Tag Archives: vegan curry

Thursday 31st July 2025 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone from last night.

But when you don’t go to bed until 23:45 and you awaken at 03:10, what do you expect?

It’s quite a surprise that I was awake so early because I really was ill last night. I was so feak and weeble that I could hardly move, and when I finally fell into bed, I expected to be there for a week without moving a muscle.

Moving a muscle I certainly didn’t do, but when I awoke, that was that.

03:10 is far too early to be up and about so I tried valiantly to find a way to go back to sleep. However, nothing that I could try seemed to work and by 04:45 I’d abandoned the struggle and was sitting on the edge of my bed trying to find the courage and the energy to stand up.

Once I was on my feet, I made my way over to the desk and by the time that the alarm went off at 06:29, I’d dictated the radio notes that I’d written yesterday, edited them and assembled the programme ready for broadcast some time deep in the future.

Next stop was the bathroom, followed by the kitchen for the medication, and then back in here I had plenty of other things to do that took quite a while.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in and gave me my injection, followed by the treatment for my legs, and then I could crack on and make breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK.

It’s surprising how many “modern” aspects of life that we take for granted were well-known in John Stow’s time. He tells us that in 1530, Bermondsey Abbey "was valued to dispend by the year four hundred and seventy-four pounds fourteen shillings and fourpence halfpenny" – proof if ever any were needed that they had accountants in those days.

Take holiday homes too. Many people think that they are a modern phenomenon but that’s far from the case. When our author is talking about the buildings extra muros, he says that "wherein are built many fair summer-houses and, as in other places of the suburbs, some of them like Midsummer pageants with towers, turrets and chimney pots, not so much for use of profit as for show and pleasure, betraying the vanity of men’s minds."

There’s a lengthy account of the plague pits on the edge of the city, and also a very whimsical account of St Giles’ Hospital where "the prisoners conveyed from the City of London to Teybourne, there to be executed … were presented with a great bowl of ale, thereof to drink at their pleasure, as to be their last refreshing in this life."

Back in here, I began to sort out the music for the next radio programme, and I was well under way when my cleaner came to fit my anaesthetic patches

When she’d finished, we went downstairs to the new apartment to tidy up and put away a few things, and I took a few more photos that I’ll publish one of these days when I’m feeling like it.

That’s not going to be today though because I’m feeling totally dreadful, the worst that I have felt for years. I crashed out completely earlier this morning while working on the radio programme and while I felt a little better when I awoke, it didn’t last long.

The drive down to Avranches was horrible and by the time I was on my bed, I was finished. I crashed out for an hour and a half and felt even worse when I awoke. In the end, they had to cut short the session because I was not responding.

If ever there was a time when I needed to talk to a doctor, it was today but as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, whenever you want a doctor, they keep well away.

The drive home was painful too and I had to struggle to reach the building’s front door. My cleaner and I went into the new apartment to finish off a few things, and then we had to come back up here. I really couldn’t manage it at all and my poor cleaner had almost to carry me up.

Once I’d caught my breath I gad the rest of last night’s curry and now, even though it’s early, I’m off to bed. I’ve had enough. Here’s hoping that I feel better tomorrow.

But seeing as we have been talking about prisoners … "well, one of us has" – ed … three prisoners at Wormwood Scrubs were talking to each other, discussing their sentences.
"I only have three years to serve" said the first.
"That’s nothing" replied the second. "I only have two and a half"
"I only have four days to serve" replied the third
"You lucky so-and-so!" exclaimed the others. "How did you manage that"
"Well," he replied "they are hanging me on Thursday."

Tuesday 15th July 2025 – SATURDAY’S WOODSTOCK PROGRAMME …

… is now finished, and what a nightmare it was to complete it.

In fact, it took so long, and there were so many other interruptions throughout the day that I ended up not going to my Welsh Summer School. But more of that anon.

By the time that I’d finished writing my notes last night, it was quite late. And then I had the backing-up to do, the stats to record and the heat treatment and ice pack to apply to my leg, so I may well as to say that it was midnight by the time that I finally crawled into bed

It was a very strange night last night. At some point, I was convinced that I was up and about, wandering around the bedroom, but I’ve no idea why I should be thinking that.

The next thing that I definitely remember is being awake at 06:10 – another one of these dramatic awakenings that I have sometimes. It didn’t take long to leave the bed either this time, and after a good wash and the medication, I was back sitting at my desk transcribing my dictaphone notes.

I was at hospital again at Avranches. I had been staying in for a couple of days, for one reason or another, and then they came to try to set me free. The first thing that they did was to lower down the bed after I’d spent half an hour setting it correctly for me, something that didn’t please them at all. There was a new sheet of the Temisartan and a new sheet of the third medication there too and we were flying out on a freighter that belonged to the air force. But while I was packing, my efforts ended up being a total dog’s breakfast of a job. A little student nurse had unpacked it during the morning and when I looked … fell asleep here

This is exactly how I feel at times when I’m at hospital or having dialysis – I wish that someone would come along and librate me from my tubes and pipes. The “dog’s breakfast” refers of course to that shambolic way that they connected up the intravenous pump at Paris, the Temisartan is the medication that Avranches wants me to stop and Paris wants me to continue, and Heaven alone knows to what all the rest refers.

I was being unplugged after another dialysis session. There was one nurse quite close to me who was dealing with some kind of equipment that was a lemon yellow colour that I had never seen before in my life. The other nurse came over to see me and to disconnect me. She was another nurse who was fairly impatient and who wanted me to do more than I would normally do under any other circumstances.

The impatient nurse reminds me of course of Marion who wants me to organise myself ready for dialysis and to compress my punctures myself afterwards. But as I told you yesterday, that’s simply not going to happen.

There had been a big group of us away on holiday. I was sharing a room with someone – it was a girl but I can’t think who – and someone brought me another suitcase. I wondered what was in it, and when I opened it, it was full of my disgusting drinks. Anyway, we returned to the UK and landed at Manchester Airport. There were twelve of us in total and we had to go back to the North of Scotland. I asked one of the taxi drivers in the queue what his best fare would be. He gave me a pretty good price for that so I told him to find two friends and to meet us at a place in the City Centre in half an hour’s time. Back at the City Centre we sorted out our luggage, and this girl and I went for a walk. We were walking through the streets looking at the shop windows and the decorations. She hadn’t been to the UK before and she thought that it was wonderful. When we returned to the place where we were supposed to meet, the first car was already there and the four youngest ones were in it ready to set off. However, we couldn’t make anyone inside hear us so we shouted and shouted. In the end, someone opened the door and asked “who’s that?”. My friend said her name and she said that she had me with her. We were let in, but we were given some kind of lecture about disturbing people from their meals. We didn’t understand why these people were having a meal. I expected that we would all be ready to go straight off back to the North of Scotland. This idea about meals completely confused me.

The only person to whom this dream might apply is my Greek friend from Brussels. She’s probably been to the UK previously but I can’t remember her ever saying so. Nevertheless, I have no idea why I would be heading to the North of Scotland. Dingwall, and especially Ross County’s football ground, is the farthest north that I have probably been by land, although, of course, regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we went round John O’Groats on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR when we sailed the Atlantic Ocean and through the North-West passage almost to Alaska on one of our Arctic expeditions

The rest of that dream, though, is quite confusing and doesn’t seem to relate to very much.

Isabelle the Nurse is back on duty and it was nice to hear her cheery greetings. She caught up with my news, rubbed the heat treatment into my knee and finally dealt with my legs before she breezed off.

After she left, I made breakfast and read MY BOOK.

Our author is in his element today, diving into all kinds of gossip. He talks about the dissolution of Augustinian priory in London and how the "Marquis of Winchester sold the monuments of noblemen there buried in great number, the paving stones and whatsoever (which cost many thousands) for one hundred pounds, and in place thereof made fair stabling for horses."

He also talks about the rapacious Thomas Cromwell who stole the rights to several acres of land belonging to local landowners, including part of the garden of the house of our author’s father. "this house they loosed from the ground and bare upon rollers into my father’s garden twenty-two feet ere my father heard thereof. No warning was given."

Finally, there’s a delightfully whimsical passage about the powers of the watchmen of the city, and how in the year 1383, "the citizens of London … imprisoned such women as were taken in fornication or adultery … and after bringing them forth in the sight of the World, they caused their heads to be shaven." And that’s something that many women in Europe experienced in 1944 and 1945. It wasn’t a new custom at all.

After breakfast, I tried to settle down to revise for my Welsh but just as the lesson was starting, the doorbell rang. It was the delivery man with the new microwave and he took a while to sort out.

Just as I was settling down to restart the lesson, the telephone rang and that preoccupied me for quite a while.

What with Rosemary calling me later for one of our “little” chats, it was by now far too late to join the class and so I have decided to abandon it. What with visits tomorrow, dialysis on Thursday, the couturière coming some time to measure the windows for curtains, it’s going to be nothing but a distracting series of interruptions.

Instead, I attacked the Saturday Woodstock programme.

When I’d finished editing the notes and assembling the programme, I ended up with one hour and twenty-seven minutes. That’s not bad for an hour-long radio programme.

That called for some ruthless editing and cutting out of certain songs. I chose songs that are either not suitable for the style of music that I broadcast or else musicians and songs that are so well-known that it serves no useful purpose to include them. Consequently the programme focuses on some of the more obscure groups and songs

By the time that I knocked off, I’d finally managed to make it fit exactly one hour. But it did take a lot of time and a lot of effort.

Tea tonight was a leftover curry with rice and veg, and now that I’ve written my notes, that’s it for tonight. Tomorrow, I have visitors but I’m going to try to make a good start on Sunday’s Woodstock programme and see how far I can go.

But right now, I’m going to go to bed. That will do me for today.

But seeing as we have been talking about tombstones … "well, one of us has" – ed … I am reminded of the story about St Walpurgis’s Night, when all evil known to man … "and presumably to women too" – ed … is known to walk abroad.
Two dead bodies buried n a cemetery decide to go for a walk so their ghosts rise up out of the ground and set off.
Before they have gone twenty yards, one of the ghosts runs back to his grave, rips his headstone out of the ground, tucks it under his arm and goes back to his friend.
"Why on earth did you do that?" asks the friend.
"I was thinking" said the first. "If we’re stopped by the police tonight, we’ll need to show some proof of identity."

Tuesday 8th July 2025 – I DON’T KNOW …

… what happened to me, but twice, once in mid-afternoon and once in the early evening, I’ve had a major dizzy spell and I’ve had to hang on to something to stop me falling over.

It’s not the usual kind of light-headed dizzy spell that people have now and again, but a couple of really serious attacks that took several minutes to pass. So what’s happening here then?

It can’t be over-tiredness because I had another good Sleep of the Dead last night. I was in bed by 23:30 and there I slept, all the way through without moving, until the alarm went off at 06:30, miserable failure that I am. How many times is that now that I’ve failed to beat the alarm?

When I finally awoke I was in the middle of a voyage somewhere but it evaporated immediately and I can’t remember a thing about it. It took a few minutes to gather my wits, which is a surprise seeing how few I have these days, and then I went for a stagger into the bathroom to sort myself out.

