Thursday 2nd July 2026 – I AM ABSOLUTELY …

… drained. And quite literally too. They took almost three litres of liquid out of me today. In fact, I’m not sure how on earth they arrived at that figure because, according to my calculations, it should have been less than two litres. I don’t know where this figure of three litres came from.

It certainly didn’t come from last night because at some kind of stupid hour, I had to go for a walk on the parapet.

Last night was another one of those nights where I really ought to have been in bed a long time before I actually was. Instead, I dillied and dallied, dallied and dillied, lost my way and don’t know where to go and it was once again after 23:00 before I finally crawled into my nice bed.

Once more, I was asleep quite quickly, and once more, it wasn’t for long. At some point quite early on, the wind got up and the open window in my room began to bang against the shutter. No-one could sleep through that noise, certainly not me, so in the end I had to leave the bed and close the window properly.

While I was up, I thought that I may as well kill two birds with one stone and go to stroll the parapet, and when I finally came back in here, I discovered that the wind had dropped completely. That was a waste of half an hour, that was.

Back in bed, despite all of my best efforts, I couldn’t go back to sleep for ages, but I must have managed it at some point because I was flat out again when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual.

Also, just as usual, it took me a while to summon up the courage and the enthusiasm to leave the edge of the bed and head into the bathroom to sort myself out, but once washed and dressed, and shaved in case I meet Emile the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

It was another one of these commune-type places with lots of people living in there, including me. We all came down for breakfast one morning, and it was the usual chaotic scene at the table with things everywhere. Someone went to unpack the things ready for today and pulled out the football, but it was burst so that was that. We went for breakfast and it was chaos. I knocked over someone’s bottle of water and all of this. In the end, someone asked “what are we going to do at the weekend?”. I thought, “well, it looks like it’s going to be a nice weekend so why don’t we go and have a picnic?”. So we all decided that we’d go for a picnic. Someone asked “what are we going to do for food?” so I replied that if everyone makes something and brings something, then we can all swap and have bits of this and bits of that. That all sounded like a good idea to them so that was what we decided to do. We were sorting out who was going with whom or whatever, and the woman who seemed to be in charge said “Eric, you go with Dyan”. I couldn’t think for a minute who Dyan was but I reckoned that when it’s time to go, she’ll come and find me. So we decided on this picnic.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I did once live in a commune back in the 1970s, but only for a few months and never ever again. “More capitalist than the capitalists” was the phrase that rang through my mind, as well as “what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine too”. I remember that I had a bit of luck with a job that I did and came out of it quite well. “Where’s our share?” a few of the others asked. “While you were out there working, we were sending you good vibes!” “OK,” I replied. “Next time you go out to work, I’ll send you good vibes too”. I ended up living in my van after that, and believe me, I wasn’t sorry.

However, if the Dyan concerned was actually Dyan Birch, I’d change my mind in an instant. She could come anywhere with me, any time she likes, as long as SHE SINGS TO ME. That’s the song that I want to be played right at the end of when they stick me in the ground, as long as it’s she who is singing it.

And there’s plenty of truth in the story about the picnics. We had them regularly in the Auvergne when I lived there. I’d always make a dish of curried lentils with peppers, sweetcorn, etc., and it was interesting to watch the reactions. The British and Dutch people would be going “God, Eric, what’s this insipid stuff?” and the French people would be fanning their mouths, gulping down pints of water and steaming out of their ears.

But all of that is in the past now, unfortunately, and as Joan Baez once sang, WE BOTH KNOW WHAT MEMORIES CAN BRING. THEY BRING DIAMONDS AND RUST

The nurse was early today and I was hardly prepared. He seems to be quite happy at the moment, which is no surprise seeing as he’s off on holiday on Saturday. He sorted me out quite quickly and was soon on his way. I could go into the kitchen and make breakfast, and while I was eating, I could read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s managed to steer clear of controversy, although he’s off again on his jingoistic, pro-Christian, anti-“heathen” ranting and it’s quite wearisome. As I have said before, he has quite evidently missed the point and is confusing “art” with “architecture”. And as I have also said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … with architecture, you have to start somewhere, and it’s bound to be primitive. And again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I looked at the next radio programme. This one will be interesting because it will fall on the United Nations Day of Cultural Diversity.

Most people think of rock music as being something uniquely “Anglo-Saxon”, from Germany, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, Ireland, the USA and the British “white” former colonies, but without even thinking too hard … "as usual" – ed … I can conjure up in my record collection easily a couple of dozen rock groups from outside that sphere, from places like Ukraine, Hungary, Greenland, South America, Central Africa and Asia, and plenty of other places besides, so I’m going to make a programme of rock music from these more obscure regions.

At midday, I knocked off to go to make myself ready for dialysis, and my cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. After she left, I waited for my taxi and, surprisingly, fell asleep on the chair in the dining area. I was just setting off on a really interesting dream when the doorbell rang, and it wiped out every last memory of what had been going on, which was a shame.

The taxi was late, and there was another passenger on board. Her appointment was before mine, at the clinic on the other side of town, so of course it made more sense to drop her off first and then take me back to the dialysis centre, but it meant that I was running quite late. Nevertheless, when I arrived, I didn’t have to wait too long to be connected up, and we were off and running by 14:30.

Interestingly, and enjoyably, I was surrounded by no fewer than five beautiful girls at one point during the connection. I had a nurse, being shadowed by a new arrival who ended up doing the work to connect me, under supervision, and I do have to say that they were two of the most painless punctures that I have ever had, and the third nurse who always comes along to assist whenever I’m there. On top of that, one of the doctors came to see me to sort out a few things with me, followed shortly afterwards by Emilie the Cute Consultant. All I was short of was a nurse sitting on the end of the bed tossing grapes into my mouth, and maybe another one doing the Dance of the Seven Veils by my bed.

Once they had left me alone, there was football on the Internet. Last night, Stranraer had been playing a friendly against Renfrew of the Western Scotland League so I watched the game. There’s a lot of good football played in the Scottish non-league pyramid, mainly because it’s very regionalised and many good players in Scotland can’t commit to the travelling involved in the professional game. Stranraer won 2-1, but Renfrew certainly gave them a good game and you won’t see many better goals than the one that they scored.

Apart from the odd other interruption here and there, I was left pretty much alone until it was time to disconnect me, and that was done quite quickly too. It looked as if at one stage I might be home early, but I had to wait fifteen minutes for the taxi to arrive.

There was, once again, another passenger on board who wanted dropping off in Donville les Bains so it ended up not being as early as I would have liked. However, my faithful cleaner was waiting for me and helped me back into the apartment.

She gave me a disgusting drink and then left me to it. When I’d finished, I came back in here to begin to write my notes. But feeling just a little hungry, I went back into the kitchen and loaded my little push-along trolley with some crackers, some vegan cream cheese and a few slices of a honey spice cake to make myself a delicious snack.

While I was eating, I was reviewing my order for Leclerc. As I said yesterday, I’m not eating much these days, but nevertheless, I’m still running low on certain things, and as well as that, there’s a sale on their vegan products and it will do no harm at all to stock up the freezer with a few things for the future whenever I regain my appetite.

And as well as that, they have bottles of one and a half litres of clementine juice on sale at a ridiculous price and I can drink that all day.

So anyway, now that I’m satisfied with that, I’ll carry on writing my notes for today. But before I do, I’ll just have a big stretch, a little relax and a …

"ZZZZZZ"

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about picnics … "well, one of us has" – ed … a group of guys from college decided to go on a picnic by the river. It was so nice that they decided to go for a swim but, having no swimming trunks, they decided to go skinny-dipping.
Just as they were about to dive in, a boat-load of girls from the college came past, so most of the guys covered up their privates, except for one, who put a cover over his head.
"Why did you do that?" one of the others asked him.
"Well, I don’t know about you lot," he replied "but around the college, I’m known by my face."

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Wednesday 1st July 2026 – IT WAS A …

… somewhat better day today. Mind you, after yesterday, almost anything would be a “somewhat better day”.

Not that the night was anything to go by. Despite every attempt that I made to go to bed early, it was as late as 23:15 when I finally crawled into my nice, clean interplanetary bed. And although I went to sleep quite quickly, it was another one of those nights where I was never sure whether I was awake or asleep. I’ve had a few of those just recently.

There was certainly a strong wind gusting at times and the shutters and the open window in here were moving around somewhat at times.

So I was drifting in and out of sleep, I suppose, never quite sure of where the boundary between the two lay, but one thing that I do know is that when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual, I was fast asleep.

It was a better start today than yesterday in that I did manage to make it to my feet, which was more than yesterday. And when I’d finally managed to find the energy, the enthusiasm and the morale to move, I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out and to dress.

Back in here, first job as usual was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was some big meeting going on and I was there. I’d decided previously that that particular day was going to be the last day that I was going to go to work. I couldn’t remember if I’d handed in my notice, but I was determined that I was going to leave at the end of that particular afternoon. So I was at this meeting and there was a big crowd there who were all hemmed in. It turned out that the person there on my right and the person on my left were working for a big coach company. One of them noticed me and asked me if I worked at Shearings. I told them that I did and we chatted a bit. Then I took one of my business cards out and wrote on the back my name and ‘phone number and that I had a PSV licence and an operator’s licence and that I could speak French, Flemish and a little German and that I was experienced driving coaches on the Continent. I handed the card to one of them, and they replied that they would definitely be in touch and put the card away somewhere. But I was spending more time worrying about this job – whether I had handed in my notice, whether I ought to leave that evening or stay on another month, or something like that, I don’t know, because no-one seemed to be in the least bit interested in the fact that I was going to leave, so I can’t think that I handed in my notice. That would be pretty dismal if I hadn’t.

This is a recurring dream, isn’t it? I’m overdue to retire, so am I going to leave or am I going to stay on for longer? I can’t remember how many times I’ve had this same dream but I bet that it’s well over twenty.

