Tag Archives: cleaner

LIVE: Saturday 26th September 2026 – SOMEONE ELSE HAS …

… now said how much better I’m looking these days. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, the taxi driver who used to live down the road from me in Brussels when she was young, but she actually made a point of coming over to see me after she and her oppo had put their patient out of a stretcher onto the bed.

There have been quite a few people who have said that just recently, and it is nice of them, and you have to admit that so many different people can’t all be wrong, but I just wish that I actually felt like it.

Having said that, I suppose that I ought to feel like it because I had another one of those rare nights when I was actually in bed before my curfew time of 22:30, a time that I go beyond with monotonous regularity.

As for what happened after that, I really have no definite memory. I might have awoken once or twice during the middle of the night, but I wouldn’t like to say so for definite, and I was certainly asleep when the alarm went off.

As usual, it took me a good while after that to find the enthusiasm to stagger to my feet and head off to the bathroom to sort myself out. And while I was in there, I had a good scrub up and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis.

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

I was somewhere in the Balkans last night and we were fighting a revolutionary war against whoever had taken over the state. One of the things that we had was this huge St Bernard dog. Whenever there was any firing or shooting in the neighbourhood, the dog would rush off to try to join in, so we had to restrain him quite heavily. Then we saw the peace treaty that had been drawn up between the country’s militia and our regional militia. There were many, many people with us who didn’t agree with it, so it might be of some use or it might be not, and it might only apply to that immediate area rather than to a wider area, so we decided that we’d test it. We went down in one of the vans and that told us that this peace treaty was to be enforced in our area too, so we trained the dog, and we had it so that it could intercept coded messages and decode them. But it would only be for half an hour or so and then we’d lose this doggy shredder tool for ever.

Although I’ve been in the Balkans on a couple of nights in the recent past, there doesn’t seem to be anything in here that relates to anything that has been going on just recently. A couple of weeks ago I was reading something about the Greek resistance in World War II and the civil war afterwards, but there was certainly no mention of a St Bernard dog anywhere, and no-one had a van.

But the idea of a doggy shredder is a very interesting one. We shall have to try that out on the Hound of the Baskervilles.

There was a lot of us on holiday in Austria. We were staying at someone’s property where they ran an agricultural repair business. The guy who ran the business had just had an operation on his arm, so he wasn’t able to do any heavy maintenance tasks on other people’s vehicles, so his wife, when someone came, she was turning them away and telling them to come back. He had a great deal of difficulty doing this, so he was accepting jobs for two or three weeks hence. The boss of the organisation actually had a camera to film people working in his office to make sure that they were doing the right kind of work. Of course, everyone protested but he still kept them. There was a girl who was the loudest complainant, but the boss said that she spent a lot of time talking to her boyfriend. She said that she does it on a streaming service that runs in parallel with her work so that it doesn’t interrupt her work at all. The boss began to become really heavy on this subject, so I had to intervene. I said that surely the acid test is how much post she has left over at the end of the month. He just threw down his tea towel and marched off. In the meantime, a dumper had pulled up outside. It was one that needed repair and he had seen it a week ago and had put it off until today. And when it came in, it was in no state at all … fell asleep here … As well as this, we’d been skiing. The guy in the dumper asked us if we’d been skiing around here, so we said yes. He was surprised because he didn’t know that there was any snow, but we’d been having a really good time. I’d met this young girl, and she was one of these young girls to whom you could give a tickle and she’d laugh, that sort of thing. I happened to quite like her, so I was lucky enough that one day I managed to take her out. We ended up having a kiss and a cuddle before I took her home. After that, I noticed that she’d cooled off a little and wasn’t so tactile as she had been. When I gave her a tickle, she didn’t do anything, but when the boy sitting next to her did, she laughed. I thought that he’d obviously managed to put himself between the two of us. I thought that that was really a shame because I’d like to get to know this girl better.

There were loads of bits missing from this dream. I remember having a big, full A4 binder, as full as my Welsh one, and having to take certain papers out of it because I imagined that the garage guy would be asking me to fix the machine, the young girl was dressed in a black skirt and black jacket, and there was another, older girl there dressed in a green top and blue skirt.

But there’s plenty of mileage in this dream. Yesterday, I’d been listening to A CHRIS ISAAK CD which includes the song WRONG TO LOVE YOU and that presumably has triggered something off, and it does remind me of one particular skiing trip when we used to go to Aviemore in the early-mid seventies.

As I said, the folder relates to the Welsh folder from last year and the year before that I’ve just put away. As for fixing the dumper on behalf of that garage guy, it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve had to do that in the garage of someone else.

The area of Austria where we were is that near the Czech border, which we have visited on several occasions in the recent past, and the operation on the arm causing him not to be able to work – an operation on the arm (having an implant inserted for dialysis) is one of the reasons why I haven’t played the guitars for a couple of years.

Turning work away is another thing that I could never do, no matter how inconvenient it was. And there’s plenty more too in that dream, but if I were to start to write it out, I’d still be here in the morning before I finished.

Incidentally, throughout these pages, you’ll see links to Amazon products appearing every now and again. Being a sales associate of Amazon, I receive a small commission on goods sold via my links. It costs you nothing at all extra, but helps defray … "part of the" – ed … cost of my not-insubstantial web-hosting fees.

There are also links for AMAZON UK, AMAZON USA and since the recent “troubles”, AMAZON CANADA for the use of my numerous Canadian visitors, and now in response to a request that I received, AMAZON GERMANY. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am extremely grateful when someone uses the links to make a purchase.

Hurricane Isabelle the Nurse blew in rather later than usual and treated me here in the bedroom where I was working. Apparently, a previous client had held her up for fifteen minutes and she had two patients programmed to meet her down at her office almost imminently, so she was interested in shaving as many minutes off her appointments as she could.

After she left, I went into the kitchen to make breakfast, and while I was eating it, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Today, we are reading about the Rhipiphorus Paradoxus or “wasp nest beetle”, whose larvae are parasites of the wasp larvae. This is really not my sort of thing at all, but if I keep on reading, I might actually learn something, and isn’t that why I’m reading all these books anyway?

Back in here, there were a few things that needed doing, and then I had to search around for all the music that I need for the radio programme that I’ll be preparing next week. I needed to track down some music for five of the artists who will be making their appearance, but I managed that before I had to go to make myself ready for dialysis.

My faithful cleaner came too to apply the anaesthetic on my arm, and after she left, I had to wait for the taxi. Not that I had long to wait because the driver was here ten minutes early. And as I was the only passenger today, she had me there by 13:30.

And there, I didn’t have to wait long before I was connected up either. I was up and running by 14:05.

No-one bothered me at all today except the nurses who came running every half an hour when the blood pressure alarm sounded. No doctors or anything. So I could watch the football in peace.

We started with a match from several weeks ago, a qualifying match in the Welsh Cup between Evans and Williams v Port Talbot Town. I managed to see just over half of it before today’s matches kicked off.

My choice this afternoon was the basement clash between Y Fflint and Rhydaman. This was a match that both clubs needed to win if they were to have any chance of hauling themselves out of the mire at the bottom, so I expected them both to be going at it hammer and tongs.

And I was right too. Y Fflint played the nicer football – much nicer, in fact, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … but Rhydaman had the best of the early chances, hitting the woodwork when it was easier to score and also having a goal disallowed for offside.

Y Fflint really do play some nice football, though, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … and it really is a mystery why they have had such poor results. What they haven’t had in any of their matches is a fair share of the luck.

However, all of that changed this afternoon. An over-hit kick upfield from the Fflint midfield found Rhydaman’s goalkeeper and central defender in a helpless tangle as they both went for the same ball, leaving Y Fflint’s centre-forward with the easiest of tap-ins to open the scoring, and a few minutes later, the Rhydaman goalkeeper dropped what should have been a simple catch right at the feet of the Fflint centre-forward, who thanked him very much for the opportunity to score again.

And later in the game, while Rhydaman were throwing everything, including the kitchen sink, at the Fflint defence, a quick clearance out saw a Fflint midfielder run the whole length of the pitch and slide the ball past the stranded keeper for a third.

Y Fflint have been threatening to give some club a right doing-over, but while 3-0 is not actually the score that I had in mind, it’s good enough to be going on with. And it really was an enjoyable game to watch too.

And just a mention about the crowd who saw Penybont come from behind to beat Airbus UK Broughton. It was the fourth-highest crowd in the history of the Cymru Premier League, and if that’s not an achievement, I don’t know what is.

The taxi was waiting for me when I went outside afterwards. It was the same driver who brought me, and once more, I was the only passenger, so I was home by 18:15. My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and she helped me into the apartment. When I was sitting comfortably, she shoved a disgusting drink into my sweaty mitt.

After she left, I made the baked beans, chips and sausage that I should have had yesterday, and then had a soya yoghurt and a prune for pudding.

Back in here, I saw the start of the match between Trefynnon and Llansawel, and then I began to write up my notes from today. And now that they are done, there are just a few more things to do, and then my Sunday lie-in. Isabelle the Nurse can deal with my feet and legs while I’m in bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about crowds … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the time a man squeezed into a crowded lift.
"Ballroom, please" he said.
"I’m sorry" said the woman in front of him. "Am I crowding you?"

LIVE: Wednesday 23rd September 2026 – WHAT A LOVELY …

… day I’ve had today!

Round about 10:30 this morning, the doorbell rang and there on the doorstep were Liz and Terry. They have come over to Normandy to catch up on friends and contacts, and I was one of the people whom they wished to see, which was really nice of them.

Actually, I could do with some cheering up today because it was another awful night last night. I was actually in bed by 22:30, which makes a change, and I was looking forward to a good eight hours’ sleep until the alarm went off at 06:29.

However, it was not to be. I awoke again at some early time in the morning – and it was early too because the lights were on in the car park so it must have been before 02:30. After that, I lay there for a while, tossing and turning and trying to go to sleep.

Eventually, I looked at the time and it was 05:52, so I reckoned that in five minutes, I’ll haul myself out of bed and claim another early start. The next thing that I remembered was the alarm going off. Why is it that I always fall asleep at the wrong moment? Why couldn’t I have fallen asleep an hour earlier?

It took the usual long, long period for me to find the courage and enthusiasm to haul myself out of bed, and the first thing that I did was to go and sort myself out in the bathroom.

Back in here, there were the dictaphone notes to transcribe, so I set to work on those.

This is another one of those dreams that evaporated when I was picking up the dictaphone. I was walking around Crewe with an old friend of mine. We were by the new parade of shops in Market Street. I happened to mention that I’d written a book and he said that he would love to be able to read it and maybe have a copy. But I told him that it was a bit of a children’s fairy tale more than anything else, but he still seemed to be interested in having a copy. That’s all that I remember of this.

Even if I can’t remember very much about this dream, I can still see where it took place. It was at the beginning of Market Street, where Lloyds Bank used to be in the olden days, and we went over Chester Bridge and down past the top of High Street towards the traffic lights by the “Duke of Bridgewater” pub where we intended to turn right into Wistaston Road.

The story about the children’s book is of course true. I’m still on chapter twelve at the moment, not having had the time to go any further with it just recently, and I’m still looking for a reader, but it has to be a child or someone who understands children, and that would rule my friend out immediately.

There was a bit more about that dream that I remembered later. I’d often go out in the morning for a walk and I’d always end up at the same bookshop at a couple of minutes after 09:00 when it opened. There would be people sitting at tables reading books, there would be lots of new books there, and there would be records and second-hand records. There was a hi-fi section at the back and I was looking at the hi-fi equipment, thinking that I’d had my hi-fi equipment since 1985 and it’s forty-one years old. I was looking around at all these things, but I ended up at the counter at the bakery. I’d buy some bread and some croissants and take most of them home. Then I’d go out again another day at the same time.

The shop in this dream reminded me of the old British Home Stores shop in Crewe, demolished when they knocked down the town centre a couple of years ago. And I’m impressed by the memory of when I bought the hi-fi and the maths of working out how long it is that I’ve owned it, while I was asleep.

The story in this dream about buying the bread and taking it home reminded me of when I had to go into work in Brussels early some Saturday mornings for a couple of hours, I’d always come home with couques (patisseries) for breakfast for Laurence, Roxanne and me. It’s a Belgian national habit of eating patisseries for breakfast on a Sunday morning, but we’d have them too for a Saturday morning breakfast if I was up and about.

Another thing about this dream is that I began it by saying “there’s a bit more about that dream,” referring to the first dream. However, I can’t see where the second part would fit into it.

Later on, there was something about baking. I’d been baking with whatever bits of equipment I happened to find. Either I’d bought or someone had given me a huge collection of baking accessories like moulds, whisks and things like that – there were all sorts – so my assistant and I began to make something for tea. I thought that it came out extremely well, so I discussed it with someone else. I remember saying that it always used to cook OK when I lived here, but of course it was twenty years ago and things could possibly have changed in that time.