In the kitchen I sorted out my medication and had a very leisurely start to the day. I didn’t really feel like doing all that much, for some reason and I’m really going to have to motivate myself much better than this.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what happened during the night. At some point I had thought that I’d heard the alarm go off so I left the bed and began to prepare myself for the day. No-one was more surprised than me when I awoke a couple of minutes later to find that I was still in bed and I’d been asleep. I was really surprised by that because I was definitely convinced that I’d left the bed.

And to tell the truth, I can’t even remember awakening and finding myself back in bed so I’ve no idea at all what was happening there.

The nurse breezed in this morning, fairly early, and didn’t stay about for long, so I could make a bright start with my breakfast and read MY BOOK.

Today we’ve had a story about a certain “Robin Hoode” dated to the early years of the reign of Henry VIII, a story that I have certainly never heard before, and also an account of the 20:00 curfew that William the Conqueror imposed upon his subjects in his new realm, and how much chaos was caused when Henry I relaxed it.

There’s also a very lengthy and interesting description of the origins of the Lord Mayor of London’s parade.

In fact, the more that I read of this book, the more interesting it becomes.

After breakfast I began to tidy the kitchen and a whole heap of stuff that had been lying around since the Dawn of Time found its way into the rubbish bins, with probably plenty more besides. It certainly looks much better now and there also seems to be more room in there.

Back in here later, I carried on with the editing of the radio notes for the “Friday Woodstock” programme, and by the time that I’d finished this evening, they were all edited, the programme had been assembled and I’d even managed to do the first editing.

To make the programme as I wanted it to be, it ended up being two minutes and forty-five seconds short so I swapped out one song for another and rewrote a couple of the notes. That should bring it up to something like what I want, and then I can start on Saturday’s.

Saturday’s is going to be rather complicated as there will be so much to cut out. The music is well over an hour, never mind any commentary. That looks as if it might run to well over twelve minutes.

There was an interruption too. The estate agents rang me, asking if they could come to perform an energy survey on the apartment. We agreed that they could come on Friday 1st August in the afternoon.

As I mentioned earlier, I’ve had a couple of these strange attacks and I’ve no idea what’s happening here. I’m probably adding another medical complication to the long list that I already have.

Tea was rushed tonight. It should have been a taco roll with rice but the tacos were looking definitely the worse for wear so it ended up being a curry with rice instead.

It was rushed because there was football on the internet, TNS v Shkendija in the Champions League. However, this time I couldn’t seem to manage to pass my way through the firewall. In the end, I had to watch an Artificial Intelligence simulation of the game, but it’s hardly the same thing.

So now, I’m going to go to bed and ponder upon these new health issues. The kitchen fitter starts tomorrow too, so I have to be on form. It’s not the time to be having any more health issues.

But seeing as we have been talking about Robin Hood … "well, one of us has" – ed … one day Robin Hood is walking through the forest and meets a poor beggar
"I am Robin Hood" he said. "I rob from the rich and give to the poor. Have this bag of gold." And he tosses a bag of gold at the beggar
The beggar looks at the bag and counts the gold. "This is more money than I have ever had in my life" he exclaims. "For once in my life, I’m really, really rich."
"What did you just say?" asks Robin Hood, drawing his sword

Wednesday 18th June 2025 – THE FIRST OF THE …

… deliveries arrived today. We now have a built-in electric oven sitting on a pallet in the apartment downstairs.

We actually have the units in which to fit it too, but they are in the back of the van where they have been since June 2022 when I bought them in Munich. However, I’ve never been able to take them out. And that made me wonder – is it really that long since I lost the ability to walk?

Although I’d had several bad falls up until that date, it was on the boat COMING BACK FROM JERSEY ON 31st AUGUST 2022 where my legs finally gave way and I wouldn’t pick myself up off the floor.

Nevertheless, I went to Canada to finalise everything but that was a journey too far and not only did I not last out the journey, I caught that virus that almost killed me and led to a two-month stay in hospital as soon as I returned.

But anyway, I digress.

Last night it was late yet again by the time that I finished my notes – I do have to say that as usual, I was not in all that much of a rush.

Once in bed though, I had the longest sleep that I have had for quite some considerable time. It was 06:15 when I awoke this morning, and I had to rush to make sure that I was out of bed prior to the alarm going off.

It wasn’t long before everyone else was up and about too, so there wasn’t really any time to do very much. Instead, I sorted myself out in the bathroom and when the Hound of the Baskervilles, who had dragged his master outside for five minutes, came back, I went for a coffee.

It was a nice, slow start to the day as we sat around chatting about past times and the days of our youth etc., and we were still there when Isabelle the Nurse blew in. She fell in love with the Hound of the Baskervilles and probably spent more time talking to him than she did to me.

After she left, so did the Hound of the Baskervilles, dragging his master behind him, and I made myself some breakfast for a good start to the day.

A little later, we set out for the shops. First port of call was the Disabled Persons’ shop on the edge of town. This is a place where they sell everything that you need if you need some kind of special equipment for some medical reason or other.

My purpose was to look for grab rails for the shower and for the w.c. I’m not going to keep this weird framework thing in the w.c. here – it takes up far too much space. I would prefer a couple of handles on the wall. And the same for the shower too. I need to be able to hold on to something and pull myself in, and to hold myself upright when I’m showering.

The good news is that they have them in stock. There’s no need to order them. So I can come and fetch them any time that I like – assuming that I have some transport to take me there.

While I was there, I asked about mobility scooters to see what they had. However, they don’t stock them at all. That’s a shame. I was going to have a little try-out around the car park.

Next stop was in Centrakor for another window pole for the gap between the living room and the other half of the apartment. And as well as a window pole, I came out with a combined w.c. brush and toilet roll holder and also several large storage jars for my flour. This new apartment is starting to become a serious proposition.

Third stop was the local park. The Hound of the Baskervilles was becoming restless and wanted a run-around so I directed my friend to the Parc du Val ès Fleurs, the site of the old Christian Dior factory now transformed into a lovely park. They went off for a ramble while I sat and enjoyed the sunshine.

This was when the delivery lady rang me so we had to pile back into the car and drive home to unlock everything so that she could bring the oven in. Yes, things are looking up.

When she’d gone, I did something that I hadn’t done for ages, and that was to sit on the wall at the top of the cliff by our building. The sun was beautiful and I really made the most of it for half an hour or so, watching the ships coming over from Jersey and the trawlers out in the bay. It was wonderful.

On the way back I met my cleaner and also the lady whose briefcase we recovered yesterday. We had quite a nice chat for a while and then I staggered back up the stairs.

When my cleaner came up to do her stuff, the others went out for a walk and I went to have a shower. So there’s a nice, clean me this afternoon ready to charm Emilie the Cute Consultant tomorrow.

Back in here, I rather regrettably crashed out for half an hour – the first time for ages. But then again, I’d done a lot today – much more than I usually would.

Once I’d recovered, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. After only a couple of seconds after having gone to bed I must have fallen asleep because I saw Nerina come into the room. I was with someone else when she walked in. Of course, she was a lot older than she had been. She walked in and went out of a door in the wall. Another woman came in after her and stuck her head in the door and shouted “Neessa”. At that moment the Hound of the Baskervilles made a noise and I awoke. I would have loved to have known what was going to happen after all of that but the Hound of the Baskervilles broke the spell.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … much as I don’t appreciate my family coming along to disrupt my nighttime voyages, I don’t mind Nerina being there. After all, I did invite her to share my life so she has every right to be there, and in any case, you can’t choose to live with someone for nine years and not like them.

There was time to make a start on the next radio programme so I went through the notes, found that I’d written down incorrectly one of the dates and so had to start again from the beginning. In the pipeline already, there’s one set of notes to dictate but I want to see how far I can push on.

When everyone came back I set about making a curry – mainly because I fancied some more of that vegan soya mince that I’d used the other day. So the big mystery was “why, if the curry that I made tasted so nice, did I actually forget to put in the soya mince?”. I really am losing my mind these days.

So right now, it’s bedtime ready for dialysis tomorrow, I don’t think. Another seven hours of my life wasted and three and a half hours of painful purgatory.

But seeing as we have been talking about my shower … "well, one of us has" – ed … while I was drying myself afterwards, my cleaner and I were talking about school and punishment – the difference between our day and today.
It reminded me of one day when I was talking to one of my form teachers. I asked him "would you, as a matter of principle, ever punish a pupil for something that they hadn’t done?"
"Not at all" he said. "I would never ever do that."
"That’s good news" I replied
"Why did you ask?" he asked
"Because, I’m afraid, I haven’t done my homework this week."

Wednesday 4th June 2025 – I HAVE FINALLY …

… put my sooty foot inside my apartment downstairs. I rang up the letting agents to ask them about the keys, and was told that they had them there as they weren’t sure what to do with them. As my faithful cleaner was in town, I sent her a message and a couple of hours later, she duly presented herself at my door with the aforementioned.

And I do have to say that the tenant has not been very kind to the place. I shall have to find a decorator now to give the place a coat of paint before I move in, at the very least.

But anyway, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s a total waste of time going to bed early, because all it means is that I awaken correspondingly early the following morning.

Being dog-tired and dead to the World last night, I dashed through what I needed to do and then crawled into bed at about 22:30, where I fell asleep even before my head touched the pillow.

And while I expected to be awake early, because that’s how things are when I try to have a lie-in, 03:20 is really rather ridiculous. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t go back to sleep and at 04:00 I was sitting at the computer working.

First task was to deal with the radio notes that I’d dictated a couple of days ago in another early start. They are now all edited, the programme has been assembled and it’s all ready to go – in about a year’s time. I’m that far ahead these days.

Next was to listen to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. And I was surprised to find that I had, despite how short the night had been. I had been working on a figure in 3D last night. The bottom part went really well but I was disappointed with the upper half. I tried working it with another basic figure and managed to make the top half fine but the bottom I didn’t like. In the end what I did was that I saved the bottom half of the first figure and the top half of the second figure and then merged them both together. It seemed to work very well. Then I thought that I’d better work on some texturing for it to make sure that it’s at least finished in some fashion. That was what I was doing when I awoke.

Except, of course, that I didn’t awaken. And, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I just don’t have the time these days to do as much with 3D that I did back in the farm where I seemed to have an enormous amount of free time in the evenings after I’d finished work. In fact, I don’t have the time to do very much of anything. Where does the time go?

And later on, I was working on the biography of the group “Soft Machine” of Robert Wyatt. I was having the same kind of difficulty there. I could make half of the biography go very well and the other half not. When I went to do it again I managed to do the reverse so I thought once more about splitting them into two and combining the two best halves. That was where I reached when I awoke.

This seems to be becoming an issue, this “doing things by halves”. As for Soft Machine’s biography, they haven’t featured in any of my programmes for over a year so I’m hardly likely to be working on their biography. I think that the radio stuff is getting to me too! And I didn’t awaken then either.

After I’d had a wash, a good scrub up and taken my medicine, I found plenty of other things to do until Isabelle the Nurse arrived. She didn’t have much to say for herself this morning. She was in something of a rush, I reckon, and was soon off on her travels.