As for going back on the coaches, I wouldn’t do it now, even if I wanted to. My reactions have slowed down a lot since those days and I don’t really think that I’d be safe on the roads today. I’m content to go around in a taxi, even if it is only to dialysis and back.

The nurse was early yet again. He didn’t have much of any importance to say for himself and it didn’t take long for him to sort out my legs and feet.

After he’d gone, I could make breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today’s outrageous comments include "The outward resemblance which the religion of Buddha — ” a diabolic mimicry of Christianity” as Frederick Schlegel expresses it, bears to some of the doctrines and ceremonies of the true faith, (rendering it thereby a more thoroughly hostile system than any other false worship", totally failing to understand that Buddhism has been around since more than 600 years before Christianity, so if anything is a parody of anything else, it’s Christianity that’s the mimicry, not Buddhism.

He goes on later to say "All these structures, Chinese and Siamese, show a very low state of real art. Mere rudeness in execution is a necessary stage in its development among any nation, and does not exclude majesty of proportion, or even a kind of beauty ; but we here see a manifest attempt at architectural splendour, without any perception of beauty whatever, but with a taste thoroughly depraved alike in composition, detail, and decoration. Real art is sacrificed to gaudy frippery, and, in China at least, fixed laws have for ever bound down every effort of genius, so that no improvement or development can be looked for."

What I am going to say next may sound strange to some, but I understood that I was reading a book about architecture, not about art. Architecture is much, much more than pretty designs carved into stone or woodwork. And beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Different peoples, different nations and different generations have different tastes and just because he and his generation in the UK find it “depraved” and “gaudy frippery”, that’s not to say that the people who built it did. They probably found it quite attractive.

And in any case, there is really no place whatever in any academic or semi-academic work for the kind of polemic that he is churning out.

Back in here, I had things to do, but not before I … errr … had a little “relax” for forty-five minutes. I’ll catch up on my missing sleep somehow.

Once everything was out of the way and I’d organised my disgusting drink and midday medication, I made a start on writing the notes for the next radio programme. It was a slow, awkward afternoon at first, but gradually it improved until right at the end, I was racing through it.

By the time that I was finished, though, I was exhausted and that called for another little … errr … relax, which took me almost up to 17:00.

It took me a while to return to the Land of the Living, but once I was back there, I went and prepared an order for Leclerc. Despite the fact that I’m not eating much right now, I’m still running low on certain supplies and I need to stock up.

And for a change, I made some food tonight. I was going to make myself some pie and mash, but when I opened the freezer for the pie, there was one of those frozen portions of spicy stuff that my friend had made one evening. And so pasta, veg and frozen spicy stuff in tomato sauce it was.

There wasn’t much, but even so, I struggled to finish it. And after the washing-up, I came back in here to finish off my notes.

Now that they are done, I’ll post them online, do what else needs doing, and then go to bed, ready for dialysis … "I don’t think" – ed … tomorrow. I wish that there was an alternative to this, but they’ve only given me one so far, which is to die. That’s not very encouraging.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about dying … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember being ill in bed and Nerina was making some gorgeouus muffins with real chocolate chips in them.
While they were cooling, the smell was overpoweringly wonderful, so when she came in, I asked her "could I have one of those muffins?"
"No, you can’t" she replied.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I’m making them for after the funeral."

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Tuesday 30th June 2026 – IT’S BEEN A …

… strange day today, and it’s felt like another Sunday, although I don’t know why.

Mind you, I got off to a dreadful start. Late yet again going to bed and although I went to sleep quite quickly, it wasn’t for long. Round about 02:00, I awoke and, despite everything that I tried to do, I couldn’t go back to sleep. It was another night where I watched, through the gaps around the shutters, dawn slowly breaking.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I was flat out asleep. And although I’ve talked in the past about having difficult starts to the day, I promise you that there has been no start more difficult than this morning’s.

It was after about fifteen minutes sitting on the edge of the bed that I realised that I was never going to be able to stand up. I’d fallen asleep, I don’t know how many times, while I was trying. In the end, I decided that this was pointless, set the alarm for 08:00, climbed back into bed and went back to sleep. I can count on the fingers of one hand how many times I’ve done that in the past.

When the alarm went off, I was actually awake but still in bed. Getting up was a little easier and then I went to sort myself out in the bathroom. Of course, the nurse had to come early today, and he caught me in flagrante delicto in the bathroom. He had to wait a few minutes before I was ready.

After he left, I festered and vegetated for a while, and then I plucked up the energy to make breakfast. While I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

And off we go again. Having moaned at length about simple “post and beam” architecture, he carries on with "Such an one, as we shall hereafter see, is the architecture of Greece ; the earliest form of its column was a post driven into the ground or floor ; consequently a base for it to rest on could have no place until the original type was somewhat obliterated. We consequently find that the simplest and purest of the ancient orders is worked without that feature. Similarly in the Chinese architecture, which reproduces a tent just as the Grecian does a hut, (though an apology is due to the shades of Pericles and Pheidias for mentioning the two in one sentence,) the capital is wanting"

So “post and beam” architecture is no good, but a post without a beam is good if it’s Greek and bad if it’s Chinese.

Meanwhile, in respect of the ruins at Yucatán and other places in Central and South America, "The ruins however do not say much for the state of art among the people, whoever they may have been, to whom they owe their origin. They are essentially barbarous, and like all barbarous structures, seek to supply by cumbrous magnificence and superfluous ornament, the want of the higher beauties of grace and proportion. And we cannot fail to remark, even at the onset, that the same system of ornament which everywhere marks this stage of art is found here in great abundance. The ubiquitous chevron, which we have already seen at Mycense, meets us again at Uxmal and Chichen,"

Again, saying that the Aztec and Inca were barbarous is surely going way over the top.

It doesn’t seem to occur to him at all that the essence of “post and beam” architecture isn’t the art but the engineering. How did they move the big stones? How did they manage to raise the beams up to go on top of the posts? How did they do it so accurately? It’s all very well talking about art and decoration, but a huge part of the architecture is the effort that they put in, with the tools and equipment that they had (it’s easy to be artistic when you have the tools to do the work and the time in which to do it) to build it in the first place.

After another long relax, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone.

There was some kind of investigation going on, and Seren was being interviewed. The name “Daniel” cropped up in the interview so the policeman asked her whether it was Daniel Hobbs or Daniel something else. She said that it was Daniel Hobbs so the policeman or whoever it was said that he was probably the better one of the two because the other one was under investigation for wanting to be with one of the teachers. I thought to myself that if it’s now a crime to want to be with one of the teachers, half of the boys who went to the same school as me would have been in prison a long time ago alongside some blow-up effigies of Miss Beddowes and Miss Leitch.

I’ve long since come to the conclusion that I’m not cut out to live in the modern world. I grew up in the days when boys could chat up girls and girls would either laugh, tell you to clear off or give you a fourpenny one around the lughole. The way things are now, I’d have been locked up a long time ago.

However, as for Miss Leitch and Miss Beddowes at school …

I was in Coventry last night, walking around doing some late-night shopping before Christmas. I’d picked up a few things here and there, but one thing that I’d forgotten to do was to empty my shoulder bag from the last time that I went shopping, so there was already some heavy stuff in it. I fought my way through a few shops and then I thought that I’d go to the pub where we usually go as a crowd. In there were loads of people whom I knew. There was one particular girl who seemed as if she were in charge of it but she and I had a really good rapport there so we’d fool around for a bit. I was standing in the doorway talking to someone and she pushed past me so I went and pushed her. She leaned back against my head as she was pushing and I ended up on the floor, so she complained about it, about my nose sticking in her back. Someone pointed out “well, he’s lying on the floor now. He can’t be doing that. Eventually, I stood up and she fainted. Of course, she had everyone around her trying to revive her. It ended up that she had, in fact, had some problems. Of course, having a crowd around her was something that she always liked so I left them to it and went to see my friend, and we had a chat. Then I went back out to do some more shopping. It was all the way down Earle Street in Crewe. I bought some sweets of the kind that I usually like but for some reason, they tasted horrible today. I went back to the pub where we met but I couldn’t remember which was the door. Eventually, I found it and climbed upstairs to the pub. I showed my friend one or two things that I’d bought but she didn’t seem to be all that interested, so I hung around for a while and then headed off home. I was walking back through Coventry and came past the cathedral in the mist. It was a cold, dark night and it was misty, and I was carrying my shoulder bag with everything in it that I had bought. It was just so heavy that I didn’t think that I was even going to make it home. All of a sudden, I was violently sick with all of these sweets that I’d eaten that had tasted horrible.

As I was transcribing this dream, a lot came back to me that I hadn’t written. For example, at 21:00 on a winter evening in December, there were still several refugee children, aged three or four or even younger, begging in the streets. What I showed my friend was a kit or accessory of some kind that plugs into a mobile ‘phone. It needed soldering and had a price tag of £12:99 but I told her that I’d paid a “couple of quid” for it. And the ruined, bombed-out cathedral was at the end of a park, with a small park on the right and a lake on the left. It’s nothing like that at all in real life. And even though it’s a midwinter night, there are hordes of people sitting all over it.

But it was definitely Earle Street in Crewe. I can still see the “Cheese Hall” pub on the corner by the market hall. Heading back up to Market Street, there used to be Tiko’s bakery and café, then the Britannia Building Society and then the Army and Navy Stores. The door upstairs to the pub (that doesn’t exist in real life) was somewhere in between those three and whatever else might have been there.

There were a few things to do, and they took an Age as well, but I was eventually able to start work on the next radio programme.

The arrival of my cleaner interrupted me, though. She organised the bathroom and then chased me under the shower. And one thing that she noticed was that it seemed to be much easier for me to go into the shower and an awful lot easier for me to come out of it. She thinks that I’m improving, although I’m not sure why.

