Tag Archives: tidying up

Saturday 13th December 2025 – I HAVE JUST …

… seen probably the most exciting game of football that I have seen for a long time.

It’s Welsh Cup today, the last sixteen, and with many of the big guns already eliminated, there’s a frantic race to the final when some unsuspecting and unprepared club will win and find themselves playing in European competition next season.

Consequently, it’s been “no holds barred” with a ream of sendings off, and in the game that I was watching, we had three yellow cards in the first fifteen minutes.

But meanwhile, back at the ran … err … apartment, last night was another late night. Not as late as some have been just recently, because I did actually put my foot down and dash along with the stuff as quickly as I could, but it was later than I would have liked.

And there I lay until all of … errr … 04:40, when I had another dramatic awakening. After that, I couldn’t go back to sleep and at about 05:37, I called it a night and left the bed.

Thinking that I may as well take advantage of an early start, I finished off the notes for the radio programme on which I’d been working, and then I dictated them so that they are ready for editing.

Once I’d finished, I went into the bathroom to sort myself out and then into the kitchen to make my hot ginger, honey and lemon drink to take with my medication. While I was there, and seeing as I wasn’t in a rush, I decided to fix a couple of the drawers that had fallen apart. These cheap and nasty IKEA drawers really are getting on my wick.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in to sort out my feet and to give me my ‘flu injection. She had to sit with me for fifteen minutes afterwards to make sure that I had no after-effects, so we talked about nothing much in particular.

Then there was breakfast and some more of Thomas Codrington’s ROMAN ROADS IN BRITAIN. We’re now in Silchester, or Calleva Atrebatum as it used to be. It’s a well-known ruin, well-mapped by different archaeologists, so it holds no surprises for us

The shopping from LeClerc turned up, so I put most of it away, and then I had 2 kg of carrots to wash, dice and blanch. That took longer than it ought to have done.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were quite busy at home – well, at the place where I was living. It was like a big collective place with lots of different people living there. I was busy with a friend of mine. Early in the morning, we’d had a delivery of food from the supermarket. My friend brought it in and she put it down by the side of my desk. However, I wasn’t at the side of my desk for ages so it sat there for a while. As time drew on, I began to think about making tea so I went into the fridge, where I noticed that the carrots were all soft and inedible. I wished that I had some fresh ones. Then, I suddenly realised that I had because the order had come from the supermarket earlier. I dashed over to my desk but the bags had been moved again. Eventually, I found them, but of course there was the frozen food which was now all defrosted. I thought “never mind. It can’t be helped” and went to put it in the freezer. The freezer was, as usual, crowded out with stuff and there wasn’t really any room for it so I had to do my best to invent some room. Then, there were all of the other things too so I went to put them on the shelves. I was surprised at the number of sweets that I already had in boxes on the shelves, and I’d ordered some more, and I thought that this was never going to do because I was going to be here forever trying to sort out all of this. And the frozen food, having melted, just about put the tin hat on everything.

The part about the shopping presumably relates to this morning’s delivery. However, that passed OK, except that both the freezers are now full to overflowing and there’s no room to swing a cat in there

Later on, I decided that I’d go off on another trip to the Arctic so I contacted the people with whom I went last time and booked some kind of voyage with them that they were making up to some of the old Arctic exploration camps. I packed my suitcase and packed a smaller one and set off on my crutches to the bus station. When I arrived at the bus station, I had to look around for the buses that would take me to the airport and climbed on board a bus. The bus set off, and when I alighted at Manchester, I only had my small suitcase with me. I suddenly remembered that while I was looking at the bus timetables, I’d let go of my larger one and I must have forgotten it. I thought that there was no time now whatsoever to go back and pick it up and I was on a ‘plane to Montreal right now. At Montreal, I alighted, still with my small suitcase and walked round to my hotel. We were told that we were leaving in half an hour so that gave me half an hour to go around the shops to see if I could find some clothes, because I’d freeze to death in the Arctic like this. Of course, it was 08:30 and I found the big Army and Navy Stores where they would have most of what I’d need but it was still closed. It wouldn’t open until 09:00 and by then we’d be leaving. So with reluctance, I set off back to the hotel where we were meeting and came across an open-air market. I had a quick look around there but still couldn’t find anything so I set off back to the hotel. On the way back, I realised that I’d left my small suitcase at the market so I had to go back. Luckily, it was still there and I carried on back to the hotel. People were already congregating outside. A few people knew me and asked me how I was doing, so I made a grimace. One of them said “never mind, Eric. You’ll be great once you are on board the ship with us”. I thought to myself “if only they knew what kind of disaster this is going to turn out to be”.