Once she’d gone, I made breakfast and read some more of my book MY BOOK.

It seems that our author is as much in a rush to reach the final pages as I am. We’re dashing through castles at an incredible rate, including a whistle-stop tour of that well-known English castle, Urquhart Castle, situated in that very traditional “heart-of-England” county called … errr … Inverness shire.

We didn’t stay there long though. We’re now in Wareham Castle in Dorset, where I encountered this magnificent sentence –
"Wareham Corfe are the keys of Purbeck, or rather Corfe is the fortress and Wareham the bridge-head of that bold projection of the chalk of Dorset, the southern headland of which bears the name of the protomartyr of England, and of which the triple spurs of Durlston, Peverell, and Studland form the eastern points, each with its own bay, and the whole protecting from the prevalent west wind the great indentation of the coast between Purbeck and the Needles, in the bight of which opens the harbour of Poole, and, under Hengistbury Head, the mouth of the twin streams that once gave name to Christchurch, before either castle or priory rose upon the banks of the Avon."
That is probably the most flamboyant sentence that I have ever read

Back in here, I had to telephone the agents to ask about the keys, and then I sat down to plan the next radio programme, which will be broadcast on … errr … 19th June 2026, assuming that the World has not come to an end before then. Whoever would have thought that, in the 21st Century, we would be thinking like that?

However, retournons à nos moutons as they say around here, I didn’t have half of the music that I needed so I spent a lot of time hunting it all down. But by the time that my cleaner arrived, I’d chosen all of the music, obtained it all, remixed and edited it, paired it off and segued the pairs all ready to write the notes.

Armed with the keys, a tape measure, a notebook and a camera-phone, we went downstairs for a look around and to measure up.

The place doesn’t look as nice as it did in the photos from when it was sold in 2016. The walls have had some patching up done to them and where they have been painted, the paint colour doesn’t match. The interior of the fitted wardrobe needs painting too. I’s been done with cheap emulsion and looks quite awful.

There’s an awful smell coming out of the dishwasher drain and that’s going to have to be cleaned out and sealed off because I don’t use a dishwasher and there’s no other way of preventing the smell from rising.

All in all, it’s not as nice as it was made out to be, but seeing as it was only 67% of the price of the two others that are on sale right now in the building (and one of those is in a poor state) I’m not complaining at all.

When it’s finished, it will be something really exceptional, I hope, provided that I can afford to have it done. The days when I could do things like this (and would do too at the drop of a hat) are long-gone.

We came back upstairs and I went through all of the photos, sorted them, annotated them and send one batch off to the electrician for his attention, showing exactly what I want doing.

Afterwards, I began to go through them again to annotate them for the joiner who is doing the kitchen, but then I reckoned that I need to be finalising the plans for the kitchen. That’s not a job of five minutes, especially as IKEA’s opening statement on their kitchen planner is “which oven would you like?” and there’s no “none” option.

As usual I became quite bogged down in whatever I was doing and made very little headway before it was time to knock off for tea, having a little chat with my architect friend along the way..

A leftover curry again, with more curry left over because I wasn’t all that hungry, which was just as well, seeing that I’d forgotten to take some naan dough out of the freezer.

On that note I’m going to go to bed ready for dialysis tomorrow, I don’t think.

But seeing as we have been talking about our author and his long-winded way of expressing himself … "well, one of us has" – ed … I always remember two guys discussing various words in the English language.
One of them said "do you know what? I reckon that the word ‘marriage’ must be one of the longest words in the English language."
"Of course it isn’t." retorted his friend
"And why isn’t it?"
"Because it’s not even a word."
"What is it then?"
"Everyone knows the answer to that. ‘Marriage’ isn’t a word, it’s a sentence."

Wednesday 28th May 2025 – GUESS WHO …

… has been a busy boy today?

It’s been a long time since I’ve had quite such a burst of energy, and I wish that I would have similar bursts much more often. I would be able to accomplish so much more.

It didn’t look as if it was going to be like that last night. As seems to be the case just recently, from a position where I was on course to have an early finish, I managed once more to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and ended up going to bed rather later than I anticipated.

Once in bed, I managed to go off to sleep quite quickly yet again and managed to sleep all the way through until … errr … 05:50 this morning. And with no prospect of going back to sleep afterwards, I was up and about, washed and cleaned up, and in the kitchen taking my medication when the alarm went off at 07:00.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were going somewhere on a trip. There was a coach and I noticed on the dashboard that there was a “Bedford” emblem so I asked the driver if it was a Bedford. He said “yes” so I asked about the engine that was in it. He replied that it was the O-600. I thought that that was an interesting combination. I pulled out a workshop manual and began to read a little about it. I was with a friend of mine, a young lady who may well have been Moonchild. I was trying to interest her in something but I noticed that she was asleep. One of the guys there said “why don’t you awaken her?”. I replied “I wouldn’t be very popular if I did but it’s nice to think that she can sleep and feel so comfortable like this so we may as well leave her to it”.

So hello again, Moonchild. It’s nice to know that at least one of my favourite young ladies hasn’t deserted me completely as the other three seem to have done. And it’s hardly surprising that I’d be interested in the bus having an O-600 engine. While a few Bedfords had the smaller O-400 engine, they were lightweight coaches usually with a Bedford lightweight lorry engine, rather than a big heavyweight Leyland O-600. We had a few Leyland coaches at Shearings and quite often when I was running up to Scotland I’d “rev out” at 70 mph in 5th gear, never mind sixth. When I worked for Salopia back in 1979 it was embarrassing struggling up Frankley Bank on the M5 in a modern Ford R1114 lightweight coach when an ancient Yelloway AEC Reliance O-600 would roar past me as if I were standing still.

But going back to Moonchild and being asleep, there’s a story behind that too but it’s another one that the World is not yet ready to here.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in as usual, sorted out my legs and so on, and then breezed out again. She didn’t hang around long. I could then press on and make breakfast and sit down to read some more of MY BOOK.

Today, we’ve left Rochester Castle and its rude doorways and bold architraves, and have now arrived at Rockingham Castle. Our discussion on Medieval Military Architecture has turned to the interesting and very relevant subject of the trees and deer in the Royal Forest there, and the expropriation of the King’s land by various local people, including some people of a religious persuasion who clearly consider themselves exempt from the provisions of the Ten Commandments.

Back in here, I had a few tasks to finish off, and then I decided to have a look at the next radio programme, 260612. And by the time that I’d finished this afternoon, not only had I planned the programme, I’d chosen the music, remixed, edited, paired and segued it and written all of the notes.

As well as that, I’d edited the notes that I’d dictated the other morning for the two extra tracks for the two programmes that I’d prepared on Sunday and even assembled one of them too. I would have finished the other one too, except that Bane of Britain seems to have misread his timing run and chosen a track 2:32 long instead of 3:23 long.

So that’s now gone back onto the drawing board. I’ve chosen a new track, written the notes for it and I’ll dictate them at the next opportunity.

All of that was despite two disgusting drinks breaks and the appearance of my cleaner who came in to do her stuff this afternoon.

After she left I sorted out some naan dough from the freezer and left it to defrost ready for tea.

Tonight’s leftover curry was the best that I have ever made. I’m not sure what I did and I wish that I could remember because it really was excellent, just like a shop-bought one.

So that’s enough for tonight. I’m off to bed ready for tomorrow morning to attack my Woodstock programme and then prepare for dialysis, to which I am not looking forward at all.

But while we are continuing our discussions about medieval castles … "well, one of us is" – ed … the mystery of the rude doorway at Rochester is resolved.
When one of my friends came online earlier today I mentioned it to her.
"I know what’s the matter there" she said
"And what’s that?" I asked, bitterly regretting it ten seconds later
"Seeing as it’s a medieval castle" she said "it’s probably suffering from Turrets Syndrome"

Wednesday 21st May 2025 – I HAVE HAD …

… someone visiting today who is obviously the brother of the electrician who came the other day, and presumably the brother too of that woman who came from that building agency previously.

And there’s no doubt about it – there aren’t half some unscrupulous people in the building trade who seem to make it a rule to prey upon the elderly and infirm. It’s enough to make anyone lose their faith in humanity, and I would certainly have lost mine by now, had it not been already lost a long, long time ago.

But anyway, more of that anon.

Last night was not as early as I would have liked it to have been. Tuesday is usually quite a good bet for an early night but for some reason it didn’t quite work out like that and I’m not sure why. It was after 23:30 when I finally crawled underneath the covers.

Once more, I was asleep quite quickly and I remember nothing whatsoever until … errr … 06:15 when I had one of these dramatic awakenings. That’s not as early as some mornings have been just recently, but it’s early enough.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was sorting out the medication in the kitchen, having already had a good scrub in the bathroom on the way past.

Back in here afterwards, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. When I awoke, I dreamed that I went to pick up the dictaphone. It was on the left-hand side of the bed rather than on the right in this dream. There was a large metal saucepan there and a few other things, and as I reached out for the dictaphone, I knocked off the saucepan and a couple of other things. I expected an enormous noise from this saucepan falling to the floor but I didn’t hear a thing. It all happened in perfect peace and quiet and there was no noise at all.

What I can say about that is that I certainly didn’t awaken. It’s true that the dictaphone should usually be on the top of the chest of drawers on the right-hand side of the bed and if it’s not there, then I’m completely lost. But it won’t ever be on the left-hand side of the bed because apart from an empty half of a bed, there’s a wall, with no room to put a table at all.

And then I was walking down Edleston Road when a white long-wheelbase Transit, S-registered but much older than that, came up the hill quite quickly. It suddenly shuddered to a halt right alongside me. A guy whom I knew, a guitarist from a rock group, leapt out. He asked me if the van had been going to him. I thought that it sounded OK. He replied “have a look underneath”. I had a look underneath and could see streams of gearbox oil pouring out of there. As he asked me “is there some kind of seal in the gearbox” I said “you’ve blown one of the seals in the gearbox”. I climbed into the van and it had a Borg Warner automatic gearbox but it was a completely different style to whatever I had seen before. It was hot and you could smell the oil, but it was quite obvious that he was going to go nowhere in that van. I didn’t have a spare gearbox for him. I spoke to my father and he didn’t know of any either. I thought that for these people, this is going to cost them an awful lot of money and make them late for a pile of concerts and they’d have to cancel a pile of concerts. It’s happening at a really inconvenient time for them.

The Transit was one of the very first Series One vans like the 1970 diesel Transit that I had when I was a rock star … "!" – ed … and ran for a while until a washer fell down the air intake, bent a valve and pushed the valve head through the crown of a piston. But an automatic van? That must be a nightmare to try to move when it’s fully-loaded

“Mettez-vous devant la fenêtre” someone shouted, so I had a look around to see if I could see anyone and began to think about moving my chair towards the window when I awoke. So I wonder who it was who shouted to me in French. There were quite a few people around the first of the month whom I knew and quite a few events that were happening where there could have been other people whom I knew who could have been involved I suppose, but I’ve no idea who shouted that out in the way.

So here I am, dreaming in French again. But I’ve no idea what was happening here, why someone should be shouting at me in French. And I can’t move my chair any closer to the window anyway because the aforementioned chest of drawers is in the way.

