Tag Archives: earthwork of england

Saturday 15th February 2025 – I REALLY AM …

… off my food. And that can only mean one thing – and that is that I am going to be ill. It’s quite simply not normal for me to be off my food.

That’s something that I can well do without because I have far too many other things going on right now to worry about that.

Sleeping is one of them. I was not unreasonably late in bed last night after I’d finished what I had to do, but now for the howevermenyeth night in succession I could count the minutes of sleep on one hand

Once more, tossing and turning in a perspiration-laden semi-comatose state waiting for something to happen. I might have been asleep at some point but I was wide awake when the alarm went off, actually planning on raising myself from the Dead..

In vast contrast to the other more recent nights, I was wide-awake too on leaving the bed and I was thinking “this can’t be correct at all. I can’t have had as little sleep as this over the last few days and still feel rather sprightly (well, comparatively sprightly)”

Not just washing myself this morning but washing my clothes too. It’s Saturday so the night attire and undies go into the sink for a good scrub around so that I can keep on top of the wash. With so few clothes in this apartment, that’s important.

In the kitchen I had the medication, including the sunlight solution, and then back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. No Zero, no Castor, regrettably. They have probably gone for a rest to prepare themselves for the next time that I’ll need them

Instead there was a young person at home on its own in the house so it decided that it would go to have a shower. As it was stripping off its clothes and putting on a dressing gown ready to go into the bathroom it noticed that the window in the dining room was slowly sliding open and could see a shadow outside. The person screamed. Whatever it was outside also screamed and ran off screaming. A couple of minutes later the parent turned up with a small child in tow, obviously scared to death. What had happened was this this was the younger sibling of this other child that had come home and because it couldn’t open the door it decided to climb in through the window. But just at that moment its elder sibling had seen it while in a state of deshabille, had screamed and the younger sibling had run off to find its parent. The mother ordered an enquiry about who hit who and who screamed at who and who did what. In the end the truth was brought out but no-one claimed to have hit anyone else although someone claimed to be hit. In the end the mother took an SD memory card and went to download the information onto the SD card but the child who had told the story wanted it left where it was rather than moved and was then having to find a way to think of either distracting its mother or trying to persuade its mother not to do it.

Putting in an SD Card in order to extract a memory – if only it were that easy. It would save me a lot of time but it doesn’t really happen like that. I’m impressed that I’m dreaming in French though, even if I don’t have a clue as to what this dream might be referring.

And then I walked into a pawn shop last night and was having a look around. I noticed on the wall there were two really long boxes with a well-known make of amplifier written on it, a bass amp. The boxes were bent, implying that their contents inside were bent, but the price was €269:00 for one of the amplifiers. I knew that that probably wasn’t a tenth of the price that it was worth because these were proper stadium amplifiers of the type that you would have on the stage in a stadium when you are playing bass to thousands of people. I went and had a look and opened one of the boxes. It was certainly bent but it was exactly what I was thinking. I thought that maybe I was onto something here. I asked if they had a bass guitar that I could use. They said that it comes with a bass guitar and produced a very bent and battered Fender clone. It was completely blank of any name so I wondered “it couldn’t possibly be … could it?”. I had a look at the pickups and they were called “Mercury” which didn’t ring any particular bell and any importance. Of course as soon as I opened all of this everyone began to crowd around wishing that they had seen it first but I wasn’t going to let this lot go out of my hands without some kind of a fight.

This of course relates to the Genz Benz combo amp that I found in a pawn shop in Ottawa when I’d gone in there with my cousin Sandra to look at something else. And the Jaguar bass came from a pawn shop in Montréal. I used to have hours of endless funs in pawn shops in Canada, but not in the USA. The hundreds of guns on open display in an American pawn shop is enough to put the willies up anyone

Finally, I awoke again, right in the middle of this next dream and lost half of it but it was something to do with increasing the size of the keyboard by having two new characters to increase the scope of names that were available but I can’t remember any more about it than this. I really did awaken too, and it was all of this that was going on when the alarm went off.

Isabelle the Nurse was in another big rush today. Plenty of blood tests to carry out today. Yes, her oppo is back in a day or two so everyone is having them done right now beforehand.

After she left I made breakfast (I did have breakfast) and read MY NEW BOOK.

And never have I been so confused as he probably was either. On page 291 he tells us that "the habit of accidentally losing things is no special peculiarity of modern days, and a Roman was as liable to lose his purse as any other man. He might lose also his hunting-gear, brooch, ring, or pocket-knife, and the chance discovery of any single article of such personal character is no more proof of a ” site” than it would be to-day."

However, when talking about a site at Masham in North Yorkshire, he tells us that "it is absurdly called a Danish Camp in the vicinity. The late Mr. Lukis had a statuette of Diana in silver, 8 inches high, which was ploughed up in the field next to the camp."

So why is the statuette of a Roman goddess, not actually at the site but “in the field next to” it, proof or disproof of anything?

Back in here I had bills to pay. It’s that time of the year again and I can’t see why one particular bill, a failed monthly standing order, comes up every month as regular as clockwork when, each time I go to pay it on-line, the payment order automatically inserts the bank account details that they say I haven’t supplied?

My cleaner appeared on time to fit my anaesthetic patches and to help me prepare my bag, and then stayed and chatted for a while until the ambulance turned up.

Yes, an ambulance. Saturday is a strange day when timing goes out of the window, and an ambulance dropping people in Granville and its next pick-up back in Avranches means that I don’t have to wait as long as otherwise I might.

My way of clambering into the rear has them all bewildered though and although it is their natural instinct to try to help me, there’s only one way that it works and only I know that particular way.

Leaving the vehicle is just as bewildering but it does work and I was eventually safe and sound in my bed.

Connection wasn’t as painful as some have been, but once the anaesthetic wore off then I knew all about it, to be sure.

They took a blood test today, the miserable doctor came round to ask what he could do for me (“nothing, thanks”) and then I was left pretty much alone. I revised my Welsh and spent the rest of the time doing some research into something that I had wanted to do for a while

When I was unplugged the taxi to take me home was already here. It was the driver who usually brings me home on a Saturday but once again, he wasn’t as talkative as he used to be. I have the impression that this is really his usual self and when he was more talkative, it was to probe me about some of the other drivers.

My cleaner was waiting again and she watched as a very weary me stumbled upstairs and collapsed into a chair.

A small tea, write my notes, then I’ll do my dictating and go to bed. I hope that I’ll feel better in the morning.

But seeing as we have been talking about tha ambulance … "well, one of us has" – ed … they were telling me that they had taken someone from last night’s football to the Accident department because of an injury that he had suffered during the game.
When he saw the sign he said "not there! not there! You’re taking me to the wrong place!"
"What do you mean?" they asked
"That basket back there who did this – he did it on purpose!"

Friday 14th February 2025 – HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY …

… to everyone who didn’t have anyone to send a Valentine’s Card to them.

Not that I am in that bracket, of course, … "he said, smirking" – ed … because at 00:01 precisely on Valentine’s Day morning a Valentine’s Card fell into my electronic inbox. You know who you are of course, and so do I, and a big thank-you to you because it cheered me up immensely. I imagine though that with all of your connections, you weren’t short of too many

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, Gotthold Lessing once famously said "better counsel comes overnight" and that’s not true in my case because all the night did was to harden my resolve.

And my resolve is just about the only thing that will harden overnight, Valentine’s Cards notwithstanding, these days. Times are definitely sad.

But what I have decided is that I am not going for a fourth session of dialysis. I have to draw the line somewhere otherwise I’ll be living there permanently. Not only that, my cleaner has her own life and a business to run. She can’t plan all of her affairs around the caprices of the dialysis centre.

Consequently, I foresee a major argument breaking out on Monday afternoon. We shall see.

Anyway, I had plenty of time to brood on my situation last night because this was yet another night where I had almost nothing in the way of sleep. Tossing and turning and perspiring all the way through the night with just the occasional flash of sleep, an odd five minutes here and there. How many nights is this now?

When the alarm went off I was however asleep, and once more it was a desperate struggle to fight my way out of bed before the second alarm. And having said the other day that I had never felt less like doing it, I now wish to withdraw that remark.

After a good wash I went into the kitchen to take my medication and then came back in here to find that the computer wouldn’t fire up. Well, it would fire up, but it wouldn’t launch the software operating system.

That’s twice now that it’s done that after a major update, and the last thing that I felt like this morning was to be playing about in the BIOS

When Isabelle the Nurse came round I told her of my woes. Her response was "but you have to" However, when I asked her to give me one good reason why, she was stuck for an answer. Instead, she was out of the apartment like a ferret up a trouser leg.

My appetite is still diminished but I made breakfast anyway and then went to read MY NEW BOOK

We’re discussing water supply at some of these camps that have no obvious source, and he is relying heavily on the presence of dew ponds, which is a somewhat precarious way to go about things.

He also mentions that "It is surprising how little drink is really needed even by modern man when he has perforce to stint himself; probably his Neolithic predecessor required still less, not merely for climatic reasons, but also by habit.^" Whether that’s the case or not, I’m intrigued to know what he thinks are the reasons why Neolithic Man had so many pot-boilers, clearly showing signs of heavy use, lying around if he didn’t have much water in which to drop them.

Back in here, once I’d finished playing with the computer and persuaded it to fire up, I transcribed the dictaphone notes. To my surprise there were actually some to transcribe.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that when we were going though some kind of crisis similar to this one a few months ago, Castor appeared in the night and stood silently at the foot of my bed as if watching over me to keep me safe from harm. Last night, not only was Zero’s father there again, so this time was Zero. I’d been doing something with someone but I can’t remember who. It was quite late in the evening so we walked round to their house for some kind of reason. Zero was there with her parents. We talked, or, rather, I didn’t. The guy with me talked to Zero’s father but I was doing my very best not to fall asleep because I was so absolutely tired. As the evening drew on I felt even more and more tired. During this whole dream I just didn’t even say a word to anyone. I just listened to the conversation that was taking place. At the end of it we both set out to go back to from where we had come.

It was really strange that neither I nor Zero said a word during all of this. We just sat there looking at each other throughout the whole affair. If it’s this kind of thing that can summon up Castor and Zero, maybe I ought to throw teddy out of the pram more often.

A little later I heard someone read out the football results. There were just a few and one of the last ones that I heard was “Crystal Palace 1, Notts County 5” and then I awoke. I’ve no idea what would have inspired this.

There was also the Welsh rock band “Man” being included, trying to sneak along under cover and under disguise as the name of another group at one point during the night. Bizarrely, just as I am typing this, round on the playlist come George Jones (Mickey’s son)’s group “Son Of Man” with guest star Deke Leonard. So no early night for me while this plays out.

So there we are anyway. Zero came back to see me last night, and how nice it was to see her too.

Next task was to check over my shopping list and send it off, especially as my faithful cleaner sent me a message to remind me

Having done that, I sat down to think about preparing another radio programme. And by the time that I knocked off today, I had chosen the music, edited and remixed it, paired and segued it and written the notes for it too. So that’s two ready to dictate tomorrow night if I’m up to it.

There was even an hour or so afterwards to chill out.

That radio programme wasn’t all that I did either. About an hour later the delivery driver ‘phoned me. "I know that you said ‘after 17:00’ on your form but is it any problem if I were to come round in half an hour?"