This does sound very much like my own experience here – cooking with a make-do set of equipment accumulated one by one over the past thirty-four years. Yes, that’s how long it has been since I left the UK. I keep on meaning to upgrade the baking equipment with a proper kit, but up to now, I’ve yet to find what I need.

And it was actually twenty years ago back in April when I left the big apartment at the Avenue d’Exposition in Brussels and moved down to the farm. It was impressive remembering that too while I was asleep.

As for the kitchen assistant too, there’s a story behind that, but the World is not yet ready to hear it.

Halfway through transcribing the dictaphone notes, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t unlocked the front door. I had to dash … "well, sort of" – ed … into the living room and unlock it before she arrived.

It didn’t take long for her to turn up either, so I was only just in time. She asked if I had any news about the Hound of the Baskervilles, so I explained that it was Oktoberfest time in Munich so I’ll be expecting garbled reports for the next couple of weeks until the festival closes down and everyone sobers up.

After she had dealt with my feet and legs, she cleared off on her rounds and I went to make my breakfast – porridge and toast with coffee and fruit juice to wash down my medication. While I was eating, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Not very much more of it because, whilst talking about Llangorse Lake, it was coming up with all kinds of interesting facts and curious stories, so I spent much of the time following up these leads and enlightening myself on old Breconshire myths and legends.

Back in here, there were the usual things to do, and I also reviewed the radio programme for this coming weekend and sent it off ready for adding into the stream for broadcasting.

And then, we had the famous knock on the door.

There’s an old Roman saying, originally by Virgil – "timeo Danaos et dona ferentes" meaning “beware of Greeks bringing gifts”, but anyone who comes to my house bringing six tins of baked beans for me is more than welcome. And not only that, it’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen them, so just like the Hound of the Baskervilles and his master, they are always welcome here whenever they pass by.

The first thing that I did was to make Liz a coffee, and then we sat down and brought each other up to date with the latest news – and there was a lot to say too. It was wonderful to catch up with old friends like this.

My faithful cleaner breezed in too. She’d been to the chemists and fetched my medication for the next month. And when she opened the medication drawer, Liz gasped. She hadn’t seen as much medication in one place outside a pharmacy before.

At lunchtime, we made a salad with lettuce, tomatoes, olives, cucumbers, kidney beans and potatoes and it really was nice too. There is some left over too so I might have that tomorrow night for tea if I’m hungry. But as I said last night, I don’t know what’s happened, but I seem to have my appetite coming slowly back. And Isabelle the Nurse seems to think that it may well be the perfusion that I had on Monday that has stimulated me as well as the red blood cells (I asked her this morning).

We carried on chatting until about 16:30 when Liz and Terry left. They are only here for a few days and they had other fish to fry, so I thanked them for their visit and I look forward to the next time.

After they had gone, I had a rather late disgusting drink and midday medication and then came in here to do some work, but instead, I crashed out for a while. That’s a disappointment because for the last couple of days, I’ve managed to keep going and I had hoped that this run would continue. I shall have to work harder.

Anyway, once I’ve backed up and done the stats, I shall be off to bed for … "he hopes" – ed … an early night.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the chemists … "well, one of us has" – ed … my cleaner told me that she was there when another woman came in.
She went up to the chemist and asked him "do you have cotton wool balls, by any chance?"
The chemist replied "what do you think I am, madam? A teddy bear?"

LIVE: Tuesday 22nd September 2026 – I DON’T KNOW …

… why, but today, I seem to have had one of the better days that I have had for a considerable period of time. Even my cleaner noticed that I was much more bright and chirpy than my normal self.

It surely can’t be the perfusion that I had yesterday? I would imagine that that would take a few days before it started having any effect, but apart from that, nothing else seems to have changed, so I dunno.

It wasn’t the early night either because it wasn’t as early as I would have liked it to be either. It was probably about 22:45 when I finally hit the hay.

And that’s another thing too – looking back a couple of weeks or so ago, I was flat out and desperate to go to bed at some kind of ridiculously early hour, and that’s especially true of the nights when I have had dialysis in the afternoon, but just recently, there have been several nights after midnight and I was still letting it all hang out.

And last night, after dialysis, I would have normally expected to have gone to bed at about 20:30 or 21:00, but I was still going strong at, as I said just now, 22:45. So I’ve no idea what’s happening right now.

But once I’d gone to bed, I managed to go to sleep fairly quickly, but once more, it wasn’t for long. I awoke again at some early hour – I’ve no idea what time because I didn’t look – and couldn’t go back to sleep.

At some point, though, I must have managed it because I remember waking up again. This time I did look at the time and it was 05:52. I decided that I wouldn’t try to go back to bed but I’d have another early start.

By 06:15 I was in the bathroom sorting myself out and then came back in here to start work.

The first thing that I did was to transcribe the notes on the dictaphone. There was nothing on there from last night, but I dealt with Sunday’s dream and there was also something from Monday morning. Those two web pages are now on line, for the benefit of those of you who are here for the dreams and not for news of my really exciting and eventful life.

While I was at it, I checked the stats and there was yet another hit from an artificial intelligence chatbot.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up to start her week and, silly me, I’d left the door locked from last night so she had to use the key that I gave her and her oppo the other week. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve been locking the door to the apartment at night since I had that strange nocturnal visitor a few weeks ago.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Not very much of it because, as usual, I was side-tracked and ended up reading about the mountains on the fringe of the Mynyddoedd Duon or “Black Mountains” of Breconshire and neighbouring counties. That was much more exciting.

Back in here, I revised for my Welsh and then went to class. And surprisingly, it was one of the best lessons that I have ever had, even though it’s only the second lesson of another year. That probably contributed to my good humour, especially as after the lesson a few of us had a group chat on the internet and I managed to keep up with the conversation.

And that wasn’t the only conversation that I had had either. All in all, there was a total of four conversations with different people, and they were all welcome.

After a disgusting drink break, my cleaner put her sooty foot in the apartment and the first thing that she did was, as usual on a Tuesday, to chase me into the shower. While I was in there showering, she changed the bedclothes on my bed so now, you have a nice clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … and a nice clean bed.

We also had a good chat about several things, including about the retired skipper who was found dead in a burnt-out apartment the other day.

After she left, I attacked the radio programme that I’d been working on before my holidays. Now, all of the music has been located, re-edited and reformatted, paired and segued. All I need to do now is to write the notes and then that’s ready to go too. And that reminds me – I haven’t checked this week’s radio programme yet so I must do that tomorrow without fail.

On that point, I knocked off for tea. And surprisingly, I was hungry too so I made pasta and veg in tomato sauce with falafel, and it would have been delicious had I not dropped a lot of used oil onto it straight out of the air fryer. So I ate what I could and the incident reminded me to
1) Be more careful with the air fryer
2) Wash the air fryer out more regularly.

And when I did the washing up later, I did indeed wash out the air fryer and I hope that on Friday, when I have my chips, it will produce some really good ones.

But again, I had a meal tonight and half a meal last night, and I’m promising myself an evening meal on Friday. So what IS going on with me right now?

Back in the office, I typed up the notes for tonight and then checked the stats and so on. With a bit of luck, God’s help and a bobby, I might actually manage an early night tonight. So here’s hoping that this good mood continues tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the dreams from Sunday night, the first night and a friend … "well, one of us has" – ed … It reminds me of the story generally attributed to George Bernard Shaw and Winston Churchill but actually concerned Noël Coward and Randolph Churchill.
Coward – "I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend—if you have one."
Churchill – "Cannot possibly attend the first night; will attend the second—if there is one"

LIVE: Monday 21st September 2026 – YET ANOTHER CHAOTIC …

… day at dialysis – just the same (give or take the odd bit here and there) as last Monday, and I wasn’t really in the mood for it, because I’ve had a chaotic day too.

Last night, it wasn’t too far short of midnight when I finally made my way into bed, and the good news was that I was asleep quite quickly.

However, it wasn’t for long, though. I’ve no idea what time I awoke, but as it was pitch-black outside, I’d say that it wasn’t much after 02:30. And once awake, I lay there tossing and turning and trying to make myself comfortable in bed so that I could go back to sleep, but nothing seemed to work.

At least, that’s what I thought, but round about 06:05 I had another one of those dramatic awakenings that I used to have regularly at one point. There was no point in going back to sleep at that point, with all of my appointments today, so by 06:15 I was in the bathroom organising myself ready for the onslaught. I even had a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant later.

There was actually something on the dictaphone from the night, as I found out on Tuesday morning, so I’ve added it in here.

There was something last night about me being sent to one of these RAF filling station type of places where people go after they have been injured or after they’ve been sick and their position in their regular flight had been filled by someone else. So I’d been sent to this place to meet up with other people similar to form a crew, and then I suddenly realised that I can’t have done that because I wasn’t born until nine years after the war ended so it’s just not possible for me to have been there.

There actually was a place like this at one of the RAF training centres, although it was hardly a “filling station” in the normal usage of the term. Bomber crews were assembled simply amongst themselves towards the end of their training and they usually stuck together throughout their tour of thirty missions. However, if someone were sick or injured, someone else would be co-opted into the crew and when the original member returned to duty, he would find that his place had been taken. Consequently he’d be sent to the “training centre” where he could team up with other people to form a new crew.

However, I’m impressed that within a dream, I can recognise the absurdity of the situation of being in this training centre at least nine years before I was even born.

Back in the kitchen, I put away the washing up from yesterday and made sure that the place looked nice. After that, I finished organising what I needed to take with me and then had a little snooze hunched over the table while I waited for the taxi to arrive.

The car was booked for 08:15, and my doorbell rang at 08:14. Excellent timing, that was. There was just me going in the car this morning. We had patchy fog all the way, not as bad as my chauffeur said it was when she started work at 05:30 this morning.

We arrived at the hospital bang on 09:00, and she pushed me in a wheelchair up to the hôpital de jour. I know that I have said that I won’t go in a wheelchair, but where I was going was miles away from the entrance and, at this time of the morning, the drivers have plenty of other things to do that accompany me, slowly and painfully on foot.

The nursing auxiliary and the nurse fussed around me when I arrived, and wasn’t the latter relieved when I said I had a chemotherapy port? It made her task so much easier and mine too because I could then type with both hands.

By about 09:40 I was up and running with this stuff to stimulate my red blood cells, and I was told that the treatment would last a little over two hours.

The bad news (at first) was that there seemed to be no internet up there, but I had a ferret around and eventually managed to conjure up something, so I watched LLansawel against Trefelin from Friday night. It was a miserable night last Friday, and playing football in a monsoon on a paddy field wasn’t very encouraging. It was something of a lottery out there and I don’t think that the teams could have been too dissatisfied with the end result.

As for the fans, though, it was no real spectacle. It was a long-ball hoof upfield and another long-hoof upfield in reply. I could count on the fingers of my hand the number of passes that found a team mate. I’m sure that in this weather, they would have been better off playing the ball to feet instead of in the air.

After that, I started Connah’s Quay Nomads v Cardiff Metro. I didn’t get to see much of it so I’ll tell you about it later.

During the morning, I had a visit from no less a person than Emilie the Cute Consultant. She came to see how I was doing and, once more, just like two years ago, she sat on the end of my bed while she chatted. The plan that they have worked out is that because they have still not been able to arrange anything with a haematologist, I’ll have to come here every four weeks for this treatment. And right on cue, the nurse came with my next appointment – Monday 19th October at 09:30.

And it really was nice to chat to Emilie the Cute Consultant. It seems that she still loves me.

Round about 11:50, the treatment was finished and the nurse unplugged me. She said that I had to wait for a while to let my head clear and, in any case, the taxi would be here to take me across the road at about 13:30. Waiting wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought, especially as I was brought a meal – stuffed tomatoes, bread, sliced pears and an apple purée. It was better than the coffee earlier, though, which was served in just about the oldest mug I have ever seen.

Round about then, I began to wonder when the nurse was going to come back to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. There was no sign so I asked the nursing auxiliary, who replied that all of the nurses had gone for lunch. So what are the connections going to be like with no anaesthetic, do you think?

The car turned up bang on schedule and took me across the road. I was there at 13:40 but had to wait until 14:30 to be plugged in. Had I known that the wait was going to be so long, I’d have persuaded one of the nurse there to apply my anaesthetic there and then as I arrived.

The connections were nothing like as painful I was expecting. In fact, I’ve had worse than those even when I’ve been covered in anaesthetic, so I didn’t mind too much.

Once I was finally up and running, I was left pretty much alone for the session. The low blood pressure alarm didn’t ring at all – not even once.

However, I was really feeling tired – I’d had a battle to keep away across the road – but here, I did actually fall asleep, only to be shaken awake by a nurse who was afraid that I was busy pushing up the daisies. And another one of the doctors came to see me to find out how I was doing. I’ve no idea what is the reason for this sudden popularity.