Finally, I was on my crutches at school organising the school wall transport and the car parking. Most of the students had turned up but there were still a couple who hadn’t come. I wondered when I might begin to expect them. Sure enough, a couple of minutes before 09:00 they appeared. One was a girl who was already on crutches and the other one was a girl who clearly having some kind of health issues herself. I made some kind of laugh and joke about it to them and they joined in. Their car was parked in a corner and it was really tough to access. They made a few remarks about that, mainly light-headed but you can never tell. I replied again. They asked for the keys. She said that she’d give them to me later. I replied “make sure that you do by tomorrow and no mistake” so she laughed. The two of them squeezed into this tiny car and reversed out of the car park, nearly hitting another car that was about to pull out. He just saw her at the last minute and stopped. Then they set off to drive out. I had a look round, and I was certain that every item of letters or parcels that needed to be delivered had been loaded into the correct vehicles and were all off and about on their way to deliver them.

Not that they would ever have let me organise the parking at school. Organisation is not my strong point, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. And of all the people with whom I went to school, I can’t think of more than half a dozen or so whom I would be happy to see again, and I think that I’m seeing (or, at least, in contact with) all of those. I did not have a happy time at school. In fact, I did not have a happy childhood at all and a great deal of what happens in my dreams is not just about how my childhood was but occasionally how I would have liked it to have been. I ran away from home when I was 18 and, if the truth is known, I’m still running even now 50-odd years later.

Isabelle the Nurse was still in a rush this morning and didn’t have much time to hang around. She changed my plasters, dealt with my legs, fitted my compression socks and then cleared off to take more blood samples.

Once she’d left I could make breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK.

This morning we arrived at Pevensey Castle in Sussex. And here we go again. At the top of page 362 he tells us that "the history of the building, though aided by passages in the public records, is mainly to be established by the study of the material remains. Those of the Roman period have fallen under the searching and very accurate notice of Mr. Roach Smith ; the present paper deals mainly with the mediaeval additions both in earthworks and masonry."

Two lines further down, he tells us that "The Roman fortress is in plan a rounded oblong, 220 yards northeast and south-west by 115 yards, and contains from 8| acres to 9 acres. It is included within a wall strengthened by towers, and here, as at Lyme, the outline of the plan was evidently governed by that of the ground on which the castle stands, and which rises 8 feet to 10 feet above the sea level and that of the surrounding marsh or meadow…." and then proceeds to devote several pages to tell us about the Roman remains that have "fallen under the searching and very accurate notice of Mr. Roach Smith" and so should be excluded from "the present paper"

My breakfast this morning remained unfinished because I had an interruption. An electrician, complete with apprentice, turned up to talk about electricity. His discussion was much more straightforward and his pricing much more closely aligned with what I consider to be appropriate, and he didn’t want to change the fusebox which was what I suspected. We’ll see what he puts in writing.

Back in here I had a radio programme to prepare and by the time that I’d knocked off, I’d done everything except choose the final track, although I do have in mind what it is going to be. I’ll know more when the notes that I’ve written so far have been dictated and edited.

There were plenty of interruptions to my schedule today. Firstly, there were a couple of disgusting drinks breaks. Then the taxi came to pick me up for my dialysis that I don’t have today.

My cleaner came to do her stuff too, and then Rosemary telephoned me for another one of our marathon chats.

However, we also had the plumber. His first comment was "we’ll have to move the sink"
"Why’s that?" I asked
"there’s only 74cms between the wall and the sink. You can’t have a shower base less than 80 cms"
"Oh really?" I asked, knowing full well that the one that I fitted in the farm was 70cms AND IS STILL AVAILABLE. In any case, I don’t want a shower base – I want a flat, tiled surface, so it should be made to measure.

Apart from that, he told me that to fit a 80cm shower base (which I don’t want) we have to move the sink.
"Won’t that mean moving the pipework?"
"I can do that" he said
"But if you move it more than 5 cms you’ll cover up the electric plug" I replied
"I’ll move that too"

We than moved into the WC to talk about the cistern where I want a cistern with a small sink on top like you see in Japan.
"You’ll be better off with a new WC bowl too, to give you some more height"

So that was another workman firmly but politely shown the door. I think that I’ve about given up on finding a workman who wants to carry out my project. Instead, they all seem to want to do their own at my expense.

Tea tonight was a lovely leftover curry with enough left to go into the freezer for another meal. and no pudding tonight – I wasn’t all that hungry really.

Instead I’m going to go to bed and dream about workmen and renovation disasters. It’s becoming exhausting, all of this organisation, when in theory it should be so simple.

But seeing as we have been talking about kids driving cars to school … "well, one of us has" – ed … there was very, very little of that in our day. Our generation was lucky to have had pushbikes. Some peope didn’t even know what a pushbike was.
Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that the famous baseball player and coach Lawrence “Yogi” Berra is quoted quite often here. He came from a poor family of Italian immigrants but his wife, Carmen, came from a more comfortable background.
They had three sones and Carmen told Lawrence one day that the eldest, Dale Berra, needed an encyclopedia for school.
"Rubbish!" retorted “Yogi”. "He can walk there like I did".

Wednesday 14th May 2025 – AS I HAVE …

… said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s totally pointless going to bed early because all it means is that I awaken correspondingly early the following morning.

And so it was last night and this morning. After breaking my neck to be in bed by 22:45, I awoke at … errr … 04:05 or so this morning. So how miserable and depressing is that?

It’s perfectly true that I did do everything that I could so that I could finish early. I rushed through my notes, rushed through the back-ups, rushed through the stats and staggered off into the bathroom to sort myself out. After all, despite the ninety minutes in bed in late afternoon, I was feeling quite exhausted and I’ve no idea why.

Nevertheless, it took a while to go off to sleep. There was too much rubbish churning around in my head. In the old days when I was taxi-driving or when I moved to Brussels, I used to go running before going to bed. It was a great way of dealing with the stress. It’s rather out of the question right now though, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

Eventually though, I dozed off, hoping for a really good sleep. However it didn’t happen quite like that. I awoke quite suddenly yet again. It took a few minutes for me to come to my senses (which is a real surprise seeing how few senses I have these days) and when I looked at the ‘phone to see the time, it was 04:10.

Try as I might, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I drifted in and out of a kind-of semi-consciousness where I was neither here nor there (a usual state of affairs these days even when I’m awake) but I was wide awake by about 06:00 when I made the decision to leave the bed. And that wasn’t easy either.

After the bathroom I went into the kitchen for the medication and then I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. There was something about having some kind of lime-green football kit last night. I’m not sure why and I’m not sure where it came from. This led on to another situation where there was a woman who was in the hospital who was a client of the two nurses who visit me. They had heard that she had been allowed to leave her bed. One of the nurses said that she had better go to the hospital to help her fit her compression socks for when she stands up. I thought that that was rather strange because I was sure that the nurses in the hospital could do that but the visiting nurse was insistent that she was going to go to the hospital to do it.

For the lime green football kit, this does in fact relate to something that happened to FC Pionsat St Hilaire when I used to hang out there. Three of us decided to do something for the club so one of us bought a full set of shirts, the second bought a full set of shorts and I bought a couple of full goalkeepers’ kits. The footballing shirts that were bought were a kind-of fluorescent lime green.

As for the visiting nurses going to visit a patient in hospital, that is most unlikely. I couldn’t imagine that ever happening.

First task was to send off my anti-cancer medication prescription to the pharmacy. My faithful cleaner asked them for their e-mail address so that I could forward it to them rather than printing it out and physically delivering it.

Second task was to review and then print out some documentation that I’d been sent. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that, due to my state of health, I’m being supported by an organisation that strives to do all in its power to keep people in their homes. Apparently, even with some kind of financial assistance, it’s cheaper than having them put into some kind of residential care.

With my proposed bathroom conversion, there might be a grant because that is the kind of thing that is covered. They had sent me some information and an application form, so I needed to read it and fill in the form.

This also involves scanning and sending a photocopy of my last income tax statement to them. That took some organising too, mainly because I couldn’t find it at first. I must sort out my filing system.

The nurse told me once more about his friend who is a handyman. I told him to tell his friend to contact me. After all, you never know. And maybe he will. Stranger things have happened.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK.

We’ve left Middleham Castle and have arrived at Mitford Castle in the North-East, near Morpeth. That was the ancient pile of the previous generations of the family that later produced the disgraced Mitford children of the 1920s and 30s, although all of that was after the time of our book.

There’s not much to see of the castle these days, and I bet that we won’t be having much in the way of discussion about Medieval military architecture.

Back in here, I had a few things to sort out. It turns out that a well-known internet reseller had made a total mess of a repricing issue and instead of reducing its sale articles by 60%, it was offering them all for sale at $0:60. If something is too good to be true, it usually is and that was the case here, which was a shame. What surprised me was that it took them so long to notice. Needless to say, they voided all of the transactions.

Later on, I finished off the selection of music for programme 260417, remixed it, paired it and segued it ready so that I can write the notes for it.

After lunch, my cleaner turned up and we went through the medication that seems to be all over the place in this apartment. The stuff we found too, including the medical kit that I’d brought from England in 1992 with stuff so old that it didn’t have a “best by” date i.e. it was prior to the European Union Labelling Directive of 1979.

Rosemary rang me up for a chat too. She thinks that she’s found the oven that would go nicely in my new kitchen, if ever I have one installed. It costs about €20 over my budget but she thinks that it’s worth it. And who am I to argue? What do I know about ovens anyway?

It was quite a short conversation too, only about fifty minutes this afternoon. However our conversation carried on in a desultory fashion via an internet chat as she sent me photos of the produce growing rapidly in her garden. It made me quite nostalgic for the Auvergne and my potager down on the farm.

There was naan bread dough to make too, seeing as I have run out. And it was probably the best batch that I have ever made too. I made it with more flour than usual and the consistency was just right. I remembered the garlic too.

In between everything I sent off a few more enquiries to builders and electricians, tried to speak to the hospital in Paris (without success) to find out why they have arranged an appointment for me on a dialysis day, and, in a mad fit of enthusiasm that I still can’t understand, wrote all of the notes for the radio programme 260417 ready for dictation on Saturday night (or at some unearthly time in the morning if I have another early start).

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry with garlic naan followed my vegan chocolate cake and soya dessert, delicious as usual.

So right now I’m off to bed, hoping for a good night’s sleep at long last. I’m certainly tired enough.

But seeing as we have been talking about that organisation that deals with personal autonomy … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was told by my faithful cleaner that each member of that organisation wears …. well … special underwear.
"Why is that?" I asked. "What’s it like?"
"They’ve gone back into the Middle East and North Africa, rounded up all of the abacuses and transformed them into brassieres for the ladies" she replied.
"Yes, but why?" I asked
"It’s so that all of their clients can count on their support."

Thursday 1st May 2025 – WHEN I WAS SMALL …

… and Christmas trees were tall
We used to love while others used to play
Don’t ask me why, but time has passed us by
Someone else moved in from far away

Now we are tall and Christmas trees are small
And you don’t ask the time of day
But you and I, our love will never die
But guess we’ll cry come FIRST OF MAY

Happy Journée International de Travail – the “International Day of Work”, a day in which, with absolutely no sense of irony whatever, everyone celebrates work by taking a day off.