Clearly someone wants to be away early today. I’m not going anywhere so it’s no problem to me. But I had to rush to put it all away before my cleaner came around to do her stuff. She doesn’t want to be tripping over it, which is why I don’t usually want it delivered until after she has gone.

Lunch was next, but only a short lunch as I wasn’t hungry. And while there was no mid-afternoon snack, there was still the disgusting drink break

So all-in-all I’ve been a very busy boy today. I ought to have a few more of these crises.

Just another small tea tonight – a handful of chips, a couple of vegan nuggets and a small salad followed by apple cake and lemon soya dessert.

So when Son of Man finish, I’m off to bed for what I hope will be a good sleep. I can’t believe that I’ve had so little sleep just recently but I’m still going on. Tomorrow I have to fight the good fight at the dialysis centre and then on Sunday there’s a Welsh Cup foot-fest as well as Stranraer hoping to stop the rot.

Four days at the dialysis centre? They must be joking.

But while we are talking of Zero appearing … "well, one of us is" – ed … a bunch of us, Zero included, went once for a day out years ago and I ended up buying lunch for her.
And quite frankly, I was amazed at what she was preparing to put away.
"Does your mum make you meals like this at home?" I asked
"Ohh no" she replied. "She doesn’t want to sleep with me."

Thursday 13th February 2025 – I DON’T KNOW …

… about anyone else around here, but I reckon that I’ve had enough now and I wish that I would be somewhere else right now. Even shovelling coal into the fires down below can’t be any worse than this.

A few days ago I mentioned that I can’t do with too many more days like the one that I had then, but today I reckon that we’ve reached the stage where there’s no longer any pleasure left in anything any more. As I said right back at the start of all this ten years ago, I’ll keep on going as long as there is something left to enjoy.

It might have been something to celebrate, I suppose, that I had a night last night where I was in bed at something like a realistic time. Not 23:00 of course, because those days are long-gone, but something not too far unadjacent to that.

Once I was in my bed it didn’t take too long to go off to sleep and if only Id have stayed asleep it wouldn’t have been so bad, I suppose, but another mobile, perspiring night. Although I might have slept longer than the ninety minutes of the previous one, it didn’t seem much like it.

When the alarm went off this morning I was just as wasted as yesterday morning and it was yet another undignified stagger into the bathroom. A wash and a shave later, I was in the kitchen taking all of my medication and then back in here to listen to the dictaphone to see if I’d been anywhere during the night too.

And so it happened, I had. But these continual bouts of awakening had interrupted any sequence of anything important. There was something about Prehistoric man and about being in bed in comparatively modern times but as soon as I awoke, whatever it was that was going on at that particular moment just evaporated and I lost all of it. But I was certainly in bed and it was certainly something of particular interest.

No prizes for guessing where this idea about Prehistoric man comes from. I’ll really have to stop reading these books on ancient architecture. But I wish that I knew where this dream was going.

There was also a woman with whom I used to work once making an appearance last night. She was visiting this prisoner-of-war site at the west end of Crewe where people were incarcerated after the fighting had passed by. She’d gone there to check on their needs etc but the Belgian Government wanted an assurance from the British Government that any changes would not be applicable and were to be backdated but the British Government would not agree to do this so the prisoners were held and she was to check on them but there was much more to it than this and I can’t remember a thing now.

Why this woman should be there I really don’t know because I can’t have thought about her even once since I moved on to pastures new all those years ago. But I’ve no idea where the prisoners of war fitted in. However in the South Cheshire area there were two prisoner-of-war camps, which later became Displaced Persons camps

There was also a group of us in work having a good time passing the time working, chatting to each other. The question of what we were going to do that evening came up because it was a Friday. I said that if I could find someone to go dancing with me I’d be off to the nightclub. “How are you fixed?” She said one or two words and then said “yes, why not?”. So we left the office and walked hand-in-hand down the street, skipping and laughing, down to the nightclub. But there was never anything serious about it. She spent most of the time telling me about her boyfriend and how ever since they had met they had only spent three days away from each other so I knew that this was just the whim of a moment and that it would be all over in a couple of hours by the time the nightclub closed but it was one of those things that you have to seize the moment as it goes by.

This was my Irish friend again, the one who had far more sense than to hitch her cart onto my star, and who can blame her? But almost Getting The Girl is a darn sight better than what usually happens in my dreams. But even in a dream, I realised that it was just something ephemeral, and that’s interesting

Isabelle the Nurse turned up late and in a whirlwind of a rush. Apparently everyone is making their requests for blood tests before her oppo comes back at the weekend and I can’t say that I blame them. I will almost inevitably do the same.

After she left I made breakfast and read MY NEW BOOK. We’ve finished hillforts and now discussing dwelling houses. But he can’t leave off hillforts for long and we’ve had a delightful ramble through Caer Seion near Conwy

This is a fascinating place because it consists of two forts, one inside the other, but there is no internal communication between the two parts. You have to go back outside the one and come back into the other.

Digging around on the internet, I found an archaeologist’s report from the 1950s. His conclusion went something along the lines that "all dates are inconclusive and capable of several interpretations".

Back in here afterwards I had tidying up to do and I didn’t accomplish anything like what I wanted to do because a text message told me that the taxi was coming early.

Once I was in it, we drove all around the town, to areas that I didn’t know existed and then the four of us, driver and three passengers, set off for Avranches.

They weren’t ready for my at the dialysis centre so I had to wait, but once I was seen it was another painful session where I was in agony.

It wasn’t just four hours either. A nurse came along and said "we’ve seen your weight graph, and the doctor says that you have to stay for an extra half-hour". And by this time the stabbing pain in the sole of my foot had started up..

A doctor appeared shortly afterwards so I complained. "Are you going to make me sit here for four and a half hours in this agony and do nothing about all of the tests that I’ve had on this arm that show an anomaly?"
"I’ll prescribe an anaesthetic spray" she said
"An anaesthetic spray isn’t going to do me much good" I said. "I’m not going through all of this every time I come here for the rest of my life. It needs to be dealt with"
"I’ll have a look in your file" she said, beating a hasty retreat.

When they came to unplug me, they brought me more bad news. The weight graph shows no signs of stabilisation so as of next week I may well have to come in four days per week.

Having arrived early, I was hoping to be home early but with the extra half-hour and the delay at the start it was even later than usual by the time that I returned, totally and utterly exhausted, and completely fed up.

There was no energy left in the tank to make tea. A baked potato and some salad was the best that I could do, and now I’m off to bed. And if I don’t awaken in the morning I couldn’t care less. “Tomorrow is another day” they say, but it will be just like this one.

All of this reminds me of the story of the man who goes to see the doctor about his (the man’s, not the doctor’s) chronic alcohol problem
"If you keep on drinking like this" said the doctor "you are going to die"
The man turned to the doctor with a smile on his face and said "when?"

It’s better, I suppose, than the doctor who announced to his patient "I can’t find what seems to be the matter with you. It must be due to drink"
"That’s no problem" said the patient. "I’ll come back when you are sober".

Wednesday 12th February 2025 – MY JAW HAS …

… just hit the floor.

An apartment upstairs from the one that I have bought admittedly with a slightly better view, has just gone onto the market. And I have JUST SEEN THE PRICE.

Admittedly there’s a better view and there’s a shower, but it’s in nothing like as good condition as mine is and I really can’t believe this price because I paid, well, nothing whatever even on the same page as anything like this price, so I’ve no idea what’s happening here. I was convinced that I did very well from the purchase of mine, but I didn’t expect it to be anything like as good as it seems to be.

In a few senses I’m glad that I saw this because it’s high time that I had some good news. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

It wasn’t any better during the night either. After I finished my notes and what I had to do, I had a mad dash of energy, finished my Welsh homework, sent it off and then checked over the radio programme that is going to be broadcast this weekend.

The evening finished in a flurry as I sent off the programme ready to be pushed into the feed to be broadcast. And if you have some free time round about 21:00 CET, 20:00 UK time or 15:00 Toronto time on Friday or Saturday eveing, HAVE A LISTEN TO IT. It’s something that most of you will recognise, but I promise you – you have never heard it quite like this. I put a lot of effort into it.

Having finished, I should really have gone to bed but although I was exhausted, I wasn’t tired and didn’t feel at all like dropping off. In the end it was 01:30 when I finally made it into bed.

And 01:30 when I went to bed it might have been, but at 04:00 I was still awake. The night dragged on and on and on and at one stage I was convinced that I would never go off to sleep

Sleep though I must have done because I was definitely deep in the arms of Morpheus when the alarm went off at 07:00. It was a very weary, bleary me who emerged from the depths and staggered off into the bathroom.

After the medication I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to see if I’d been anywhere during the night. And to my surprise, I had. I was going to Manchester with Zero’s father to go to the hospital. The train pulled into the station – we’d been sitting there talking etc on the platform and the train, we could see the train come in the distance as it came around the bend. It took me so long to stand up and gather my crutches that we were struggling for time. When the train pulled in actually at the station it was a good two or three feet away from the edge of the platform and I couldn’t pass over the gap. The train just pulled away and left the two of us standing on the platform. There were two women from British Rail checking the tickets of the passengers who had just alighted so we asked one of them how long the station had been remodelled like this. One of them replied “at least three years”. The other one replied “oh no, it’s nothing like that at all”. We explained that I was wanting to go on that train but I couldn’t climb on board so it had left me behind. She replied “you don’t want to go to Manchester Airport …” which was presumably the destination of the train “… and be treated in the USA. You want to be treated in Manchester”. To which I replied “well that’s where I was going” which caused a couple of people in the crowd to laugh but the woman just turned her back and continued to check the tickets of the passengers. One of them said to me “you just have to keep on at her”. We thought “well, nothing in this World is going to make her do what she doesn’t want to do”.

So Zero’s father was there again. But not Zero unfortunately. That’s rather sad. It seems that it’s not just my family but Zero’s too, stopping me having whatever slight amount of pleasure there is available to be had during the night. Do you ever have the feeling that the fates are all conspiring against you?

Scrambling on board trains too is also problematic – or, it was. In the final days of my voyaging to Leuven I had to change my itinerary so as to travel on the flat-floor commuter trains rather than clamber in and out of the big SNCB expresses as I could no longer manage the stairs. Nowadays I have solved the problem by not going anywhere.

Also, at one stage, “train” dreams were a regular occurrence, but we haven’t had one for quite a while until last night, so welcome back. If we aren’t careful, the Vanilla Queen will be back soon TO HAUNT ME, EVEN IN MY DREAMS in her mask of sterile dignity.

Isabelle the Nurse had a laugh when I told her the story about Emilie the Cute Consultant on Monday. Those two know each other, so I gather, and they can probably tease each other about it. But what kind of state am I in when I have to take my pleasure vicariously like this?

After she left I made breakfast and carried on reading MY NEW BOOK. We’e reaching the end of the discussion on forts and fortresses and moving on to another topic.

It’s good to note that he is of the same opinion as I am about these modern theories. He tells us that "It is incredible that a tribe, otherwise engaged, according to the theory, in the pursuits of peace, should l)e at pains to construct such a work as Maiden Castle, or for that matter such a work as Blacker’s Hill, simply as a precaution against a possible day of danger ; and in a state of civilization, in which the first news of danger must usually have been brought by the foe himself, it is not easy to see how the refugees could have made good their escape to their asylum, let alone driving off their flocks."