The next match to watch was the rest of Connah’s Quay Nomads v Cardiff Metro. Another game played in a monsoon, it was another one of these end-to-end games, but the Nomads’ class showed through in the end and they went on to win 1-0.

The old guy who was rushed to hospital last week was there today, looking much better. However, it was the turn of a woman this time who began to have problems. All the nurses and doctors congregated around her and in the end, my chauffeur was hijacked to rush her over the road to the emergencies.

They had begun to unplug me, but as everyone was finishing at the same time, I was left until almost last. The nurse came to offer her excuses, but I told her that although I don’t mind waiting, I’d be much happier if they left my machine running so that I could take advantage of the extra time.

Eventually, my chauffeur arrived, the young chatty guy. We had someone else to drop off en route so it was a miserable 19:05 when I finally arrived home. My cleaner helped me into the apartment and stuck a disgusting drink into my sweaty little mitt.

After she left, I made a quick tea – just a little potato salad because I wasn’t all that hungry tonight.

So now, having finished my notes, I’m going to try to have an early night for once.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the hôpital de jour … "well, one of us has" – ed … I overheard two of the nurses talking to each other
"I hear that there’s a case of brucellosis just come in" said the one.
"Oh well," said the other. "It’ll make a change from Lucozade."

LIVE: Saturday 19th September 2026 – I HAD TWO …

… phantom alarms during the night And I know that the first one of them was a phantom alarm because I was awake (at least, I think that I was) when it sounded. But it wasn’t the usual RAUCOUS RATTLE OF BILLY COTTON but more like a series of these wind bells ringing down in the bottom corner of the bedroom where the chest of drawers is.

The second one went off when I was asleep, and that WAS Billy Cotton. It went off at about 04:00 or so because, after I’d been tossing and turning around for quite a while, I saw that the time was 04:38.

So an 04:00 awakening this morning, which, considering that I didn’t go to bed until after 00:30 this morning, hasn’t let me have much sleep at all. It’s a good job that I’m in dialysis this afternoon so, if necessary, I can have a good sleep.

At some point much later on, I tucked myself up in the only position that seems to be able to make me go to sleep. It’s quite uncomfortable, and I usually wake up to find that I’m flat on my back again, but during the latter part of the night last night I didn’t move and was still there when the alarm went off.

This morning, it was more of a struggle than most mornings to rise to my feet, but the lure of Emilie the Cute Consultant was sufficient to attract me into the bathroom for a good wash and scrub up, and even a shave.

Back in here, I found that there was nothing on the dictaphone from last night, but when I had woken up earlier, there were a couple of things going on in my head as if I’d been awoken in the middle of a dream before I’d had time to record it. So, for what they are worth, I’ve written down what little I remember of them.

The first part seemed to relate to someone in this apartment looking for a teatowel. However, I awoke and noticed that they were all in here and I was covered in them, so there was definitely something strange going on.

And the second part took place round about now – towards the end of September (in my head I had the feeling that it was the 22nd of September) – here in France, and I was dressed in my winter jacket, gloves and woolly hat as if it were mid-winter, and other people were dressed for winter too.

There doesn’t seem to be anything at all to connect these two little bits with anything that has gone on in real life just recently. The closest connection that I can make is being up in the High Arctic in mid- to late September when I was certainly in winter clothing – as much of it as I could wear.

There were a few other things to do, and then the nurse arrived to interrupt me. He asked about the Hound of the Baskervilles, so I told him what I knew, and then he began to speak to me in German. My German isn’t as good as it ought to be, but I managed to answer him to a certain degree.

After he left, I made my breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

We’re still on meteorology, and while I was reading it, I came across this report – "1816 was a very wet, cold season. Wheat out at Christmas, and the head so bad “that it would stick if thrown against a wall.” The season said to be as bad as in 1698."

Strangely enough, that was the only entry for severe weather in 1816, and that surprised me, for in 1815, there was the volcanic eruption of Mount Tambora on the island of Sumbawa, these days part of Indonesia. It is said to be the largest eruption in recorded history and the fallout from the volcanic ash was such that 1816 was said to be “the year without a summer” and “an agricultural disaster” with food shortages, famine and starvation.

Why there aren’t any more entries relating to this period is a total mystery.

Back in here with just two hours to go before I need to make myself ready for dialysis, but I couldn’t think of what to do in that period. It’s not very often that I have a block like that. So on the basis of “if you don’t know what to do, just do something, or anything,” so I wrote chapter ten of my book.

This was going to be the last chapter, but I seem to have let my fingers run away with themselves on the keyboard just recently, so there are at least two chapters still to do, plus the preface and the conclusion. But this has always been a challenge for me – sticking within a word count. You give me a word limit and I’ll go beyond it, sometimes by a country mile too.

When the alarm went off, I took myself off into the kitchen to sort out my midday medication and my disgusting drink. My cleaner duly turned up to sort out my anaesthetic and a couple of other little tasks too, and once she’d left, I had to wait for the taxi.

Not that I was waiting long because it was here at 12:40. We had to go to Champeaux to pick up someone else, and we were at the dialysis centre at 13:30. By 14:10 I was up and running too.

There were no interruptions, apart from the nurses running to deal with the blood pressure alarm every half-hour. Not even a doctor came to see me, so I could watch the football in mostly peace and quiet in my little room.

Yesterday, I mentioned the game between Caernarfon and Cambrian United, so that was my choice. And it was as chaotic as the newsfeed report said it was.

There was Caernarfon’s goalkeeper running the ball out of play, which led to fisticuffs between him and a Cambrian forward that saw both of them sent off. Later on, another Cambrian player was sent off for “denying a goalscoring opportunity”.

Caernarfon’s ten men were far too good for Cambrian’s nine, and it became an embarrassment as the Caernarfon players cut through the Cambrian defence like a hot knife through butter. There were actually nine different goal scorers making up Caernarfon’s total, and if that’s not a record, I don’t know what is.

After it finished, I watched the first half of Hwlffordd v Trefynnon, but once more I ran out of time. I’ll tell you about it when I’ve finished watching it.

When the session was finished, I had to wait a few minutes to be unplugged, and after that, another fifteen minutes for my taxi. But at least, I was the only passenger so I was home by 18:30.

My cleaner was sitting on her mushroom waiting for me, and she helped me into the apartment, sticking a disgusting drink into my sweaty little mitt. After she left, I made some food, just a handful of pasta and vegetables with melted butter.

Back in here, there was yet more football – a Welsh Cup match between Denbigh of the second tier and Trearddur Bay of the third tier. And when you are 1-0 down in the seventy-ninth minute with two players already sent off, as Denbigh were, what would be the betting on a Denbigh win?

It was only then that Denbigh began to play. And how is it possible for Trearddur Bay, with a two-man advantage, to leave a Denbigh player unmarked at the far post? That was one goal back to equalise, and then with two minutes to go, they scored a second.

The game itself was quite agricultural, and even though it’s second tier v third tier, I was expecting far better football than this. But I’ve seen worse on my travels, I suppose.

But I won’t be seeing any more tonight, unless they appear in my dreams, because I’m off to bed. It’s way past my bedtime. But at least (in principle) I can have a lie-in tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about agricultural disasters … "well, one of us has" – ed … an aeroplane crashed in a field and the local search and rescue brigade dashed to the scene.
They noticed two things – firstly that there was a farmer nearby wiping his hands, and the second was that the aeroplane was Air Force One.
"Oh my God! What a disaster!" exclaimed the brigade leader. Then he turns to the farmer and asks "where are the survivors?"
"There weren’t any" replies the farmer. "I just finished burying them"
"Even Donald Trump? Surely he must be alive at least!"
"Well, he told me that he was, but you know what a big liar he is."

LIVE: Friday 18th September 2026 – THIS IS THE …

… last day of my summer holidays today.

The other day, I know that I said that I would start work today, but falling asleep at my desk after breakfast and remaining like that until exactly 11:21 rather made up my mind for me.

It’s understandable though. Even though I crashed out last night by about 21:30 and was well-tucked up in bed, going to bed early just means that I wake up early, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed …

The thing that startled me most was hearing the “click” from the immersion heater relay. “Surely it can’t be 06:38 already, it’s switching off and I’ve slept through the alarms?” No it wasn’t. It was 01:10 and the immersion heater was just switching on.

From then on, I just tossed and turned all night until I finally checked the time again – 05:52. That made up my mind so I leapt to my feet … "well, sort of" – ed … and went over to the computer to finish off last night’s notes, which are now on line.

There was time to do a few other things, including checking the stats, where I found that once more, an AI chatbot has visited my website and used ONE OF MY WEB PAGES as a reference. I forget how many times this is now.

When the nurse arrived, he was very disappointed to find me all alone. He’d grown quite fond of the Hound of the Baskervilles, and I’m sure that the feeling was mutual. But never mind. He sorted out my legs and feet and then cleared off on his travels.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

This report, written in 1871 or so, describes the field trips of the members and guests and includes verbatim copies of the “papers” that were read at their lectures. The one that we’ve been discussing today is meteorology, and, bearing in mind that this is 1871, this following quote is bound to be of interest to almost everyone and takes my “earliest mention of global warming” back yet another few years.

"it appears plain from this diagram that our climate has become warmer, the month of January particularly, say from 2 to 3 degrees. There is not so much difference in the summer months, or even of March; but the whole year is somewhat warmer on the average than at the close of the last century."

This is a fascinating quote from a group of committed and determined observers, and it’s a shame that it’s been missed by most modern means of mass communication. And it’s a good indication of the fact that global warming has been around longer than most people realise.

Back in here again, I had a few things to do but found myself fast asleep in my chair yet again, as I said earlier. How I wish that I could avoid it, especially when it takes a good twenty minutes at least to pull myself together afterwards. In fact, I don’t think that it was until I had my disgusting drink and midday medication (and midday plum) at about 12:40 that I was ready to go.

Back at my desk, the first thing was to transcribe the dictaphone notes from last night.

This is a dream that I can only remember bits of because it all evaporated when I reached for the dictaphone. I was with another younger boy from school, and there was something going on there that I can’t remember. And then I ended up in London again and I was driving away from the city centre and the North Circular Road in a sort-of North East direction through one set of housing after another after another after another, and it basically involved Liz, “that Liz”, not “this Liz” and me, and we were somewhere at some kind of fête and they called the tombola number winners, and it was a ticket that I had, and the prize was something like £113,000. Naturally, we were both delighted. We met someone who was obviously jealous because she began to ask us what we were all going to do with it and all of that. Liz seemed to think that splitting it in half was not the right kind of thing. I think she wanted her daughter to have a share too. She was annoyed when I was talking to this person about splitting it in half and stormed out. I stormed off after her but I couldn’t persuade her to come back in. In the end, she just disappeared. I went to find her daughter, and her daughter and I looked around for a while. Her daughter showed me her wedding photos, and I hadn’t realised that she’d married. That was when I had that bit about driving through London thousands of miles later while I looked to find her, and I remember the road that was dark and damp and all these terraced houses and old-type semis. I pulled up at a house at one point, and another Ford Granada pulled up behind me. I went in, and these two women asked me if I was their taxi, so I replied “no”. The other driver said that he was theirs, but he sounded completely drunk from my point of view.

“That Liz” appears quite often in my dreams, but this is the first appearance for many a long year of her daughter. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I TOOK HER TO CANADA IN 2010 after her mother died. And in any case, neither of them was the kind to make a fuss about money.

However, I’m back in London again, aren’t I? This is becoming quite a habit.

There was another dream about being back in Pionsat. Half of the football club was there waiting for the other half to go for a match. Eventually, they turned up and they went. There were plenty of players whom I knew from before, and not one of them said “hello” to me. They went off, but they came back a few hours later this Sunday morning, but they didn’t tell me how the game had gone.

This is possibly something to do with the merger nine years ago of Pionsat and Marcillat football clubs in an attempt to make a much stronger first XI. However, it didn’t work out that way, but that’s another story.

It’s interesting to see that they don’t notice me. Was I a ghost at that moment? That’s always an intriguing possibility.

When I was working in an office, there was a girl who was working there. She was married and had two children, or was it three children? But her husband was flirting around with one of her work colleagues. It turned out that they went swimming together and doing all sorts of other things together, leaving this girl pretty much on her own, so she used to come along to talk to me about it. I said “I know what advice I would give you, but it’s not my business. She had another friend who used to come along and talk to the two of us, and she made some kind of remark that I hadn’t noticed that I’d started to hold this girl’s hand. I felt “well! What’s happening here?”

I know this girl right enough, and she certainly didn’t have three children. The situation also related to her too, although I was never lucky enough to hold her hand, much as I would have liked to.