That is, of course, except the nurses and staff at the dialysis centre who were hard at it today. And hard it was too, because I have a head spinning round at I don’t know what speed, I’m feeling nauseous and I’m rather groggy on my feet. I shall be going to bed as soon as I finish these notes.

It’s probably something to do with another late night. It was after 00:30 when I finally crawled into bed after I’d finished everything. And I was asleep quite quickly too.

During the night I awoke several times but I was fast asleep when the alarm went off this morning.

No-one ever felt less like leaving the bed than me this morning but I struggled to my feet and staggered off to sort myself out.

After a wash and shave (after all, I may meet Emilie the Cute Consultant) I went off to take my medication. And then back in here for the dictaphone notes.

And a special visitor came to see me during the night. Welcome back, Zero. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you! In the dream I can’t remember too much about this but there was certainly something about her being there. I’d had another dream during this particular dream, about Emilie the Cute Consultant who was there. She’d been treating me for something or other that meant that I had to stay over. There were all kinds of things that needed doing and I had to stay over in hospital. One of them was to do some kind of cleaning process. I was going to be heavily involved in that for some reason but I can’t remember where the border lay between the “dream within the dream” and the “dream”. At some point the idea was Zero was there so I was hoping that it would work out that Zero would be staying on too so that while I was doing the cleaning she would be there. I was desperately trying to negotiate myself onto some kind of work rota that would involve me actually doing the work when I knew that Zero was going to be present so that I could talk to her. But this was proving to be extremely complicated because every time I tried to approach Zero to talk to her, something happened and she kept on moving two steps away. I was trying all through this dream to end up next to her to speak to her, to end up on the same shift that would work when she was going to be present but it never seemed to happen. There always seemed to be something that was coming along to stand in my way again

More and more than ever before I’m convinced that it’s my subconscious that is keeping me apart from making a fool of myself over all of these young ladies during the night. It obviously knows something that I don’t know, but I’m not going to let that worry me. I shall live for the moment and cling on to whatever crumbs of comfort I can catch.

And next time anyone hears me bewail the fact that I never seem to step back into a dream involving any of my special young ladies, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, make sure to remind me that last night, Zero appeared again later on. It was her birthday and she was quite a young woman round about this time. I was wondering what had become of her, whether she was married, whether she had had children, everything like that. I was musing over this when the dream ended.

It often makes me wonder in reality where she is, what she’s doing, whether she’s married, whether she has kids. I mean, another one of my favourite young ladies is a grandmother these days. But whatever Zero is doing now, I hope that her life is happier than it was when I knew her. I felt really sorry for her back then, but there was nothing that I could do to help.

Later on, a friend of mine was managing a project for some young people and was finding it very difficult to go ahead. He said that the trouble with the younger people today was that they are so naïve. They are open to believe almost anything that someone tells them. “It’s making my life really difficult to bring them into the real World for any particular kind of project that they are trying to deal with”.

That’s something that I have noticed quite frequently these days.

The nurse came earlier than usual and we had a good chat. I told him that I’d missed his friend at that builders’ place yesterday. He didn’t know why but he imagines that she’ll be in contact with me. However, I have had another thought in this respect.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK. Having passed by a few smaller piles, we’re now at the Tower of London and discussing William the Conqueror’s arrival on the scene and the beginning of the construction.

It’s likely that he will have a lot to say on the subject as it’s one of the most important places in the Capital. But seeing as its history is well-known, I would be surprised if we were to learn anything new.

Back in here I made a start on programme 260403. I’ve not gone very far but even making a start is some kind of progress, I suppose. I doubt if anything will be finished for dictating on Saturday night but I do have some unedited notes that need attention on Sunday.

My cleaner turned up as usual, but my taxi didn’t. After she had fitted my patches we waited and waited. In the end I telephoned. "We thought that you were still in hospital" said the despatcher.

Whoops! I knew that there was something that I had forgotten to do on Tuesday morning. That was what they call an omelette sur le visage moment.

The young garrulous driver turned up and the three of us (there was another passenger in the car) had a lively, chatty voyage all the way down to Avranches.

Today’s nurses were Océane, Amandine and Alexi. I really like Alexi – she has a very soft touch and it’s like being stroked rather than being handled. Mind you, they all have their little speciality and I like them all. I really do think that the nurses who work in dialysis here have been hand-picked for their charm. Even the Nursing Auxis are lovely.

The coupling-up was comparatively painless which was nice, and then I had plenty to do. I’m making a list of tasks to do downstairs and it’s growing longer by the minute.

Liz contacted me too, asking if it was convenient to chat – we’d had a brief on-line discussion this morning. It’s difficult to talk in dialysis so she’s going to contact me tomorrow.

Starting late, I was finished late, even though it was only three and a half hours today. I managed it without a crisis but as I mentioned earlier, the low blood pressure is knocking me out right now

The garrulous driver who took me brought me back, and we chatted all the way home. My cleaner was waiting and watched as I staggered up the stairs., rather worse for wear.

Tea was a delicious leftover curry, but no naan. And there was so much left over that there’s enough for two more meals in the future. Having emptied some stuff from the freezer, it’s filling up.

So now, much earlier than usual, I’m off to bed, hoping that Zero will come to see me again and that I wake up feeling much better than I do now.

One thing that I learned today is that my dialysis session is arranged for 08:00 on Monday, so I’ll be leaving here at 07:00. Which means leaving my bed at about 05:30 if I’m going to eat anything before I go.

But seeing as we have been talking about the Journée International de Travail"well, one of us has" – ed … Nerina once told me "I’m totally fed up with all of the sexual harassment that I have while I’m doing my work"
"Well," I told her, "if you don’t like it, the answer is to give up this working from home and go back to the office."

Friday 25th April 2025 – I WAS WIDE-…

… awake this morning at, would you believe, 03:05. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s a total waste of time really, going to bed early, because all it seems to mean is that I wake up correspondingly early.

And early it was that I went to bed last night – 22:20 in fact.

The dialysis on Thursday afternoon had left me thoroughly exhausted. So much so that I couldn’t keep on going at all. I skimmed through everything that needed to be done, despite going off into a trance at least twice, and then threw in the towel.

Once in bed, I fell asleep rather dramatically and there I stayed, dead to the World, until, as I said, 03:05. I lay around in bed, wondering whether or not I ought to raise myself from the Dead, until at least 03:20 when I happened to glance at the time, and quite a while after that too, but I must have gone back to sleep at some point.

There I stayed until all of 06:20 when I awoke again. That time, I couldn’t go back to sleep at all and when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was … errr … riding the porcelain horse.

After a good wash and my medication I came back in here to check on where I’d been during the night. I was talking to Julie the Cook during my dream. The discussion came round to checking over my apartment to have a look around and see what was going on for my ill-health. But as she said that she would come so I found the calendar and wrote in there that she was expected for the 29th of the month. Then I went back into the main room just to remind her and confirm that that was what it was going to be.

Julie the Cook has said before now that she will come to inspect my kitchen one of these days – in fact, she said it again on Thursday – but I will believe it when I see it. I don’t think that it’s ever likely to happen. However, the fact that I’m dreaming about dialysis and the people there tells me that I seem to have let it become embedded in my thoughts and that’s a depressing idea.

Later on I was round at my niece’s and her husband last night. They were sorting out transport and cars etc. I noticed that my niece was driving around in the old mini that she never usually drove. He husband asked her what had happened to the Riley. We went into the garage and there was a Riley 1.5 sitting there without the front radiator grille. She said that she’s hit a squirrel with the grill and had taken the grille off to try to remove the squirrel. The grille was currently in the back room. I had a look at the engine – it was an overhead cam engine with a chain pulley on the camshaft. I wondered “what on earth engine was this out of?”. Later on we went shopping and we were wandering around a big department store where there were loads of people. I suddenly saw a range of tissue … "he means ‘cloth’ " – ed … so I shouted to her “ahh … tissue” and she laughed. We went over and started to look through the tissue for my apartment. There was a really nice heavyweight deep red velvet type of embossed tissue there that looked really nice and was really heavy. She wandered off to the curtain range and came back with one of these Victorian-style curtains with frills and built-in lace nets and began to compare the two to see whether they matched

Whenever I think of overhead cam engines, the Ford Pinto immediately springs to my mind. I’ve dismantled and reassembled so many of them that I could at one time do it in my sleep – and I did too. However the camshafts in those are belt-driven and the pulley on the camshaft in the engine in this dream was definitely a chain-driven pulley, so I really don’t know.

Leaving aside the question of dreaming in French again, one of the things that I will be doing soon is to see the seamstress who has the little shop down the road whom I interviewed once for the radio. In her little shop she makes all of the dresses for the carnival queens and what I want her to do is to make the curtains for my new apartment, seeing as I don’t know who else to ask. I want to have everything just like I want it to be, right from the very beginning, because I’m never going to move again … "and we’ve heard that before, haven’t we?" – ed … and I don’t want to go through the bother of having to redo anything later.

Isabelle the Nurse came round and we talked about her trip to Avallon in Burgundy. Everyone knows about the story of King Arthur, allegedly mortally wounded at the Battle of Camlann in 537 and taken to the Isle of Avalon in Somerset to die. Just outside Avallon in Burgundy in the dim and distant past there was a battle in which the King of the local troops, Riothamus, was deposed and killed by the invaders. There have been several suggestions that this is the origin of the tale of King Arthur and that the Battle of Camlann is fictional. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall our reading of the book FOLKLORE AS A HISTORICAL SCIENCE in which the transplantation of folk tales by migrating peoples would facilitate such a confusion of memory.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on reading MY BOOK. And here we go again.

In all of the books and papers that I have ever read, I don’t think that I have ever seen a sentence with so many sub-clauses in it as "The general area, which at Windsor, Arundel, and Berkhampstead is oblong, to suit the contour of the ground, is here, as at Tonbridge, Tickhill, and Clare, where the ground is not strongly marked, nearer to a more solid figure, of which, in this case, two sides and the contained angle are governed by the line of the old Roman wall."

It took me several attempts to absorb this sentence and put it in a straight line. There is surely a more straightforward and direct route that the author could have used to express his thoughts and make them much clearer.

He’s also tying himself up in knots again. He tells us on the top of page 193 that "Two mounds, though not unknown, are uncommon.". Half a dozen lines later, he tells us that "Such subordinate mounds are not uncommon in earthworks of all ages,". I wish that he’d make up his mind.

Back in here, I began to work on my Woodstock programmes and pushed on with the Saturday events. There are just four more groups and the outro to write for that, and I’ll also have to think of a way of including Louis de Funès in my programme too. I can’t have a programme without a special guest.

There were plenty of interruptions. There were a couple of disgusting drink breaks, my cleaner put her sooty foot in here to do her business, and one of my neighbours, the President of the residents’ committee, popped in for a chat to find out about how things were and to tell me about her recent trip to New York.