The effort and painstaking labour that has gone into their construction defies all belief that they were simply showplaces, especially when Neolithic and Iron-Age man had far more urgent, important and necessary things to do with his time

However, he is tying himself up in knots. Having told us the other day that "Incredilde as it must seem to anyone who tries to realize the labour involved in the building of any great camp, it seems none the less to be the fact that many of them were planned and constructed according to one original design.", he tells us today that "theorists have tried to establish some relation between the three classes of camps—the very irregular, the less irregular, and the approximately circular—and as many different swarms of invaders, Lloegrians, Goidels, and Brythons.^ Such speculations require no detailed refutation, and passing by any more particular objection it is enough to advance this general one, that they are all based upon the unwarrantable assumption that ancient tribes in the first place constructed each some one uniform type of earthwork, and in the second place entertained a broad and well calculated strategy, a unity of purpose, for which there is no evidence at all. There were no Vaubans in the prehistoric days,"

It saves me the trouble of asking him, If these plans were all the same, how were they transmitted? And how were they worked? There must have been written records and notes of some sort. They couldn’t have passed all of this information on orally over the centuries over the entire country.

Occasionally, though, a sense of humour bleeds through the pages. "In many cases the heaps of fallen stone have all the appearance of ruined towers, although the erection of a tower must, to builders using no mortar, have been, if not an actual impossibility, at any rate as dangerous to the occupants as to the enemy."

He’s also talking about "various points upon the coast of England, particularly in Devon and Cornwall, in south-western Wales, Scotland, and Ireland." where "though there can be no doubt of their low degree of culture, it is not certain that they belonged, as has been thought, to the very earliest Neolithic times, for some of the weapons found in the middens appear to be palimpsests fashioned out of other weapons of much higher types."

The thought appears not to occurred to him that if the more “primitive” civilisations clung on in these far-flung corners, as we have seen, until a much later date, they must have come into contact somewhere along the line with more “advanced” civilisations of invaders coming into their area and succeeded in driving them away. They aren’t likely to have gone away quietly so broken modern weapons implies a victory in battle for the more “primitive” defenders, hence them clinging on to their terrain.

Having finished my breakfast I came in here and began work. And by the time I knocked off for tea I had chosen ten tracks for the next radio programme, edited, remixed, paired and segued them, and there’s just about ten minutes left and all of the notes would be finished too. I’ve worked hard too.

There were the usual pauses – lunch, my cleaner, a delicious, wonderful shower and right at the end of the evening just as I was about to finish and call it an early day, Rosemary rang me for another chat. This time, just a short one – one hour and eight minutes only.

Why does it always happen like that? I’ll be burning the midnight oil again tonight and I wish that I didn’t have to. Remember, I’ve only had about 90 minutes sleep since yesterday morning.

Tea was magnificent. The best curry I have ever made, with the best naan that I have ever made too. Life isn’t any better than this, I promise you. That really was a successful meal

But that story of the towers at the fort reminds me of my old neighbour and former taxi passenger BLASTER BATES
On a farm out at Chorlton (near Shavington) once to blow up the Brunel Chimney that was there, he saw a farmhand walking across the yard carrying two bricks.
"Where are you going with those?" asked “Blaster” Bates
"I’m going to castrate the new bullock" replied the farmhand
"With two bricks?" asked “Blaster” Bates incredulously. "Doesn’t it hurt?"
"I’ll say it does" replied the farmhand. "Especially when you get your thumb trapped between the bricks."

Tuesday 11th February 2025 – I DON’T KNOW …

… about anything that happened today. It was one of those days where nothing seemed to go to plan, even from the very start. In fact, this is probably going to be a week to forget, all in all.

Last night was rather later than I intended it to be, what with one thing and another. Well after midnight, in fact. And not everything that I wanted to be done was done either.

It had been my aim to finish off the Welsh homework before going to bed but with the head full of spaghetti that I had on my shoulders, I abandoned the plan and left it for another day. There was the radio programme that I’d edited at the dialysis centre that I wanted to send off, but that was left too.

Once in bed it took a while to go off to sleep and then it was a very disturbed night as is usual after a dialysis session, waking up here and there and perspiring like there is no tomorrow

When the alarm went off I hauled myself out of bed with the utmost difficulty and then staggered off into the bathroom to sort myself out, and then into the kitchen for the medication.

Back in here I started to transcribe the dictaphone notes but was surprised by the amount of stuff on there. I’d only finished about half of it when Isabelle the Nurse turned up, and she wasn’t early either. I’m not going to have the homework done this morning either, am I?

She and I had a little chat about nothing much and after she left I made breakfast and read MY NEW BOOK

Our author has made a couple of points that are extremely curious. He notes that at Worlebury Camp, overlooking Weston-Super-Mare, where there are according to him, unmistakeable signs of Roman siege and conquest, the skulls of the deceased, complete with battle-wounds, are "the long-headed (Iberian) type, and suggest that at the date in question the dominant race in south-western Britain were the descendants of those Iberians who had preceded the round-headed Brythonic race, and who had been ousted by them from the more easterly parts of the island."

Anyone remember when we were discussing stone circles, menhirs … "PERSONShirs" – ed … and none at all?

Secondly, "Incredible as it must seem to anyone who tries to realize the labour involved in the building of any great camp, it seems none the less to be the fact that many of them were planned and constructed according to one original design."

And if that really is the case (and after all, he’s the expert), given the number of different races and tribes, the time period and the distance to travel, it’s probably the most interesting thing that I have read on the whole subject.

Back here, I revised for my Welsh, complete with a full pot of coffee because I needed it. And I don’t know what I would have done without it because even so, the lesson, well, let’s just say that it did not go as I would have wished, and I was glad when it was over.

After lunch I came back in here and carried on with the dictaphone notes, and as I said earlier, I was surprised by how many there were. I dreamed that I was in a scrapyard looking for all bits and pieces of a car. I couldn’t see what I wanted. It was the springs that retained the headlight in. They were tiny micro-springs. I’d had three and I had put them down but when I went to look again I couldn’t see them. They were so small. I was hunting again. In the meantime two guys turned up in a red MkIII saloon with a black vinyl roof. They had parked their car on a trailer while they had gone off to the pub. Someone told them about their car on someone else’s trailer so they just took their car off the pile and just rolled it down the hill into the scrap. They said “well never mind. We only paid £50:00 for this. Immediately everyone swarmed over to it to strip it for spares as they did in the old days. I went to have a look and someone asked me if I needed anything. I told him that I was looking for an old tax disc holder, the type that suckered on to your window but which had an aerial connector in it. People remembered those from years ago but no-one had seen one. I’d looked at a couple of car tax discs of cars that were ‘S’ reg in 1977/78 but there was nothing around there at all. In the end I left and had to stop at a road junction while a big group of soldiers who were on a military parade marched past where I was standing.

Cars for £50:00. Anyone remember those days? And Nerina and I once drove all the way around Central and Eastern Europe in one that cost £25:00, and on another occasion in a different car at the same price all the way round the South of France.

‘And ‘S’ registered cars from 1977/78? I’m really impressed that I could remember that in a dream as well. But as for cars in scrapyards, I’ve done more than my share of scrapyard scavenging in the past

Later on I was with a group of people. One was a small girl. It was a girl whom I’d seen so many times before and we’d always had a laugh and a joke. Then I mentioned something about taking her out and she said “yes, fine!” she said. “When should we go?” or something like that so I hadn’t realised that she was serious but I was ready to take her then and there practically

There is more to this than meets the eye too. However, let me guess. Small as in “one whom I could throw over my shoulder and carry off to bed” I suppose. But me Getting The Girl in a dream? It’s a good job that this dream ended before my family came along to spike my guns as they usually do at the crucial moment

There was also something else about buses in Alsager, driving buses out towards Kidsgrove and the back of Stoke on Trent at Werrington, etc, but it was something to do with the arrangement of fares, keeping fares down and buses not going into anyone else’s territory but I can’t remember that

Later yet, I was living in an apartment in a modern block of flats in Brussels but I’d bought the apartment downstairs to where I’m going to move, so I’d given my notice to the landlord. He’d put the property in the newspapers and was arranging visits. The first visit came when I was really unexpecting it so the place wasn’t very tidy at all. It was a nice youngish guy, quite tall, who was shown around. He noticed the Tesla that I had in a wooden box that was a pre-war spark generator sitting in the bottom of the room on top of the piano so we had a discussion about that. Then he asked me a few more questions then he decided to leave. He talked about decorating but I told him that I moved here and didn’t do anything. It didn’t bother me, the decorations being a little tired but he said that maybe he could move into one room and decorate all round him. As he left the Estate Agents gave me all of the duplicate keys that I’d never actually had to the property. As he left he asked me a question about the television. Were the “Free” company’s services available here? I told him that I didn’t know. As he left I noticed another couple waiting in the hall. I thought that I wished that I’d known that there were going to be all these visits because I could have tidied up the property. He did ask me before he went if he could come back and have another look. He wanted to come back at 07:30 so I shuddered but said “yes, it’s not a problem” so at that point he left.

Me? An untidy apartment? Perish the thought! And I wish that I had a pre-war Tesla spark generator lying around here somewhere. But the apartment – we’ve been in that apartment before in another nocturnal ramble, a long time ago when I drove a car into the centre of Brussels round the big Basilica. It’s strange how these things crop up so far apart in time.

Did I dictate this dream where I was in a cheap hotel somewhere? … "no you didn’t" – ed … There was a crowd of people in the room with me. The bath was across the end of the room and there was a glass partition in it that only covered a part of the bath. I decided that I’d take a bath. I went in there and began to run the water but the bath didn’t fill up. Then I found that the plug wasn’t in so I had to put it in. It was still not filling up. I saw that the water was cascading out of the joint of the immersion heater. By the time that there was anything like some water in the bath it was cold. I didn’t really fancy the bath but I thought that I needed one. There were all these people there too. Next thing that I remember, I was outside. It was 18:30. I didn’t have time for the bath because we were going to a nearby café for a meal, so I thought that I’d have to hurry up

The idea of me having a bath is interesting too. Leaving aside the fact that I couldn’t climb out of a bath these days, I would prefer a shower any day of the week. And a cold bath? In my case, that’s water at 36.9°C

Later, I was with Zero’s father and a couple of small boys was asking me that he had to go to school and tell them how a carburettor worked . I asked him if he knew how a carburettor worked. He said a few words but obviously didn’t understand the basic principles. We went down to one of the cars. Zero’s father handed a set of keys to me but I couldn’t make them work. In the end I put the key in the other way round. It worked so I could open the bonnet and we began to discuss the carburettor. Zero’s father was there but he kept on confusing the matter. I was trying to make things as simple as possible for this little boy and he was just complicating them by giving long technical explanations that were not really what was needed, not for a boy in Primary School anyway.

There are always some people who will take a simple explanation and complicate it unnecessarily, who don’t seem to realise exactly who their audience is and the purpose of what you are trying to explain. It’s like our author, Arthur Hadrian Allcroft, who is writing for an audience that excludes about 75% of the population. I realise that the aim of any kind of education is to bring people up to a higher level, but how far up are some of these people sitting?

How depressing is it though that Zero’s father is there and not Zero herself?