There was a break then for a disgusting drink and the midday medication (hours late) during which we had a chat, and then after she left, I came back in here to find a nice, clean bed waiting for me, complete with my galaxy and asteroid quilt cover and pillow cases that I bought for myself at Christmas.

So now all of the music for the radio programme has been chosen, remixed and re-edited and in some cases reformatted, paired and segued. I’ll write the notes tomorrow if I’m feeling better.

But right now, I’m off to bed. A nice, clean me … "well, clean anyway" – ed … in nice, clean bedclothes in a nice, clean bed. What more could I want, except maybe Jenny Agutter and Kate Bush to share it with me?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about dreams again … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends asked me "weren’t you worried when that long dream started, in case it turned out to be another one of those nightmares like the other night?"
"To be honest" I replied "I hadn’t been so worried since I was in the Gentleman’s rest-room on Crewe bus station, standing next to Shakin’ Stevens."

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Monday 29th June 2026 – ANOTHER DISMAL, DESPERATE …

… day at dialysis is coming to an end, and you’ll be surprised to hear, just as I’m surprised to be telling you, that I’ve actually had a meal tonight. Or, at least, something that actually passes for food.

But before I move on and tell you all about it, have you ever had one of those days when you’ve been working so intently that you haven’t noticed what time it is and you’re really surprised when you find out?

It was one of those evenings last night. Before I finished my notes, I mentioned that I had one or two things to do later before going to bed. And so, once the notes were online, I made a start. The next thing that I knew, it was 23:55 and I was about to turn into a pumpkin.

So I quickly closed everything down, went for my nighttime medication, and tidied myself up in the bathroom and it must have been about 00:30 when I finally crawled into bed. It’s been a long time since I was last up at that time.

Going to bed late is something. Sleeping is something else completely, and I had another one of those nights where I wasn’t sure whether I was awake or asleep. It’s really weird, this situation and I don’t know how to explain it. You can’t imagine anything like it until it happens to you.

One thing is certain though, and that is that I was definitely awake quite early. And when I finally had a look at the time, it was 06:21. And so I sat up in bed, put both feet on the floor and claimed an early start.

Having both feet on the floor is not quite the same as being up and about, not by a good fifteen minutes, but eventually I was off to the bathroom for a good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … if you don’t really go to sleep, you can’t really dream, can you?

Not to worry. There are always plenty of other things to be doing to keep me busy, and in any case, Isabelle the Nurse was early today. She had had to take a blood sample at her office at 06:30 so rather than go back home and come back out later, she set off early on her rounds.

She’s off now for a few days but back on Saturday as the holiday season begins to kick in. Then, it’s total chaos;

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

He’s still waxing lyrical about the delights of Gothic architecture and Greek buildings, despite his dismissive remarks about “post and beam” architecture at Stonehenge, etc., but now he’s taking a swipe at Roman architecture too. "Not that great genius, sometimes real beauty, is not displayed in many specimens of the REVIVED ITALIAN ; but as a style it is, except as a warning, completely valueless. It is, in the first place, open to every objection to which the Classical Roman is liable, and is besides loaded with every species of fantastic vagary, of which imperial Rome, amid her worst corruptions, had never dreamed."

Whatever you might think about Roman architecture, this is surely going way too far.

Back in here, there were things to do, but not as much as I thought; therefore, I reviewed the next radio programme and sent it off to be added into the stream, and then made a start on another one.

Some music that I needed was really hard to find too and took quite a lot of tracking down, but I managed in the end and I think that I now have all that I need. This one should be quite an interesting one when it’s finished, whenever that might be.

At midday, I went into the kitchen to sort myself out ready for dialysis, and my faithful cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. We chatted for a while and then she wandered off while I waited for my taxi.

And would you believe that I fell asleep while waiting? And not only that, I went off on a dream and I was well away with the fairies, although not in any manner that would excite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine. But then the taxi turned up, the driver rang the doorbell and the whole lot evaporated.

The driver was fifteen minutes late and we had to go to Jullouville to pick someone else up too. Consequently, we were quite late arriving at dialysis. It wasn’t until 14:35 that I was finally connected.

Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me too. There wasn’t much fluid to extract today, but after she’d interrogated me about my health for a while, she wound the machine up. Then this three-hour session went to a different scale completely.

No one really bothered me during the session so that I could work, and crash out for half an hour too. I was unplugged quite quickly at the end of the session as well, but having to go to drop someone else off in Sartilly on the way back meant that it was still 19:00 by the time that I was back.

After my cleaner left, having helped me into the apartment, I made myself a bowl of pasta and veg in olive oil, black pepper and garlic, topped with grated cheese. I don’t know why, but I’ve been hankering after that all day. I must be pregnant or something, I suppose, although I don’t know how.

But right now, I’m off to bed. It was a bad night last night and I’m hoping for something better tonight.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being pregnant … "well, one of us has" – ed … a woman went to the doctor for a medical examination. When she went back for the results, he told her "I have to say, madam, that you are three months pregnant."
"Ohh no, it’s impossible" she cried. "I’ve never ever had relations with a man."
At that, the doctor picked up his chair and went to sit outside.
"What’s the matter?" asked the woman.
"The last time that this happened, we had a star in the east and three wise men. I wasn’t born at that time but I’m not going to miss it this time around."

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Sunday 28th June 2026 – HOW LONG IS IT …

… since I’ve had a real, old, good and proper nightmare?

I’ve no idea when the previous one was, but I can safely say that the most recent one was last night. And it was too. I awoke, covered in sweat and with a racing heart before I’d even finished dictating it.

Usually, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I don’t publish my nightmares because some might find them distressing, especially if they are eating a meal while reading them, but this one is so bizarre that I can’t not do it. There has never been a dream quite like this before in all the twenty-eight years that I’ve been recording them.

Actually, last night was quite an unusual night. I mentioned the other day that these days, it seems to be more and more difficult for me to make the distinction between when I’m asleep and dreaming and when I’m semi-awake and having these strange hallucinations.

Last night, though, was a classic example of this. I can usually say that “I went to sleep at such-and-such, awoke at such-and-such,” and so on, but not last night, I couldn’t. It was all a kind of weaving mix of this and that and at times, I really didn’t know where I was … "so what’s new?" – ed …

There were definitely times when I could distinguish by the light coming around the edges of the shutters that day was slowly dawning, but that could easily have been a dream, too.

When Isabelle the Nurse turned up, she awoke me when she gave her warning signal on the door and then she came in, in full-chat mode, which was all very nice, but all I wanted to do was sleep.

She took my medical card so that she could do her monthly accounts and then she left.

After that, I couldn’t go back to sleep so I gradually integrated myself back into the light of day and the real world. I was estimating that, when I finally left the bedroom, it might be as late as 09:30. No-one was more surprised than me, however, to see that it was in fact 10:45.

That was the cue to make breakfast – medication with juice, coffee, porridge and home-made croissants. And, of course, to read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

So far, I’ve reached page twenty-five of the real text after wading through all of the preface and introduction. And today’s highlights lnclude "the wonderful Druidical temples of Stonehenge, Avebury, and Carnac". However, he goes on to say "These, however, interesting as they are in an antiquarian point of view, as connected with the history and religion of the earliest inhabitants of Gaul and Britain, are altogether valueless in the regard of an architectural historian. Mere stones piled together without any attention to proportion or to any of the laws of design, and merely adhering by their own weight, can barely challenge the name of a building, and though exhibiting the mechanical construction of the entablature in perfection, have no title to be considered as works of architecture, and therefore cannot claim a distinct consideration in the present volume.".

Leaving aside the fact that architecture has to start somewhere at some time, if he considers that “posts and beams” aren’t “it”, then you would imagine that most of Greek architecture would be ruled out too.

Consequently, he goes on later to say "The three orders of Grecian architecture afford forms of perfection unsurpassed by mere human skill; it was only the yearnings of the heavenward spirit, the inspiration of the Church’s ritual, that could conceive aught more noble ; not purer, not lovelier, but vaster in conception, more majestic in execution, and holier in its end."

I can see me abandoning this book before I go much further. I don’t think that I can stomach five hundred and twenty-six pages of that.

Back in here, there had been some breaking news overnight. Christian Fuchs has resigned as Newport County manager, just a few weeks after saving the club from relegation. Only seven months in charge too. No wonder they are talking about “turmoil” down at Rodney Parade.

Then I turned my attention to the dictaphone to see what had happened during the night.

We were back in the Victorian period here and there was some kind of big stately home with a wealthy family living in it. They were quite violent and outrageous in their behaviour with the locals, provoking people into having fights. I was down there, and I began to have one of those provoking things with me so in the end, I picked up this enormous cleaver, attacked one of them and hacked him to pieces. The other one fled into his room so I went to try to find him. Eventually, I did, and he tried to defend himself with a sword, but it was no use at all. I just hacked him to pieces too. I then just went to sit down in the kitchen to relax before the next morning. There were visitors to the house, and they went into the living room and found the carnage. Everyone screamed and fainted. I gradually managed to leave. I had somewhere to go in the Auvergne and there was someone else with me. We had to go to find out exactly where so we ended up at this bungalow on the moors. A tall, thin girl called “Big Molly” pointed out on the map where we had to go. My friend thought that it might take us about six weeks to get there, so we set out. We noticed her cycling off into the distance and I thought to myself “there’s something not right about this”. I shan’t be surprised if she’s there when we arrive. On the way back up the road, we went past a starving dog and a dead body, which was really skin and bone and clothes that looked as if it had been there for years. So we set out and went to London. We had to travel all the way across London. At one point in the city centre, I was convinced that I saw this Big Molly with a group of other girls, and so did my friend. He began to panic, but I thought that panic was not going to get us anywhere. We just need to keep on going and keep our eyes open. I found him cowering underneath a car in the city centre so I helped him out. We decided that we didn’t have any real choice but to push on, so “push on” it was going to have to be.