But being lucky in a dream is an unusual situation for me anyway. My family usually comes along and puts the spanner in the works long before we get to this point.

And then, of course, I was back in London again and was walking around the streets. I’d parked the van up somewhere on the edge of the city and I’d walked in. There had been some kind of confusion that Nerina and I had won all this money, but a solicitor just picked it up and walked off with it and refused to hand it back. I went to see my friendly solicitor at work, who happened to be there at the time, and had him write out the statement as to what he saw, because I was going to take it to the police. Then I had to walk back to my van through the streets of north-east London that I’ve walked through dozens of times in a dream. I started it up, and I was surprised that it started. I set out to drive away, but I realised that I hadn’t had anything to eat for ages, so I turned round and headed back. There was a bakery that I’d visited when I’d been walking around London in a dream, and with a chip shop next to it. So I parked up there and went off to buy some food.

This looks as if it might be connected to the first dream, although Nerina is there instead of “that Liz”. As for my friendly neighbourhood solicitor, I know him too, and he’s certainly not a solicitor, not by any means.

And back in London again, and in the same street as the bakery and the chip shop that I have visited on numerous occasions in recent dreams.

Having finished all of that, I began to write chapter nine of my story. This is an important chapter, the key in fact to the whole book and, if I’m lucky, the whole series. It’s where the heroine suddenly finds her feet in her new world after her tragedies in the earlier chapters, and it took quite a while to write. However, it’s turned out exactly as I would like it to.

All I need now, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … is to find myself a target audience willing to read it to see what she thinks. So if you have a girl in your entourage aged, say, between nine and twelve who might like to read it, let me know.

Chapter ten will be next, but I’ve no idea when I’ll find the time to write it now. It won’t be tonight because there’s football on later – newly promoted Airbus UK Broughton v established Y Fflint, lingering third from bottom without a win.

This is a game that Y Fflint must be targeting if they are to close the gap that’s widening at the foot of the table, cutting off the bottom three.

My cleaner put her sooty foot into the apartment and did some cleaning in the middle of all of this, and, poor girl, she was here for almost three hours this afternoon. She’s still not convinced that she’s collected everything, even though this is the first ever time that I’ve seen her use a vacuum cleaner. At least, I think that the place is spotless now.

When chapter nine was finished, I fed it through the first of my two chatbot proofreaders, and he liked it very much, so I fed it through the second one. There were a couple of typing errors and missed punctuation that it found, but the continuity and the chronology are holding up really well.

Tea tonight was my usual Friday favourite – air-fried chips with vegan sausage and baked beans with cheese and black pepper. It was delicious beforehand, but since my friend advised me to boil the chips first in order to soften them before frying them in the air fryer, they have come out even better, so I really enjoyed my meal tonight.

Especially when it was followed by a mixture of tinned apricots and tinned fruit cocktail with some of that lovely vegan ice cream from Noz. It’s a shame that I don’t know anyone else who shops there, otherwise they would be getting a weekly order.

And having said all of that, I can’t believe that I’ve had a meal and enjoyed it. God knows what it’s done to my water retention issues, but ask me if I care.

Back in here, there was the football – Airbus UK Broughton v Y Fflint. As I said earlier, this was a match that Y Fflint needed to win to kickstart their season, and indeed they played some really nice football – in fact, they showed much more skill than Airbus did. So what I simply do not understand is why they lost the match 4-1. They were the much better team, I reckoned, and they had the Airbus defence under siege for some very long periods, even after they had had a player sent off.

Mind you, their goal was a cracker. A young lad – Levi Morrison, I think – had just come on as a substitute and was playing right-back. He played a magnificent ball right over the top of the Airbus defence into the path of an onrushing striker who had the simplest of jobs to lash it into the net.

And my “man of the match”? Lassana Mendes, Y Fflint’s Spanish midfielder, who ran the game better than anyone I have seen for a long time.

It has to be said, however, that playing football in a monsoon with hurricane-force winds and the distractions of aeroplanes taking off and landing in the background can’t have been easy.

And whatever happened at Caernarfon? Four players (three from Cambrian United) were sent off, eighteen minutes of stoppage time and a 9-1 victory for the home side. That has to be a game worth watching, and I shall be looking forward to it tomorrow at dialysis.

But right now, later than ever, I’m off to bed. I need my beauty sleep if I am going to look my best for whoever knows who comes along.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about winning at tombola … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the time Nerina asked me what I would do if I won the lottery.
"Give you half and throw you out" I said.
"Good!" she said. "Here’s £6:00, half of my win last night. Now clear off!"

LIVE: Thursday 17th September 2026 – IT’S ALL EXTREMELY …

… quiet in here tonight. And that’s because I’m on my own. Round about midday, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off to the car and the last time that I saw them, they were heading due east somewhere, in the general direction of Munich.

It was really lovely having company. After all, I’m not used to it. and as I said to him … "the friend, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … it’s open house here, and he and his sidekick are welcome to come here any time they want and can stay as long as they like.

Especially if he continues to make the coffee like that.

And I was ready for a mug of coffee this morning. I was in bed at something like a reasonable time, and although the wind was blowing, it didn’t disturb me that much and I was soon asleep.

However, round about 04:00, there was an enormous gust of wind that awoke me dramatically, and I wasn’t the only one to be awakened because my friend told me later that the Hound of the Baskervilles had awoken him round about that time, so something had obviously scared him … "the Hound of the Baskervilles, not the friend" – ed …

Once I was awake, I found it hard to go back to sleep and I tossed and turned for hours. However, at some point, I must have dozed off because the alarm awoke me.

And for once, I failed to beat the second alarm, dismal failure that I am. I just couldn’t unstick myself from the bed and I don’t know why. Consequently, I was quite a while late starting work this morning.

The first task was to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night.

During World War II the Chinese had decided to co-operate with the Allies against Japan, so they had sent radio signalmen on board many of the Allied ships. Those ships flew a white flag with the letter "G" on it. Someone made some remark about the one on his boat, saying that he was wearing some kind of flowing kimono or something like that in luxurious silk. Of course, we were sitting there thinking that he’s not going to last five minutes like that.

Being on board a ship would be nothing to bother me, although I have no idea where the Chinese man in his blue flowing kimono comes into it all.

Then this dream changed to something else. I was with a colleague from work and we were in Czechoslovakia or somewhere, and I was living there, and it was very similar to that one about Poland or Czechoslovakia the other week. We had to go to see someone, so another one of the workers picked me up and drove me all the way to Prague for this meeting. It turned out in effect that there was only going to be two of us, a young person from the other side. We had this meeting in what used to be a railway station, and we were chatting really about not very much at all. Just as the meeting was ending, this guy said that he’d forgotten to give him something. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a hammerhead. He said that that had fallen off someone’s Land Rover the other day. I mentioned a name and asked “it’s not him, is it, because he’s only just bought a new one?” but it wasn’t. Anyway, what happened next? So we made ready to go, and I suddenly remembered that someone had given me an axe head to sharpen, so I was busy sharpening the blade on the axe. The person with me was rather frightened in case I hurt myself, so he held my elbow. That led to an argument because you can’t sharpen anything if someone is holding your arm.

We’ve been spending a lot of time in Czechoslovakia and the Czech Republic just recently. Wishful thinking on my part, obviously. But the name that I mentioned was someone related in part to where I used to work.

Sharpening the axe head is also an interesting situation to contemplate, with someone trying to stop me carrying out my plans, which seem to have been infiltrated. It’s a nuisance, isn’t it?

The nurse came along for his final German lesson, a final big hug of the Hound of the Baskervilles and to sort out my feet and legs. And then another Welsh lesson, big hug, etc., before parting.

The Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off on yet another walkie, and I made breakfast and read some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Today’s subject is columnar ice, and that set me off on the trail of William Scoresby. He was one of the earliest of the “ice-masters” who worked the whaling ships in the Davis Strait and places like that in the first quarter of the nineteenth century. He gave a great deal of advice to the Admiralty about his experiences in the Hugh Arctic, especially concerning the ill-fated Franklin Expedition, but it was usually always rejected because he was a “civilian” and “the Admiralty knew best”, even if no Royal Navy sailors had ever set foot in the places where Scoresby had been.

His book, “Journal of a Voyage to the Northern Whale Fishery”, IS AVAILABLE ON LINE and as of this morning, is available in my own little digital book collection to read at a later date. I can see that I shall have to take my laptop with me when I go, in order to read all these books at my leisure. I hope that they have charging points down below where I’m going. Would I need an international adapter?

Back in here, there were a few things that needed finishing off, and then I started to make a couple of plans for things that I need to do over the weekend. However, proceedings were brought to an abrupt halt by the alarm reminding me that I need to prepare for dialysis. When you think about it, it’s bizarre that I have to set an alarm to remind me, but it’s not a case of “I might forget”. It’s just that with having this tendency to fall asleep at strange times and in strange places, I don’t want to be asleep when the taxi comes for me.

In the kitchen, I had my disgusting drink and midday medication, and my cleaner came to put the anaesthetic on my arm. However, as you might expect, she spent more time saying goodbye to the Hound of the Baskervilles, who was on the point of leaving.

After everyone had left, I waited for the taxi – not that I had to wait long because it was here at 12:42. There was already one passenger aboard, and we had to stop at the Aqua-gym at St Pair to pick up our usual Thursday passenger. Consequently, we arrived at dialysis early, not that it did me much good because so did everyone else, and I had to wait until 14:20 before I was up and running.

Once I was finally on my way, I could watch the football. Today, it was Trefelin, near the bottom of the table, against Penybont, third from top. And it was not, as you might expect, another “men against boys” encounter, but Trefelin pushed Penybont all the way and the latter had to work really hard for their 1-0 victory. Trefelin’s defence was excellent, except for that one lapse of concentration that cost them dear.

After that, we had the first half of Llandudno v Caernarfon. Llandudno, another newly promoted side, has adapted well to the level of skill required in the Premier League, and when I ran out of time watching the game, they were down 1-0 but by no means out of the contest and had, in fact, looked the better side.

There had been a few interruptions during my session. For once, the blood pressure alarm sounded only once or twice, but the most important was the doctor, telling me that she’d arranged this Hôpital de Jour thing and I should be expecting to hear from the hospital quite soon about it. And as she was walking away, my telephone rang. It was the hospital telling me that I had to be there on Monday morning at 09:00.

Blimey! Things are moving fast!

Half an hour later, the nurse came to give me the details of the appointment and said that she’d arranged the taxi to pick me up and the one to take me to dialysis afterwards. What a day that will be!

The nurse who was on duty was the one who is … errr … more relaxed about her working methods and, for some reason that I have yet to understand, switched off my machine a good five minutes before the end of the session, despite my protests. Every gram or millilitre that they can squeeze out of me is important.

Not only that, but she didn’t come back to unplug me for ten minutes so she may as well have left it running.

My taxi driver, the same one who brought me, was waiting for me, but we had to go across to the hospital to pick up someone else going to Granville so it was about 18:30 when I arrived home. My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and helped me into my apartment, where she stuck a disgusting drink into my sweaty little mitt.

After she left, I began to think about eating but I couldn’t face cooking anything tonight, so I had some crackers with cheese spread, followed by one of my nice, juicy plums. And it was so juicy that I’d better eat the rest quite quickly.

Once I’d dined, I began to write out my notes, but as usual, the dialysis had been a little too much and I couldn’t stay awake. I ended up posting on-line as far as I’d reached and went to bed. The rest can wait.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the High Arctic… "well, one of us has" – ed … there was a radio programme in Canada once discussing global warming, the retreat of the ice and the migration northwards of the species who live on it.
However, the programme was more concerned with the polar bears who were migrating south into human-inhabited zones hunting for food.
Part of the discussion concerned the odd handful of polar bears who migrated south, and then back north again, then back south etc., as if they couldn’t make up their minds.
"There’s no particular worry about those" said a panellist.
"Why not?" asked the presenter.
"They are what we call the ‘bi-polar bears’"

LIVE: Tuesday 15th September 2026 – THAT WAS A …

… much better day today than yesterday was, although it does have to be said that it could hardly be any worse. For a start, I actually managed to go to sleep, which is more than I did the previous night.

Having gone to bed at about 21;00, after having been asleep on my chair for at least an hour, I was asleep quite quickly. And I didn’t need much rocking either. And there I lay, fast asleep, until something rather dramatic awoke me. It was one of these occasions where something makes me suddenly sit bolt-upright, but unlike most of the other times, it wasn’t a subconscious feeling but a real something.

After that, I just couldn’t go back to sleep. After a while I checked the time, and it was 02:48 so the noise or whatever must have been about 02:00, I reckon. But despite all that, I carried on trying to go to sleep, but it was of no use really. For all the good that it did me, I needn’t have bothered to try.