Tea was a delicious leftover curry but the naan was not so good. It kept on falling apart as I was trying to flatten it for frying. The chocolate cake and chocolate soya dessert more than made up for that.

So it’s bedtime now, ready for dialysis tomorrow, I don’t think. And there’s a footfest too, Caernarfon v Barry Town to see who will push on for European competition, and later, the Second Division Cup Final between Airbus UK Broughton and Trefelin. That will be an interesting match because Lee Trundle, at 48, still turns out every week for Trefelin. In the pre-match summary he’s raring to go. He also says that he has no plans to retire and will carry on next season. How I wish that other International footballers would turn out for their local football clubs to give something back to the community, rather than retiring to their island paradise to count their fortunes.

But that’s tomorrow of course. Tonight, it’s bedtime

And seeing as we have been talking about the Battle of Camlann … "well, one of us has" – ed … I am reminded of the American tourist who turned up in Castlesteads early one morning and buttonholed a local.
"Can you tell me when was the Battle of Camlann?"
"537" replied the local
"Damn" said the American, looking at his watch. "I’ve just missed it"

Monday 14th April 2025 – I WAS RIGHT …

… about it going to be four hours today at the dialysis centre. It wasn’t anything complicated to work it out. However, it was a pretty close thing and they could, if they had turned up the machine a little, gone for three and a half hours.

However, I have a three-day break and it’s important for me to have as much water evacuated as possible beforehand so that I can have a head start when I go back on Thursday.

Four hours is probably all the sleep that I had last night too. Although I finished everything that I need to do – the notes, the statistics, the backing-up – at a not-unreasonable hour, there are always other things that I can find to do when a good concert or two come round on the playlist.

Last night, it was Robert Calvert’s final concert with Hawkwind, at the Ramsgate Marina Park in Ramsgate on 28th May 1984, all one hour, forty-seven minutes and forty seconds of it. The best front-man that Hawkwind ever had, and with Huw Lloyd-Langton on guitar, what more could anyone want?

Once it finished, I staggered off to bed at a little after 01:00. And ask me if I care.

Despite the short night it was fairly turbulent and I didn’t have all that much sleep, or so it seemed. When the alarm went off I fell out of bed and the dictaphone fell out with me so I must have been doing something at that point.

However, I went into the bathroom for a wash and a shave (in case I meet Emilie The Cute Consultant this afternoon) and then into the kitchen to sort out the medication for the morning. And my chocolate cake, that had been cooling overnight, smelt delicious.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. I’d been looking at new apartments. I’d seen different apartments and I found myself in a car with my cleaner or was it Rosemary? As we pulled up outside this old building we were going to have another look at that apartment that she didn’t like at all. We went in, and the door was difficult to open so I put my weight against the door to open the way into the building. Then we found the apartment and went in. There were some people in there doing some things and it was becoming dark so I turned the lights on but they didn’t work. It was as if the whole current was earthing out somewhere and absolutely everything electrical went completely dim. I could see the kitchen in the distance that looked huge. This room was a big, tall, Gothic place. I wasn’t really sure about this at all. Another girl there tried to open the door to go out but she couldn’t manage it. I said “lift up the catch” so she put her hand around the door frame and had a feel for the lifting bracket but I had a huge, big old mug hanging from there that I had in France when I was a teenager. She knocked that off and it cascaded down through the stairwell and hit the ground about three floors below. I said “that’s my old mug gone then, isn’t it?”. I was really disappointed. There was someone down there who went to have a look at it but they didn’t say anything. We were there in this apartment trying to sort something out, trying to arrange the kitchen, trying to think about these lights. It was another one of these dreams that went round and round in chaos as we were trying to sort out all of these things.

It seems to be the thing right now, looking at new apartments, but I’m hoping that my search for a new home all of my own will finish in two months time. But I can’t understand why I’d be travelling in a car with my cleaner. Rosemary is a much more likely prospect, especially as my cleaner doesn’t drive, but even so, Rosemary won’t be coming around here any time soon. She has other preoccupations. Even more interestingly, I did have a coffee bowl given to me when I was in France as a teenager but I imagine that it was left behind at home when I moved out

Later on I was back into that dream. It was something about everyone having to be careful because the scales were measuring in grams weren’t accurate unless the scales were in a certain position and the load was placed in a certain way

What the idea about scales and weights has to do with looking for an apartment, I really don’t know. But I suppose that that was my hope when I saw what figure the scales had registered last Thursday.

There was a song that appeared last night in a dream but I can’t remember what it is now. I recognised it at the time and knew which album it was from. We had to search through all of the music files to see if we had anything by this particular group. We had, and it turned out that it was something to celebrate our second anniversary together … "second anniversary together? With whom?" – ed …. I thought that maybe I could play this programme again with the special referencing included. I set out to try to adjust the sound for what I wanted but it didn’t seem to want to work … fell asleep here

I was right about something happening with the dictaphone during the night when it fell out of bed with me. I fell asleep (well, you know what I mean) while I was dictating and I was presented with a sound-file that ran for two hours and twenty-six seconds. It only stopped because the memory on the machine was full, so I had to clear that up and back it up. But it was my second anniversary with whom? I wish that I knew

Isabelle the Nurse’s chatty mood continued this morning. And in mid-conversation I happened to mention my tenant wanting to stay on for a few more weeks. Her reaction was quite violent and told me in no uncertain terms not to even think about it. I’m beginning to wonder whether some people know something that I don’t

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK.

We left Hawarden this morning and are now at Helmsley Castle in Yorkshire. And for a change, he has not said anything controversial today, apart from taking up a position in the School of “Saxon” Hill forts. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that that position was roundly stamped upon by most of the members of the Woolhope Naturalists in 1867 and by many more people since.

After breakfast I set about drafting another letter ready to give to my faithful cleaner to hand in at the letting agency. I’ve decided to let them deal with it all and not become involved. It is, after all, what I pay them for.

When my cleaner came to fit my patches I had barely finished what I was doing and so I had to hurry. And after she left, I began to cut up my chocolate cake but the taxi came early and I left it half-finished.

There were two of us in the taxi with the driver and I was dropped off first, early yet again. This time I was second to be coupled up and it would have been nice had it only been for three and a half hours.

There was quite a crowd around me while they were plugging me in – three nurses and Emilie the Cute Consultant, who had come along to watch and to chat about things. She came back later for a good chat too which I appreciated.

Julie the Cook was in the other ward and she came by to say “hello” too. I seem to be very popular right now. Do I owe them some money maybe?

It wasn’t all milk and honey though. Although I didn’t have a dramatic collapse like the one the other week, my head was spinning round now and again and it kept up for several hours.

When I was unplugged and ready to go home, we had a crisis as someone’s patch gave way. And we had to wait for fifteen minutes while they cleaned the floor and let it dry

Back here, still feeling unsettled, it was a slow, weary climb up here and my evening disgusting drink while my cleaner sorted out the medication that she had brought back.

Tea tonight should have been an aubergine and kidney bean whatsit but when the frozen lump that I had taken from the freezer defrosted, I saw that it was a Vindaloo Curry. It was even hotter than when I made it but still enjoyable.

But seeing as we have been talking about that Hawkwind concert … "well, one of us has" – ed … Robert Calvert told me later that he was certain that he saw a familiar face in the crowd
"That was Leonard Cohen, I’m sure of it" he said.
"What did you do?" I asked him
"At the end of the song that we were playing I pointed to him and asked over the PA ‘are you Cohen?’ "
"What did he say?" I asked
Calvert replied "he said ‘Too right I am. I’ve heard more than enough of this rubbish’ ".

Wednesday 9th April 2025 – I HAVE MADE …

… an executive decision. And for the benefit of new readers, of which there are more than just a few these days, an executive decision is on that if it turns out to be the wrong decision, the person who made it is executed.

It’s amazing the thoughts that go through your head when you are lying there in bed at … gulp … 05:20 in the morning trying rather unsuccessfully to go back to sleep after another dramatic awakening, but there we are. I put the time to good use.

It wasn’t as if I’d been to bed early either. In principle I could have been in bed at a realistic time last night but as usual, just as I’m about to make up my mind to stagger off to bed after doing everything that I needed to do, a decent concert comes round on the playlist and so I find something to do as a good excuse for staying up to listen to it.

Eventually though, I go off to bed and go straight to sleep, only to awaken bolt-upright at 05:20 wondering why I’m still in bed when I was convinced that a couple of hours ago I’d arisen from the bed and gone into the kitchen.

So while I was pondering and musing, I was thinking. And one of the things about which I was thinking was that I’m never going to go back to sleep so I may as well raise myself from the bed and do some work.

Into the bathroom for a cursory wash today, after all, it is Wednesday and shower day, and then into the kitchen for the medication.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, and to my surprise, despite the short night, I’d been out and about on a couple of occasions. I had to board a bus to go somewhere, and I was with a friend of mine. We climbed on board but the bus was crowded and there were people sitting on the floor. We found some space on one of the side seats over the rear wheel arch but there were some people sitting right in front of it on the floor so we had to manoeuvre our feet around. One of the people on the floor objected. I told them that my feet have to go somewhere but they carried on complaining so I told them that if they didn’t like it, they should have sat on the seat when it became vacant and then they could have put their feet on the floor but they were still extremely unhappy. In the end I couldn’t care less and began to take the mickey out of them for complaining.

Back on the bus again after last night? That seems to be becoming something of a regular occasion. I could understand the situation if I were driving it but as a passenger, that’s hardly likely. When I was fit I would walk miles and miles without even thinking about it. I remember in Brussels a few years ago when I was going to the hospital at Leuven and went for a little walk around one afternoon – and covered nineteen kilometres. And how far did I walk with Hannah on that Sunday when I was showing her around Brussels?

Later on I was driving taxis again. I was parked on the rank and was ready to pull away when another vehicle came along, drove past and reversed into a space at the side of me, another taxi, a white Hillman Hunter. As he pulled into this space he hit the front of my car. I climbed out to see what the damage was but there wasn’t a great deal. The guy wasn’t really all that apologetic. He asked me if I’d seen the guitar, some package, a similar thing. I said that someone had left a package yesterday and I’d put it in the boot of his car for him. He didn’t remember seeing it when he looked so I told him that I was certain that it was there and if it’s not there I probably still have it at home and I’ll sort it out for later.

Yes, “again”. That’s becoming far too much of a regular dream too, or is it a nightmare? If I had my time back and had to go through it again, I would have changed a great deal of what happened. I made some very poor decisions back then but hindsight is wonderful, isn’t it? And as was once said in the USA "it’s hard to remember, when you are up to your neck in alligators, that all you are trying to do is to drain the swamp".

Having put that out of the way I had plenty of work to do and I cracked on. I was hard at it when Isabelle the Nurse arrived to sort me out. We talked about my compression socks and she’ll remind the secretary of my doctor.

After she left I made breakfast. The loaf that I made before going to bed is absolutely excellent and made some lovely toast. I munched away on it while I was reading MY NEW BOOK.

This book has now turned into a whistle-stop tour of castles. We’ve probably been to six or seven this morning, just a quick walk around and then teleported ourselves on to the next one, in alphabetical order. With 669 pages at which to go, we are going to be covering a lot of ground at this rate.

