was such that I went to live in a van instead.

The nurse apologised for being late but she had a considerable number of blood tests to do. That made me laugh. It’s her last day and her first day was full of blood tests too. As I explained to my faithful cleaner later, I think that the clients of this little nursing circle have sussed out her oppo. I know which one of the two nurses I would rather have when it comes to sampling my blood and I reckon that all the other clients feel the same.

After she’d left I had breakfast and read MY BOOK

Our hero has now left Portus Lemanis and is now at Anderida, another “Saxon Shore” fort, this time at Pevensey just down the coast. Once more, he’s bewailing the lost treasures, the demolished walls and so on, and spends a lot of time theorising, much of which was confirmed by later excavations

Back in here I put a spurt on. Firstly I reviewed my Welsh from last week and completed the first part of the homework. Secondly I chose the first ten tracks for the next radio programme, and thirdly I reviewed the programme that will hopefully be broadcast this weekend and, satisfied, I sent it off.

While all of that was going on, our little travel group was having a good and lively chat. It’s nice to keep up with people, especially as I don’t see Alison as often as I used to, or, indeed, as often as I would like. And the same goes for the others too.

Mind you, I don’t know where that impressive burst of energy and concentration came from.

That took me nicely up to the arrival of my cleaner who applied my anaesthetic patches with her usual dexterity.

And her I upset her. I told her that I nearly spilled my breakfast porridge all over me because the microwave is not too high. So we worked out that we could lower its shelves three notches if we were to move the baking trays around and swap the rest of the stuff round on the two shelves.

The taxi came early again while I was in the middle of organising the baking bowls so leaving them on the worktop I hit the streets.

Today’s driver was the young, friendly one and we had a good chat all the way through the rainstorms to Avranches

Some of Saturday’s weight loss has stayed lost, I’m pleased to say. And the “plugging in” was quite a lot less painful that other times. One of the nurses wanted to try out her English so we had a few little chats.

Emilie the Cute Consultant came to enquire after my well-being. No more friendly, social chit-chat perched on the edge of my bed. Instead she gave me a very broad hint that I ought to clear off. Maybe she really is a regular reader of this rubbish.

To pass the time I began to tidy up a few of the directories and, deep in the bowels of the computer, I came across a football match that I’d recorded but never seen, dating from 2019, Y Bala v Airbus. So now I can file that under CS too.

After they unplugged me I weighed myself again and I’d lost the grand total of 300 grammes. I want to lose a lot more than that.

The taxi driver had to wait a while for me and she already had a passenger with her. Ahh well, can’t be helped. But we had a nice little chat on the way home.

Having texted my cleaner earlier, she was waiting for me and watched as I made it up the stairs. Even managing the first one without lifting my knee up with my hand.

In here we sorted out the shelves and its now much more reasonable, as I found out later while cooking my delicious stuffed pepper

Now it’s time for bed, ready for tomorrow and my Welsh lesson.

During our on-line chat this morning the others were laughing at me because I’ve applied the deodorant “in case Emilie the Cute Consultant is on duty”.
It remind sme of when a solicitor had been searching for me in Brussels for several years and finally caught up with me.
"Mr Hall!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you? We thought that you might have been dead for years!"
"No he isn’t" said his assistant. "He just smells like it"

0

Saturday 28th September 2024 – ONE MORE DAY …

… in the Dialysis Clinic followed by another late night, followed by an early start on a Sunday again for the nurse. It’s relentless, all of this and there is no end in sight. Furthermore, I doubt if there ever will be.

But what happens at Christmas? It would surprise me (but there again, nothing surprises me any more) if the clinic were to be open on Christmas Day. And even if it were, would there be a taxi to take me? There are all these little things about which I need to think.

But not right now, of course. I’m beyond thinking. I’ve had a tough day, I’m deathly tired but I still have a lot to do so it’s going to be a late night.

Much later than last night in fact. And it was after midnight then when I could finally wrench myself out of my chair and into the bathroom. And that was when I noticed the cascade of blood from a wound in my leg. So off we go again. I’m fed up of that as well.

What I did in the end is to take one of the nurses’ sterile pads, fold it up against the wound and put some sticking plaster on it to hold it to the leg. That will have to do.

Once in bed I was asleep yet again quite quickly and only awoke a couple of times, perspiring away yet again. That seems to be becoming a habit as well.

When the alarm went off it took me a couple of minutes to rise to my feet and then to stagger across to the bathroom. No bread to make today.

However there was plenty of washing. My shorts, my socks, trousers and undies, and that’s before I could even think about washing myself. This sartorial elegance these days is proving to be too much for my routine. I might even end up being clean myself at this rate.