Believe it or not, that took me up to afternoon nasty drink break and then I had bread to make as I have all-but run out. That took longer than anticipated but I do have to say that the loaf that I made is perfection itself. It couldn’t possibly be any better. I’ll go with that any time.

There was just time for me to finish the Welsh homework before going to make my tea. And why it was so difficult I have no idea. My brain, if that’s what you call it, has ceased to function, and ceased a long time ago.

Tea was as usual a taco roll with veg and rice, followed by apple cake and soya dessert. Just as nice as ever. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t make it.

So that’s the end of another depressing day. I’m glad that it’s over, Here’s hoping for a better day tomorrow. I shall have to try to be more optimistic

But seeing as we have been talking of cold water … "well, one of us has" – ed … those crazy Canadians with whom I spent a lot of time up in the Arctic used to love to leap into the cold water from the loading platform of THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR at every available opportunity
On one occasion deep in the North-West Passage Castor and Pollux were going to leap in with them – at MINUS 0.5°C in the water. It was about minus 10°C in the air
Castor came to look for me and asked "are you going to come and jump in with us, Eric?"
"I can’t, pet" I replied. "I have this catheter port in my chest and it can’t be immersed in salt water"
After she left, a guy who had overheard the conversation asked me "if you didn’t have that catheter port in your chest, what would you have done?"
"What would I have done?" I said. "Simple. I would have thought of another excuse."

Monday 10th February 2025 – I’M FED UP …

… of asking people questions and having a completely different response to that which would have answered the question and terminated the discussion.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall when in Québec I encountered Spruce Beer for the first time, so I asked "is this beer alcoholic?"

The response was neither “yes” nor “no” but "that’s over there"

Today at the Dialysis Centre I asked the doctor "have you prescribed me a sleeping pill?"

The response was neither “yes” nor “no” but "do you want one?"

Leaving aside the ethical question of patients self-prescribing their own medication with the connivance of doctors, what’s wrong with anyone answering a question simply and straightforwardly?

As you can tell, I’m in a foul humour this evening. And it started out so well too.

Last night, by the time that I’d finished my notes and done what I had to do, it wasn’t all that late so I headed to bed at something like a reasonable time for once. And that cheered me up.

Once in bed I was asleep fairly quickly and there I stayed until all of about 05:30 when I heard the phantom doorbell. At least, that’s what it said on the dictaphone round about that time. I have no recollection of that at all.

When the alarm went off I was away with the fairies (although not in any situation likely to bring forth comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine) and it was a very weary me who staggered off into the bathroom

It’s Dialysis Day today so I had a good clean-up, a shave and so on ready for if I encounter Emilie the Cute Consultant and then went for my medication, remembering not to take the medicine that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I had a girlfriend at school. She used to come into school later than we did so when I came in I would go to my classroom and about 08:25 she would turn up. But one day there was a load of people in our classroom who didn’t belong in there, some kind of managers or something like that. I imagined that they would have an awful lot to say about this girl coming into a different classroom in the morning. I was there waiting for her and round about 08:20-08:25-08:30 she hadn’t turned up but I had some things to do so I went into the boss’s office next door. I caught a glimpse of her and she smiled at me and went into our room. I took these things for the boss and went back into our room. There was my girlfriend on the scales weighing herself. Really disappointedly she’d reached 325lb this week and was very disappointed by that. I noticed that she’d filled out this white dress suit that she was wearing, filled it out rather too much. We basically agreed to see each other at lunchtime and then she cleared off. The teacher looked at me, looked at the people who were surveying the class, looked at me again and asked me some comment about the girl, then looked at these people again as if to say “just be careful what you say because they’ll be writing it down and noting it”.

Weighing yourself as you go into a room? What does that remind you of? It certainly does to me.

To each his own of course, but attraction is a very personal thing – as they say over here des gouts et les couleurs on ne discute pas – but my ideal kind of girl would be one whom I could throw over my shoulder and carry off to bed. Strangely enough, apart from once at school, I have never ever ended up with anyone at all like that. It just goes to show that life and fate sometimes deal out some very strange hands and you have to play them as best as you can. Whoever would have thought 30 years ago that I would have ended up in a relationship where there was a child present?

It’s true nevertheless that our school bus, which was the prolongation of a service route, always used to arrive first and a couple of girls with whom I spent some time used to travel on the last one to arrive. As for the rest of the dream, it rings a vague bell somewhere in the back of my mind that is best left there.

Having finished that I made a start on finishing off the radio programme that I’d started yesterday. However, Isabelle the Nurse interrupted me. We talked about Carnaval and her float while she sorted out my legs, and then she cleared off, leaving me to make my breakfast and read MY NEW BOOK.

We’ve moved on now to discuss the construction of an earthen fort, with helpful plans and diagrams. That will come in useful if the Romans ever attack us here, I suppose. But joking apart, it’s extremely interesting and I wonder what I’m going to discover next.

Before we leave the general pages, he mentions that "It would seem to be a legitimate inference from such a priori reasoning that, subject of course to exceptional circumstances, a camp is later in date according as it is less irregular in plan, less elaborately defended, and constructed upon a less elevated and less defensible site"

Anyone who has ever seen a Norman or Edwardian castle will know that this is far from the case. And while many of the forts that we visited in the USA were built accordingly, when Fetterman and Curser dug themselves in against the rampaging hordes of Native Americans, they both chose hilltops and promontories

Regular readers of this rubbish will also recall that in 2014 we WERE AT MONTSEGUR, the last refuge of the Cathars, and that is probably the most inaccessible, difficult-to-reach castle that I have ever visited, and I knew all about that climb for several days. None of your “constructed upon a less elevated and less defensible site” with Montségur.

Back in here I finished off the radio programme, chose the final track and wrote out the notes ready for dictation on Saturday night. Then I made a start on the remainder of the Welsh homework. That’s not yet finished, and heaven alone knows when I’m going to find time to do it.

My cleaner took me by surprise yet again as I was nowhere near ready, and she fitted my anaesthetic patches. We talked about cats, and it seems that I’m not going to find it as easy to adopt one as I might think. These days, these refuges are very picky and choosy as to who can adopt a cat and she reckons that I would fall down near the end of the queue.

If that’s not enough bad news for the moment, the taxi didn’t turn up until 12:45. It’s the school holidays of course and many drivers have taken time off. The car that came to pick me up was the wheelchair-carrier and we hadn’t gone half a mile before his ‘phone flashed a message “next job, wheelchair from the Centre Normandy – at 13:00”. So he had 15 minutes to undertake a 90-minute round trip to Avranches and back.

It wouldn’t have been quite so bad had we not encountered just about every problem possible on the road. And then when we arrived, there were seven vehicles all trying to unload at the same time – and we were sixth, so we had to wait our turn.

With everyone arriving at once and me being next-to-last I had to wait an age to be seen

The connection was as painful as it could possibly be and I suffered throughout the whole session. But the nurse did confirm to me that once the machine does start up, it’s not uncommon to have a wave of fatigue. It’s to do with the drop of blood pressure and strain on the heart.

The doctor came to see me as well, the unsociable one. We had our little discussion as I mentioned earlier and eventually he did confirm to me, as I suspected, that they had prescribed a sleeping pill. It has several other uses too which they think might be useful, which was why they prescribed it in the first place.

My response was that I was going to stop taking it as of now. He replied that I might find it difficult all at once and I should “taper off”, but if it’s a medication like that then I don’t want to be on it anyway so as of earlier this evening it’s off the list.

And so, incidentally, is the medication that they prescribed to counter some of the side-effects.

Unplugging me was just as painful as plugging me in, and then I had to wait. The driver who was to take me home had stuck her head in earlier but I told her that I would be fifteen minutes so as she had someone to pick up at the Clinic across town she decided to go there first.

She hadn’t come back by the time that I was ready so I waited. And waited.

Not that I minded because Emilie the Cute Consultant came past.

"Wiating for your taxi, Mr Hall?" she asked
“No, I’m waiting for N°11 bus to Marble Arch and Trafalgar Square” I would have said had it been anyone else but Emilie the Cute Consultant
"Yes I am" I replied "You don’t fancy taking me home, do you?"
"I don’t live in Granville any more" she said. "I live in Marcey, just around the corner"
"Well, you could always take me to Marcey with you"

She had the decency to laugh, but she wasn’t all that impressed. Ahh well …

A car suddenly screeched up outside, but it wasn’t my driver who hopped out. Nevertheless he had come for me.

He was one of the ambulance crew who was in the depot washing the vehicle when the call came through. Apparently my driver who had gone to the clinic discovered that there was a major problem there with the other passenger and she was obliged to wait. It’s a good job that I hadn’t gone with her.

We had a good chat all the way home, so much so that I forgot to warn the cleaner that I was on my way, and she had a mad scramble to meet the car. 19:45 when I finally arrived home.

Tea was a stuffed pepper with pasta followed by apple cake and soya dessert. But then I cut up the date bread that I had made, and if the rest of it tastes as good as the crumbs that I tasted, it will be absolutely excellent.

So fed up, in pain and glad that the day is almost over, I’m off to bed ready to fight the good fight tomorrow. I can understand what they meant in Leuven back in 2016 when they said "save your strength for the battle that lies ahead" because I can’t do with too many more days like this one.

But talking about going home just now … "well, one of us is" – ed … it reminds me of a guy in a pub in Nantwich.
He would sneak a photo out of his pocket, glance at it, put it back and then order a beer.
After three or four times curiosity got the better of the and he asked the customer about the photo
"What’s about the photo?" he asked
"It’s the wife" replied the man
"Do you always look at it just before you order a beer?"
"Yes I do" he replied. "When she starts to look beautiful, that’s when it’s time to go home"

Sunday 8th February 2025 – WHEN I DON’T …

… have to go to dialysis, I can have some good days. And today was one of these, in many repsects.

Dictating the notes for the three radio programmes wasn’t so good though. There were loads of errors that I made and I don’t know why. I just couldn’t seem to get it together and once I slipped out of the rhythm I was gone completely. Some of the parts were dictated three times and there will be a lot of editing in the morning.

But one good thing about it was that it wasn’t all that long after midnight that I finished so with the lie-in until 08:00 in the morning I stand a good chance of having a decent sleep.

And I did too. After having sorted myself out ready for bed, once underneath the covers there I stayed, and I didn’t move a muscle until the alarm went off at 08:00.

What a struggle it was to tear myself out of my bed this morning. But I made it and just about finished washing and dressing as Isabelle the Nurse came in.

She told me that there isn’t a real problem about having eaten before the blood test and whether it might be 24 or 72 hours before the hospital visit instead of the prescribed 48. I’ll speak to the dialysis centre people on Monday and see what they have to day.

Seeing as it was Sunday she had plenty of time on her hands so she showed me some photos and videos of her skiing trip, just to make me jealous.

After she left I had my medication, made my breakfast and then went to read MY NEW BOOK.

We’ve now moved out of the hills and onto the plains and circular forts. These are, as their name implies, areas with circular defences down on the lowland and being mainly small, it implies that the area was occupied by some kind of closely-related agricultural period.

The difficulty with these is that, being a universal design, they could date from any era at all, even the modern age. But even if they are modern, they more likely have an ancient history, being erected on the site of a previous version of the camp.