It seems that I’m definitely yearning for Montréal and the High Arctic again, but of course there is a good reason why I’m not going. My health won’t stand it. However, being absent-minded and distracted away from my luggage is nothing new. As for the clothes in the Army and Navy store, back in the distant past, had I gone to the one in Crewe, I would have equipped myself with Arctic gear with no problems. What I should have done in this dream was to simply ask the organisers of the trip to postpone the departure until I’d kitted myself out. It would only have taken half an hour.

As for the open-air market, the one in Crewe closed down in 2016. That’s a really sad state of affairs. The whole town seems to be dying. It was bad enough when I lived there. It must be a hundred times worse these days.

The next task was to edit the radio notes that I’d dictated. And by the time that I’d knocked off in mid-afternoon, the notes had been edited and the two halves of the programme assembled. The final track has been chosen and the notes written, and they are awaiting dictation.

Back in the kitchen, I iced my Christmas cakes. And what a mess I made of that, especially when I was whisking the aquafaba and let go my hold on the bowl. We had aquafaba all over the kitchen, walls and worktop, the clean crockery and cutlery and also all over me. It’s a good job that I had some more in the freezer.

The icing sugar ended up being too runny and it ran down the side of the cakes, so I had to leave it to set a while before I could give it a second coat.

Not to worry, because we had Cardiff Metropolitan v Caernarfon in the Welsh Cup.

With only five Premier League teams left in the competition, and with two matches featuring games between four of them, there will be only three, or maybe even two in the next round if Greford Athletic of the Second Division knocks out Barry Town. So it’s anyone’s cup, and a cheap passport into European competition.

So the Met and the Cofis were going at it hammer and tongs, with the game swinging like a pendulum from one end to the other throughout the match. The Cofis scored first, but the Met equalised. The Met scored a second but the Cofis equalised almost straight from the restart.

With the game heading towards a penalty shootout, a moment of magic from the Cofis’ Portuguese midfielder led to a third goal, and with the Met throwing everything, including the kitchen sink, at the Cofis’ defence in the final seconds, they left themselves wide open to a rapid counter-attack, with the inevitable results. Hats off to Cofis manager Richard Davies for introducing a new, rapid pair of legs up front in the final minutes.

So what with Bangor City of the Third Division despatching Trefelin, second in Division Two, and Trearddur Bay of the Third Division hitting five past Newport, fourth in Division Two, we are going to have some interesting cup matches in the next round. And who knows? maybe a completely unexpected winner, especially as another one of the early favourites, Penybont, was bundled out by lowly Y Fflint this afternoon.

Tea tonight was baked potato, vegan burger and the rest of the baked beans. And then I had an enormous amount of cleaning to do in the kitchen to make the place look vaguely presentable. Hence I’m running incredibly late tonight. I hope that my lie-in works tomorrow morning.

But seeing as we have been talking about playing in European Competition … "well, one of us has" – ed … these European competitions have been around for millennia.
In fact, in 33 AD, a very important match was played just outside Jerusalem at a stadium called Golgotha. Someone called Jesus was actually playing in the defence, and when Billy Graham wrote his match report, he mentioned that at one stage, Jesus had joined in the attack.
He wrote "and Jesus went up for the cross".

Friday 5th December 2025 – I’VE DONE IT …

… again!