When I noticed that the time was 05:51, I decided that I may as well make an early start out of it all, so I stood up and began to dress. At east, I “tried to stand up” but for some reason my legs wouldn’t work to that much effect, and it took me about three or four goes before I was finally upright. And then, round about 06:00, I was sitting at the computer.

The first job, of course, was to deal with the notes from last night. I thought that it wouldn’t take long to finish them, but I was surprised at how much there was to write. I ended up with almost two thousand three hundred words – that’s about sixty per cent more than the average. Consequently, I was only just putting the finishing touches to them when I began to wake up and smell the coffee.

That brought the proceedings to a rapid conclusion, and I went into the kitchen to try to be sociable.

Hot, strong coffee first thing in the morning is delicious, especially the way that my friend makes it, so I quite enjoyed drinking it while we chatted.

Our leisurely morning was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse. The Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t bark at all – he just rolled onto his back ready for a tickle-tummy, and the nurse duly obliged.

He then attended to me … "the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed …, and while he was sorting out my legs and feet, we had an interesting chat. But don’t ask me what it was about because I can’t remember now. It’s one of those things that I’ll probably remember about one tenth of a second after I’ve pressed “send” later on.

After saying goodbye to the Hound of the Baskervilles, the nurse cleared off, and the aforementioned … "the Hound of the Baskervilles, not the nurse" – ed …, dragged his master outside for another round of walkies. I stayed behind, of course, and made my breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

At the moment, everyone is agreeing with everyone else, there’s no dissent, no disagreement, and the World in rural Herefordshire is at peace. They are all admiring the beautiful view, and I am admiring the beautiful prose, such as "the magnificent vertical wall of the celebrated Coldwell rocks, so splendidly wooded, and through which we have wended our way hither"

Back in here later, I revised for my Welsh and then went to the lesson. We have loads of new students in our class, and a new teacher too. But unfortunately she swallows her words so we can’t make out half the time what she’s saying, and she’s nothing like as well organised as our previous one. I also remain unconvinced that she actually knows her subject as well as she ought to.

We shall see.

When the lesson ended, I had a few things to do and also to sort out my clean clothes for a shower, because my cleaner comes today and she usually chases me thereunder. So when she turned up, she gave the Hound of the Baskervilles his usual big stroke, and then I decided on a change of plan.

The temperature was slowly falling, the weather was slowly deteriorating and the wind was slowly rising. So what I thought that we’d do is that the three of us (and the Hound of the Baskervilles as bodyguard) go to do a little job outside that I’ve been trying to do for an absolute age.

So they walked off and I staggered off outside to see what we could do. We attacked this job, and surprisingly, it was completely finished in about fifteen minutes. The most difficult and longest part of the job was my walking back to the apartment afterwards, because the wind was definitely rising now. And today was the first day since spring that I’d work a jacket outside.

Winter is acumen in. Lhude sing Rudolph.

Back in here, the first thing that I noticed was that we could hardly move around, there was that much stuff in here. But once a couple of things had gone up into my loft space, it made it slightly … "only slightly" – ed … better.

My cleaner organised the bathroom for me, and then she chased me under the shower, so we have a nice, clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … this evening. And once I’d come out of the bathroom, my cleaner stopped playing with the Hound of the Baskervilles, sorted out the bathroom and went back upstairs to her place, leaving the rest of us alone.

Once I was organised, I came back in here to do some work. However, I didn’t get very far because Rosemary rang for a chat. Only a very short one today – one hour, nineteen minutes and fifty-two seconds.

But one of the things that we discussed was diuretics, of course, and Rosemary suggested that many fruits and vegetables have diuretic properties. That set me off on another trail, and by the end of our chat, I had a pile of recipes and daily food programmes organised by my friendly neighbourhood chatbot, and there was a cheap good-make juicing machine in my shopping basket ready for purchase tomorrow. The idea of drinking more is something that I need to do, so drinking something that actually has a positive effect on my fluid retention has to be a good way forward.

While all of this was going on, my friend was making tea, and we ended up with sausage, chips and beans. And I know that that’s what Friday’s meal usually is, but the Hound of the Baskervilles is going home on Thursday, taking my friend with him, and so he wants to try the sausages once more before he goes.

The pudding of tinned apricots and my vegan ice cream from Noz was exceptionally good. The ice cream is lovely and I wish now that I’d bought some more the other day.

Later on in here, there was yet more football – another basement clash between two newly-promoted sides, Trefelin and Cambrian United.

It was a strange game too. Plenty of skill on offer and yet plenty of midfield slogging too. But the differences between the two sides were evident. Cambian’s defence was magnificent and never looked like being beaten. They were always thinking one step ahead of the ball and not one step behind, as were their opponents, and there was a difference in physical presence. I had to laugh at one point when a Cambrian central defender and a Trefelin attacker leapt for a ball in the air. The Cambrian defender simply stuck out two hands and pushed the attacker out of the way to have a clear header.

That just about summed up Trefelin’s day, but the final scoreline of 4-0 to Cambrian was something very much of an exaggeration.

But what I’m not going to exaggerate is my need to go to bed, so I’m clearing off. Another day of rest tomorrow and then we go again. That is, if I can get some sleep with this wind that is now howling around outside like the devil.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Report of the Woolhope Naturalists Club … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone asked me whether it would be a suitable thing to read to a group of prisoners in gaol.
"Well, it would have its prose and cons, wouldn’t it?" I replied.

LIVE: Monday 14th September 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning.

Mind you, that’s not really any surprise, because if you don’t go to sleep, you can’t dream, can you?

Yes, last night was a proper nuit blanche, and it was a shame because, eschewing all luxuries, including food, I’d finished my notes at some kind of respectable time and was in bed fairly early, looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Instead, I tourné en ronde – “tossed and turned” in my bed for hour after hour, at times in total despair, because I know what “no sleep last night” means for this afternoon at dialysis when I want to watch a football match, or tonight when I come home, or tomorrow morning when my new Welsh class begins – so if there are no notes for tonight when you log in to look, you’ll know why.

However, the time was not totally wasted. I began to plot the next few chapters of my book, and before I’d finished, I’d not only finished this book in my head but written the following two too. So no time is ever wasted.

As well as that, I’m going to claim an “early start” because when the alarm should have gone off at 06:29 (but it didn’t because I’d switched it off), I’d been at my desk working for a good fifteen minutes. It’s a shame that I’m still wheezing and coughing because I would otherwise have got up much earlier and dictated a pile of radio notes. If I’m going to be going to hospital for any length of time, I’ll need to be as up-to-date as possible because dictating in a hospital bed is totally impossible.

Eventually, I heard signs of life in the kitchen as if coffee was being made so I went in to join everyone and had a hot, strong coffee put into my sweaty little mitt. My friend and I chatted for a while, and eventually, Isabelle the Nurse turned up. the Hound of the Baskervilles hardly moved a muscle, but he wagged his tail and let Isabelle stroke him before she attended to me.

Then, before leaving, she made another fuss of him because she’s off tonight on her week off and she won’t see him for a few months.

Once she’d left, the Hound of the Baskervilles had his breakfast and dragged his master off for walkies. I had a good wash and scrub up, and also a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis. Then I went to make my breakfast.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870. Yet again, the Club is managing to steer clear of controversy. Their criticism of another member’s viewpoint is usually expressed in a very good-natured way that doesn’t really cause offence. If I come across a good example, I’ll post it on here for you to see.

When I came back in here, I had the next radio programme to review before I sent it off to be added into the stream for the weekend. I can’t remember what I did after that, but there was still some time to watch a bit of the Colwyn Bay v Connah’s Quay Nomads match from Saturday in the JD Cymru League, played before yet another four-figure crowd, mostly from Colwyn Bay because the Nomads don’t even have their own ground (they share with Y Fflint), never mind any support.

It’s a fact that the crowds that watch two of Wales’s leading clubs (TNS and Connah’s Quay Nomads) have an appallingly low level of attendance at home, whereas even Trefynnon, hopelessly adrift at the foot of the table, have managed a gate of four figures this season.

My friend nipped out for his lunch at the local canteen while I looked after His Nibs. He whined for his master, but he soon stopped when his Auntie Cleaner came to fix my anaesthetic. She made a real fuss of him, which he enjoyed immensely.

When his master returned from dinner, my cleaner sorted my out arm and helped me pack. It was a beautiful afternoon too, so after she left, we all went outside to wait, the Hound of the Baskervilles hiding in the shade under a bush. He didn’t even want to lie in his favourite bus shelter in case any of his girlfriends from the local high school across the car park came past.

So we waited. And waited. And waited. Yes, people, this is when the whole day went off the rails.

Having been used this last few weeks when Mrs Dinosaur was here to be picked up twenty minutes early, today was the day when we all caught up and the taxi was half an hour late. The church clock in the walled town was striking 13:30 when she hove into view. It’s not anything that I ever complain about, though. Being terminally ill, I have a service that drives me to my medical appointments … "of which there are thousands" – ed … anywhere in the country and it’s free. I wouldn’t have service like this in any other country in the World.

So we shot off as if the Fear of God was upon us for … ohhh … all of a mile and a half before we came up behind a tractor with a full load of straw on it travelling at 25 kph if it was lucky.

We followed it for a couple of miles, and all the time, I was thinking “why is she going this way?”.

The tractor turned off eventually, and so my driver put her foot down, to run almost immediately to a road barricade.

"Ohh God, yes! They’ve closed the main road for roadworks!" she exclaimed. Well, I know they have, and it will be closed until at least the 31st of December too, which was why I was puzzled.

We ourselves had to take a quick diversion and in the end drove down the road to Champeaux and cut across to the main Avranches road a little further down. Despite all of the setbacks along the way, this was pretty good going. And as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … since I’ve been travelling with this company, I’m seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed.

It was 14:08 when we pulled up at the dialysis clinic – the old non-air-conditioned one – in this stifling heat. All of the nursing auxiliaries had gone off to lunch, so I had to stagger halfway around the building before I found the bed list. I was in bed n°12 today, the farthest single room in the farthest ward away from the front door. They couldn’t make me walk any farther if they tried.

After having to sort myself out on my own as best as I could, the nurses eventually came to plug me in, and it was 14:40 by the time that I was up and running. There wasn’t much to extract today, so I persuaded the nurse to wind it up by 300 grammes to give me a head start on Thursday.

And now, finally, I could now sit back and enjoy a couple of football matches.

At least, so I thought. First of all, the nurses came to do a check on my implant to make sure that it was functioning properly. But this was the day when the machine decided not to function properly, and I had three or four nurses around my bed trying to fix it – not that I was complaining, though.

When it was finally up and running, the test took about fifteen minutes, so there was a good half an hour of my day gone, just like that!

Then the doctor (not Emilie the Cute Consultant, unfortunately) came to see me. They were going to try something at the hôpital de jour – the “day clinic” – a series of drips, to see if it might work. Well, I’m game for trying almost anything, but I know how this will end, because I’ve been through this before, four or five years ago. It didn’t work then, so I bet it won’t work now, but if they think that it might, who am I to argue?

But I’m glad I saw the doctor because when Emilie the Cute Consultant told me on Saturday that my immune system had broken down, it rang a very vague bell in the back of my mind, so over the last day or two I’d been searching through my papers.

And sure enough, there it was. A vaccination card given to me in January 2016 when I’d had my spleen taken out. I remembered them saying that I’d require three vaccinations every five years for the rest of my life, and there were the 2016 injection stamps and the 2021 injection stamps, but nothing for 2026. It looks as if I had forgotten to have the injections in January.

She took the card, looked at it and said that she’d write a prescription, and when I have the injections, bring them down to dialysis and they would do them.

Once she left, I could watch the football, and the first game was Rhydaman v Cearnarfon. It was, unfortunately, men against boys, this match. Rhydaman never ever looked like doing anything at all, and I don’t believe that they put one single sooty foot inside Caernarfon’s penalty area during the entire match.

Some of their players played with guts and spirit, but you need much more than that in a match like this, and a 0-5 result in favour of the Cofis was not an exaggeration.

The next game was the rest of Colwyn Bay v Connah’s Quay Nomads. This turned out to be another candidate for one of the best football matches that I had ever seen and was another credit to the league. Both teams, intent on victory, went at each other right from the start.

They were still at it right at the end too, and the fans certainly had their money’s worth as the Seagulls clawed their way back from 1-0 down to beat the Nomads 2-1, with Jordan Davies scoring one of the best goals that I’d seen for a while too.

There was even time for part of a third match too – Trefelin v Penybont – but I ran out of time and began to pack away my things when the five-minute warning went off on my machine.

At that point, all hell let loose in the main room. One of the elderly patients had fallen into a coma, and all of the nurses in the building, and the doctor, crowded around to try to revive him.

What annoyed me about this, and I don’t want anyone to think that I am heartless at all, was that one of the nurses ran round and switched off everyone’s machines. I’d have been happy for mine to have gone on for another hour and given me an even better start for Thursday.