Back in here, I began to concentrate.

My decision – about which I talked earlier – is that no matter what evolves downstairs, I’m going to rip out the kitchen and throw it away. I’ve been planning my own kitchen thanks to that 3D app about which I spoke the other day, and I’ve made myself a lovely kitchen and so I’m going to go with it and make my new apartment look really nice and practical.

Electrical appliances are next so I spent a couple of hours looking at fridge-freezers and built-in ovens and microwaves. In the end, my brain had turned to porridge so I abandoned the process. There were thousands and thousands and I had no idea what I wanted or what I needed.

It was at that point I had a good idea, and I contacted Rosemary. Just a short chat this morning – a mere fifty-seven yea … errr … minutes. But knowing how much care and effort Rosemary puts into checking things out, I set her a task TO PROVE THAT SHE IS WORTHY.

What I did was to tell her what I thought would be my requirements and what my budget is. And if she had my budget and my requirements, what would she buy?

She immediately made a couple of suggestions that had not occurred to me, and then she had to go to sort out a taxi to take her to hospital as she’s having some surgery in a couple of weeks. But she’s on the case which is just as well because I didn’t know who else to ask and I couldn’t sort it out on my own.

My faithful cleaner made a suggestion too. She reckons that this organisation with which I’m registered – the one that bends over backwards to help handicapped and disabled people stay in their own homes – might be able to offer some sort of assistance with the move and the fitting out of the apartment to suit my needs and requirements.

Having given the matter some thought, I wrote to them to see what they would have to say.

Then I had to send off the receipt for the new telephone and return one of the products that I’d bought from Amazon because they had sent the wrong one.

When my cleaner arrived this afternoon she helped me into the shower and I had a really good scrub up that made me feel so much better and then after a disgusting drink break, I cracked on with the radio programme.

But the time that I stopped for tea, I’d chosen all of the music (which wasn’t easy, as I said yesterday), edited and remixed it, paired and segued it and written all of the notes. That was a really busy spell of work and I was exhausted.

Tea tonight was a leftover curry. But there was so much left over that I added a couple of small potatoes, a jar of that korma mix that I bought ages ago, and made enough for three meals and the one that I ate tonight was delicious.

The naan was perfection too – definitely one of my better ones.

So it’s bedtime now, if the stabbing pain that has started up in my right heel will let me. Despite the late night and early start, I only had one or two wobbles during the day but kept on going until the end. But dialysis tomorrow of course, so we shall see.

Seeing as we have been talking about buses and Crosville the other day … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember back in Crewe in the early 1970s and the Lodekkas were beginning to be phased out. The Bristol VRTs arrived and were equipped for one-man operation.
During the first week there were several accidents and on one occasion I was there when the police were interviewing the driver
"So can you tell us what happened?" the police asked
"I’ve no idea" replied the driver. "I was upstairs collecting the fares when the accident happened".

Wednesday 2nd April 2025 – WHEN THE ALARM …

… went off this morning I was already up and about. I’d had another one of these dramatic awakenings, this time round about 05:30, and despite my best efforts I couldn’t go back to sleep.

It’s not as if I’d had an early night either. It was shortly after midnight when I’d finished all of my notes, the backing up and things like that and it took a short while for me to summon up the energy to go off to bed.

It was very difficult to go off to sleep too, and I had another quite turbulent night. I don’t think that I’d had a continuous sleep that had run for more than about an hour or so.

So wide awake and trying to go back to sleep, I heard the water heater switch itself off at 06:20 and that was the point at which I gave up and raised myself from the Dead.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up in view of the fact that yesterday’s was somewhat interrupted, and then I went into the kitchen for my medication.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was back in that dream about clothing again. There was something to do with buttons on that bikini although it wasn’t the same bikini but a different one, a sort-of denim blue colour. This changed eventually into something like out of the Navy Lark where Heather was talking to one of her colleagues about Leslie Phillips. They were discussing him, how he might have been cuddly and lovely but Heather said that that was only as far as it suited him and then he could be off with some other girl somewhere and he would be only interested in what he could get out of it rather than anything about anyone else.

It’s been ages since I’ve listened to on-line radio. I’m far too busy these days so programmes like The Navy Park, Round The Horne and Paul Temple have gone to well at the back of the back burner.

Most of my listening these days is spent reviewing this huge heap of concerts that I have collected from various sources over the years and trying to identify the individual tracks so that I can check the setlists to find out when and where the concerts were recorded. No-one ever thought to label the tapes back in the 70s and early 80s.

Later on I was discussing Bomber Command with a couple of airmen last night. We were talking about the typical waste of life and equipment that went on during the British attempts to bomb Germany into submission. Someone came out with a statistic that of the aeroplanes used, only one spare part was allowed per 10,000 kilometres – the equivalent of four trips to Prague and back. They were bewailing the loss of all of their friends etc who were shot down and killed, and those who never became famous simply due to bad luck that brought them down. They were talking about crashing and I asked them if they all had their little siphon tube with them in case they hit the water. Someone commented that if you hit the water from 10,000 feet a siphon tube wouldn’t do any good. They couldn’t wait to be back home at their aerodrome and mentioned a couple of girls’ names who were waiting. I went on about my way and sorted out my medication. I went into the office and there stuck in the duplicating machine was the blister pack of one of my medications that I must have left in there. I wondered how come no-one else had noticed them but I went them to take my medication and suddenly realised that I’d already taken one of them this morning and I awoke in a panic

Some of the stories that were told by the survivors of Bomber Command were horrific. On one occasion a flak shell hit a flare that had just been loaded into the flare chute of an aeroplane. The subsequent explosion destroyed the centre of the aeroplane and killed everyone on board except the pilot, navigator and rear gunner. However the plane returned home.

Someone else watched in horror as two ‘planes collided in mid-air over the target and dropped out of the sky right onto an aeroplane that was below them, and all three crashed to earth.

My mother was a WAAF in the latter stages of World War II and she’d tell us (only very, very rarely though) of some of the tales that she’d heard at de-briefing the morning when an air raid came back. Where our family lived before we moved to Shavington (about which I talked a few weeks ago) was as squatters on a variety of redundant air bases, such as Marchweil near Wrexham and at Calveley.

The nurse didn’t have too much to say for himself, although he did mention that a patient who had a blood test programmed for today cancelled it when he discovered who it was who would be doing it. That doesn’t surprise me at all.

After that, it was time to make breakfast and read MY BOOK, which is now finished.

We’ve reached the conclusion at last, which is rather disappointing. He states that "these clock-star observations were introduced into these islands about 2300 B.C.", however Maeshowe, which we discussed a couple of days ago, dates from the period 2800-3000 BC and was abandoned by about 2600BC, so this undermines his conclusion right at the very start.

Interestingly, he shows a table of various stone circles and menhirs … "PERSONShirs" – ed … in the West Country and the dates at which their alignment was directed towards the rising cluster of the Pleiades. I plotted the sites on a map and one thing that appeared quite clearly to me was that we have two contemporary groups of neolithic constructions, which start off (Stonehenge) on a very accessible plain or (The Merry Maidens) on an exposed coastal site, and then over the years retreat into more inaccessible and inhospitable areas.

In a couple of these more accessible places, the orientation is changed to reflect the setting of Antares.

Incidentally, he tells us that "The warning stars at Athens were the Pleiades for temples facing the east, and Antares for temples using the western horizon.", but there was also a gap of several Centuries between the two.

He tells us that he has "shown that some circles used in the worship of the May year were in operation 2200 B.C., and that there was the introduction of a new cult about 1600 B.C., or shortly afterwards, in southern Britain, so definite that the changes in the chief orientation lines in the stone circles can be traced."

He goes on to say that "This change of cult may be due to the intrusion of a new tribe, but I am inclined to attribute it to a new view taken by the priests themselves due to a greater knowledge,"

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that our “Invasions Cheat-Sheet” tells us that the “Beaker-people” began to arrive in England round about 2400-2500 BC, which corresponds with the start of the alignment with Pleiades. However round about 1600BC, immigrants of the Wessex Culture began to flood into England. This date is significant as it marks the abandonment of places like Stonehenge and the beginning of the flight of the Pleiades Culture to more inaccessible and inhospitable places, and the construction of the earliest hill forts.

The more I read of things like this, the more I’m convinced that these invasions were anything but peaceful, despite the modern way of thinking, and I reckon that my cultural migration timeline and maps will have quite a lot to say on the subject.

And while we’re on the subject of the subject … "well, one of us is" – ed … you’ll understand now why I was a lousy student at University. I’d go off and do my own thing, in which I was thoroughly absorbed and thoroughly enjoying myself, regardless of whether or not it had anything to do with what I was supposed to be studying.

Most of the rest of the day has been spent radioing. I’d assembled all of the music that I needed, edited, remixed, paired and segued it, and then I wrote out all of the notes for it ready to be dictated on Saturday night.

That was despite the usual interruptions, such as my cleaner arriving, the disgusting drink break, and a wonderful, refreshing shower.

As well as that, the bank rang me up. I have a savings contract with them and that expires next month. What did I want to do?

The answer is “roll it over into a new one and use the balance on the old one as the starter sum”. I don’t know what else I’m going to do with it. It was supposed to be my savings account for if I had to change my vehicle, but as I no longer drive, it seems rather pointless.

It’s not as if I could go mad and spend it either because I can’t go out to the shops. Another trip to the High Arctic, which I would love to do, is out of the question.

While we’re on the subject of shopping … "well, one of us is" – ed … I sent off an Amazon order today. A water jug to replace the broken one, a case for my new telephone and some baking equipment as well as a couple of other things that I need.

Tea tonight was one of the best leftover curries that I have ever made, with a delicious naan followed by some more of my orange, ginger and coconut cake with soya dessert. Probably the best meal of this type that I have made. What with the excellent pizza on Sunday, the food situation is looking up.

So now I’m off to bed ready for dialysis tomorrw. But seeing as we are talking about looking up and were talking about Bomber Command … "well, one of us is and was" – ed … there was that much surpus war equipment from Bomber Command lying around after the War that it went into store for years.
Eventually, someone found it and they began to distribute it amongst the various Air Cadets branches in the country.
The Crewe branch of the Air Cadets received a supply of parachutes and so they went for parachute training.
"These parachutes are old stock, been in store for years" said the instructor "so we aren’t all that sure about them. So whatever you do, don’t pull the ripcord until you are ten feet from the ground"
"What happens if it doesn’t open then?" asked a cadet
"Well, surely you can jump ten feet" replied the instructor.

Wednesday 26th March 2025 – BLIMEY! THAT WAS HOT!

Now I understand why it was that a couple of years ago Noz had row after row after row of jars a well-known food manufacturer’s Vindaloo curry sauce on special offer. I bought a couple of jars and they have sat on my shelves ever since.

With too much stuffing left over from Monday and Tuesday, this evening a threw in a tin of chick peas and a jar of the Vindaloo sauce to make several portions of curry, some of which I can freeze for a later date.

But I doubt if they will freeze at all. Even in a cold state, I bet that I’ll put them in the freezer and they will melt all the ice for miles around.