As I said just now, I’ve never had a dream quite like this ever before. I tried to analyse how I was feeling when I awoke and I came to the conclusion that it was about twenty-five per cent horror, fifty per cent unease and the rest being a mixture of curiosity and the profoundly different. But I was convinced that this “Big Molly”, even though she was only a teenager, was up to no good and I reckoned that her “no good” was absolutely no good at all. I could understand my friend panicking when we saw her again

But I’m sorry if this dream has upset you, however it really was so extraordinary that I couldn’t let it slip by unnoticed.

I was in Crewe last night, wandering around the streets looking for fittings for a job that I had to do at home. I bumped into a friend of mine from school and he was having a lot of trouble dealing with his telephone and his ordinary ‘phone and how to make them connect to each other. I was trying to give him some advice but he wasn’t really interested in listening. In the end, I mentioned that I had to go to the big DIY place on the north edge of town and we’ll be sure to find what we need there. I set off back down Earle Street into the town centre and was going so fast that I missed my turning and ended up right in the town centre so I had to go out, down Broad Street, back along Badger Avenue, and then up Middlewich Street again. It seemed to take an age. Then I met someone else from school and we were having a look round. He was pointing out certain things in the sale and so was I. I realised then that my shoulder bag that I’d bought with me to carry a load of stuff was completelly full and I couldn’t lift it onto my shoulder, it was so heavy. In the meantime, he was pointing out these enormous hand brushes and asked what they were. I explained that they were for Canada. At the same time, they had these enormous rubber boots, which I said were also for Canada, but they were size “small” for Canada. There was a French family standing nearby bursting out in laughter, and we had a quite long chat before I had to go.

This dream was set on a cold, dark night while the shops were still open so it must have been mid-winter. First of all, though, there isn’t a big DIY place to the north of Crewe (at least, not while I was living there, there wasn’t) and if there were, they wouldn’t be selling Canadian snow-clearing products. And there definitely wouldn’t be a French family in the shop admiring them either.

The drive at whirlwind speed along Earle Street was interesting too. I wonder what was going on there.

After the dreams, there was football, Stranraer v Dundela of the Northern Irish Second Division. Stranraer finished mid-table in the fourth level of the Scottish pyramid last season and so Dundela should be embarrassed by the ease with which they were rolled over. The score finished 4-0 to Stranraer and Dundela were lucky to get nil. Stranraer hardly broke out into a sweat.

For much of the afternoon I was working on another project that has recently started up while I made myself ready to watch Wales’s match v Spain in the UEFA under-nineteen championship this afternoon. That was a waste of time, though, because broadcasting is restricted to the UK unless I pay for an exorbitant match pass from UEFA. Had I known before kick-off, I’d have configured a VPN to cloak my identity, but it’s too late now.

So with no food yet again (and I’m not bothered, in case anyone is wondering), I have a few things to do and then I’m off to bed, ready for dialysis tomorrow (I don’t think). It’s been a quiet day where I’ve not moved around much, but I’ve done a lot of work. And the work is still piling up. I’m never going to be finished at this rate.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the departing manager at Newport County … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was really considering entitling today’s entry "Christian Fuchs off elsewhere", but I decided against it in the end. Journalism ain’t what it used to be.

0

Saturday 27th June 2026 – FIRST SATURDAY BACK …

… at dialysis, and it wasn’t as ghastly as I was expecting. I mean, any time that I spend in a hospital or clinic and not at home is quite ghastly, but I reckon that I’ll survive this, one way or another.

After all, if I have survived all of these nights just recently, I must be doing something right, I suppose. It ended up being another late night going to bed but what helped in some way was having taken an antibiotic before retiring. Bizarrely, I didn’t have one single cough during all of the night.

However, that’s not everything, though. I awoke at about 03:20, for no particular reason that I could see, and then afterwards, I just couldn’t seem to go back to sleep. I just lay there, watching the clock go round and round and hearing the waste lorry come for the waste paper at 05:25 and I remember thinking “I may as well get up in a minute”.

The next thing that I remember, though, was the alarm going off at 06:29 as usual. I must have gone back to sleep.

It took the usual Age for me to gather up my wits, gird up my loins and then head for the bathroom. A good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then into the kitchen for my medication. The last Saturday of the month, so there are eleven to take this morning. But that’s still a far cry from when it was 32 over the whole day.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night.

There had been some kind of party taking place at our house so I had to move all of my LPs somewhere because we needed the room. After everyone had gone, Nerina began to sort out one or two LPs, but I just looked around at how depressing everything was, covered in crumbs, empty plates, and half-eaten sandwiches. I said to her “before you get those out, can we just clear this mess here that’s covering the table?”. “But there’s nothing there” she replied, so I told her exactly what I could see. She just made some kind of dismissive gesture and walked away. I didn’t know what was the matter with her. I hadn’t even asked her to clear the things away. I just thought that it was the next thing that we should be doing.

Quite often in the past, I’d be confused by the signals that Nerina was sending out. That’s the problem when you live with people of different cultures – they don’t react as you would expect. I know that at times, Laurence had problems understanding some of my reactions, but that’s no surprise because so did I at times.

When Isabelle the Nurse arrived, she allowed me into the kitchen to have my treatment and talked about the foot race that’s taking place this evening. Apparently, one of her daughters is taking part in it. And so, too, is one of the nurses from dialysis.

After she left, I made breakfast and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

And look at this for a bunch of mid-nineteenth-century jingoism. "What is the whole history of the East, the countless dynasties of China, India, and Egypt, with all their vast dominions, their early civilisation, and their fixed and ancient institutions, but a barren catalogue of kings, and priests, and conquerors, when it is viewed side by side with one living and stirring page of Greece, or Rome, or mediaeval Europe? One word from one man in a little town of Greece or Italy had ofttimes more effect on the future destinies of the human race than all the laws and victories of a thousand Shahs or Pharaohs."

And there’s much more in that vein too. Much, much more.

Once breakfast was over, I came back in here to carry on with the radio notes, and I am pleased to say that they are now complete and ready for dictation. In fact, there are piles of stuff that need dictating, but I’m really going to have to wait until this cough is completely gone before I try anything. It’ll end up being a total mess if I don’t … "so what’s new?" – ed …

Round about midday I went off to make myself ready for dialysis, when I was met by my cleaner coming in to fix my anaesthetic. We quickly organised ourselves, except that although I remembered the midday medication, I forgot the disgusting drink. I don’t know what’s the matter with me these days.

After she left, I had to wait for the taxi, which was a few minutes late. And it was the driver who used to always take me at one time, whom I haven’t seen for ages. I was his only passenger so we had a good chat all the way down to dialysis.

Once more, I was put into the new building up the hill, but not in a single room, unfortunately. They also have a ward with four beds in it and a side ward leading off that has two beds. I was in one of the beds in the side ward today.

However, I felt sorry for those in the main room. There was a woman in there who had had a very bad fall earlier in the day and was in absolute agony all through the session. She was screaming and doing all kinds of things, and it must have been very off-putting for those around her.

They told me that I only had to do three hours today, which is better than four, I suppose. And as there wasn’t much weight to lose, it was more like a leisurely stroll rather than a maximum effort flat-out affair. That suited me even better.

In any case, I was hardly bothered at all throughout the whole afternoon, which was even better. I was actually unplugged at 17:15 too, being one of the earliest to leave, so I was back here at 18:00.

It was the same driver who brought me home, and he handed me over to my faithful cleaner who helped me into my apartment.

After she had sorted me out and left, I made myself a sandwich. However, I only just about managed to eat it because, once more, it tasted of nothing but salt. My taste buds are all in a total mess since chemotherapy last autumn.

So now, I’m back in here finishing off my notes, ready so that I can go to bed. I’ve promised myself another Sunday lie-in but we shall have to see, as I’m not feeling very optimistic about that these days – at least, until I’ve finished this second course of antibiotics, and then “only just”?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about jingoism … "well, one of us has" – ed … some of the worst jingoism these days comes from the other side of the Atlantic.
A few years ago, there was a Texan in a pub in Chester going on about how rubbish he thought the UK was. "I reckon that the Uk is the asshole of the world" he bawled.
"That’s right" said another customer "and I suppose that you are just passing through."

0

Friday 26th June 2026 – ANOTHER MISERABLE DAY …

… now over and done with, and I’m ready (I suppose) for an even more miserable day tomorrow.

Yet last night, it all had the air of sounding really good. I crawled into bed listening to the sound of the thunder and lightning and fell asleep quite quickly, thinking to myself “here comes a lovely day tomorrow”. But it wasn’t like that at all.

Firstly, I was awake quite quickly – before midnight, I reckon, but certainly without enough time to have been fully relaxed. And from there, I drifted in and out of sleep for quite some time. However, when the alarm went off, I was absolutely fast asleep.

At that point, when I awoke, I was feeling dreadful and it took me a while to haul myself out of bed. I went into the bathroom to organise myself, which took an age, and then came back in here, where there were plenty of things to do before Isabelle the Nurse arrived.

When she turned up, I was flat out, asleep in my chair, but today I was allowed into the kitchen for my treatment. She asked how I was feeling, to which I replied “dreadful”, and she probably agreed.

After she finished, she turned to me and said “you go and have a rest”, as if I needed any second bidding. By this time, I really wasn’t coping. So I went back into the bedroom, set the alarm for 11:30 and crawled back into bed.

It would have been a good sleep too had it not been for the spam ‘phone calls and all of that nonsense. I could really have done without that. But when the alarm did go off, I was feeling slightly better. Only “very slightly”.

Eventually I was able to stagger into the kitchen, where I began to make breakfast – at this crazy time.

While I was eating, I was reading my new book – A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman. When I say “new”, it was new in 1849, I suppose.