Crashed out on the chair in the office late this afternoon, and not just for five minutes either. I was for a whopping well over an hour. It looks as if I’m back in the bad old days of eighteen months ago when I was crashing out for hours every day with no sign of it ever improving.

This is a really huge disappointment to me, and I’m totally fed up with it. I wish that I could snap out of it and push on with work, now that I have (at long last) the opportunity.

That’s just how it was last night too. I fell asleep a couple of times again while I was typing out my notes, and by the time that I finished, I was so wiped out that I went straight to bed without even starting, never mind finishing, what else I had to do.

Once in bed, I fell asleep straight away, and there I stayed, without moving, until the alarm went off.

A couple of times just recently, I’ve said that I didn’t really feel like leaving the bed when the alarm went off. This morning was probably the worst that I have felt and I really was on the point of switching off the alarm and going back to bed.

Nevertheless, I struggled on and staggered into the bathroom for a good wash.

In the kitchen, I made my hot ginger, lemon and honey drink, took my medication and then came back here to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night. And it was no surprise to learn that there was nothing on there. It must have been a really deep sleep.

The nurse came quite early again and sorted out my legs. After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of Thomas Codrington’s ROMAN ROADS IN BRITAIN.

We’ve crossed Hadrian’s Wall and we are now looking at some of the forward camps where troops were stationed as an advance guard to watch over the territory north of the wall.

He tells us that at Durisdeer, there are "the remains of a small, but well-preserved Roman fortlet are located about a mile up the Well or Wald Path to the north-east" and that a Roman road passed up the valley by the camp to connect the Nith Valley with the Clyde Valley.

Consequently, I had a play around with an online aerial map and CAME ACROSS THIS. If you look closely, you’ll see the modern track, which is where the wheel ruts are, but slightly above it, you can make out the ridge of the Roman road.

It was the defences that impressed me, though. I’ve not seen a Roman fort with a ditch and bank as pronounced as this one. They must have been really troubled times up on the frontier.

Back in here, I finished off what I should have done last night and then carried on with writing the radio notes. They are all finished now, ready to dictate.

There were several interruptions. Two disgusting drinks breaks, for a start. And my cleaner put in an appearance to do her stuff.

The first thing that she had to do was to rescue two saucepans that had fallen out of the back of one of the drawers and landed on the floor underneath the unit. The second task was to shuffle the contents of the drawers around so that if a saucepan falls out again, it will drop into the drawer underneath and not onto the floor.

While she was at it, she also sorted out my Christmas tree. So now it has all of its decorations and lights. It’s only about 30 centimetres tall, but it puts a little ambience into the living room and makes it look a little more like Christmas. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed …. I wish that other people around here would make some kind of effort.

Back in here, I crashed out on the chair for well over an hour, as I said just now. To my surprise, when I awoke, there was something on the dictaphone. I was at some kind of Russian spy school, looking through documents. I wasn’t very popular there and no-one liked me very much, not that that bothered me, but I was keen enough to learn. One of the documents was a report on a case that we had to study. It showed that someone had stolen some documents, had extracted information and passed them through to his superior. However, his superior was extremely unreliable and drunken. He was on the verge of giving away everything when he passed the information in some kind of strange, diagonal way across a whole range of people to someone totally unexpected on the far side of the operation. It fascinated me, so I was trying to write an extract of this. In the end, I ended up having to lie on the floor to do it, but the dog decided to jump all over me and I had to fight the dog off. In the end, I managed to drag the dog off outside and go back to the paper, but by then, the boss had come down from his booth. He told me not to bother and to move on to the next exercise. I told him that I was enjoying this particular one and I was determined to finish it. He said that the part that he enjoyed the most about it was the part when I was fighting off the dog. In the end, I put my foot down rather and made something of a fuss about it. In the end, he agreed to let me have a further five minutes to finish this particular case.

Actually, I’d been reading quite recently about a Russian spy school that sent agents to try to prise out the British and American nuclear secrets just after World War II, so it’s probably something to do with that.