If ever you drive up the A6 or M6 to Carlisle, up in Cumbria you’ll see farmhouses in the middle of fields closely surrounded by barns and other buildings, in a circular formation, and I’ve often wondered as I drove past whether they are modern equivalents of the circular camp. Being in an isolated spot near the border with Scotland, it’s almost inevitable that they were going to be targets for any Scottish raider crossing the border and bent on plunder.

One thing though – I’m not sure who his audience is by the style of his writing. I’m not uneducated (at least, I don’t think so) but even I am having trouble with some of his sentence phrasing and the meaning of some deep, hidden archaeological name.

Back in here we had a footfest. All of the JD Cymru League from Saturday including the Cymru North grudge match between Airbus UK Broughton and Colwyn Bay, a real top-of-the-table clash with probably the biggest crowd that has ever been at the Airfield.

That was followed by Clyde v Stranraer and our regular commentator Lawrence Nelson missed the game. He must have known what was coming because I have never ever in my life seen a team play so badly.

The score finished 2-0 to Clyde, and Stranraer were lucky to get nil. Clyde weren’t much better. They missed so many sitters that I gave up counting after seven. Had Clyde been any good it could have been an embarrassing scoreline.

This is a match that no fan of either team will want to see again but if you are feeling brave, THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE HERE, complete with the Keystone Cops defending.

For lunch I had a lovely cheese salad butty. That bread that I made the other day really is exceptionally good and with vegan cheese, lettuce, tomato and salad dressing, it’s really good.

Back in here this afternoon I’ve been radioing.

The notes for the final track of programme 251024 have been edited and incorporated into the two halves of the rest of the programme. The music for the final track had been edited into the stream and so that programme is now ready to go.

The notes for programme 251107 were then edited and my little “discussion phrase” has been edited in. As it’s a concert these notes go onto the front of the music, which I had assembled during the week.

It ended up over-running by 36 seconds but that’s no problem to edit out. That’s now complete and ready to go to

Finally, the notes for 251114 need editing. That’s a full programme of 10 tracks (and one to come later) and I’d almost finished when Rosemary rang.

“Can you spare a minute?” she asked, and so 46 minutes later …. . Yes, only 46 minutes. We’re losing our touch.

There had been a few other interruptions too. There was my 16:15 mid-afternoon pause and after that I had a few things to do.

First was to make some pizza dough. That was absolutely excellent and it rose up like a train. Once it had proofed I divided it into three balls – two into the freezer and a third ready to use

Next was some date bread. I’d bought a pile of dates for Christmas and hadn’t even opened them so I must use them soon. I found a date bread recipe that is quite similar to an oil cake, so seeing as I can make one of those, then why not?

I then rolled out the lump of dough on the table and put it in the pizza tray ready for later.

After I’d finished with Rosemary I dashed into the kitchen to check the date bread and it was perfect. I’ll tell you all tomorrow how it tastes. And I assembled quickly the pizza and bunged it in the oven.

30 minutes later I had the best pizza that I have ever made. Really and honestly. If I could make them as good as this every time I wouldn’t be bothered by anyone or anything.

But seeing as we have been talking about rhythms … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was once asked "what name is given to people who practise the rhythm method of birth control?"
"I don’t know" I replied. "What name is given to people who practise the rhythm method of birth control?"
"We call them ‘parents’."

Saturday 8th February 2025 – I HAVE HAD …

… just about enough of this dialysis.

These four-hour sessions didn’t last long. Today, they gave me four and a half hours, and they still haven’t extracted all of the water from me that they ought to have extracted. So how long is it going to be when I go back on Monday?

One thing’s for certain though, and that is that if they keep on pumping the stuff out of me at this rate, I’ll be pushing up the daisies quicker than I think.

Ordinarily I would have complained, except that the doctor on duty was the miserable one who hates his job and loves his patients even less. I imagine that I would have been sent away with a flea in my ear had I gone to see him

In fact, it’s true to say that I am having as much luck with the senior hospital staff as I am about going to bed early because for no particular reason last night it was another late night by the time that I’d finished everything. It was a very weary me who staggered into bed at about 00:30 this morning.

And even though I was fast asleep straight away and didn’t move for the whole night, at 05:35 I sat dramatically upright, wide awake. I’ve no idea what awoke me either because I couldn’t hear any noise.

Try as I might, I could not go back to sleep and in the end gave it up as a bad job. When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was having a good scrub in the bathroom, followed by a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant.

Once I was ready, I filled the washing machine with all of the clothes that remained and se it off on its cycle (a very clever machine, mine) and then went into the kitchen for my medication, remembering not to take the anti-potassium stuff and not the sunlight pills either

Back in here I began to transcribe the dictaphone notes but there were so many that I hadn’t finished by the time that the nurse came.

There were the usual banal questions and then I wished him a very happy holiday. It’s his turn to go skiing now. Isabelle should be back tomorrow.

Breakfast was next, and then I read MY NEW BOOK.

We’re still moving on with our discussion of contour forts and he gives a few example of them. With regard to several of them he makes the pertinent observation that "the fortress seems to be too large to have been defended by any force which it could shelter."

That is of course perfectly true but it’s a moot point because if the defenders are not likely to be very numerous, neither are the attackers, so the defenders wouldn’t have to defend all of the perimeter. Instead, they would just concentrate on the point where the attackers are launching their particular offensive

No-one has any idea of the population of Britain in 500BC but it can’t have been more than half a million, so it’s not as if you could gather a large army at one place and at one time.

Back in here I finished off the dictaphone notes. I was in the living room of a semi-detached house. I’d been off with this girl and her parents weren’t very happy. We’d had a confrontation when I’d brought her home. We had managed to pass over the confrontation and we were saying goodbye to each other in the hall when the dream faded away

Apart from the fact that there I was, just about to Get The Girl and the dream dies, there’s a great deal more to this dream that anyone would imagine or realise, and I would care to admit. And parents being unhappy was just about par for the course back in those days.

There was also something about the ceremonial exchange of keys for a car that I ended up buying from a garage. The exchange was something that was reproduced in India at the same times. If you were buying something in India you would have to step back for thirty seconds so to convince everyone that it was OK. It was during that period that the recourse would take place, that the former wife of a friend of mine, would come along and do something instead of whatever her name was and me.

So who is “whatever her name was”? And why can’t I remember the first part of this dream? f there’s a girl involved, I ought not to go around forgetting or missing out..

I was out with a friend and we were wandering around a fairground. There were two of us, a guy and a girl. We walked around this fairground and ended up in a place where we could have a hot snack. One of my friends wanted a hot snack so we went round there but the hot snack place was closed. There was a tape across it. We ended up having a coffee. The coffees were tiny, a tiny expresso type of thing and they had to be drunk in the cafeteria on the first floor. ….battery flat .. So we bought a coffee and we had to go up the stairs to drink it to the café. There was a spiral staircase, very tight, very steep and I couldn’t walk up it so we were there with these coffees wondering what to do

So who were my friends? Do I have any?

Then I was with a group of gendarmes. We were going somewhere to pick up something and we had to go there very quietly but we suddenly discovered that something had gone wrong. When we looked at one of the objects that we had that we’d bought at this café we could see the maker’s name. That suddenly rang a bell with one of the gendarmes. He told the others, who suddenly realised what it was. We all piled into the car and we drove. It was driving through Crewe down a few of the side streets. We came in to the bottom end of Delamere Street. We drove down to the bottom. We were looking for a number something like 148 but there weren’t that many houses in that street, not at all, so we didn’t know or I didn’t know where this was going to be. They identified a house – at least, the guy in charge did – that was nowhere near that number and he said to the driver “park a little further down the street” so we did . Someone exited the car and there was some kind of commotion outside so I left the car to go to see. The guy who had exited the car was helping a pedestrian stand up who had been knocked down. I suddenly realised that our car was driving forward. I shouted to “put the brake on” but no-one paid any attention to it. It kept on rolling forward and forward and forward. Suddenly it stopped. I shouted “for God’s sake put the brake on!”. Someone in the car said “well, it was on, but we didn’t know what was going on”. I said “you were rolling forward and you knocked someone down!”. Anyway one of the gendarmes went up to the house. He had a key in his pocket and unlocked it. He walked in and we followed him. It was a filthy, disgusting, untidy house. I have never seen or smelled anything like this . It was full of cats. At first though there was nothing. There was no-one to be seen and he walked around shouting. In the end he walked through this curtain that was hanging over the doorway into what was the kitchen. It was filthy and disgusting, and smelly. There were these cats everywhere. Suddenly two girls appeared. One was about twelve and the other was about nine. The younger one was blonde, the elder one was dark. I suddenly realised where we were because I’d sent birthday presents to these kids. They were the family of one of these gendarmes. They were trying to make some coffee, he was asking them where such-and-such was but they didn’t know. He was looking around for papers and came across some papers about two matching pieces of furniture. He said “this might explain the mystery because they were bequeathed to the two of us and it looks as if the guy has just taken one which he thinks might be his share but we were so totally in the dark and totally bewildered about this.

The house is still clear to me even now. If anyone knows Crewe, it’s just before where the old white single-storey buildings and the belisha beacons and zebra crossing used to be. But the stench in that house was so strong I could actually smell it at the time. Apart from that, it was just like a sketch out of one of the GENDARME DE ST TROPEZ films.

And finally we had a nightmare. I’m not sure where this fitted in anywhere but at one point I dreamed that my cleaner went to take off my plasters and found that one of my puncture holes was still leaking after all this time. There was blood everywhere all over this plaster and all over my lower arm

That really is my worst nightmare of all of this and I shall hate the day when it happens

After typing out my notes, I crashed out, believe it or not. Never mind about being upset about crashing out, I can’t believe that I crashed out so early on in the day. I might at least have had the decency to have waited until I was on my bed in the dialysis centre.

Once I awoke though, I finished off the notes of the next radio programme and was busy involved in doing a few other things when the cleaner turned up. I told her about my nightmare and prepared her to be standing by just in case … .

The taxi was late again, but not as late as it might have been. Just me as a passenger with a friendly, peasant driver and we had a nice drive down to the centre.

For a change, I was first to be seen and that boded ill for the rest of the day. And it hurt just as much as it had on previous days.

There was football on the internet too – TNS v Penybont, 1st v second. At one time Penybont were pushing for the Championship but they have fallen away quite badly just recently, and were well-beaten by TNS, even with TNS playing the final 10 minutes with just 10 players.

One of the nurses came by with the bad news about the extension to the session (the doctor, I suppose, didn’t have the nerve) and so at the end I was the last out of the centre. I mentioned my nightmare to the nurse who unplugged me so she put extra plaster strips on my dressing.

And with the taxi having to drop off someone at Avranches, it was miserably late when I arrived home, tired, fed up and completely exhausted.

You have no idea how much a dialysis session takes out of me, never mind a four-and-half-hour session.

Tea was a burger on a bap with salad and baked potato followed by apple cake and soya dessert, and that’s it for tonight. I’ll dictate my notes and then I’m off to bed. Quite frankly, I don’t have the courage or the energy to do anything else.

The secret of these increased dialysis sessions was explained to me later. Apparently one of the doctors (I’ll leave you to guess) is fed up of me chatting her up all the time
She told the girls to increase the suction time to take more water out at each session
"Isn’t that dangerous?" asked one of the nurses
"Who cares?" answered the doctor."If we extract at a rate of 5 kilos per session, in 16 sessions he’ll be gone completely."