And once more, it’s full of endless introduction containing subservient prose – "This division of the subject, coinciding nearly with the First Part of the First Book, will be found, I am afraid, not very satisfactorily treated. It was a wearisome task, as I had to search through volume after volume containing copious dissertations on the antiquities of the different nations referred to," etc. – and also piles of incestuous flattery – "Detail has been already sufficiently treated of in several works, all of which have their use, while no popular work — unless the thoughtful and truly original volumes of Mr Petit can be ranked under that head — has yet paid much attention to the former." etc.

There is also, would you believe, a lengthy monologue on whether it is proper to talk about the architecture of peoples who were not Christian? Apparently, we should only consider art and architecture if it were designed by Christians. The rest should be considered unworthy of discussion. That’s probably the strangest thing that I have read so far.

Back in here, I transcribed the dictaphone notes to find out what had gone on during the night.

This dream involved one of my old Ford Cortinas, the red and black one that I had at one time. The idea was that we would be selling it and then going out for a day to ameliorate ourselves and let down our hair for a while. But we were talking about which, if we had much of a morning… fell asleep here … and my part of the handrail was pretty full with different things and I couldn’t really hold it up. I was beginning to have some real struggle with this and seeking a different if no-one comes along to help me on the other side, it’s going to be real … fell asleep here …

This looks to me as if it’s two dreams merged into one. I did actually have a red and black MkIV Cortina but it never introduced any words in French into my dreams, but it seems that the “falling asleep caused me to change tack somewhere along the line until I lost everything.

I was in Montlucon last night, experimenting with some kind of epoxy floor. It came in a block of something and there were thinners with it. You heated it up and added the thinners and then quite simply poured it on the floor, where it made a clear, epoxy kind of surface. Many people were buying this and putting pictures on the floor of their bathrooms and then pouring this epoxy fluid over the top or were using river cobbles to make a nice stone-looking surface and then pour epoxy over the top of that to bind everything in. I was on the north side of the town, the poorer end, and going into various places trying to find something to go with this floor. I was starting to notice just how intuitive it had become.

It looks here as if I’ve hit upon a new money-making plan. This sounds like a fabulous invention and I wish that I knew how to set about it.

I was with Nerina and Auntie Mary last night and were somewhere in North Wales. The idea was that we were going to put markings on ourselves to represent Native Americans. I had a lot of things like that so I brought them out so that people could help themselves. But no-one seemed to be interested in the authentic, genuine stuff that I was applying to my vehicle and myself, etc., and that was making me extremely disappointed. It ended up being an enormous row between me and several other people, and I had to go to wander away to calm down. We were in Caernarfon at this particular moment so I went for a walk around the village and saw the big modern bridge being built. Then I came back to tell everyone what I’d seen. They were all immediately interested in that, so much … fell asleep here … Anyway, then we were in a kind of supermarket and I was looking at the knives because I wanted a sharp knife for peeling vegetables. Nerina came over for a chat and so did Aunt Mary, who said that she had seen one with a crowbar on the top. That sounded quite exciting so she sent me to the alley where I began to look for the crowbar … fell asleep here … Aunt Mary said that she had seen a knife that had a kind of crowbar on top. I thought that that sounded interesting so we began to search through the range of knives to see if this crowbar one was there.

What a mess this dream was. I still don’t have a decent vegetable knife, I suppose, but where does “disguising oneself as a Native American” fit in with all of this?

As for a knife with a crowbar on top, I’m still trying to work this one out. I can’t even picture it.

From there, I began to make the preparations to finally start work. However, when my faithful cleaner arrived half an hour later to do her stuff, I was flat out again, fast asleep on my chair.

Her arrival, complete with the antibiotics from the pharmacy, galvanised me into action and I watched the rest of the East Fife v Queen of the South game that I’d started, and then I began to write the rest of the notes for the radio programme.

Unfortunately, I ran out of time with just two notes to write, as yet another problem cropped up elsewhere that needed my attention. And once it was resolved, it was too late to carry on. So I relaxed for a few minutes and then made myself ready for bed

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about crashing out … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends used to boast "I always fall asleep by counting the number of girls I’ve taken to bed."
"What about counting sheep?" I asked him
"Ohh, shut up" he said. "I told you before – it was only that one time, and I was drunk anyway."

0

Thursday 25th June 2026 – AND FIRST, THE …

… bad news. I start back this weekend on three dialysis sessions per week. Apparently, once more Emilie the Cute Consultant has put her foot down … Mind you, she had to send an oppo out to bring me the bad news just in case I chose to argue or to fight. She doesn’t want to upset me that much, which is good news.

Actually, my cleaner and I have been expecting this for a few weeks now, ever since I saw the last complete set of blood test notes. They didn’t look healthy at all. Nevertheless, I was rather hoping to avoid the inevitable for as long as I could.

Anyway, last night after I’d finished everything that needed doing and was preparing for bed, something else cropped up And it ended up being well after 23:30 by the time that I slid into bed.

Now these days, things are becoming so confused. This last day or two, I’ve not been able to work out when I’m awake or when I’m asleep. There doesn’t seem to be a difference to me. So I’m not sure whether I’m falling asleep, whether I’m dreaming or whatever is going on. In fact, I seem to be in a right mess these days with all of this hallucinating or whatever it is that’s going on.

Consequently, I’ve no idea what time it was that I fell asleep or anything.

One thing that I do know is that round about 02:30, I had another one of these enormous twenty-minute coughing fits that led to yet another bout of vomiting, but anyway …

Seeing that I was awake, I decided to go for a stroll on the parapet and then I went back to bed. I suppose that at some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I remember another dramatic awakening, this time at 06:19.

There was no point going back to sleep at that point, so I put my feet on the floor and claimed an early start.

After the alarms had sounded, I went into the bathroom to sort myself out and came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. But I needn’t have bothered. It seems that I have forgotten how to dream, which is a disaster.

Instead, I found a few other things to do until Isabelle the Nurse turned up. Once more, I was banned from the kitchen and she insisted on dealing with me in here, which is not how I would like things, not in my own apartment.

Eventually, I managed to struggle into the kitchen and read the rest of “The Mediaeval Findings At Minnis Bay, Birchington, Site Of The Lost Settlement Of Gore End, Limb Of The Cinque Port Of Dover” by Trevor and Vera Gibbons. This was something that I downloaded FROM ACADEMIA.EDU.

It was one of those books that went out, not with a bang but with a whimper, and I do have to say that I was surprised by the “informal tone” of the book. Not in the least academic at all.

Back in here, I made a start on writing the radio notes. And by the time that I was ready to go and have a wash and shave, I’d written just over a quarter of them. I’ll finish off the rest tomorrow.

Having had a good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, I went into the kitchen to prepare everything for dialysis. My faithful cleaner came to join me and applied my anaesthetic to my arm, and then I had to wait for the taxi.

She was a few minutes late, and then we had to go to pick up someone else. Nevertheless, we were still early arriving in Avranches, and the good news is that I had been promoted to the new, air-conditioned building, complete with its luxurious single bedrooms.

The bad news is, though, that it’s not the same wi-fi password so I had to ask for another. And that took an age before the nurse brought it to me. I think that she was seeking revenge because the one who was dealing with me today was the one who nags me that I won’t do my own compression.

The doctor came to see me and told me the bad news about Saturday. However, she also brought me a prescription for another round of that mega-antibiotic that killed this cough off, temporarily, a few weeks ago. Let’s hope that it does the same this time too, only much more permanently.

Just because I was in solitary confinement doesn’t mean that I was left alone. They set the machine to perform a blood pressure test every thirty minutes, and each time, as the blood pressure dropped and dropped, the alarm bell rang and the nurses came a-running. They can’t seem to understand that although a blood pressure of 8/5 is extremely low in their eyes, it’s quite normal for me.

Once more, I was last to be unplugged but my chauffeur was waiting for me and we drove home through the menacing black sky. There’s a storm brewing, right enough.

There was a group of neighbours hanging around the front door, chatting, when I arrived. I joined in for a while and then my cleaner helped me into here. I changed my shoes and then came in here, ready to go to bed. I’ve had enough for the day so I’ll finish my notes tomorrow.

But as I climbed into bed, the flashes of lightning creeping in around the gaps in the edges of the shutters looked impressive. My cleaner, who has a view south towards Avranches, gave me a running commentary on the ‘phone as to how the storm was developing, but just as it was becoming interesting, I must have fallen asleep.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about thunder and lightning … "well, one of us has" – ed … there was a priest and a businessman playing golf on the golf course at Avranches during the storm.
The businessman went to make an easy putt to win the hole, but his ball ran past. "F**k me, I missed" he exclaimed.
"Really!" said the priest, totally outraged. "Kindly moderate your language in the presence of the Lord!"
However, at the next hole, precisely the same thing happened again. "F**k me, I missed" exclaimed the businessman.
"Really!" said the priest, totally outraged. "Kindly moderate your language in the presence of the Lord! He will surely send down a thunderbolt to chastise you if you continue!"
However, at the third hole, precisely the same thing happened again. "F**k me, I missed" exclaimed the businessman.
At that moment, one of the bolts of lightning came down and struck dead the Bishop of Avranches who was playing on an adjacent hole.
"F**k me, I missed" said a deep, booming voice from up in the clouds.

0

Wednesday 24th June 2026 – I AM FEELING …

… a little better today. So much so that

  1. I haven’t gone back to bed at all today
  2. I’ve actually managed to do some work

What about that for a day?

It wasn’t going to be like that, judging by last night. I was in bed by 22:30 and much to my surprise, I went to sleep almost immediately. But not for long, though. Round about 01:00, I awoke with another coughing fit and a need to go to walk the parapet.

Once I’d organised all of that, I came back to bed to try to go back to sleep, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t manage to drop off.

However, at 05:52 precisely, I suddenly awoke, bolt-upright as I sometimes do. So I must have been asleep, but for how long, I’ve no idea. But I wasn’t tired so I must have managed something decent.