But working on and enjoying a subject that my boss wants to ignore in order to concentrate on something else reminds me very much of my university course. I enjoyed the research that I was doing far more than the research that my tutor wanted me to do. It was for that reason that I was rejected for my Ph.D. The tutor didn’t think that I would stick to the task in hand.

With the little time that was left, I began to hunt down some missing photos from 2019. This is a project that I was hoping to attack with all of this free time that I now seem to have … "in theory" – ed …

For tea, I made a very quick stir fry and then came back in here to watch the football. Y Bala v Hwlffordd.

Both clubs are in difficulty right now at the wrong end of the table, and having seen this game, I’m not surprised. Hwlffordd didn’t impress me at all, but Y Bala were awful. They were clueless and offered absolutely nothing at all.

The score was 0-2 in favour of Hwlffordd, thanks to a silly, pointless penalty and another one of these marvellous wonder-goals that you see maybe once in ten years … "of which we have now seen two already this season" – ed … When the highlights come online, I’ll post the link and you can see for yourself. If someone had scored that goal in the Premier League, people would be talking about it for the next fifty years.

Right now though, I’m off to bed, and I can’t say that I’m sorry because I’m exhausted. But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Hadrian’s Wall … "well, one of us has" – ed … here is a question that was asked in a Roman school in about 200AD
Magister – "if it took five hundred men ten years to build the eighty Roman miles of Hadrian’s Wall, how long would it take three hundred men to build half of it if they took four weeks feriatum each complete year?"
Claudius – "no time at all, Magister."
Magister – "why not, Claudius?"
Claudius – "because those five hundred men have already built it."

Tuesday 2nd December 2025 – AS I HAVE …

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

Actually, you have no idea just how tired I was last night. I fell asleep twice … "or was it three times?" – ed … while I was typing out my notes, and in the end I gave up. I left undone a lot of things that I shouldn’t have left undone, and round about 22:20 I crawled into bed.

It didn’t take long to go to sleep, and there I stayed until about … errr … 04:20 when I awoke. I was able at that point to go back to sleep, but when I awoke the next time at 05:13, that was that. By 06:00, I was in the bathroom having a wash.

After the hot ginger, honey and lemon drink and my medication, I came back in here to finish off what I should have finished off last night, like take the stats and back up the computer.

Then it was time to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was back in my office again and it was the final day so I was preparing to retire. I was slowly going through my things, slowly tidying up. But at one point, I was actually in somewhere else trying to clear the floor of all kinds of papers and everything. It was all little notes and stuff that I’d written years ago and it all went into the bin. I couldn’t believe how tidy I’d made the place. I even found an assignment from one of my University courses and when I had a look at it, I found that although it had received a good mark, the page layout and format of the document that I’d sent was awful, and I wondered how on earth I’d managed to miss this when I’d been preparing it. Then I was back in my office and going through my desk. There were tons of stuff, and I couldn’t work out what I needed to take and what I needed to leave behind. People were asking me what I intended to do. I replied that I had a deckchair, a nice garden and two nice cats. I’ll just sit out and enjoy the summer. Two of us, right at that moment, said that I’d picked the best time of the year to leave. Then the boss came round and asked me if I was nearly ready to go. I replied that I was still sorting out my stuff. She said something like “don’t take the toaster” which was the office toaster that was on my desk. I replied “it’s still on my desk, isn’t it?” because I thought that it was a really offensive thing to say. Then I suddenly realised that it was Friday so I rang up Nerina at her place and asked “shouldn’t we be going swimming tonight after work? I haven’t brought anything to wear”. She replied “I’ll get something off one of my brothers, some shorts or something” but I wasn’t too keen on the idea. Then she told me about this plastic underwear that you could buy. I turned up my nose at that. She tried to persuade me but I wasn’t in the mood to be persuaded. In the end, I thought that I’d probably just go home and make some tea for when Nerina comes home. That’s going to be the best solution but she was still trying to persuade me to wear either her brother’s shorts or some of this plastic underwear.

So having spent all those years during the night reaching the final few days at work but never actually finishing, here I am finally about to cross the threshold. That’s twice in a week or two that I’ve done that, after all of these years.