Friday 7th February 2025 – IT’S BEEN A …

… slightly better day today (only slightly). I haven’t managed to crash out and not only have I actually done some work, I’ve actually felt like doing it too, rather than having to grit my teeth and force myself.

But then this is bewildering, because when I’m here I don’t feel as if I’m about to crash out (and that’s a change since last Summer) and yet when I’m in the dialysis centre, as soon as the machine starts off, I’m away with the fairies (and hopefully not in a manner that invite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine).

What I’ll have to do when I’m there on Saturday is to make enquiries to see if it’s a normal situation. I’m sure that it isn’t though. There are nine beds in our ward and I’m the only one who seems to crash out.

So after I’d finished my notes last night I had to do the backing-up, and then do it again because I’d forgotten to back up onto the USB key on the keyring, the one that I use to transfer data between the big office computer and the travelling laptop.

So rather later than usual I headed off to bed, where I fell asleep almost immediately

Once more, I awoke bolt-upright at 06:15 and by the time that the alarm went off at 07:00 I was already sorting myself out in the bathroom.

Into the kitchen next for the medication and then back in here to find out where I’d been during the night. I was at the Power River last night, by the motel in which I stayed IN 2019 where we saw (or where you will see when I upload the photos) the remains of those Conestoga (or were they Studebaker?) covered wagons – real “prairie schooners”. I’ve no idea what I was doing there though because, as usual, as soon as I reached for the dictaphone the whole dream evaporated and that was, unfortunately, that.

The Powder River really was lovely though – typical Wyoming and Montana “dust bowl” country full of historical battlefields from where the Native Americans were desperately trying to cling on to their traditional way of life. History around every bend. I drove down the valley on my way from Wounded Knee – the site of (almost) the final confrontation between the Native Americans and the European American military – and Fort Phil Kearny, where the Native Americans wiped out a patrol of 81 soldiers let by Captain William Fetterman. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we walked all over the site where Fetterman and his troops met their end, and even blagged our way onto a coach trip going around the various sites of confrontation in the area.

But this isn’t doing me much good, is it? I’m becoming all nostalgic and broody about travelling, going back to North America, finishing off my tour of the old wagon route across the USA in the 1840s, all the things that I didn’t do when I was there before and said that I would do some other time.

Some hope.

The nurse came around early again today. The first question he asked me was "have you ever been to Montréal?". Not much I have, and he knows it well enough.

So he asked me all kinds of questions about the city

"Are you planning on going there?" I asked
"Yes, maybe in three or four years" he replied
"Well, you shouldn’t have any trouble" I replied. "The nursing profession is one of the professions that receives maximum points on the immigration scale"
"I won’t be going as a nurse" he answered. "I’ll be finding something else to do"

Well, I always said that his heart wasn’t in his job

After he left, I made my breakfast and then carried on reading MY NEW BOOK.

We’re having a really good discussion about contour forts with several examples used as illustrations. And when you see that people in recent times consider that Iron Age forts with four rings of concentric walls, ditches in between of fifteen feet deep, covering twenty and thirty acres, perimeters of 2 miles, all that kind of thing were but “status symbols” of authority when they were living hand-to-mouth and barely had the time to cultivate their crops and herd their beasts, it defies all logic.

It’s also just how amazing the date of “between 400-450BC” crops up in the conversation when we talk about building these forts or refurbishing old Neolithic ones. That date corresponds with what is believed to be the arrival of the Celtic race who came to suppress and overwhelm the Belgae. The similarity of dates can’t be a coincidence. Building status symbols when they were in the process of being invaded (the Belgae) or trying (the Celts) to overwhelm an existing race of inhabitants. I need a lot more convincing that the modern reviewers have offered so far.

In a modern report on Maiden Castle, a hillfort in Dorset, we are told that "Hoards of carefully selected sling stones have been found at" each entrance, "One area of the cemetery featured burials of 14 people who had died in violent circumstances including one body with a Roman catapult bolt in its back", and then goes on to say "there is little archaeological evidence to support … that the hill fort was attacked by the Romans"

The author of this modern report that I read makes the point that "although 14 bodies in the cemetery exhibited signs of a violent death, there is no evidence that they died at Maiden Castle", a comment which, if T Rice Holmes had read it, would have provoked an explosion. The idea that someone would find a dead body killed by a Roman bolt and then carry it however many miles and then right up a steep hill into the fort in order to bury it surely can’t be a serious proposition. And in any case “absence of evidence” is a completely different affair than “evidence of absence”

So abandoning yet another good rant for the moment, I came back in here and for much of the day I’ve been working. I’ve chosen 10 tracks for the next radio programme, edited them, remixed them, paired them and the segued them, and then I’ve been writing the notes. I’ve almost finished too. Another hour or so will see it all done tomorrow morning, I reckon.

There were the usual interruptions – lunch, the cleaner, my mid-afternoon break etc. but those are only to be expected. Apart from that, it’s been another quiet day where although I worked hard, I could have worked even harder.

But I’ll worry about that tomorrow because I’m off to bed.

But seeing as we have been talking about Broadus … "well, one of us has" – ed … the town was founded in 1900 after the massacre at Wounded Knee had removed the last of the native Americans from the area
But in the dying days of the old West an American cowboy turned up at the saloon, totally stark naked, on a native American palomino horse.
"What on earth happened to you?" asked the innkeeper
"My horse died about 30 miles away so I set out to walk here" began the cowboy.
"Then this native American girl rode up on her horse. She said ‘cowboy take off your shirt’ so I took off my shirt
Then she said ‘now cowboy take off your pants’ so I took off my pants
Then she said ‘now cowboy, take off my shift’ so I took off her shift
Then she climbed down off her horse, lay on the ground and said ‘OK cowboy, now go to town’ so here I am!"

Thursday 6th February 2025 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

… day I have had today!

Or, more importantly, what a horrible afternoon. Everything that could conceivably go wrong this afternoon has gone wrong. It seems that I’m destined to have this albatross hung well-and-truly around my neck like the Ancient Mariner.

"Ah! well a-day!"

Last night, as I expected, I was horribly late going to bed. I’m surprised that I kept on going as long as I did though because I was absolutely exhausted. And again I’m not sure why either because it wasn’t as if I’d done that much.

Once in bed though, just like Maréchal MacMahon, "j’y suis, j’y reste" – “here I am and here I stay”. No danger whatever of me moving under any circumstances.

And there I did stay too. When the alarm went off I was still in exactly the same position as I had been when I went to sleep. And no-one had it any more difficult than me to leave my bed before the second alarm. I know that I’ve had a few struggles in the past but this one beats all of them.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, forgetting to have a shave for a moment, and then went into the kitchen to sort out the medication for the morning, remembering not to take the medication that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day.

Back into the bathroom to remember to have a shave in case Emilie the Cute Consultant is there this afternoon, and then back into here to sort out the details of any voyages last night. I was at a school somewhere. One of the teachers was at the entrance to the school chatting to a few people. He had a green sports car like a 1930s Bentley only smaller. I happened to glance at the registration number. It was WEE and then three numbers (or maybe the other way round). Whatever it was, if read in a certain way it made something quite indecent. It was obviously not the original number of the car so I was first of all surprised that the Department of Transport would allow such a registration number to be issued and secondly, surprised that a schoolteacher would buy it and fit it on his vehicle.

It really was surprising too to see this registration number, and I wish that I could remember now what it was. But I know exactly where it took place – in between the canteen and the steps up to the front of my old Grammar School. I can still see it now.

The nurse came round and I asked him about this prescription whether it should be done before breakfast before I have anything to eat. "Don’t worry about that" he replied. "They’ll do it anyway".

What I’ll do is to ask Isabelle the Nurse and see what she thinks about the affair.

After he left I made my breakfast and carried on reading MY NEW BOOK.

We’ve finished promontory forts and are now tackling contour forts, those that encompass a hill, with defences all round. These are really difficult to date as their position, commanding a wide expanse of countryside, means that they may well have been used by many different waves of civilisation.

Before leaving the promontory forts though, he makes an interesting observation. While they may be good at keeping invaders out, they aren’t much good at keeping cattle in, and many of them have no interior fencing of any kind.

His supposition is that people don’t abandon their possessions lightly, so if they were designed for defenders, the defenders must have been in desperate straights to have to take flight there leaving all their beasts behind.

The alternative suggestion that he puts forward is that they were built as strongholds by invaders who had yet not had the opportunity to recruit any cattle, and the speed at which a promontory fort could be built when compared to a contour fort, is certainly suggestive.

Back in here again I carried on writing the notes for this radio programme, and they are almost finished. Half an hour tomorrow will see them done and then I can push on with the next lot.

It wasn’t my cleaner who interrupted me today either. I noticed (for once) that time was rolling on so I went into the dining area and began to prepare things for leaving.

My cleaner was running late today so we were in something of a rush. But she was soon off out to her next client, and I wait here to wait for my taxi.

And wait. And wait.

At 13:00 I rang them up to find out where they were and it seems that they have cancelled (I hope) the Wednesday taxi that shouldn’t be coming but forgotten to reinstate the Thursday one. So they’ll arrange for someone to fetch me.

The car that turned up (20 minutes later) was one from St Hilaire du Harcoët on its way back from the Centre de Re-education, with three passengers already inside. So it was a rather cramped car that made its way down to Avranches. But needs must.

It goes without saying that my anaesthetic patches had long-since lost their efficacity by the time that I was finally seen and I’m sure that everyone in the street down the hill knew about it, because I certainly did. I’ve had some painful issues, but not quite as painful as this one this afternoon.

Once I was settled into my bed, plugged in and wired up, I had the crash-out to end all crash-outs. Well into the bad old days of last summer. I’m not sure why that should be either, unless it’s something to do with the fact that I’m in a bed, semi-recumbent.

But it was terrible. During the whole session I couldn’t concentrate on anything at all, I was so tired. Even so, I performed the major back-up that I wanted to and the travelling laptop is now as up-to-date as it can me. That’ll last for about a week, I reckon, before it will fall by the wayside once more.

But that did remind me – there’s still the laptop that I bought IN NORTH DAKOTA to update too. I haven’t used that since I fitted the 1TD SSD into it and it could do with some updating. Still, that’s one more task to add to the list of things that won’t ever be done.

Unplugging me was just as painful as plugging me in. I could see that the girls were edgy about things, wishing to leave in a hurry and I can’t say that I blame them. I was by far and away the last patient in there tonight. And I was glad to be out of there too.

It was this senior driver who was waiting for me tonight but he wasn’t in a talkative mood again this evening. I don’t know what I have done to him to upset him.

Mind you, in some ways I was glad because I wasn’t in any real mood to converse. Tired, exhausted and in pain, I’d had enough for the day.

The climb up here was difficult tonight and I only just about managed it, but there was no time to relax because I had bread to make.

After making and kneading the dough I made tea while it was proofing. It was another “Mr Carmichael” moment when SUPPER WAITS ON THE TABLE INSIDE A TIN. I was way past caring by this point. At least my loaf of bread is the best that I have ever made, and I mean that too.

So right now I’m off to bed. I’m shattered and I can’t keep on going like this. One day my luck will have to turn, and I hope that I will still have time to enjoy it.