Back in here I attacked the dictaphone notes. Mountains of them too. I wanted to perform some experiments. That involved being outside so I set up a small kind of cubicle or tent inside the barn that I could use to change etc into some strange kind of clothes with a large woolly black mop as a hairpiece. I thought that if I were to set myself up there and then were to go outside I’d be fine. However it took so look to organise myself that everyone began to leave the house. The lorry driver who was leaving – he left at the same time every day – seemed to be leaving quite quickly and I was nowhere near ready to go to step outside so I knew that I was going to have problems doing what I had to do. One of my neighbours came down with his wife and he had to climb over my legs in order to find their way through the barn and go to the outdoors. He asked if I was living in here now. I relied “not exactly” and tried to explain the circumstances about where I was living but I was more interested in them clearing off so that I could continue making myself ready to go outside for just about what was left of the afternoon, most of which had disappeared with everyone either being late or hanging on. That I suppose included the Welsh class – I dunno – I can’t remember the Welsh class being there but I suppose that it must have been if I’m talking about it, I dunno but I still managed to get rid of everyone and carry on preparing myself in my little room or tent in the barn so that I could then step outside and do what’s needed.

And isn’t that the problem? I never see people for weeks then everyone turns up at once or they call me on the phone, and it’s always at just the wrong moment. I’m convinced that some people have installed a camera here at this apartment.

Did I dictate the dream about the old British couple and their mobile home thing towing a trailer? … "no you didn’t" – ed … They were somewhere in France heading back to the UK. I came across them on a car park and went over for a chat. While we were chatting, another vehicle pulled in on the car park and hit the trailer. I looked in the mirror and saw this car, which drove off across the car park to the far side. I ran after it and as I reached it a big woman, probably in her late 30s, a horsey type of person, alighted. She was in a car and trailer too. I asked her “why is it that you’ve driven all the way over here after hitting the trailer and making me run after you?” She went “ohh, I have my English insertion exam”. I said “you’d better come and sort out this trailer first that you’ve just hit”. She made a few disagreeable remarks, saying “that old guy is already in trouble for sexually assaulting me”. I couldn’t help thinking that no-one in their right minds would ever want to have any sexual contact with this woman at all. We stormed over to the old guy with his trailer with this woman still complaining that it was everyone else’s fault but hers, and how she had this important exam etc.

There are dozens of people like that whom we all know. “The rules are meant for the little people”. I know that I’m not exactly the best person to appeal to if you want someone to stick to the rules, but whatever comes out of it is no-one’s fault but my own. And if I can’t bewilder the opposition with brains, I will baffle them with b*llsh*t.

I was at a friend’s house and his mother came in and began to tell him off about something or other. After a couple of minutes she turned round to me and began to blame me, calling me all kinds of things as if it was all my fault, whatever it was that I had done. I’d contributed a little but it certainly wasn’t my responsibility. He had to nip out for ten minutes leaving me on my own with her. She continued to lecture with me while I was preparing to leave. I went downstairs into the kitchen. She was slitting eels open ready to jelly them. Of course I felt sick immediately but she carried on and carried on moaning at me. Then my friend came back so I said that I’d better go to say goodbye but I want to go to my garage next door and take away my tools because whatever is left in there you can have it. I have to liquidate some of my affairs and generally make a bit of space in my life. I’m never going to get round to doing these. I went next door to the garage. all the alarms were whistling because all the lights had been left on and the batteries were all low. I turned everything off but I couldn’t turn off the lights in the main room for some reason. Then I began to go through my tools and collecting the ones that I needed. I suddenly realised that there was far too much stuff here for me to take away. There’s nowhere for me to keep it back in my flat so I’ve no idea now what I’m going to do about anything. I am just so confused. That’s another dream about having garages and Ford Cortinas scattered halfway around the World isn’t it? I’ve had plenty of these in the past.

And I tell you what – I’m impressed that I can remember my previous dreams while I’m dreaming. That’s some achievement. But it’s true that in our dreams in the past we’ve had Ford Cortinas and workshops dotted about all over the place. Just like the old days, in fact. But I did once have a friend whose mother was from an island in the Mediterranean, and she was rather … well, I was going to say “emotional” but ” volatile” is a much better word.

The nurse put her sooty foot in the door and sorted me out with bandages and so on. She taught me a new phrase as well. I told her that the only way I would leave this building would be horizontally, but she explained that she would say les pieds à l’avant – “feet first”. She told me that when she worked in a hospital she was always taught that it’s the heads to the wall in bed, and if you are pushing a trolley or a bed with a patient on it, it’s always head first if they are alive, and feet first if they are dead. hence the expression.