But whatever this is about plastic underwear? I really don’t know. And as if I really would pinch the office toaster … "perish the thought" – ed …

The nurse turned up, his usual cheerful self (at least, these days) and we had a little chat as he sorted out my legs. He’s all inclined not to come on Sundays to give me even more of a rest and relax, but I’m not quite at that stage yet – although if I fall asleep once more while I’m typing these notes, as I just did five minutes ago, I’ll think again.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of Thomas Codrington’s ROMAN ROADS IN BRITAIN.

Not that I managed to go very far today, though. I was side-tracked … "again" – ed … looking for the one of the many towns named Manton that contains some significant Roman remains, and ended up going on a guided tour of Roman villas in England – abandoned, or burnt, or destroyed, or buried.

You’ve no idea just how many there are altogether. They even came across one when they were digging a driveway into the Council offices in Bromley.

After breakfast, I came in here to revise my Welsh and then I went to the lesson. It started off quite well, but it all went pear-shaped when we had a spontaneous test on a subject that had been covered by the class while I was at chemotherapy. That was an embarrassment.

However, I bravely stuck it out until the end of the lesson, but I was glad that it was over.

My faithful cleaner came around later, as usual, and organised the shower for me. And so now, I’m a nice, clean boy again. I can’t wait, though, to have the time to order the handrails for the shower so that I can shower on my own and have more than one per week.

After the shower and I’d dried myself off, the next task was to install the strings of Christmas lights in the windows.

Last year, I was the only person in this whole area who had some pretty coloured lights in the window. And even though I’m not a believer in Christmas or anything like that, it’s still nice to bring some joy and gaiety into a depressing period of the year and it’s a shame that other people don’t make any kind of effort at all.

Consequently, my faithful cleaner (under my supervision) put up my lights in both the windows, and now it looks as if at least one person in the area is celebrating Christmas instead of the whole area being so miserable about it. At some point, I’ll even organise my Christmas tree.

After my cleaner left, I sorted out the rest of the music that I need for my next radio programme, and I’ll organise that over the rest of the week. And won’t it be nice to have a couple of days when I’m going nowhere, so that I can press on.

Tea tonight was mashed potatoes, veg and vegan sausage, followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. Only small portions, but I managed to eat it all tonight. It’s a meal with foods that are full of carbohydrates and fats so while it’s not a particularly healthy meal, it’s full of energy and proteins so that should help to keep me going while this lack of appetite persists.

And so, on that point, I’m going to be and see how I’ll get on tonight. I could do with another good sleep but, as usual, that’s not particularly likely. We shall see.

But seeing as we have been talking about sticking it out … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a story that I heard when I was in the High Arctic about two nudists who went on a camping holiday in the north of Greenland.
Freezing and shivering to death inside their tent, they were wondering how long they could stick it out before they ended up being frost-bitten.

Monday 10th November 2025 – MY CANADIAN VISITORS …

… have now departed. As I am writing these notes, they are probably hitting the high spots around Paris as a final fling before flying back out tomorrow morning.

This means that I can now do my best to return to normality, such as normality is around here.

It actually started last night. They left to go to have an early night ready for the voyage, so I could write up my notes, take the stats, do the backing-up and then sort myself out for bed.

It wasn’t as early as I would have liked, though. Probably more like 23:30 which, although not as late as some have been, is still after my ideal curfew time of 23:00.

Once in bed, I was asleep quite quickly and despite the odd brief awakening during the night, I was still asleep when the alarm went off at 06:29. How many times is this just recently that I’ve slept until the alarm? I reckon that it’s been more times this last ten days than in the previous ten months.

When the alarm went off, there was some kind of incident going on in the street. It concerns a prisoner. The prisoner managed to escape and climbed onto the back of someone’s motorbike in order to escape. However, the police set up a roadblock somewhere and the motorbike collided with this road block, and the prisoner on the back was catapulted over the cars that were blocking the road and into the street beyond, where the authorities managed to arrest him again.