But going back to the story about promontory forts, a group of Belgae natives were holed up inside a promontory fort as several hundred people were advancing on them
The captain of the fortress couldn’t make out at the distance who they were so he asked his lookout "are they friends or foes?"
"Friends, I reckon" said the sentinel
"You must have wonderful eyesight" said the captain. "How can you tell?"
"Well" replied the sentinel "they are all laughing and joking together and look as if they are engaged upon a common purpose"

Wednesday 5th February 2025 – WE ARE GOING .

… to have yet another very late night. I’m not sure why but to cook and eat my tea and to clean up afterwards has taken me two and a half hours. I’ve no idea what I was doing for most of that time but then unkind people say that I have no idea what I’m doing at the best of times.

But if I’ve been unconsciously relaxing this evening, it’s no surprise, and I deserve it because I’ve been hard at it all day. I have accomplished a lot of work today too.

It all started last night. When I’d finished my notes and was preparing for bed, I noticed how quiet it was outside in the street. Not many caravanettes down on their parking ground down the road near the lighthouse, I reckon. So seizing the moment, I grabbed hold of the ZOOM H8 and re-dictated the notes that were all messed up on Saturday. That’s one job less to do.

Eventually I made it into bed, much later than I anticipated but never mind. Once I was in there, that was it. I was away with the fairies almost straight away and I’ve no idea if the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine was there, observing and taking notes. If so I wish that she would tell me how I did.

When the alarm went off I was dead to the World and what a struggle it was to rise up to my feet and head into the bathroom. But I had a good wash and scrub up before going into the kitchen to take my medicine for the morning.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out how I did during the night and to see if there had been any call for the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine to be concerned. But unfortunately not. There had been some kind of crisis and the local speedway team had been evicted from its home ground by the local council. They were wondering what to do as they had a match arranged. I was on my way to the bar where everyone met. I was walking down a road that I recognised as the main London road in Church Lawton. I walked past this semi-derelict motel. I noticed that the road that went from the office up through the cabins to the far end was actually divided off by a line. Obviously they had had two different loads of concrete. One had set before they had put the other down so they had a line that went right across the road that went between the cabins. I had a good look at that. Then I went into the bar. Everyone was there and the riders were there in their leathers, all wondering what to do about it so I told them about this concrete and the line that went across it and said quite simply “why don’t you go to race up there between the cabins? You could use the line as your starting point. You’ll all finish at the hedge but it would work. I reckon that the Council would give you back your ground in five minutes if they knew where it was that you were going to perform. Everyone left the bar and went to look at this concrete road and the line that I’d mentioned. I was sitting there thinking “I do hope that it was there and not a figment of my imagination with all of these people going to look at it”.

It was however quite impressive that I could say in a dream that the road looked like the main London Road in Church Lawton. The only problem though is that it didn’t. It resembled that run-down motel in which I stayed near Myrtle Beach in 2005 when I was awoken by the sound of a couple of South Carolina’s finest dragging someone out of a nearby cabin. And you certainly wouldn’t find a semi-derelict, run-down motel anywhere near Church Lawton. A speedway race taking place in a straight line would be interesting too. You wouldn’t make four laps out of that.

It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about the speedway. Crewe had its own team for a while during the speedway boom of the late 60s and early 70s, and I used to go on Friday nights with a friend on his motor bike to Wolverhampton to see the Wolves. And of course, when I lived in that squat out in the sticks I was within walking distance of the Hatherton moto-cross field where we’d see people like Arthur Lampkin, Dave Bickers and Vic Eastwood doing their stuff through the swamp

The nurse was early again. He’s told me that this blood test that I have to have forty-eight hours before I go back to Paris, whenever that might be, I can have it done at the Dialysis Centre.

"What happens if it’s not forty-eight hours but 24, or 72 hours before I go?" I asked.

"It makes no difference" he said. "They can do it and it will be OK"

He’s absolutely flatly refusing to carry out any blood tests now. No wonder he’s so early and his oppo is so late when she comes. She’s the one who has to do all the blood tests.

So after he had finished asking me all kinds of stupid questions he left and I could go to make breakfast and read MY NEW BOOK.

We have finally made it into the meat of the book and we’ve begun to discuss “promontory forts”.

These are Neolithic or Iron-Age fortresses at the end of peninsulae or promontories where there is just a fortification on one side – the other three are protected by sharp inclines that no army could reasonably climb.

He’s commented in general on forts of this era. Chalk uplands are a favourite location in which to find them and there’s plenty of evidence of primitive field-systems hard by. Today though, these areas are fairly dry and barren and so he conjectures that the climate was damper in those days and the water table was higher, leading to a better environment in which more produce would grow.

That’s as maybe, and he could well be correct, but regular readers of this rubbish will recall from 2019 when we visited all of the old US forts in “Indian Territory” in North-West USA that the soldiers would rather gather crops and wood etc closer to the fort, even if they were of lesser quality, rather than venture further from the fort and from the protection that it offered in order to gather better-quality stuff further away. The promontory forts and other forts of the same era are (in my opinion) a sign of a hostile environment, regardless of whatever modern thought may say, and maybe the same considerations applied with the Neolithic and Iron-Age inhabitant – “produce whatever we can as close to the fort as possible”.

After breakfast I edited the notes that I’d dictated last night. And then I had to prepare the programme.

It ended up being a massive 01:16 over the one-hour spot so it was necessary to engage in some ruthless editing. But now it’s all done and I have my one-hour programme for the end of October. It’s a good one too.

Having put that one to bed, I began to tackle the next. So how to reduce eighty-seven minutes of music to about 57 minutes, to allow time for some introductory speech.

Several tracks were ruthlessly axed, some applause was edited out and I even swapped some of the running order around because it sounded much better in a different order.

So now I have a fairly decent live concert that lasts for 57:59, meaning that I need just two minutes and one second of speech. My note-tab is configured to three hundred characters per line and my speech is three hundred characters per seventeen seconds, so I need just over seven lines of speech.

By the time that I’d finished, I had five and a half lines of speech. I could have finished it but there were several interruptions throughout the day.

Firstly the taxi came for me again. Trying to convince them that the Wednesday trip the other week was just a one-off is difficult. I felt sorry for the driver but I rang up the taxi office to remind them not to send anyone on a Wednesday and to remember to send someone for me on a Thursday.

Lunch was next and I was caught in flagrante delicto once more by the cleaner who came to do her stuff.

She also stood and watched as I climbed into (and out of) the bath to have my shower. It was a lovely sensation and I’m all nice and clean, but I can’t wait to be in the apartment downstairs, smash it all about and have a walk-in shower instead

With having finished the Christmas Cake yesterday it was back to the crackers and hummus. But of course, no chocolate drink. My mid-afternoon drink is now this horrible protein stuff. I suppose that I have to drink it and like it.

Tea tonight was a leftover curry with the nicest naan that I have ever made. The curry was delicious too, as was the apple cake with chocolate soya dessert. No idea what I’m going to make for tomorrow though. I shall have to have a think.

Tomorrow is another day, though. Right now I’m off to bed.

But seeing as we have been talking about the moto-cross at Hatherton, I went there once on my old Suzuki M12 with my brother on the pillion. We were late for the start and so we were travelling at a somewhat-excessive speed.
Going down the bank at Wybunbury we were stopped by a police radar trap
"Going rather fast, aren’t we?" asked the policeman. "That’s what I call a dangerous speed"
"Have no fear" I replied. "The Lord is with us."
"In that case" said the policeman "I’m going to have to book you. Three up on a motorcycle is not allowed."

Tuesday 4th February 2025 – I HAVE DECIDED …

… that the notes that I edited at the Dialysis Clinic for that radio programme are going into the bin.

As I said before (but only once) I had to dictate it in two parts. However, for a reason that I have yet to understand, the parts sound so different that no amount of editing and remixing is going to make them sound similar.

All this afternoon I’ve been working on it without success and if I spend any more time on it I’ll go spare

The stage has been reached where I’ve downloaded some Artificial Intelligence to see if that comes up with any better luck than I’m having, but I doubt it very much. What I need is a copy sampler where I can analyse automatically a sample of one batch of sound and transfer the settings to the second to equalise the tracks but that’s unlikely, so I reckon it’s either the time to learn all about AI or else re-dictate the notes.

But anyway, that’s for another time. Let’s turn our attention to last night and, for a change, I wasn’t all that late going to bed.

It was 23:20 when I hit the sack but I was totally exhausted. I wasn’t sorry at all to be in bed at that time.

Once I was in bed and settled down I wasn’t long in dropping off to sleep. And there I stayed until the alarm went off, although I do have a vague recollection of being awake for a moment at 04:00.

It was a desperate stagger to beat the second alarm this morning but I did (somehow) manage it, and I had a good scrub up in the bathroom before going into the kitchen for the medication.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was at work and for some reason I had the diary open. There was something going on on one particular date about some meeting or other. having seen whom it concerned, I wrote something rather indecent in the entry instead. Just then however the boss came along. He saw me writing and then rapidly closing it, and insisted on seeing it. I thought “this is going to be the end of the line now, isn’t it, for me in this place?”. In the end, the diary fell over haphazardly and there was a comment in there from another day that was that was fairly indecent but nothing quite as bad as that which I had written. He had a look at it, and I said “yes I know, and I’m ashamed of myself for doing it”. He wanted me to carry out a few tasks and gave me some things to do. Then I happened to mention a friend of mine who had been involved with one of our sister offices in the rural area. He had been telling me how they were all big supporters of a certain political party. The boss said “there’s no accounting for taste is there?”. I replied “no. It’s going to be pretty much of a shame if they ever find their way back into power”.

As to what this relates, I have no idea. I do know that one of my “contacts” has revealed himself to be an out-and-out Tory of the extreme type and is flooding with all kinds of extremist nonsense a page on the internet that he keeps, far worse than ever I have seen any left-winger or immigrant type

But as for writing anything abusive at work, then despite all kinds of provocation when I was at work I managed to restrain myself, and just thought abusive thoughts instead. I was going to say that “your thoughts never got you into trouble”, but while that may well have been true fifty years ago, it’s certainly not the case today, with the Thought Police out in force everywhere you go. and, believe me, you will even find yourself in trouble if they THINK that you are thinking, whether you are or not. And ask me how I know.

There was also something about Roxanne last night. I’d been away somewhere for a fair while and when I came back Roxanne threw her arms around me and hugged me.

And how nice to see Roxanne in a dream. 26 years it is since I’ve seen her in real life, so she’ll be 35 now, married I suppose, with a couple of kids. We had loads of fun together during that three years that I was her father. It made me realise what I was missing but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the big issue about this would be enticing me into the delivery room. I just couldn’t do it.