After she left I made breakfast and then settled down to read my book. Our hero, lamenting the dispersal of excavated treasures into private hands and subsequently disappearing, has now left Rutupiae and set out down the coast past Deal and has arrived at the Roman lighthouse at Dover

Of course, it goes without saying that I agree with him. What treasures have been lost by being found before there was a system of registration and recording? And walls demolished for the rubble at Rutupiae and Verulamium and elsewhere?

Back in here I didn’t do much – just watched the highlights of the week’s football and watched TNS turned over by Y Bala with a couple of mystery time goals

My cleaner came along and fitted my patches. She also brought me a fairly new baking tray and oven pan that were on their way to the dechetterie

The taxi came early today so I wasn’t ready. She had a fare at Avranches to pick up at 13:30 so she wanted to get ahead if she could. It doesn’t bother me. After all, it’s free so it’s not an issue.

We picked up someone else going to the clinic and we had a good chat all the way down there. We were quite early so we had to wait, but that’s no big deal.

Once in the ward I weighed myself, and some of the weight that I’d lost last time has stayed off. Not all of it, but to say goodbye to some is encouraging.

Next step was to clamber into bed where eventually after a little wait they coupled me up. Nothing like as much pain as the other day when I literally hit the roof.

While I was being done I amused myself by finishing off the tagging of the videos and then read my book on Curious Church Customs. That is, when I wasn’t asleep. I did have a doze for half an hour or so but that’s the first time for several days. Isn’t that a change?

The driver who brought me back was quite chatty and had a lot to say for himself, and then my cleaner watched me up the stairs. On one stair I could lift my foot by just the leg muscles without using my hands. Just one, but that’s an improvement. The first time for several months.

Football was next. And it was also a pleasure watching Caernarfon turn over Connah’s Quay 3-1, and well-worth it too. But they had to cope not only with the opposition but with being on the receiving end of some of the most bizarre refereeing decisions that I’ve seen for a while.

And if you think that it’s just me, there were several comments made from the commentators’ box too. The referee was clearly refereeing a different game to the one that we were watching.

Tea tonight was a burger on a bap. When I looked in the freezer the other day I saw that I had enough burgers to last a lifetime – well, mine anyway. So I’d better start to eat them and make some space

So late again thanks to the football, I’ll dictate the radio notes and then go to bed ready to Fight the Good Fight tomorrow.

But thinking about cleaning myself up reminds me of A FILM in which another one of my heroes, Frankie Howerd, plays the rôle of a priest accompanying a leper in the Middle Ages.
There he is, ringing his bell and shouting "unclean! Unclean!"
And then he breaks the fourth wall, turns to the audience and says "well, let’s face it! It has been up to now, hasn’t it?"

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Thursday 26th September 2024 – SO THAT’S ANOTHER …

… visit to the Dialysis Clinic done and dusted and out of the way.

Mind you, it’s no use counting them because they’ll go on for as long as I do, and if I have to keep on climbing up these blasted stairs that won’t be much longer. Roll on the end of May next year when, if all goes according to plan, I can finally plan to move downstairs.

After the events of the other night, I was actually in bed at something very much like 23:00 which was really nice for a change. It’s certainly better than 03:20, that’s for sure.

Even better, I fell asleep straight away, and there I stayed, curled up like a bug in a rug, until all of 04:20 when I had a rather dramatic awakening. However, I’ve no idea what it was that rocked me awake.

Eventually I could go back to sleep and there I stayed until all of 07:00 when I awoke. At that moment I was actually away with the fairies somewhere but I’ve no idea where because the moment my eyes opened, it all evaporated.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up and even a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then came in here to listen to the dictaphone. I was going somewhere with this girl. She and I were not actually a couple but it was very clear to everyone that there was something between us. When we came to a particular place one of the guys insisted on trying to chat her up which was most inappropriate. When we returned to the car he sat in the back where the two of us were sitting so I sat in the middle of the back seat with the girl on the other side. He had a good moan about that but I thought that he was behaving completely inappropriately. When we reached the airport we all ended up having to sit on separate seats. She was near the back, he was in the middle and I was at the front. He came and had a few words with me so I had a few words with him. He went off and sulked . The girl went and sat next to him to try to console him. I thought that that was rather inappropriate too. Later on we were somewhere in the van. I was trying to give the girl directions. She said “don’t worry, I’ll look at it on the map”. She was looking on the map and giving me directions. We were supposed to be in the mountains but this wasn’t very mountainous to me. I tried to look at the map while she was holding it but I couldn’t see exactly where we were so we were having a discussion about this. Suddenly we came into a village and I recognised it as Pipe Gate (in actual fact it was Madeley). I thought that there’s nothing for it now except to head home. We entered the motorway and began to drive North. I was wondering whether I should stop the car for five minutes with the girl, or ask her f she wanted to go straight home or to stop somewhere or something like that, but quite honestly I wasn’t really in the mood – this incident with that guy had spoiled the whole evening