This reminds me of a real incident that actually did take place in London years ago, but in that case the prisoner made good his escape.

Once more, it was an enormous effort to haul myself out of bed. I really didn’t feel like it at all. Nevertheless, I went … "eventually" – ed … into the bathroom to tidy myself up for dialysis, and then went for my medication.

That involved another glass of this honey, lemon and ginger mix, and remembering not to put the calcium in it.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was with a girl last night who resembled one of the nurses. I was disabled and hobbling along with difficulty on my crutches and she was with me. We ended up at the shops and were in a queue at the till, ready to leave. The people in front of us, their bill came to so many Pounds and so many pence. They had the Pounds but they didn’t have any pence, so the girl with me rooted through her purse and gave them the correct amount of pence for the sale. Then she prepared her purse for ours at the check-out and I noticed that her number for the Co-operative Society was 24287. I explained that that was very, very close to the number that we had as a family and kids when we lived in Shavington. We passed through the till, and the cashier put two things on top of the belt. One of them fell off so I had to bend down and pick it up. The other one was a pair of very used Levi jeans. I looked, and the girl with me was now wearing her new pair instead of the old pair in which she’d set out. I rolled the old pair up, busy making sure that nothing fell out of the pockets, and put them in the bag. I asked her how much the Levis were. She replied “£9:99”. I said that that was an excellent price for a pair of Levi jeans. I told her that I really liked Levi jeans and they were the only jeans that I bought that actually fit me comfortably and the cut was correct.

It’s quite bizarre that, after all these years, I can still remember our “divvy” number

It’s also true about Levi jeans. They were the only ones that really fit me correctly. And wasn’t it nice to have a certain nurse accompanying me last night? She can accompany me any time she likes.

And I can’t remember very much about the next dream but I was trying to go through the duplicate files on my computer and remove them. But for some reason, it was taking hours instead of the usual ten minutes. I’d even gone for some food and then come back and it was still performing its search. While I was doing this, there was someone doing a pile of washing-up from all of the cooking and baking and everything that everyone was here for last week. She suddenly announced “there’s no hot water any more”. She added “now, there’s someone on this site who is touching a commission from the Electricity Board for this and we’ll have to find out who it is” although I knew how to switch on the hot water anyway, I was interested in finding the culprit

It’s true that with this temporary hard drive in the computer, searches are taking much longer. But the electricity issue doesn’t seem to relate to anything.

The nurse came around a little later, still in a good mood. He sorted out my legs and then left. This is his last day for a week so I wished him a happy break.

After he had left, I ate the two remaining croissants and then made another batch for my guests. I then came back in here to work on a radio programme while I awaited their arrival.

They turned up in the middle of a rainstorm so while they were eating croissants, I organised a taxi to take them to the station.

The car arrived at the same time as my faithful cleaner, so I gave my visitors a good hug and they left for their train. They are going to Rennes and then on a TGV to Paris. That will make a change from the decrepit, derelict excuses for Canadian trains that have been THE SUBJECT OF CONSIDERABLE DISCUSSION on here.

The taxi turned up for me just a couple of minutes late, and we had to go to the Centre de Ré-education for another passenger. However, after a good search and a long wait, she didn’t put in an appearance. As a result, we were late arriving at dialysis.

There was no peace for the wicked. My blood pressure was in free fall throughout the session and every half-hour, the alarm sounded, which brought the nurses running.

The doctor came to see me, and she decided to reduce the quantity of one of the medicines that I take, to see if that will make a difference.

My taxi was waiting for me when I finished, and it was a good drive home where my faithful cleaner was waiting to help me into the apartment.

After a rest, I portioned out all of the unused food into containers and then heated up some of the broccoli stalk soup. However, I couldn’t eat much and a large amount ended up in the bin. Nevertheless, I managed to eat the chocolate cake and strawberry dessert.

Having finished what I could, I washed up and then put the packed food away in the freezer in the bathroom. That involved a little sorting-out, and I really need to have a good tidying-up session in there.