After two or three minutes, I raised myself from the Dead and went for another ride on the porcelain horse, then into the bathroom for a good wash and to change my clothes.

Back in here, the first thing that I did was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

We were sitting in one of my old Ford Transits, me, Seren and there was a third person too who might have been Seren’s grandmother. We were discussing recipes so I happened to jokingly mention “here is one of Seren’s that she invented while hunting for llamas up in the High Andes many years ago”. I began to talk about different products, and she came up with “High Andes hunting llama”. Are you going to take me?” I thought “maybe one year, when we are rich and famous”. But I have friends in Normandy who have llamas and I thought that perhaps one weekend we’d go across the Channel, stay for a weekend there and go to see this llama herd, but I didn’t want to say anything out loud because you can easily disappoint someone by promising something that you can’t actually deliver in the first place so it’s better to not actually say anything.

Strangely, at this precise period when all of this would have happened, I didn’t actually have a Ford Transit.

llamas la ruche nicorps Manche Normandy France Eric Hall
And it’s certainly true that I have friends here who have a herd of llamas, but I didn’t meet them until long, long after these events would have taken place.

Here they are, in all their glory, all three of them … "the llamas, not the friends" – ed … enjoying the evening sunlight in central Normandy.

As well as that, the chance of going anywhere with Grandma in a Ford Transit would be absolute zero and even less than that. A Rolls-Royce or nothing, if you please.

By the time that I’d finished, I was dying of thirst so I went into the kitchen for a disgusting drink. If I’m going to drink something, I may as well drink something healthy.

There were a few other things to do, and then Isabelle the Nurse arrived, wearing shorts this morning. She wasn’t in such a rush as yesterday, so I was allowed into the kitchen for the treatment.

Once she’d left, I resisted the temptation to go back to bed and went to make some breakfast – the first meal for forty-eight hours. And coffee too!

While I was eating, I was reading my new book, “The Mediaeval Findings At Minnis Bay, Birchington, Site Of The Lost Settlement Of Gore End, Limb Of The Cinque Port Of Dover” by Trevor and Vera Gibbons. This was something that I downloaded FROM ACADEMIA.EDU but I can’t find the link now.

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I have a strong affection for Minnis Bay. When we used to go to Birchington to stay with Auntie Gertie (honestly!), Minnis Bay beach was just a ten-minute walk across the fields and we would always be there during those summers of the late 50s and early 60s.

Back in here, I vegetated for a while and eventually began to look at that radio programme that needed finishing from last week. It took longer than I was anticipating, but eventually, all of the notes were written and I felt quite proud of myself for managing to do it, despite everything.

This called for a little celebration, so I duly honoured myself with another little sleep for good luck.

My faithful cleaner awoke me, bringing in a couple of boxes of juice. I’ve run out and I’m not likely to pass a Leclerc order for a couple of weeks yet so I sent her a message after breakfast. She duly carried out her task and brought me the results.

We had a good chat for a while, and then she wandered off to eat her lunch. I went for a disgusting drink and my lunchtime medication.

Back in here, I had a nice relax for a couple of hours – in fact, until about 15:00 – when I began the next radio programme. And by the time that I finished, all of the music had been chosen, re-edited, reformatted, paired and segued. That leaves me tomorrow morning and Friday to write the notes.

Anyway, there are just a few more things to do, and then I’m off to bed, for a good sleep, I hope.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about llamas … "well, one of us has" – ed … there were two guys walking past the farm when they noticed the animals.
"Look at that bunch of llamas over there" said one.
"Herd, herd" said the second. "Herd of llamas."
"of course I’ve heard of llamas."
"No, a llama herd."
"Why should I care if a llama heard? I have no secrets to keep from a llama."

0

Tuesday 23rd June 2026 – IT HAS BEEN …

… slightly cooler today than yesterday. In fact, the temperature barely struggled up to 41.5°C, according to the thermometer sender outside, and that’s impressive. Inside my room, with the windows wide open and the fan going full-tilt, it was barely 29°C at one point.

Yes, we’ve had worse than that.

Not that any of it did me much good.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was in bed just after 20:00, hoping for an early night and a good sleep, but some hopes!

It was too hot to sleep without the fan and too noisy to sleep with the fan, and so in the end, after much binding in the marsh, I decided that the coolness was the way to go. I lay awake all night, and I mean “all night”, too, listening to the fan and watching the light coming round the edges of the shutters, changing from light to dark and then slowly back to light again.

At round about 02:00, I had another mega-coughing fit which led to several bouts of vomiting, so many that in fact I lost count. It’s becoming really bad, this. Let’s see what the doctor’s prescription can do about this later.

When the alarm went off, I went in search of my clothes that had somehow become scattered around the apartment and then went to start work, such as I felt like doing.

There was no need to check the dictaphone for dreams. If you can’t go to sleep, you can’t dream. And it was probably the effect of this new family who appeared from nowhere working on my farm and driving my old Kubota B-1220 tractor that put me off everything.

Never mind, though, there were still plenty of other things to do to take me up to Isabelle the Nurse’s arrival time so I wasn’t bored.

When she turned up, she insisted on treating me in my bedroom which was the wrong thing to do. And she appeared in her short skirt and tee-shirt in concession to the weather, which was already at 30°C outside.

She talked about nothing very much, and after she left, I began to think about breakfast but instead saw this lovely, long, comfortable bed. That decided it for me – I switched the alarm on for 11:15 and hit the hay.

And dream? Didn’t I just dream. Hordes of hallucinations fleeting across my brain from right to left, far too many to notice and to record. From just trying to save one, I ended up with none at all and that was rather desperate.

For some reason, I was up at about 11:00 and at that point began to make a very desultory start on yesterday’s notes. Here and there, doing bits and pieces while I could in between bouts of falling asleep. But eventually, it was the sleep that won.

My faithful cleaner awoke me when she arrived. It’s shower day today of course, and I can’t postpone it yet again. I’ll be picked up on radar everywhere I go, so I reluctantly headed that way. And it was much less difficult than I imagined and I felt like a new man afterwards.

She helped me out and I dried myself and found some new clothes to wear. This is more like it.

After she left, I carried on with yesterday’s notes and now they are on line, at long last.

cujo the killer cat centreville new brunswick Canada Eric Hall photo 11th October 2022But then I had some very bad news from Canada.

My faithful sidekick Cujo the Killer Cat crossed the Rainbow Bridge last night. She was adopted as a tiny kitten twenty-odd years ago and even when I last saw her, three or so years ago, she was in the best of health, teaching the new kitten to hunt and catch mice.

However, her age finally caught up with her yesterday, and that was a real shame. She might have been quite violent and aggressive with the local wildlife, but I always found her cute and sweet.

Once I’d digested the news, I went back to bed for a couple of hours. I was that tired again. This has been a horrible day all together.

But now I’m awake again, but not for long. I’ll sort out my evening medication and then I’m going back to bed, and I don’t care. I’ve had no food either but I’d rather be asleep than eating anything. If I have a good sleep tonight, I’ll feel so much better.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about showers … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once sent Nerina to a health farm for a week, where she had one of these super-duper showers.
The next day, she rang me to tell me about it. "You, know, it was amazing. I’m feeling a new woman after that."
"Feeling a new woman?" I mused. "It’s funny you should mention that …"

0

Monday 22nd June 2026 – WHAT A DAY …

… yesterday was. New temperature records set all over France. When I left dialysis at … errr … 19:00 this evening, it was 42.5°C and the heat was insufferable.

Last night was quite insufferable too. When I finally went to bed, it was quite late yet again but the night was hot and clammy and I couldn’t settle down at all. Although I managed to go to sleep, it didn’t last long, and I awoke with one of those mega-coughing fits that I’ve been having just recently.

Once again, it went on for hours and I forget how many times I actually vomited. But just like last night, I managed to bring it to a halt eventually by sitting on the edge of the bed.

Once the cough had succeeded in calming down, I lay back on the bed and tried to go to sleep. However, I was drifting in and out of a rhythm of “cough-sleep-cough-sleep” and couldn’t really settle down at all.

At one stage, I looked at the clock and it read “06:19” – just ten minutes before the alarm, so I found some energy from somewhere and swung my feet out of bed. When the alarm went off, they were still there so that counts as an early start.

It took the usual long while for me to dress and find the motivation to move over to the chair at the desk and computer.

There was plenty to do, but one of the things that didn’t need transcribing was the dictaphone notes, because once again, there was nothing on the dictaphone. That’s hardly a surprise considering that my sleep was so turbulent, but it is disappointing.

Instead, there were plenty of other things to do until the nurse came round.

He was actually early today, probably in a rush to go back home, seeing as his round finishes today for a week. He didn’t stay long and soon cleared off, leaving me to make my breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

We’ve finally finished the book today after spending a long time reading a lengthy chapter on Roman roads. I can’t say that I’m sorry to finish it either. For someone who has a genuine interest in the history of York, it might well be very interesting, but for someone like me, I’ve read better books. I wonder what tomorrow might bring in the way of books.

Breakfast was over by about 09:25, and so I decided to make an executive decision. And for the benefit of new readers, of whom there are more than just a few these days, an executive decision is one that, if it turns out to be the wrong decision, the person who made it is executed. I decided that I would set the alarm for 11:15 and go back to sleep.

In actual fact, I was once more in this stage of tiredness where I couldn’t function properly and it seemed to be an appropriate thing to do. I have to pull myself through all of this, otherwise we’re never going to go anywhere.

When the alarm went off, I went into the bathroom for a good wash and shave and to pretty myself up in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon and then went into the kitchen to find a disgusting drink and my midday medication.

My cleaner turned up at that point to apply my anaesthetic and to sort me out ready for dialysis. That takes much more effort than you might imagine.

The taxi was bang on time to pick me up, however, we had to go to Sartilly to pick up the other passenger who comes with us, so we were late arriving in the end.