It wasn’t cold in here either last night. In fact, I went to bed without the fleece. It’s possibly a sign that it’s beginning to warm up outside although I wouldn’t bet on it quite yet.

What might have helped in that respect was that it was close to 02:00 when I finally went to bed, and I was absolutely exhausted. Earlier in the evening I’d set up the computer to run an algorithm running through all of the back-up drives to identify more duplicates in respect of the batch of the old files that I found a week or two ago.

It seemed to take an age crawling through all of the disks identifying stuff and so I thought, as it became later and later, "here I am so here I stay", or "J’y suis, j’y reste" as Maréchal MacMahon once said at Malakoff.

Then, of course, the inevitable happened. At 96%, the algorithm crashed and that was that. What I call a waste of an evening, but it was inevitable.

Once in bed, there I stayed, sound asleep until the alarm went off at 07:00. And then, a very weary me took to his feet and staggered into the bathroom to sort myself out.

After the medication, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was back at home last night. There were a lot of children there and the place was running a little wild. I was doing something with one of the small girls and she walked on the face of my youngest sister and my sister began to cry. I explained to my mother what had happened and told her that there was really nothing that anyone could have done about it – it was quite an accident and I was sure that she didn’t do it on purpose. My mother was however extremely unhappy about this and and I could see that she was waiting for the ideal moment t in which she would probably blow her top.

My mother not listening to any explanation and blowing her top was nothing new. Most people say that it’s unpredictable behaviour that makes for an uncomfortable household. That’s certainly not true. In our house it was completely predictable and we spent all of our childhood walking on eggshells. But my youngest sister has appeared quite regularly in my dreams just recently. Why can’t Castor, Zero, TOTGA or Moonchild appear as frequently?

Isabelle the Nurse and I had a long chat about the shambles that is the Town Centre right now with all of the roadworks and rebuilding. The mayor’s vanity projects are reaching new heights, so they say, but in my opinion they are plumbing new depths. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall a few years ago when they ripped up the old railway line down by the docks to turn the area into a car park. They just dumped a load of asphalt down and rolled it in instead of doing something really attractive. But when it comes to the view outside the Town Hall, it’s all a completely different beast.

Isabelle the Nurse thinks that I ought to run for Mayor, but I don’t even have the right to a vote here – nowhere in the World, in fact.

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK

Our author has discovered that several stone circles and menhirs … "PERSONShirs" – ed … on Dartmoor align with the same stars of some of the alignments at Stonehenge do, but some 300 or 400 years later due to the precession of the stars that we mentioned yesterday. In view of the crude nature of the stones he considers that these are more primitive people than those at Stonehenge.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we have discussed something along these lines before. One of our authors has pointed to the fact that invading forces in the British Isles have pushed the preceding inhabitants westward onto poorer land. The work on Stonehenge began approximately 2600BC and stopped at about 1600BC. Round about 1800BC we have the arrival of what are termed “The Wessex Culture”, described by one historian as "an intrusive ruling class who opened trading networks with France and central and northern Europe, and imported bronze tools and probably also artisans", from mainland Europe.

They certainly reached the Wessex area (hence their name) where there have been numerous discoveries of rich graves .

It doesn’t take much imagination to speculate that with their superior organisation, the people of the Wessex culture swept away the previous inhabitants who fled West, and built what they could to continue to worship what they worshipped, with whatever they could find and whatever skills that remained.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then started work. By the time that I finished, I’d sorted out all of the music, remixed it, paired and segued it and written all of the notes for the next radio programme, ready to dictate on Saturday night.

So for the rest of the week I can attack my Woodstock magnum opus and see what inroads I can make into it.

That was despite several interruptions – my cleaner arriving to do her stuff, my weekly shower, the disgusting drink break etc. But at least I’m now nice and clean, my clothes are washed and I can enjoy my night’s sleep, if I ever reach my bed.

Tea tonight was rice and veg and a naan of course, With all of the stuffing though, far too much for one meal, I threw in a tin of chick peas and a jar of the Vindaloo sauce and had it simmering away for twenty minutes in the microwave on a low heat

And by God! That’s what I call “hot” It’s no surprise that no-one in France ever bought it. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that when I lived on my farm we used to have communal meals in our area where each one of us would take a dish. I always took a dish of pepper and lentil curry, made especially lightly. All of the British people there would be going "what the hell is this insipid rubbish, Eric?" and all of the French people would be gasping for air and throwing themselves into the nearby pond.

Right now though, I’m going to throw myself into my bed and have a sleep, later than usual of course.

But before I go, seeing as we are talking about going to bed … "well, one of us is" – ed … I was told a story about a boxer who was unable to sleep. His doctor told him to try counting sheep after he lay down and that should do the trick.
"I’ve tried that" said the boxer. <"and it’s totally useless"
"Why’s that?" asked the doctor
"Because every time I lie down i begin to count .. one .. two .. three .. four .. five .. six.. seven .. eight .. and every time I say .. nine .. I automatically leap to my feet again"

Wednesday 19th March 2025 – MONDAY THE FIFTH …

… of May is when I’m being summoned to Paris to hear the news about the results of the tests that I had a while back.

Obviously it can’t be all that serious if they are letting me wait six weeks to hear the news. France is not like the UK where they give you fictitious appointments two years hence and hope that you die before you have to attend and find out that the appointment didn’t really exist in the first place.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall me mentioning how horrified and disappointed the professor at Leuven was when she told me at my cancer consultation nine years ago that she couldn’t find me a hospital bed for four … days.

And so May the Fourth be with STRAWBERRY MOOSE and I’ll hit the road the next day, presumably after having the dialysis in the morning instead of the afternoon.

But if they are talking about me having dialysis while I’m there, it means that I’ll be there for the Thursday at least.

One thing that will be certain, and that is that I’ll be in bed early when I’m there. I might not even leave it for the whole day. That has to be an improvement on how things are around here just now. It was another 00:30 retirement last night. I’m not sure how many of those there have been just recently but it looks as if 00:30 has become the new 23:00 these days

Once in bed, I was asleep quite quickly again and although I have a vague memory of something happening in the middle of the night, I didn’t move until I awoke at about 06:00.

Lying there festering for a while I thought "I may as well raise myself from the Dead rather than loiter around here" but the next thing that I knew, the alarm was ringing. I’d apparently gone back to sleep.

After I’d sorted myself out in the bathroom I went into the kitchen for the medication and found water all over the floor again. But there will be more news about this later.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I started out with Laurence and Roxanne. We’d gone to some kind of informal concert where everyone would be sitting around the entertainers rather than sitting formally in a theatre or something. We turned up and Roxanne went to sit down at the front with all the other children. I found a seat and Laurence came to sit down next to me. I put my arm around her but as soon as I did that she stood up and went to sort something out for Roxanne. She then came back and I went to put my arm around her again but then she stood up to do something else. It went on like this for half an hour until finally she came to sit down. She explained to me that she wasn’t very happy about me putting my arm around her. I couldn’t understand why because that was what I normally did but she was quite adamant that she wasn’t happy about it. I was beginning to think that for all the good that i’m doing here I may as well go outside and go for a walk on my own to settle down a little and calm down before something that went on that I might well regret in the future.

Amongst her other accomplishments, Roxanne was learning to play the harp during her Wednesday afternoon school music session. When we were out in Pionsat at the chateau once we saw an advert for a harp concert. We wandered off to find some tickets but it was completely sold out, much to Roxanne’s dismay. However, we saw a woman struggling to take a giant harp out of her car. “Clearly the harpist” I thought, and so did Roxanne. She told me how disappointed she was about not seeing her play so I told her not to tell me, but to go and tell the woman. So off she went, eight years old, and was chatting away to this woman for about ten minutes. When she came back, she was clutching three complimentary tickets in her sweaty little mitt.

Laurence used to say things like “I ought to change my name to ‘pense-à-tout‘” – ‘think of everything’ – “because no-one else ever remembers anything”. My answer to that was “and Roxanne ought to change her name to ‘reponse-à-tout‘” – “an answer for everything”.

Later on I was at a rock festival last night with Paul Rodgers of Free and some and some singer, I can’t remember. We’d formed a group for the occasion and had rehearsed fifteen songs. When it came to the night it was our turn to go on stage and make everyone listen. I had a little problem with my drum kit at the time so the guitarist simply began to play something to quieten down the audience. After I’d fetched my bass guitar and plugged it in I worked out what key we were in and played in accordance with that and It went much better. But there were only three railway stations, those on the Wirral that need to be changes in any question at all …fell asleep here

Leaving aside the obvious point that Paul Rodgers was the singer of Free – it was David Kossof who was the guitarist – and what I would be doing with a drum kit, that’s another mystery. However that dream petered out into Heaven alone knows what before it became interesting.

Today’s issue with the nurse was that he objects to having to be here before the taxi comes at 08:30 to take me for the eye examination. I ought to book his friend for a precise time to take me in time for the appointment. But leaving aside the fact that it wasn’t me who booked this taxi but the dialysis centre, regular readers of this rubbish will recall his friend’s attitude to problems – “lie through your teeth”. That’s not the service that I want.

Breakfast was next – no book again today due to the lack of a power lead for the computer – so I was back in here quite quickly. I took advantage of the extra time by looking for a computer power transformer and cable (which I don’t have) and then beginning what is going to be a long process of tidying up the place, checking what I have, checking what I need etc for when I finally move downstairs, whenever that might be.

Today has been spent working on a radio programme. I’ve had to skip two programmes because they relate to concerts and I can fit those in whenever I have some free time … "when is that?" – ed … Consequently I’ve been working on 23rd January 2026, if that’s not too far ahead.

By the time I knocked off today I’d hunted down some tracks that I needed that I didn’t have, converted, reformatted and remixed them, paired them and segued them and written all of the text ready to dictate on Saturday night.

That was despite the disgusting drink break, the midday medication, my cleaner being here and not forgetting my wonderful shower. But how I’m looking forward to being downstairs when I can have a shower whenever I like – once the bathroom is converted.

But I mentioned the water all over the floor earlier. My cleaner noticed that the handle on my water jug is broken and there’s a crack down the back of the jug. So that’s something else to replace. I’d better spend Thursday afternoon going through Amazon seeing what I need for the new apartment and send off an order for bits and pieces like that.

Something else that happened today concerns the project in the UK about which I spoke towards the end of last year. It’s well under way and my friend who is in charge of things sent me the first photo of what has been going on and how it is going to look when it’s complete. And I’m impressed with this, that’s for sure.

If it carries on like this, I shall be well-pleased, even if it has cost me an arm and a leg to have it done.

Tea tonight was of course a left-over curry with naan and as usual, it really was delicious. The naan wasn’t as good as last eek’s though – that really was exceptional

Tomorrow I have the optician. With dialysis apparently, it’s important to have the eyes checked every six months or so with all the changes that are going on.

But while we’re on the subject of harps … "well, one of us is" – ed … Roxanne once dressed herself up for a fancy-dress party, so I asked her what her costume was supposed to be
"I’m dressing myself up to be a harp" she replied
"That can’t be a harp costume. It’s far too small" I replied.
She looked at me sternly. "Are you calling me a lyre?"