That’s a task that will have to be done another time because I’m off to bed right now. I’m in absolute agony, aching from every joint, and I wish that I could snap out of this.

But seeing as we have been talking about trains … "well, one of us has" – ed … three men from Crewe were on a train where they met three other men.
They began to talk about their tickets, and the men from Crewe showed the other men their three tickets
"But we only have one" replied the other men.
"How do you manage for a control? "
"Watch" said the other men. And as the controller walked down the corridor, the three other men went to the bathroom and locked themselves in.
When the controller knocked on the door to ask for their ticket, they slid it under the door. The controller punched it and pushed it back.
On the return journey, they met again and the men from Crewe showed that they just had the one ticket.
"We don’t have any" replied the other men.
"How do you manage for a control? "
"Watch" said the other men.
As the controller approached, the three men from Crewe went to hide in the bathroom.
The three other men walked behind them at a discreet distance to go to a bathroom further down the train.
As they passed the bathroom where the men from Crewe were hiding, one of them knocked on the door and said "tickets, please" so the men from Crewe slid their ticket under the door.

Sunday 9th November 2025 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning.

Not that it’s any surprise, because if you don’t go to bed until after 02:00, what do you expect?

And for the first time in I don’t know how many months, I slept right through to the alarm, which, on a Sunday and it being a Day of Rest, doesn’t go off until 07:59.

Last night, after we’d finished eating, we stayed around talking about old times for what seemed like hours, and it was almost 01:00 when my visitors decided to toddle off to their digs. Hardly surprising, because they had had a very long day, with jet-lag and all of that.

Once they had left, I came back in here to write my notes and then, totally exhausted, I hit the sack and that was that.

When the alarm awoke me, it was a real struggle to force myself out of the bed? And it would have to be a day on which the nurse came early. He caught me in flagrante delicto in the bathroom and I had to come out without having a wash.

After he left, I tidied up in the kitchen and put away some of the crockery that I’d washed, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone.

As I had said just now, there was nothing there, so instead I had a mini-footfest. We had the highlights of the other JD Cymru League matches from yesterday, and then a much-improved Stranraer grinding out a well-deserved point against league leaders Clyde.

Stranraer are now up to fourth from bottom – something that was looking extremely unlikely this time last month when they were rooted to the bottom of the table.

My visitors turned up some time later, having had the benefit of a lie-in. We ate breakfast together and chatted for a while. Then they decided that, because it was such a lovely day, they would go for a walk around the headland. And why not?

While they were away, I made a broccoli stalk soup ready for lunch and baked some fresh bread rolls. Then I came back in here and finished off editing the radio notes.

However, while I was editing them, I suddenly had a flash of inspiration about how I could finish the programme. This means re-writing the notes for a couple of songs, adding in a new song and shuffling the order around. It shan’t take me long to do that, the next time that I have an early start … "famous last words" – ed …

At some point, I also crashed out. And for about twenty minutes too.

My visitors turned up again at about 15:30. They had been for a walk around the headland and then gone down via the port into the town for a look around. There, they found a tea shop selling some gorgeous cakes, and the rest is history. I put the broccoli stalk soup into the fridge for my tea tomorrow night.

While we chatted, I prepared a pizza for tea. It was a mega-pizza, that’s for sure, and everyone liked it so much that not a single crumb remained. That was a really good pizza.

And one thing that it proved was that the new aluminium biscuit tray that fits onto the racks in the oven works a treat, although it’s really hot when you take it out.

Everyone decided to have an early night tonight so after they left, I washed up and put all of the uneaten food into the fridge. Tomorrow, I’ll be transferring it into containers to freeze. It’s a good job that I have two freezers around here otherwise I’d never have the room.

So now that everything is finished, I’m off to bed ready for an early start. My visitors have intimated that they intend to have a lie-in and if I didn’t have the nurse coming round, so would I.

But seeing as we have been talking about pizzas … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once had a girl from Crewe round at my house one Sunday night, and I baked a pizza.
"How would you like your pizza sliced?" I asked her. "Six slices or eight?"
"You’d better cut it in six slices" she replied. "I don’t think that I could manage eight."