It was stifling in the dialysis centre. They’d moved all of the more fragile patients to the new air-conditioned clinic so it was only we more hardy ones who where in the usual building. We were all crammed into one room that had been filled with fan after fan after fan so it was hard to move around.

There was so much chaos there that, from an arrival of 13:50, I was finally connected at 14:50 and that was really depressing.

The doctor (not Emilie the Cute Consultant) came to see me and I told her of the continued problems with the cough. She examined me and prescribed me a temporary medication while she awaits a full report.

As usual, I was the last to be uncoupled and the last out of the building. There was a Mercedes waiting for me too, which was nice, but the heat was incredible. 42.5°C, and back here, it was 41°C. My cleaner helped me in and I collapsed onto a chair.

After she left, I went straight to bed. I couldn’t take any more, being completely tired and exhausted. I decided to start again tomorrow and see how that will go.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Romans… "well, one of us has" – ed … one of the oldest Roman jokes began with two Romans meeting in the forum.
"Tha slave that I bought from you a week ago died yesterday" said one.
"Really?" said the second. "He was with me for twenty-five years and in all that time he didn’t even do that once. "

0

Sunday 21st June 2026 – FOR THE FIRST …

… time for a long, long time, I’ve had a day where I can truly say that I have had a real Day of Rest and done no work of any type today.

Round about 23:00 was when everything was completed and I could slide in underneath the covers. And wasn’t I grateful for that? I didn’t take long in going off to sleep and that was that, at least for a couple of hours.

Round about 02:20, I awoke with one of the biggest coughing fits that I have ever had. It was still going on at 02:55 and I forget how many times I had vomited, the fit was so intense. It was certainly many more than four.

Eventually, it must have calmed down because I somehow managed to go off to sleep again. And there I lay until I awoke, “some time later”.

The reason for the awakening was the same that has provoked a wake-up on several occasions just recently, so after a while, I began to raise myself from the Dead. 07:50 it was, so I thought that I’d better hurry before the nurse comes around.

It was 07:59 when I came back to bed. “Plenty of time”, I thought to myself. And there was, too, because I’d actually gone back to sleep by the time he came in, and he awoke me.

After he left, having seen to my legs and feet while I was in bed, I went back to sleep again, and there I stayed until I next awoke – round about 10:35. By 11:00 I was in the kitchen beginning to make my breakfast – porridge and coffee, of course, all followed by homemade croissants.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

We’re still on Roman roads, and I have a feeling that we will be here for a while. He’s struggling over the modern names of various Roman forts, as many people still do today, but we can at least thank our lucky stars that, so far, he’s managed to keep “Richard of Cirencester” well out of the way.

Back in here, I went to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. But to my dismay, there was nothing on there at all. I’m always disappointed when I have a night like that, with absolutely nothing going on in the way of excitement.

Instead, I had a prowl through the internet and discovered that we’re back in football again. Many clubs playing in European competition are having a few warm-up games prior to their opening matches in two weeks’ time, and Northern Irish team Larne were playing away at our old favourites, Stranraer FC.

Stranraer usually record their games, and sure enough, THIS GAME WAS TOO with commentary by the legendary pair of Laurence Nelson and Brian Martim, two of the best TV commentators currently broadcasting.

After the match had finished, I really didn’t do anything at all. No bread-making, no pizza-making, no nothing. Instead, I had a little explore of cyberspace, mainly Hannibal’s campaign in Italy in the early days of Rome, and once again, I’m learning a lot. There are, of course, the stories of the Battle of Lake Trasimene and the Battle of Cannae, but there were several other battles that were equally disastrous for the Romans, such as the Battle of Ticinus and the Battle of Trebia, and more besides.

As well as that, I was engaged in a lengthy online discussion … "or heated argument" – ed … about a child of two separated parents. If the mother of the child is her legal guardian and she lives with her, but the mother has to go into a hospital urgently for a stay that might be for a long time, so that the child goes to live with her father, who is responsible for completing all of the paperwork regarding the new situation? The mother or the father?

There was also the question of whether the social services come into the picture at some point.

And it was all becoming somewhat overheated at some point, although I had no idea why.

At teatime, I went for my food, the other half of this vegan ham, vegan cheese and vegan salad that I made yesterday. And everything that I eat really is tasting of nothing but salt these days.

The sandwich took well over an hour to eat this evening, mainly due to me falling into several of these different cataleptic fits of the type that I used to have just before starting dialysis. I was hoping that they had long gone.

And now, I’m wishing that I had long gone because I want to go to bed, go to sleep and stay there. It’s past my bedtime, way past it already.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Hannibal’s campaign in Italy … "well, one of us has" – ed …, Someone once asked me "what do you get if you cross the Alps with several elephants?"
"Ahh yes" I said. "Victory at Cannae!"

0

Saturday 20th June 2026 – IT WAS A …

… better day today. But that’s not saying much. It couldn’t possibly have been any worse than yesterday. That’s definitely going to be a day that I’d rather forget.

So last night, round about 22:35, I slid into bed and went straight to sleep until … errr … all of about midnight when I had to leave the bed for reasons that any person of my age will understand.

Once I was back in bed, I was attacked by a huge coughing fit – huge to such an extent that I vomited four times. That really upset me – I was hoping that I was long past this stage.

After that, I must have somehow managed to go back to sleep, because I awoke again later. It was quite light outside, although not completely light, so I estimated the time to be about 05:45. And when I checked, it was actually 05:38. How’s that for a guess?

The reason why I awoke was because of the same reason as earlier, so I did what was necessary and then went to wash and change.

When the alarm should have gone off, I was already at my desk, working out where I’d been during the night.

There was a competition in the Crewe Chronicle about the most memorable moment at Crewe Alexandra. Now Seren, who had only been living in Crewe a few weeks, she suggested that it was the time when President Trump came to kick off a match there. He ran up to the ball, slipped on the wet turf and fell flat on his rear end with his legs in the air. She wondered what she had to do because that was the moment she would like to win the competition. I told her that the first thing she needs to do is to write to the Crewe Chronicle on the form in the paper to say that that’s what she wants. Then she needs to ask all of her friends at school, then all of the people at Girl Guides on a Tuesday night and then all of the people who go to Junior Youth Club on Friday and get them to write in too. Then if she rounds up enough people, that particular moment will win. But I certainly remembered it being extremely funny too.

Considering that this dream is based in and around 1987, “President Trump” has not yet appeared on the scene. But I for one would simply roar if he were ever to do such a thing as that.

The nurse turned up as usual and asked me how I was. I told him of all my woes but he didn’t really take much notice. He dealt with my legs and feet and then left me alone.

Once he had gone, I made breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

Today, we’ve made a start on Roman roads and, so far, the good news is that “Richard of Cirencester” and his fraudulent map have not yet entered the discussion. Instead, we’re having an overall discussion and a lesson on road-building. That should keep us busy for a while.

He’s also pointed out another book to which he has referred while writing this chapter on roads. It’s an old French book from 1700 with six hundred and sixty-nine pages, and I’ve actually found a copy of it online to download for free. So that’s now added to the reading list.

Back in here, I made a start on last night’s notes, but it was no good. I couldn’t carry on and I was typing all kinds of nonsense … "so what’s new?" – ed … so in the end, I set the alarm for 12:30 and went back to bed.

Just for a change, I didn’t fall asleep again after I’d switched the alarm off. But I’m not going to imply that I was in any kind of hurry. It was more like 13:25 when I was back seated at my desk again.

There were still the notes from last night to complete, so I made a start on them. But it was a long, slow, weary me that made a start on writing and I knew that it would take forever. I wasn’t wrong either – it took me a good ninety minutes to finish them.

There was also a lengthy discussion going on about mediaeval siege engines and siege machines, and naturally, I couldn’t resist joining in to add my two ha’p’orth about it all.

And then, having had a desultory chat all afternoon online with Rosemary, she eventually rang me up. However, I don’t really know what’s happened to us just recently, because instead of a chat that usually lasts several weeks, it just lasted nineteen minutes and twenty-one seconds.

Tea tonight could have been anything, but it ended up being a rye bread sandwich of vegan ham, vegan cheese and salad. That was just about all that I could manage. At least it was something, though.

So now, I’m off to bed, hoping for a long lie-in and wondering how that will work out in the end. I bet it’s nothing like what I’ll be expecting.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about sieges … "well, one of us has" – ed … during the Hundred Years’ War, the French were besieging the town of Rouen, held by the English.
The French commander came up to the French general leading the siege and said "If you can capture Rouen within three months, I’ll give you a hundred thousand gold pieces."
Three days later, the general went up to the king and said "Rouen is taken, my Lord."
"That’s incredibly quick" said the King. "How on earth did you manage it?"
"Simple" replied the general. "I offered the English fifty thousand gold pieces to clear off."

0

Friday 19th June 2026 – THERE HAVE BEEN …

… some pretty bad days just recently – several of which have been candidates for “the worst day ever”. However, I don’t think that any of them were as bad as last night or today.

It was, as I expected, a busy night last night. The second half of my pizza went into the bin after three or four mouthfuls of what tasted like pure salt, as I said yesterday. Instead, I took a small packet of biscuits into the bedroom.

That didn’t seem to help matters much, and halfway along the road, I just quite simply blew up.

When I awoke, it was 22:40, curled up in my nice, comfy chair, so there wasn’t any point in carrying on. I just crawled into bed and that was that.

It was back to the usual “sleep, cough, sleep, cough” throughout much of the night, although I was asleep when the alarm sounded. It took me a good while to find the motivation and energy to dress and slide over to the computer. I was feeling dreadful.

Nevertheless, once I’d finally arrived there, I switched on the machine and began to transcribe the dictaphone notes.