And finally I was in the USA with a friend. He had some kind of waste land, a demolition site that was a former service station. We were sitting there talking and the question of guns came up. He was talking about something about obtaining new licences for his guns. Another guy who was there said something along the lines of “your guns already have licences for Alabama and Arkansas. If you want another licence you’d have to hand some of those back”. We’d been out for a walk and came back to his property. There was a young girl sitting there. This guy totally ignored her so I did too. We began to discuss about where I certain place was in Ireland so we found an atlas and had a look down on the south-east coast but couldn’t see it. Then we went to have a look to see where this place was in the USA. We looked on the map but the map was such a short scale that it was totally useless. Then he was telling me about his life back at home and how he’d somehow managed to accumulate £10,000,000 and he was hoping to buy some property in the UK because the whole of the city centre was being demolished and he thought that it was being crazy. In the end we agreed that we would go for a walk. We set out and after a while I asked who this girl was. He replied “that’s one of Lesley’s mathematics clients. She teaches maths to her but the problem is that she has so many things going on in her mind that she can’t sit and concentrate at all”. As we carried on walking I was thinking “this demolished service station here – I need to keep in contact with the owner because if ever I have to come to the USA again I could drop a static caravan onto this place. That would act as a home for me for quite a considerable time”.

There’s a lot going on in this dream that can have some kind of connection in real life. For a start, the town centre of Crewe, having been demolished ready for an HS2-funded rebuilding and regeneration HAS BEEN SCRAPPED with the cancellation of the HS2 project, so Crewe Town Centre will be a hole in the ground after all.. And that makes a change, because up until recently it’s just been a hole.

There are several other items in there that have a meaning for two or three people who follow these notes, and they know who they are, but as for a mobile home on a demolition site in case I ever visit the USA, I’m going nowhere at all except to the Dialysis Centre and to the apartment downstairs, and that latter only if I am lucky. I have to work out how this move will take place. I have a couple of people who have kindly volunteered to help, for which I am extremely grateful, but it’s still going to be a nightmare, I reckon.

That’s not all that was in the dream, but you really don’t want to know the rest, especially if you are eating your tea right now.

The nurse was early today and once more, didn’t hang around long, which is good news. So I made breakfast and read MY NEW BOOK.

So far, it’s been two days since I began to read it and we’re still in the Introduction. It seems that our author is not in a hurry to discuss the subject but is more interested in setting the scene, down to the minutest detail. Never write one word when a hundred would do the same job … "and you don’t, I suppose?" – ed …

But I have a basic disagreement with modern research into hillforts. You look at them with their three and sometimes four concentric rings of fortification, deep ditches, scarp slopes, drystone walls, strong gates made of oak and all of that. I cannot see them as anything but defensive works, and major defensive works at that.

Neolithic and Iron-Age man didn’t have any free time. Their life was a desperate hand-to-mouth struggle. If they had to abandon food production for as long as it took and all of the effort that was required in order to construct their strongholds as they did, they must have been seriously concerned, if not frightened, for their own safety. It’s doubtful that any attacking force could have overwhelmed a determined defence in what they managed to build, until the arrival on the scene of Roman siege artillery. These forts are impressive even now, never mind what they must have been like 2500 years ago.

Back in here, I revised my Welsh lesson and then went to class. It wasn’t a rousing success today but it wasn’t a dismal failure either. It’s all a question of concentration and memory and I have neither right now. In fact, it’s been quite a while since I last did have any. We had a quiz today on identifying Welsh foods. It goes without saying that I was not at the top.

When the lesson was over I went for a break for a while and then came back to play with these sound files. There are two of them because, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I had to stop the dictation in midstream and rewrite part of it.

What I don’t understand though is that the tone of each part is so different, and no amount of post-production will equalise it. Consequently, after several hours of trying, I decided to abandon it while I still had some sanity left … "??" – ed …

My cleaner stuck her head in the door this afternoon. She’d brought more cheese and a few other things from the supermarket, as well as a letter from the hospital in Paris. It’s the results of the EMG test that I had, and they tell me that there’s no improvement – just a very slight deterioration. This nervous attack that has wiped out my leg muscles is completely baffling medical science.

Before I went for tea I checked a few other sites that I visit, and discovered that, after Y Drenewydd’s signing of a Philippine International the other week, Connah’s Quay Nomads have signed a Sri Lankan International. The JD Cymru League is definitely looking up these days.

But that signing is not really a surprise. The manager of the Sri Lankan national side until Christmas was Andy Morrison, former manager of the Nomads.

Tea tonight was a taco roll with rice and veg, just as delicious as always. And there’s plenty of stuffing remaining for a leftover curry tomorrow. So I must remember the naan bread.

It’s shower day tomorrow too, so I might even be clean by tomorrow night. That’s some hope, isn’t it?

But while we’re on the subject of the hospital and baffling medical science … "well, one of us is" – ed … there’s a big stately home just outside Crewe that’s used as a medical laboratory by a well-known pharmaceutical concern
There were some headlines in the local newspaper "major medical breakthrough in Crewe".
Being bewildered, I contacted my friend in Crewe to ask him what was going on.
"You won’t believe this" he said "but they have developed something that will completely transform all medical science and procedures for the future"
"What’s that?" I asked
"One of the laboratory assistants has invented a cure for which there is no known disease"

Monday 3rd February 2025 – THAT WAS NEVER …

… four hours under the thumb of the dialysis machine today.

This evening I was back home even earlier than on many occasions when I was only having three and a half hours. There was something quite strange about that today and I wish that I knew what it was.

But at least I had a visit today. Not Emilie the Cute Consultant unfortunately but the doctor with no bedside manner whatever. He asked me if I was OK so I replied that I was, and so in the best traditions of the reporters of the much-lamented and very-much missed “News of the Screws”, he “made his excuses and left”.

But last night, even though I didn’t have many excuses to make, I still had difficulty leaving my comfortable chair and once again it was a rather late night by the time that I finally managed to tear myself away

After having had a bit of a scrub up and so on, I came back in here, fell into bed and that was the last that I remembered.

When the alarm went off, I was still absolutely dead to the World and it was quite an effort to raise myself up and stagger off into the bathroom. But all cleaned up, and ready to go, I went into the kitchen to attack the stores in the European Medication Mountain, when I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to take the anti-potassium stuff. Ahhh well …

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone and, to my dismay, there was nothing on there from the night. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I depend on my nocturnal peregrinations to supply me with what bit of excitement is ever likely to be present in my life.

Having been someone who has led a very lively and exciting life, I’m finding a great deal of difficulty adjusting to being housebound and disabled. Not that I am contemplating it, not by any means, but I can see why many disabled people (and healthy people too) resort to artificial or chemical means of stimulating the senses.

The nurse was early today. He had the usual couple of minutes of banal chat and then wandered away leaving me to go to make my breakfast.

Before I began to read my new book, I read a recent leaflet about a discovery of what would seem to be the camp of Caesar when he came ashore in 54BC, right near to my old stamping ground as a child at Pegwell bay.

Whilst the leaflet is of considerable interest, it’s even more interesting to see what the writer, a researcher at Leicester University, has to say about our old friend T Rice Holmes, because this latest discovery calls into question Rice Holmes’s theories.

The author tells us that Rice Holmes was "concluding vigorously that ‘it has been demonstrated that he did land in both in 55 and in 54 B.C. in east Kent’ ", although “vigorously” is hardly the adverb that I would use

He goes on to quote Rice Holmes’s theory, complete with his gratuitous commentary that Caesar landed firstly, "between Walmer and Deal Castles, in the latter north of Deal Castle. That some will still for a time dispute these conclusions is likely enough, but not those whose judgements count. For them, the problem is solved’", commenting that "The thoroughness of Holmes analysis was matched only by the confident abrasiveness of his critique. He brooked no argument. "

Never mind “confident abrasiveness”. “Arrogance” would have been a good word to emply.

So having moved that out of the way, the next book on the list to read is EARTHWORK OF ENGLAND, written by Arthur Hadrian Allcroft and published in 1908.

The book has been said to be “a standard work of reference” of its type but it’s probably well-out-of-date now. Nevertheless, it’ll be another one of the type that we have read recently, with hopefully plenty of interesting facts and, hopefully, a bibliography.

But how times have changed. Talking about some remains that were uncovered in Northern England, he tells us that "the erection of a new factory near Allendale -Town, causing the heather upon the adjacent moors to perish, revealed the perfectly preserved outlines of a great camp"

Can you imagine that today? Allcroft’s comment was quite matter-of-fact as if that kind of thing was perfectly normal, and it probably was too.

Back in here, I had a listen to the radio programme that I would be sending off for broadcast at the weekend and found, to my horror, that I’d made something of a pig’s ear of this one. I don’t know what on earth I must have been doing.

So while the computer was backing up onto the memory stick, I was chopping and changing the radio programme. It was really complicated to reassemble and ended up being sixteen seconds over, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I can soon lose sixteen seconds.

When I’d finished, I made a start on the Welsh homework but didn’t go all that far before my cleaner came to fit me with my anaesthetic patches.

And we were taken by surprise by the taxi arriving. These new Social Security regulations are playing havoc with everything. There was another passenger having to go to the big clinic so I was thrown in with him and as his appointment was before mine, I had to have the round trip.

Not that I’m complaining though, because it was my favourite driver, although she was rather subdued today and I don’t think that she raised her voice to another motorist once. Someone else who seems to be losing her touch.

However, she did confirm my suspicions about one of the other drivers and told me to guard my tongue. I’d worked that out the other day when he’d asked me one or two questions about one or two of the other drivers.

In the Centre we had to wait for a while before we could be let in so it can’t have been that early that I was plugged in and wired up.

Today, the first puncture hurt just slightly and the second hardly at all, but all of that changed as the anaesthetic wore off.

Today, I tidied up the laptop’s directories, backed up most of the files and then dealt with the sound file that I’d recorded for the concert.

It’s not by any means easy to edit sound-flies on the laptop but I managed it, which is good news. I shall have to persevere because if I can use the time profitably while I’m there, then so much the better.

After they unplugged me I walked outside to find my taxi waiting, and I had a very taciturn driver who gave me a very quiet ride home. Not that I’m complaining, because I was in no mood to chat. I feel as if I’ve been sucked dry by a vacuum cleaner after all that they crammed into what was surely a shorter session.

My cleaner was surprised to see me, but she was there and watched as I strode all the way up to the top of two flights of stairs to arrive here, and promptly collapsed into my chair.

later on I made a stuffed pepper with pasta, tomato sauce and veg followed by apple cake and soya dessert, and now I’m off to bed, totally wasted, but hoping for a better night with a lot of mileage to cover during the hours of darkness.

However, seeing as we have been mentioning the unsociable doctor … "well, one of us has" – ed … he was the one who was dismissed from the fertility clinic .
The clinic itself was in Paris, and at one certain moment he was in charge of the sperm donor section, but it was a total failure, so I heard.
"Why was that?" I asked the nurse
"They only had three candidates and there were, apparently, transport difficulties." she said. "Two of the donors came on the bus but the third one missed the tube"

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: earthwork of england

Saturday 15th February 2025 – I REALLY AM …

Friday 14th February 2025 – HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY …

Thursday 13th February 2025 – I DON’T KNOW …

Wednesday 12th February 2025 – MY JAW HAS …

Tuesday 11th February 2025 – I DON’T KNOW …

Monday 10th February 2025 – I’M FED UP …

Sunday 8th February 2025 – WHEN I DON’T …

Saturday 8th February 2025 – I HAVE HAD …

Friday 7th February 2025 – IT’S BEEN A …

Thursday 6th February 2025 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

Wednesday 5th February 2025 – WE ARE GOING .

Tuesday 4th February 2025 – I HAVE DECIDED …

Monday 3rd February 2025 – THAT WAS NEVER …

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