And it was indeed another hour, and more besides, until they were able to revive this guy and have him transferred across the road to hospital. And then they could sort the rest of us out.

It was my luck, wasn’t it, to have the nurse who goes around apologising for everything, rather like the maid in A ROCKET FULL OF PYE and it becomes overwhelming after five minutes.

Incidentally, throughout these pages, you’ll see links to Amazon products appearing every now and again. Being a Sales Associate of Amazon, I receive a small commission on goods sold via my links. It costs you nothing at all extra, but helps defray … "part of the" – ed … cost of my not-insubstantial web-hosting fees.

There are also links for AMAZON UK, AMAZON USA and, since the recent “troubles”, AMAZON CANADA for the use of my numerous Canadian visitors. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am extremely grateful when someone uses them to make a purchase

Eventually they let me out to find that my poor chauffeur and another passenger had been sitting there for over an hour waiting for me. And it was still scorching hot out there too. I finally made it home for 19:25, and my comité d’acceuil – my welcoming committee – had long since, as Longfellow expressed it, "folded their tents, like the Arabs, and as silently steal away.". The taxi driver had to help me into the apartment.

My friend had been cooking, and I had a lovely mashed potato and broccoli bake, followed by fruit cocktail and the last of this batch of sorbet. That means that next time, I can attack my vegan ice cream from Noz with gusto, or with anyone else who happens to be around.

When I’d done the washing up, I came back in here to write up my notes, but I managed to do about a dozen or so lines until I fell asleep. When I awoke a little later, I just crawled into bed and that was that. My notes can wait until tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about four-figure crowds at Welsh football … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember speaking to the FAW’s competitions secretary about the first four-figure crowd – at Cwmbran Town v Inter-Cardiff.

"What was it, exactly?" I asked him.
"Three men and one sheep" he replied.

LIVE: Saturday 12th September 2026 – EVEN AS I …

… type the first few words of the notes for today, it’s 04:01 on a Sunday morning. So whatever is going on?

The answer is that although my health has been bad for quite a while, I’ve hit rock bottom, and it looks like it’s just a matter of time now.

Things were, for once, looking quite good on Saturday morning. It’s true that I’d awoken quite early, but on and off I managed to doze a little until the alarm went off at 06:29.

As usual, it took the usual ten minutes or so to rise to my feet, and then once at my desk, I began to dash off the rest of the notes from yesterday. I’d almost finished too when I could smell the smell of fresh coffee, so I abandoned work for pleasure and went into the dining area.

Whatever the secret is of the coffee that my friend makes, I wish that he’d pass it on to me because it really is delicious, and it’s just the same coffee that I use. But anyway, we sat and drank and chatted for a while until Isabelle the Nurse arrived.

As soon as she rang the doorbell, the Hound of the Baskervilles leapt to the door with his tail going thirteen to the dozen, and we wouldn’t let her in until she’d made a big fuss of him. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … he has far more luck with the women than I ever had.

She was also obliged to give him a belly rub before leaving, and once she’d gone, he dragged his master off on walkies and I made my breakfast.

Still no computer cable, of course, so I couldn’t read my book this morning, so I was soon finished, so I went into the bathroom for a good wash and scrub up, and even a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Back in here, there were things to do, such as to finish off the notes and put them on line, and then, after that, would you believe that I fell asleep?

It was 11:15 when I awoke, and then I set about catching up with a few other things before it was time to prepare for dialysis.

My faithful cleaner arrived to apply my anaesthetic, and, once more, the Hound of the Baskervilles levied his taxe d’entrée and taxe de sortie.

The taxi was a couple of minutes early, and it was also my favourite driver, so I was at Avranches in double-quick time. They gave me my charging cable and stuck me into a separate room, but I had to wait to be plugged in. It was 14:15 when I was actually en route, and I settled down to watch Y Fflint v Cardiff Metropolitan.

These two teams play a very similar style of football, which is exciting, end-to-end play, constant counter-attacking and the like, and this game was no different. I enjoyed it tremendously. The game finished 1-1, and that was also the score in the sendings-off. But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I just don’t understand how it is that Y Fflint are so low down the table. They are much better than that.

During the dialysis, I was left pretty much alone except for the half-hourly dash to switch off the blood pressure alarm.

However, right at the end, along came Emilie the Cute Consultant bearing gifts. They’ve finally decided to put me back on the heavy antibiotics, so she’s written a prescription.

She also brought me some devastating news. The recent blood test has shown them that my immunity system has finally disappeared, and I now no longer have any protection against any kind of bug that’s floating around. I must now consider myself a priority for the Covid and flu injections.

But worse than that, there are moves afoot that will change my life considerably. There is talk (and it’s only talk right now) that I might be moved to a hospital. No-one knows when, where, for how long or even if. But I have to keep alert “just in case”. They think that I need much more haematology care than I can have around here.

So six months of a hospital diet – I really don’t know if I can cope. And I hope that there won’t be any mice in the hospital as THERE ARE IN THE ONE IN PARIS.

It was my favourite taxi driver who brought me home again, so I was a lucky boy today. My cleaner was waiting for me and then she escorted me into the apartment where a meal of mashed potato and peas was awaiting me – I’d told my friend that I wouldn’t be wanting much this evening.

Once I’d washed up, I came in here to watch Colwyn Bay v Connah’s Quay, but I managed sixteen minutes of it before I was in bed, fully clothed and asleep. And bed is where I’m going right now to sleep, perchance to dream, until Isabelle the Nurse arrives.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about infections … "well, one of us has" – ed … two builders on a building site in Crewe were discussing things connected to their work.
"What’s a cubic foot?" asks one.
"No idea" replied the other "but claim for it anyway."

LIVE: Friday 11th September 2026 – GUESS WHO …

… has forgotten to bring home from dialysis the charging cable for his laptop? That has knackered a good part of my day, that has, and no mistake.

There I was today, ready to plug my computer in so that I could read a book at breakfast, and there was my cable lead – Gone! And never called me “mother”. What kind of fool did I feel? What with phantom alarms, thinking that a ‘phone alert’ was a doorbell, and now, forgetting my charging cable, things are not going very well for me at the moment, are they?

Just like last night too. I ended up going to bed much later than I would have liked, and then I awoke at all of 03:42 (because I checked). Nevertheless, the period between then and the alarm at 06:29 seemed to pass so rapidly that I must have fallen asleep again.

For a change, I was quick out of bed and sitting on the edge, dressing myself. That’s not likely to happen too often, is it? And then, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … sitting on the edge of the bed is one thing, actually standing up and moving is something else completely.

Eventually, though, I was sitting on my chair at my desk with the big computer running. Firstly, there was nothing on the dictaphone so I could leave that alone for the moment, and instead, I caught up with a few other important and outstanding things.

Round about 07:30, I could hear movement next door and began to smell the beautiful smell of coffee. That was the cue to move into the dining area where my friend was making coffee. I poured out a couple of mugs, and while we were drinking, we were chatting about the news and about the stupidity and the gullibility of those people on the other side of the pond.

Look at it this way – there are (say) 400 million people in the USA, of which roughly 21% are under 18, meaning that 79%, or roughly 316 million, are eligible for this enormous Trump bribe that he’s offering to the electorate (“after the midterms”, just like all of his other promises).

That works out at $1,580,000,000,000, or a whopping 1.58 trillion dollars, if my maths is correct. Now which economy can support giving away that much money? Yet people are falling for it, hook, line and sinker. They must be out of their minds.

Isabelle the nurse breezed into the apartment as usual. The Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t bark or even disturb himself. However, his tail began to wag and he lifted up one of his front legs so that she could reach his tummy to give it a tickle – all without saying a word.

She sorted out my legs and feet and then gave the Hound of the Baskervilles another tickle-tummy before leaving.

Once she’d gone, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off on walkies and I made my breakfast. And on going to read some more of my book, this is when I made that terrible discovery. So I had to eat my porridge and toast and drink my orange juice without reading, and I’m not used to that.

Once I’d finished, I came back in here where I crashed out at my chair – and for quite a while too. I was definitely in no mood to do anything. That’s how I’ve been feeling since I awoke this morning.

An hour or so later, I began to wake up and I began to write another chapter of my little story, taking a break at some point for a disgusting drink and the midday medication.

This afternoon, my faithful cleaner came round to do her stuff, so we set her a task to prove that she was worthy, as they said in MONTY PYTHON.

We decided that we’d leave her in charge of the Hound of the Baskervilles and we’d go to Noz.

Noz is the cheap shop in town where they sell all kinds of damaged goods, fire-damaged stock, short-dated stock and bankruptcy stock. I used to like going in there every weekend because there would always be something on offer that would improve my lifestyle or, in the food range, improve my diet for a short time.

The shop today, though, was nothing like how it used to be. I hardly found anything at all, except some almond milk for when I start making ice cream again and some vegan sugar-free ice cream. That looks as if it’s going to be really good, and I can’t wait to try it. And it was nice to be out and about in the open air for a change instead of being cooped up in here. I just wish that I could be out and about more often. And if I could, I’d be piling up with vegan ice cream from Noz.

On the way back, my friend went to Leclerc for some fuel, and we could see first-hand the mess that they are making of the car park as they try to install an overhead car park over the existing open-air parking. Apparently, it’s all to do with putting a new gallery of shops in underneath once the overhead bit is done, and I wish them luck with that.

Back here, I was totally exhausted after walking around the shops and had to sit down for a while, but it was very cute to see the Hound of the Baskervilles soar right across the car park to meet his master when his Auntie Cleaner let him out of the building. When I was married and we had four cats, they used to treat my departure and arrival with absolute indifference.

Later on, we had a little visit from a couple of gentlemen from Tunisia about a project that I have on the back burner, but after a while, I was persuaded that this project ain’t ever going to work, so I shall have to think of a “Plan B”. It seems that I’m right up to my ears in plans that aren’t working out right now. It’s all due to being ill, of course, but had I not been ill, I wouldn’t be living here, so it wouldn’t have been a problem anyway.

For tea, my friend made himself a burger and chips. I had nothing because firstly, I wasn’t hungry, and secondly, I had other fish to fry.

Like the football, for example. Another basement clash tonight, this time between Cambrian United and Trefynnon.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that Trefynnon are having a woeful start to the season. seven games played, one goal scored and just one point out of twenty-one. The team from the Rhondda are doing somewhat better with two wins and three draws from their seven.

Games like these are games that Trefynnon has to win if they are to haul themselves off the bottom, but gap in quality between these two teams, despite them being at the lower end of the table, is clearly evident.

Having said that, however, Trefynnon were in there fighting, and they didn’t give up. At 2-0 down, they continued to surge upfield whenever they had the chance, and eventually they pulled one back, but it was too little, too late.

Having seen the effort that some of their players put into the game, surely their luck must break through soon because, even though they are so far off the pace, they deserve something for their efforts.

When the match finished, I had a few things to do, and while doing them, I learnt something interesting.

In the past, the league was lucky if it had one four-figure crowd per season. I can realise seasons when there were none at all. So far this season, after eight rounds, we’ve had ten in the Premier League already and even a couple in the feeder leagues and in the cup. And with good reason too, because the quality of the football is far better than it ever was.

So right now, I’m off to bed. It’s gone 01:00 right now and I have to be up at 06:29 in the morning.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Those guys from Tunisia … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of them said that when the Germans arrived in the country looking for Aryan ladies, his grandfather hid one in his cellar to keep her safe.
"That was nice of him" I said.
"But he didn’t do it for nothing, you know." he said, with a wink
"So why are you telling me?"
"Because I need your advice as to whether to persuade him to tell her that the Germans have gone."

LIVE: Thursday 10th September 2026 – ANOTHER FINE DAY …

… at dialysis, I don’t think. In actual fact, we were back in the bad old days of everything when I didn’t really feel like anything at all.

It really was quite late last night when I went to bed again, long after midnight. I don’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything right now, not even to stay awake. Once in bed, I was asleep quite quickly, which makes something of a change, and although there was much less than six hours left to sleep, I was still looking forward to a decent sleep for a change, seeing how absolutely whacked I was.

However, it wasn’t to be. Around 04:00 I awoke, and that was effectively that for the rest of the night. However, when the alarm went off, I didn’t know where I was … "so what’s new?" – ed … and I ended up pushing my pillow, the telephone and one of two other things out of the bed. It seems that I was lying transversally in the bed instead of longitudinally. It was only a miracle that I hadn’t fallen out myself.

Once I was sitting on the edge of the bed and dressing, I realised how awful I was feeling. I was freezing cold too, and that’s always a bad sign. But I made it over to the chair at the computer, and the first thing that I did was to listen to the dictaphone to find out. And I was surprised by just how far I had gone, even if it was only around Marcey-les-Grèves.