There was some kind of part-exchange of household scheme going on for older houses where you could exchange your house for another type of house somewhere else in the country or maybe even in the same town. I was interested in this because I thought that I needed a change of scenery so I’d been down to look at a couple of houses, and one that pleased me greatly was a Wolseley 1500, so I set about negotiating for it, but the owner dug her heels in about it so I thought that I’d better find another. I found a really nice one and I was actually due to sign for this but then suddenly, a voice came out … we were down there and then as soon as we came out of this house, the house had been withdrawn from the market minutes before we were due to sign so that was something that really upset me all together.

One thing that I have always thought is that whoever has the capital and finances to launch a house part-exchange system, like we do with cars, is going to clean up and make an absolute mint. And I’m really surprised that no-one has gone into it in a big way. But I can’t see what a Wolseley 1500 would be doing in there.

And having the rug pulled out from underneath me when buying houses is, luckily, something that has never happened to me.

Seren and I were baking and, as usual, there were probably more ingredients on the floor than on the worktop. From there, it was pretty confusing, but we were going to have some kind of visit from some kind of alien. They reckoned that this wouldn’t help matters, our tidiness, very much, so we should probably be doing something else round about now rather than confronting artistic masterpieces as made for the purpose quite simply of causing problems.

Why this dream disintegrated into a pile of confusion is totally beyond me. But the question about an alien being involved in this dream is well-known. Whenever anyone asked “you won’t guess what happened at school/college/work/the pub, etc., today”, the answer always was “a spaceship landed and two little green men climbed out and asked to be taken to your leader.”

The nurse turned up as usual and asked how I was feeling. “Dreadful” was my reply. "Make sure you have a good rest today then" he answered, did his thing and wandered off to complete his morning round.

When he was out of the apartment, I made my breakfast, and while eating, I read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

By the time I was ready to leave the kitchen, we’d finished “artefacts”, spending, as usual, a long time discussing pottery and coins. They seem to be the major source of artefacts in every book on Roman history.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, including writing up yesterday’s notes, so I made a start. However, I just couldn’t keep going. After several minutes of writing what seemed to be nothing but total gibberish, I set the alarm for 12:30 and climbed back into bed. And I didn’t need much rocking either.

When the alarm went off, I managed to switch it off and said to myself that I’ll be up in a minute. The next thing that I knew was that it was 13:35 and my cleaner was at the door chatting to me. She closed my bedroom door and went about her business while I went back to sleep again. When I finally awoke, at 14:45, it was like the Marie Celeste in here. My cleaner had gone and the place was looking really tidy.

Having had my disgusting drink and my afternoon medication, I came back in here to start writing my notes at long last. And it took much longer than I was anticipating too. Whatever is going on with me right now is just ruining my whole concentration.

When they were finally finished, there were one or two things that needed doing and then it was teatime. Tonight, I used the baked beans with cheese and pepper left over from a while ago, with a vegan sausage and some chips.

Tonight’s tea was delicious and I managed to eat all of it. So after the washing up, I came back in here to start writing my notes. But once more, I was overwhelmed by fatigue. It was another night when I crashed out on the chair instead of working. I’ve no idea what time it was when I awoke, but one thing that I knew for sure was that I was so exhausted that it was a real struggle to find the effort to stand up and go to bed. I didn’t even have the energy to write a note on my blog about the delay.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about aliens … "well, one of us has" – ed … a group of aliens came back to their planet after surreptitiously visiting Earth.
"And they’ve developed nuclear power, and they have these really impressive nuclear weapons." said one of the returning aliens.
"Wow!" said one of the other aliens. "They must be really intelligent!"
"Not at all" replied the first alien. "In fact, they are totally stupid. They’ve built all of these nuclear weapons and they are pointing them at each other."

0

Thursday 18th June 2026 – YET ANOTHER DAY …

… that hasn’t gone anything like I wanted it to. But that’s not really a surprise because I don’t think that I’ve had a day just recently that has gone according to plan and it’s high time that I pulled myself together and made things work for me.

Fair enough, I finished my work at some kind of reasonable time (although after 22:30) and was soon in bed. I was asleep quite quickly too, but not for long.

Round about 02:00 I awoke with an enormous fit of coughing of the like that I hadn’t seen before, not even during the bad old days of a month or two ago. It went on for an hour with no respite at all, and then after that, it was “cough – sleep – cough – sleep” right the way through to when the alarm went off, when I was actually awake.

Once I’d gathered my wits, etc., I slid over to my comfy chair and began to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

After I left school, I was working as a trainee accountant for a coin-machine company that had coin machines scattered everywhere all over various towns. I was in Crewe, of course, so I was learning my trade at the office in Crewe and one of my tasks was, late at night, usually on a Tuesday because it was quiet, to go round and empty the various machines. What I didn’t realise at first, but I soon did, was that I was always being followed by three men in a green Vauxhall Viva convertible. It turned out that their role was that if I were attacked in the street, they would all pile out of the Vauxhall Viva and give my opponent a severe beating. I wasn’t sure how legal it was, but first of all, it was comforting that I was being looked after like this late at night, but also, I wasn’t sure what was likely to happen to me if someone were attacked and badly beaten and the police came round to talk to me about it, so I was being torn away in two halves here.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I could see myself being “suckered in” to some kind of criminal enterprise when I was younger. Boredom and the quest for adventure are usually very good motivators for that

And three men following in a dark green Vauxhall Viva convertible (a Mark II Viva, by the way) to protect the cash and not necessarily me would be exactly the kind of thing that I would organise if I were running the show.

We’d found this old bicycle so we were using it to keep in touch with all of the outposts and outlying fortifications for the city of Avranches. We were afraid that the intermission would be over and the fighting would restart imminently so they had sent their guy on a bicycle to me. I was well to the east of the city, covering the bridges at Ponts and making sure that we weren’t outflanked in the town. The guy who arrived on the bike wasn’t very happy at all. He couldn’t understand why he had been chosen, he couldn’t understand why he’d come on this bike or why he was the one who had to do the cycling or not. There was also, in my post, a girl from a previous dream. She was rather the aggressive type so she began to have a row with him. I was just sitting there watching this, but eventually I put my hand in where all the cans and bottles were. I pulled out a can and began to drink it. In the end, the other two calmed down and agreed to cycle off in different directions – the girl went back to London and he went back to Avranches. I went then with my team to defend the eastern flank of Avranches.

Avranches would be a lovely city to defend in a war. It’s situated several hundred feet up on top of a sheer cliff of a ridge that stretches for several miles, with clear views from the top of much of the southern part of the département of La Manche. I would fortify many of the buildings in the town that overlook the cliff, and towards the east, I’d dig in a variety of defensive positions on top of the ridge. My position seems to be on the ridge overlooking the town of Ponts, from where it would be possible for attackers to outflank the town.

At one point in this dream when they began to argue, the girl had come downstairs from somewhere and the boy was down at the far end of this post, so when he saw her, he came back and I had to bend my body out of the way so that he could come past. But when they were doing something with this cup of sausages, I don’t know what I was doing but the guy was coming past me, and as he came past me, the girl climbed onto her bike and cycled away so he did the same in his direction.

So it seemed that I’d stepped back into this dream at some point later, and our two guests cycled away from each other again. But I wonder what they were doing with this cup of sausages.

The nurse came by as usual, bringing his floozy with him. But the bad news is that it’s her last day. Tomorrow is, apparently, report writing and then she returns to the educational establishment from whence she came for the final week before summer break.

After they left, I made my breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

Our discussion on artefacts found in Eburacum has continued, with plenty of “artefacts known to have been found but now lost from view”. And these are just the ones that we know of. There must be scores, if not hundreds, of artefacts found whose existence has never been made known to the World at large.

And somehow, we seem to have entered into a discussion about Roman brick-making. I certainly am learning a lot!

Back in here, there were plenty more things to do, such as to write the notes from yesterday when I was overwhelmed by fatigue and went to bed instead. That wasn’t as easy as it might have been either because I’d forgotten much of what had happened.

Nevertheless, I finished with just about enough to go for a wash and shave before my faithful cleaner came to apply my anaesthetic. It didn’t take her long and she was soon off again, being in a rush as usual.

The taxi was early for a change but we had to go to pick up someone else at the hospital here, someone with whom I’ve travelled before.

We were still early arriving at the dialysis centre, where for some reason, I was put into an individual room – the room which is the farthest possible away from the entrance. They make me work, don’t they?

The time that it took me to walk there meant that I was once again last to be settled so it was 14:25 when they finally finished connecting me and began the procedure.

At first, all went normally and I had no interruptions, which meant that I could have quite a sleep, but later in the session, the machine kept on sounding the alarm every five minutes or so and the nurses came a-runnin’. When the machine sounds the alarm, it pauses the operation until it’s reset so I saw the session lengthen and lengthen all the time.

In the end, they worked out that my blood was coagulating because of the sun shining directly on the machine so they decided to cut short the session with just ten minutes to go. That was disappointing.

But in the time that it took them to come to unplug me and to compress my arm, I may just as well have carried on to the bitter end with the session. It was five past seven when I eventually left the premises and we didn’t return home until ten to eight, having had to go to drop someone else off on the way. Luckily, it was my favourite driver, so I didn’t mind that at all. We had a good chat all the way home.

My cleaner had almost given up waiting for me, but she helped me into the apartment and did her best to organise me, which was very nice.

After she left, I warmed up the other half of the pizza that I made yesterday, but after four mouthfuls, the rest of that went into the bin too. It’s gone back to tasking of nothing but salt, like everything did just after chemotherapy. Instead, I did the washing-up, grabbed a packet of biscuits and came back in here.

There were a few things to do before I started the notes for the day. But I’d barely started them when I was overwhelmed by tiredness, so I abandoned the attempt and went to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about pizza … "well, one of us has" – ed … not many people know this, but Good King Wenceslaus’s favourite meal was pizza.
One of my friends, to whom I told this story, didn’t believe me. "Really?" he asked.
"Yes, he did" I retorted. "And you know how he liked his pizza?"
"No."
"He liked them deep pan, crisp and even."

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