So here we go again, people putting the spanner in the works, me snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, all of the usual clichés. But this “sitting in separate seats on an aeroplane” does remind me of a real-life event. And never mind strangers trying to chat up my bird, I had a friend who used to do that too. He thought that no-one else should have a girlfriend if he didn’t have one so he thought that he should have yours, and even if he did have one, that still didn’t stop him.

The nurse came round a little later and sorted me out. Her usual bouncy, happy self. They are quite a pair, she and her oppo. She brings joy and smiles wherever she goes, and he brings it whenever he goes. She had a lot to say for herself but nothing of any great importance.

After she left I made my breakfast and then read MY BOOK. while I ate it.

We started off this morning still at Verulamium, reading the account of the discussion that the author Thomas Wright had with the person who excavated the amphitheatre there.

There’s tons of interesting anecdotes about that which never seems to have made it into the official report and it’s fascinating to have all of this unfold before you.

And the more I read of him, the more I’m admiring his work. He has learned that a society has bought some land in old Verulamium and plans to demolish what’s left of the Roman remains in order to build houses there. Our author’s comment is –
"I can only offer up a prayer that some unforeseen event may interfere with their ruthless and unpatriotic designs"
As you might expect, I’m liking this author more and more. For a comment like that to be committed to writing in the early Victorian era, that would have actually been quite startling.

After we left there we went to Ramsgate, my mother’s old stamping ground in the south-east of England.

In the early 1840s one of the many railway companies down there was building a line from Canterbury to Ramsgate and digging out a cutting, came across an early Anglo-Saxon Cemetery at Ozengell Grange.

An archaeological team (such as they were then) was called in to investigate and our hero, hearing of the events, went along to spectate. We’re just beginning to reach the exciting bit.

A little later, I went to carry out some modern research onto what was going on down there. And even today they are still coming across bodies buried in parts of the cemetery that they didn’t uncover.

And regrettably, one of the modern reports refers to the excavations at which our friend was present, and calls it “a very poor excavation”, which it probably was, bearing in mind the fact that our team from 1847 had no radar, no resistance meters and none of the modern techniques that are available to archaeologists today.

Yet with the relentless commercial pressure in those days and no Government body to protect them, it’s a miracle that it was done at all.

Back in here I was tagging films again and lost all track of time until my cleaner burst in at 12:00 to put on my patches. We had a little chat and a laugh about last night and then after she left I packed my bag and waited.

The driver who came for me was a young girl who had quite a lot to say for herself, and it was quite interesting too. She even took me on a little sightseeing tour.

She was a traveller and had spent a lot of time on the roads around Europe. So I suppose being a VSL driver was … errr … right up her street … "groan" – ed …

After she dropped me off I weighed myself and found to my dismay that the weight that I’d lost the last time had come back on again.

So I installed myself on the bed, the girls plugged me in with just a little less pain this time, and they left me to it.

To pass the time I tagged some of the videos on the portable laptop and had a probe into the depths of one of the graphics programs that I use

When they kicked me out I weighed myself again and the weight had gone once more, so it must be water retention that’s doing this, so my kidneys aren’t improving.

A friendly but rather taciturn lady driver brought me home and my cleaner helped me upstairs and we made plans for the future.

After a little rest I made tea – an aubergine and kidney bean whatsit out of the freezer followed by spotted dick and the last of the coconut soya cream. That made a nice change. I like surfing through the special offers at LeClerc on-line because sometimes they have some nice stuff in there that makes a change.

So now I’m off to bed. It’s a day with no outings planned but I have bread to make first thing before I can organise myself as I’ve run out

But that dream that I had reminded me of a girlfriend I had once who insisted that she could read a map, even though she couldn’t.
Once we were driving somewhere and I was convinced that wed become hopelessly lost
"Where are we now?" I asked
"Just here" she said, stabbing her finger on the map. "Driving down this road here"
"On that blue road?" I asked
"That’s right" She said
"That blue line, dear" I said "just happens to be a canal."

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