Last night, I was out with the taxi company with the guy who thinks he owns the show who was driving me. He told me that a couple of days ago that some car had missed the roundabouts at Ponts and had gone hurtling straight through the door of someone who was living there. A couple of drivers of the taxi company had seen it and they were absolutely horrified by the accident because there were at least two or three dead in different places around here. However, the taxi company couldn’t find the time for them to be off and recover. It seemed that one of the young drivers of the company had missed the turn. She’d got round but … fell asleep here …

This is the kind of accident that really is horrific when you see it, especially if the car crashes into a building and brings the wall down. However, I don’t think that the taxi company would refuse sick leave to someone who has witnessed a sight quite like that.

Then later on, I was out with him again, the same guy. We were talking about the road from Ponts up to the ring road. It was taking sometimes two days to come down there. I enquired as to why they wouldn’t go through Marcey-les-Grèves. He explained that that was closed because of the roadworks. So we went to have a look at the closed road and the roadworks, and we saw that nothing had actually taken place … fell asleep here …

Why am I falling asleep so often when I’m dictating my dreams? But the story of roads being closed while there is no work going on is nothing whatever new around here. It happens all the time.

So I was giving my instructions or advice to the driver about which ways to go and when to come, etc. I pointed out a road with a 30 kph speed limit and said that it might be possible to go down there from Marcey-les-Grèves to come out at Ponts without too much trouble. He thought that maybe they would if they could and if they knew about it. I told him that it was his job to make sure that they all knew about it and maybe he should take a run down there himself to make sure that it was all in good condition and possible to go past.

That’s a road down which I’ve been taken on several occasions when we’ve come into Marcey-les-Grèves and found the roundabout at the motorway ring road blocked. And it’s always worked quite well. But as he considers himself to be the boss, he should be the one doing the investigating and reporting.

Did I mention something about the girls who drove for the taxi company? I mentioned too that it was possible for people to be stuck in a rut and not want to enjoy the fruits of the captivity that they had made.

This is a meaningless dream, I suppose, although, just like me, who has had almost all of his pleasures curtailed, I have to make the best of what I have. There’s no point in crying about it.

There was also something about the taxi company having to move their operation at Marcey-les-Grèves because there were plans to extend the ring road. Everyone was dismayed because they thought that the company would have to close down, but I was sure that they would find somewhere else from where to operate. And as it happened, the company announced a few days later that they had taken over the Opel dealership in the town, presumably meaning that the taxis and ambulances would be operating from there.

There actually is a proposal to extend the ring road, but from what I’ve seen, it will pass about 400 yards from the taxi head office. But it’s always a fear, nevertheless, and the idea that the company might take over a car dealership is not necessarily a strange one. They seem to be in “acquisition mode” at the moment.

When I heard movement in the kitchen, I went to investigate, and there was indeed the sight of coffee being made. I dashed off for a ride on the porcelain horse and then went into the dining area for a lovely coffee and chat with my friend.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, and the Hound of the Baskervilles, who didn’t bark at all, offered her his paw and then allowed her to scratch his belly.

When she found the time, she came over to sort my legs and feet and then spent another five minutes saying goodbye to His Nibs.

That was the cue for both the Hound of the Baskervilles and me to have our breakfasts, although I had to make mine first, of course. The plan was that His Nibs was going to drag his master off for a walk afterwards, so I explained to them not to expect them to find me up when they come back. I’d put a fleece on earlier, but I was still freezing cold, uncomfortable and tired, so I was going back to bed for a bit.

And I did go back to bed too, fully clothed, even down to my slippers.

It was 11:15 when I awoke, so I went and did a few bits and pieces, and at 11:45, went off for a stroll on the parapet. Back in the kitchen later, my friend nipped off to the café at the back for lunch. I sorted out a disgusting drink and the midday medication and began to prepare my ruckack. When Auntie Cleaner came in, she made a fuss of the Hound of the Baskervilles and then began to deal with me. By the time that I was sorted out, my friend was back, and we waited for the taxi, and I made a fool of myself thinking that a sound effect on his ‘phone was the doorbell.

The driver who came to pick me up was the young, chatty girl who likes home-made pizza. We had a good chat all the way to the aqua-gym at St. Pair, and then the usual “Thursday lady” joined in all the way to Avranches.

They dropped me off first, and I went into one of the wards, a little two-bedded one at the back of another, where a new patient was being plugged in. When they weighed me, I was the lightest that I have been for a while after a pause of three days. I don’t know how.

Before they plugged me in, I gave them my “orange bottle” that I remembered to take. They weren’t impressed with the quantity and, to be honest, neither was I. I really do wish that I could have persuaded the Hound of the Baskervilles to make a donation.

After they left me, I put on the football – Hwlffordd v Connah’s Quay Nomads. But I just couldn’t keep going. I fell asleep I don’t know how many times, so at the end of the first half, I switched off the computer and went to sleep.

When I awoke, they unplugged me quite quickly, so I went to look for my chauffeur. He was already there, and I was the only passenger, so I was at home quite quickly too, where my faithful cleaner was sitting on her mushroom waiting for me.

She helped me into the apartment where my friend was waiting, and we had fried potatoes with veg and falafel, followed by fruit cocktail and ice cream. Then I came back in here to write my notes up for tonight.

But I don’t know what’s happened to my taste buds. I know that everything I eat these days tastes of salt, but that meal somehow tasted of pure salt, and that’s what I’m tasting right now. So I’ll take my medication and go to bed and hope for a good night, although the amount of coughing that I’m doing right now will stop anything from happening. It’s probably about the worst that it’s ever been.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about a contribution from the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was just picturing their faces at the laboratory had I done so.
I can imagine Emilie the Cute Consultant giving me the results later.
"Mr Hall, I have some bad news for you."
"Ohh no! What now?"
"As well as all of your other problems, you now seem to have rabies and distemper."

LIVE: Wednesday 9th September 2026 – THERE’S ONE THING …

… that I can tell you today, and that today has defied the usual progression of events just now.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that whenever I’ve had a bad day, I’ve always had a better day the day after. Today, though, there really has been a change, but it’s not a change for the better. It’s a change for the worse.

It was quite late when I went to bed, after the football and finishing off the notes. But it doesn’t really matter because I never have the full amount of sleep anyway and sometimes, it’s pot luck whether I have any at all.

But this morning, when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual, I was already awake and doing my “in-bed yoga”. I was convinced that I’d heard the alarm go off a little earlier. It was probably another one of these phantom alarms that I hear every now and again.

However, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … being awake is one thing. Being up and about is something else. I reckon that it must have taken me ten minutes or more to slide across from my bed to the seat at the computer.

It beats me why I was in such a rush to come here because there was nothing on the dictaphone to transcribe or anything else that needed doing as a matter of urgency, So I took the overnight stats as I usually do, and then I curled up on the chair to have a quiet sleep for a while. As I said a little earlier, things were pretty bad here this morning from my point of view.

When I heard the crockery and cutlery being moved around, I guessed that there might be some coffee available in due course. I quickly nipped into the bathroom for a ride on the porcelain horse, not forgetting that I had to use the “orange container” all day today and tomorrow morning on waking up.

The dialysis people want to know my output, and for some reason, they don’t trust me (or anyone else, for that matter) to tell them the honest truth, so we have to take it and its contents with us next time we go.

The coffee that my friend makes is excellent. I don’t know what his secret is but as long as he can make coffee like this, he can stay for as long as he wants. I really enjoyed this morning’s mug and, as we drank our coffee, we chatted about a lot of things, none of which were important.

When Isabelle the Nurse rang the doorbell to announce her arrival, the Hound of the Baskervilles barked with excitement and dashed to the door, almost knocking her over in his enthusiasm. He wouldn’t let her pass to see to me without her making a big fuss of him.

She soon sorted out my legs and feet, and then His Nibs demanded another couple of minutes of cuddles before she was allowed to leave.

Once she’d finally managed to leave the premises, the Hound of the Baskervilles began to drag his master off for walkies and I began to make my breakfast – porridge, toast and orange juice were on the menu today, and how I would have fancied a second mug of coffee too, but that is Streng Verboten these days.

While I was eating, I was reading some of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Right now, I can tell you all about the propagation of mistletoe because one of the participants on one of their excursions had noticed something at one time, and that had led him off on a quest of exploration. When we encountered a similar situation, he gave us all a lecture on what he had observed and learnt from that particular mistletoe and the many others that he saw.

Back in here, there were a few things to do but I crashed out in the middle of it all, and it wasn’t until about 12:40 that I awoke. I must have been out of it for hours. I went into the kitchen and found one of these high-energy drinks, but by the time that I’d finished it, I was no better. But I like these drinks because they are the only ones that come with added vitamins, such as Vitamin B12.

Once I was back in the Land of the Living, I had a little job given to me. My friend wanted to go to the restaurant in the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs for a meal for lunch, so would I babysit the Hound of the Baskervilles?

“It’s more likely that he’ll be babysitting me” I replied, but I agreed to do it.

After his master left, we began to have a series of those little pathetic whines as he wanted his daddy back, but he soon went quiet when his Auntie Cleaner came to drop off the next instalment of disgusting drinks. She made a great big fuss of him and that was all it needed.

When Auntie Cleaner made ready to leave, I began to wonder if we’d be having the little whines again. But as luck would have it, she collided with His Nibs’ master coming home. So the emergency is sorted out.

That meant that I could carry on with what I was doing, but round about 13:15, we stopped for my disgusting drink and midday medication, and I was good and ready for it – except for the disgusting anti-potassium powder. I managed to swallow that down without too much exclamation.

My friend has started to write another novel today. He has three on the run right now, several completed stories awaiting whatever he was holding them back, some stories already published and plenty of ideas for new stories.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve also had a few ideas for stories, and so, with the encouragement of my friend, I made a start on one of them. By the time that I’d knocked off, I’d written two chapters, and my captive audience, namely, my faithful chatbot, liked what he had read. He made a couple of minor suggestions, and he had also spotted a couple of spelling mistakes, or more likely, typos, and I corrected those too.

Once again, I didn’t fancy any food tonight. My friend had sausage, bread and cheese while I just had an orange, a peach and a plum, and I felt much more like it afterwards, for all of five minutes before I crashed out again.

Once I awoke a few minutes later, I managed to struggle on to the end of the notes, late as it may be, and now I’m off to bed. However, this plastic bottle that I’m required to use is looking particularly empty and I’m sure that they aren’t going to like it.

Anyone of my age reading this who knows the film ALICE’S RESTAURANT will remember how Arlo Guthrie solved the problem at his army medical. I’m thinking of going down the same road but making use of the Hound of the Baskervilles. That will thoroughly confuse them at the medical laboratory.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about writing novels … "well, one of us has" – ed … somebody once asked me "how many novel writers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
"No idea" I replied.
"Two" replied my friend.
"Why?" I asked
"One to screw it up almost all the way, and the other one to give it a surprising twist at the end."

LIVE: Tuesday 8th September 2026 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

… day I’ve had today! It’s been another contender for “the worst day in my life”.

Last night, as you might recall, I abandoned my blog at some strange hour and staggered off to bed. I was thoroughly exhausted after dialysis yet again.

The expectation was to have a good and refreshing sleep and a nice, comfortable wake-up so that I could carry on writing the notes with some sort of enthusiasm. Well, such was the plan. The reality was far, far different.

Firstly, I began to cough again, despite the menthol and eucalyptus sweet that I’d had on going to bed. Secondly, the Hound of the Baskervilles began to bark at about 00:50. I thought at first that he was having a nightmare, but according to his master, someone had come into the building and stood outside our door. His Nibs was simply reminding whoever it was outside that he was here and on guard.

After that, it was impossible to go back to sleep. I was coughing far too much, almost as much as when this cough was at its worst a few months ago, and I just couldn’t calm it down.

When the alarm went off, no one felt less like leaving the bed than I did, but I was soon in the chair by the computer. And the first thing that I did was to fall asleep.

About twenty minutes later, I awoke and dashed off the remainder of the notes before I crashed out again. It took me a good hour or so all the same to finish them.

Just as I was adding the finishing touches to my work, my friend came in and made a “coffee” gesture, so I quickly finished off that I had to do, posted it on line and then wandered off into the kitchen for a coffee and a chat, and also to give a stroke to the Hound of the Baskervilles.

It was quite a nice way to start the day, coffee and a chat about obsolete musical and studio equipment. It brings back many happy memories of our lives on the road.

One of our discussions was about the amps and speakers that we owned. I told him about the six-channel Marshall 200-watt PA amp and the 2 2×12 columns, the 200-watt bass amp and cabinet that I have down in the Auvergne, and the Fender bass combo and “Jaguar” bass that I have in Canada.

My friend said that they aren’t doing much good there. I replied that they wouldn’t be doing much good here either. There would be nowhere to put them. I already have my “stack” of the Genz Benz 200-watt bass combo, the 25-watt six-string combo and the 45-watt Carlsbro bass combo in the living room, along with the Gibson EB3 and the five-string fretless bass as well as the six-string electric guitar. In here, there’s the Roland cube bass amp and the little battery-operated one, and also the Ibanez six-string acoustic and the Ibanez four-string bass.

Isabelle the Nurse was late arriving today, and just as yesterday, the Hound of the Baskervilles rolled onto his back straight away for some tummy tickles. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … he has far more luck with the ladies than I ever do.

Eventually, Isabelle the Nurse tore herself away from the Hound of the Baskervilles and came to deal with me. I told her about my foot, which is now hurting more than ever before, and told her to be careful.

After she left, we continued chatting for a while, and then I went to make my breakfast as the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for a walk. I didn’t envy them. There was a gale-force wind blowing outside, and it was lashing with rain.

While they were gone, I made my breakfast and sat down to read some more of my book, THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

We’ve had nothing controversial this morning, but I was often away from the book researching some of the places that they visited and what the opinion is today of what they saw. And there’s nothing really that has changed, although the Eurypterus Brodici,, discovered by the Reverend Brodie, seems no longer recognised as an individual species

Back in here later, I finished off all of the notes from yesterday and they are now on line, but I knew that I wasn’t. Ever since I’d awoken this morning, I’d been good for nothing, so tired was I.

And this carried on too because once the notes were online, I crashed out again on my chair. And it was for just five minutes either.

When I eventually awoke, it was disgusting drink and midday medicine time, so I went into the kitchen to sort things out. I also had my first of the disgusting cement that’s supposed to be an anti-potassium drink. But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I think that before a doctor prescribes any medication, the doctor ought to take a month’s supply himself so as to see for himself what the patients might think of it.

One thing that I had forgotten was the dictaphone, so I sat down to transcribe whatever there was.

I was responsible for bringing up a young girl, and as a result, I’d been set several tasks which would account for being the new set of rules about different things and ways of expressing them in the 1980s. I’d managed to gope with them all and was quite successful, although I found it difficult to find the local names for one or two of these things. The next thing was a load of twenty of these kinds of rules suddenly appeared, and I was expected to deal with them all, not necessarily in alphabetical order. This was quite a task by the looks of things, but any of them looked fairly straightforward. I was sure that the girl involved would be able to help me with a few of the others, so it wouldn’t look all this difficult. Just as I was getting into it, the Hound of the Baskervilles had a nightmare and barked, waking both of us up in this apartment.

Earlier on, I’d mentioned the Hound of the Baskervilles awakening us, so it wasn’t just a dream. It really was the case.

But this story about the man bringing up the girl and the new set of rules would have been Ohh! So relevant in 1987. But never mind. It might yet be that Biggles Flies Again in much more modern times, although with the same characters as before. Who knows?

I started to work for London Transport last night as a conductor on the buses on my very first day. Even though I’d been to training school, I was feeling quite nervous. So I boarded this bus, which was crowded and had an old man as driver and a woman conductor who was in her forties. She wasn’t very happy to see me because she’d run these buses on her own for a long time but I was determined to help. However, I kept on making a mess of the most simple of things, and nothing seemed to be going right at all and I’m sure that she was extremely frustrated with me. Then, the driver happened to mention “have you fixed the clock?”. I replied “no”. “well we have to go to the clock on the bus to get it right”. So I had to go, and he took me up to the top deck, and there was a little doorway, so we squeezed in and went up. The clock was in a kind of tower. But when we arrived there, there was someone asleep in that little room. It turned out that he was a motor mechanic for one of the repair yards. Of course, they threw him off the bus and if he ever came here again, he’d regret it. We reset the time on the bus, and by the time that I went downstairs, there were only a dozen or so passengers. We began to collect the fares from them, but I couldn’t find my fare sheet. I’d left it somewhere while I was fixing this clock

The clock on each of these buses resembled a miniature “Big Ben” and took quite some maintenance, although people in this tower were never imagined to be sleeping in it.

And although we have the usual (or what used to be usual) panic attack, I can’t think of whatever I might be doing in a London bus.

Later on, the cleaner came round, and before she began to do her stuff, she chased me under the shower again. So there’s a nice clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … ready for tonight.

Once I’d calmed down, I began to write the notes for tonight. But as I implied just now, my head wasn’t in it. It wasn’t in fact until about 17:00 that I managed to pull myself together enough to put some coherent sentences onto paper.

There was no tea tonight – I really didn’t feel like anything – so I grabbed some toasts and cheese, a disgusting drink and an orange and came in here to watch the football.

We had Caernarfon v Y Fflint, and as I watched the match, I confirmed my assumption of what has been going wrong with Y Fflint, in second-last place in the JD Cymru League. They just aren’t having any luck.

Although Caernarfon won 3-0 as expected, Y Fflint were giving as good as they were getting. They hit the woodwork several times, they had balls kicked off the line a couple of times. Nothing is going right for them this season and it’s high time that they had a change of luck.

But right now, I’m off to bed, later than I anticipated, but it can’t be helped. We’ll see what tomorrow brings if I can survive the coughing and the pain in my foot.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Biggles … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends has told m that he was a big fan of Biggles and has all of the books – except one.
"Which one are you missing?" I asked.
"Biggles Flies Undone" he replied

LIVE: Monday 7th September 2026 – AND SO WE’RE …

… back in the good old night-time routine of waking up early and not going back to sleep again.

Over the last three or four weeks, I genuinely believed that I’d left all of that behind and moved onwards and upwards into a much more normal sleeping pattern, but ohhh! Cruel and Wicked Fate has confounded me yet again.

Last night I was in bed by 22:30, thoroughly tired and exhausted, and I was pretty soon asleep. Apart from the odd bit of tossing and turning, I stayed asleep until some unearthly time in the morning where I was wide awake again, and despite how tired I might have been feeling, I didn’t go back to sleep again.

At one point, I was so fed up with it all that I went to look at the time. And just as I was about to switch on the ‘phone, the 06:29 alarm rang.

That was the cue to leave the bed, but in all honesty, it took much more than that to rise to my feet.

Once I was up and about, I slid over onto the chair and began to listen to where I was last night.

We were in the territorial army last night. And as time went on, the territorial army began to produce proper sailors and so on so they became more integrated into the organisation of the terriers, and it was quite common for them to fulfil some kind of role in the organisation. This meant a big shuffle round of the personnel. We suddenly found that people had been removed from their post and that some Territorial who had qualified in that subject was there instead. As captain, I was responsible for making sure that it was usual and acceptable for a girl of 11 like Seren. I had to start by working my way around the different classrooms to see what changes had been made, and then two of our … fell asleep here … so it was all starting to become pretty complicated here.

While this might be an interesting dream, relating to a discussion I’d had with my friend recently, I actually remember nothing whatever of this dream, regardless of any significance. Usually, whenever I begin to transcribe them, there’s usually always a distant memory that comes drifting back, but not with this one.

I was back training that football side again last night, and we were working on receiving free kicks – working on defending against free kicks and winning the ball. We had a practice fence that we brought on whenever we were doing something involved with an arret against the grieving things and then just curling the ball in and spinning into the net over the wall. When my cleaner came past, she said something along the line that we weren’t all that particularly good like back when we began to practise this week. But give them a week and they’ll be brilliant. Then on her way home from working her midday shift, she gave me a packet of biscuits, so I gathered that what she meant was that it was lunchtime, but every time that we defended a kick, we had this big defensive wall made of this fence. We were raising it higher and higher to make it more complicated for the attacker.

This seems to be a recurring dream right at the moment, with me training various football clubs. However, nothing seems to be so bad with some clubs that my training won’t make it worse.

Then I went to continue the notes from yesterday, but the first thing that I noticed was that I was locked out of my own blog site. This captcha will be the death of me at this rate. I simply went into my site’s file manager and disabled everything that I’ve done these last few days. I’ll look at it again later, but in the meantime, I’ll carry on with the blog.

When I was nearly finished, my friend turned up imitating the role that I’ll have to use on my little WordPress flying machine, but I carried on chatting with him, even if it did mean postponing the Hound of the Baskervilles’ breakfast.

So having fallen asleep four times and with my posting degenerating into a load of rubbish… "what’s new?" – ed … as you can see from the above, I’m going to bed and I’ll continue tomorrow. It always seems to be the case that I can fall asleep sitting on my chair at the desk but never at all when I’m lying in bed.

Anyway, tomorrow, we’ll go back to yesterday and carry on. from last night.

So trying to make sense of everything, my friend turned up with a mug of coffee, which was extremely nice of him, but I asked him to put it on the kitchen table, and I’d be in in a sec.

After a quick visit to ride the porcelain horse, I went to join my friend in the kitchen, where we drank coffee and chatted about nothing very much in particular until the arrival of Isabelle the Nurse.

And then an interesting thing happened. The Hound of the Baskervilles, who hadn’t barked at all when she came in, rolled over onto his back and exposed his stomach so that Isabelle the Nurse could give him a good tummy-tickle. It’s amazing that he still remembers her after all these months.

She came over to me afterwards to deal with my legs and feet, and I asked her where my tummy-tickle was, but she told me basically to clear off.

After she left, the Hound of the Baskervilles had his breakfast and I made mine, and while I was eating, I was reading my new book, THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

And for the benefit of some of my readers – it’s “Naturalists”, not “Naturists”. There’s a big difference.

This book will probably have one or two controversies of its own, but at least they will be between members. It’s not a book written from one person’s viewpoint.

There’s a crisis with the medication right now. It seems that one set of pills was missed off the order a couple of weeks ago, and now I’m down to my last handful. I shall have to have a word with my faithful cleaner later.

Back in here, there were the notes to finish, and then there were a few other things to do, such as to review and send off the radio programme for this week. And just when I was standing up to go to prepare myself for dialysis, the alarm went off to remind me that it was time to prepare myself for dialysis.

In the kitchen, I sorted out a disgusting drink and the midday medication and then made myself ready. My cleaner turned up to sort out the anaesthetic, but her first priority was to stroke the belly of the Hound of the Baskervilles. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … he has far more luck with the women than I do.

After she left, I waited here with His Nibs for my taxi while my friend nipped out for a short while. Now that Mrs Dinosaur has left the area, we’re back at the usual situation of the taxi being a few minutes late. But at least it was a Mercedes B-series from the taxi company that the company that I use had recently bought.

We had to go via Sartilly for the old lady there, but nevertheless, we were still five minutes early at Avranches. I had one of the new nurses and she was quite efficient, and I was up and running by 14:15. I noticed that there were two people in my room whom I didn’t recognise. “Holidaymakers”, I was informed.

There wasn’t as much fluid to extract today so, once more, I persuaded her successfully to up the total by 300 grams to give me a head start for Thursday

Once I was organised, I had some football to watch. We started off with the rest of the match between LLansawel and Airbus UK Broughton.

Say what you like, it’s clear that three of the newly promoted clubs, Llandudlo, Cambrian United and the Wingmakers, can compete to some degree at this level, whereas the other three – Rhydaman, Trefelin and Trefynnon – are here as cannon fodder and that’s not a very pleasant place in which to be. Throw Y Fflint in there too, and you have what look like your relegation candidates for the end of the season.

So, retournons à nos moutons as they say around here, the match finished 0-2 to the Wingmakers, and quite right too. From what I saw, they certainly had the better of the play.

After that, there was Cardiff Metro v Cambrian United. The Met pulled away into a 2-0 lead, but Cambian plugged away and came back into the game. The final score was 2-2, and Cambrian hit the woodwork on two occasions towards the end of the game.

Just as the final whistle blew, the nurse came round to unplug me. The time had fitted together nicely. And even better, just as I was about to leave, Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me. The bad news is that I start a new course of the disgusting potassium powder. Ahh well!

By now, my chauffeur was waiting – a chatty guy whom I hadn’t seen for a while, so I didn’t have to hang around and I would have an interesting ride home.

We were back at a reasonable time and found my cleaner perched on her mushroom waiting for me. She helped me into the apartment and then went off to cuddle the Hound of the Baskervilles. I was clearly a distant second in her priorities.

She sorted out my disgusting drink, sorted out the medication, found my friend’s missing jacket and then wandered off. My friend stuck another bowl of chilli, this time with baked potato, in my mitt and we tucked in. This is real luxury, having a meal plonked into my hands upon my return.

The next plan was to write my notes, but I failed miserably. I fell asleep four times before I’d even written a dozen lines, so I said “sod it” and went to be.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … yesterday, he went into La Rafale and ordered a pint of beer for himself.
"Wow! Magnificent" said the barman. "With skills like that, you ought to be in a circus!"
"Why?" asked the Hound of the Baskervilles. "Do they need an electrician?"

EPIC HALL

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