Saturday 8th November 2025 – MY CANADIAN VISITORS …

… finally struggled into Granville at about 21:30 this evening, bringing tale after tale of woe about their disastrous journey from Toronto.

They are here until Monday afternoon when they will be returning to Paris ready to fly out again, hoping for much better luck this time.

So all of that journey just to spend less than forty-eight hours with me. If you want an example of a real “flying visit”, you need look no further than this.

And I was ready to see them too. I’d made a determined effort to go to bed early, however, once more, I failed miserably. It was 23:20 when I finally crawled into bed. And there I stayed, fast asleep, until all of … errr … 04:20.

By about 05:20, I’d given up all hope of going back to sleep and so I raised myself from the Dead and began work.

Well, not exactly work. There were the highlights of last night’s matches in the JD Cymru League. Llansawel, third from bottom, beat Y Bala 2-0.

However, I’m still laughing about the result at Park Hall. Adam Roscrow, unwanted at TNS for over two years, scored a goal with just seconds to go on the clock, a goal for his new club, mid-table Cardiff Metropolitan that beat runaway leader TNS 3-2, their first defeat in I don’t know how many games.

Enjoy THE HIGHLIGHTS

After the football, I began to edit the radio notes that I’d dictated a couple of days ago. However, I abandoned the project for the moment when the alarm went off, and went to organise myself in the bathroom.

To accompany the medication today, I made another one of those fiery ginger, lemon and honey drinks. I’m not sure whether it’s doing any good because I can’t feel my throat for a couple of hours.

After the meds, I began to put away the shopping from yesterday. I was certainly feeling so much better than I did yesterday. That’s just as well because I had to totally reorganise the fridge to make enough room for everything.

The nurse caught me unawares, in the middle of reorganising things, so I had to stop what I was doing and let him attend to me. It didn’t take him long, and then I could push on and make breakfast.

The croissants are a little overbaked but the apple turnover things are perfection. They have really turned out well and I’m so impressed with them. Almost as impressed as I was with my stainless steel dustbin, something that regular readers of this rubbish will recall from a previous version.

After breakfast, I carried on with sorting out the shopping, and putting a pile of stuff in the freezer for another time. The place looks a lot tidier now than it did before, that’s for sure. There was some broccoli to blanch for freezing, and I saved the water because tomorrow, I shall be making a broccoli stalk soup.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was with a girl last night, but I don’t know who it was. We were going to find some kind of hotel place where to stay for the night. Something went wrong with the coffee but I’m not sure what it was. They had one of these things where you made coffee by putting the grounds in and pushing down a plunger. Something went wrong with the organisation of this, and we had a coffee that was made with one of these, but it seems to have been made by accident. If anyone had pushed the plunger down, it must have been one of the members of staff, so we had no idea how come this coffee had been made and why it had been made, but it was probably the nicest coffee that I’ve had for ages.

This is something that seems to be happening quite often these days – being with a girl but I don’t know who she is. That’s something of a disaster. Can you imagine not being able to recall who she is? These days, I don’t have enough contact with the female sex so being able to recall who they are is quite important. I ought to be extracting as much amusement and pleasure from my dreams because it’s the best that I can do.

The two navies met each other on a couple of occasions during the American Civil War when they had some kind of naval battle. On one occasion, the Confederate Navy ship was sailing when it was accosted by a Union ship. They had a battle, which the Confederate ship won. The story goes that the German gun shelled the Colwyn Bay bench with ammunition and injured almost everyone on there, although Colwyn Bay deny this. They say that what they did was in turning their weapon and employing it against the Russians in poor South Africa as a way of equalising the staff and maker and shaking the tip and changing money … fell asleep here ….

It seems that there are two threads running through here. One concerning the American Civil War, about which I have been reading so much just recently, and the second being the football, which is a constant theme these days.

Did I tell you that in the last dream, the cannon that scored the fight that smashed the deck of the Federal ship was as straight as anything used in the battle? … "No you didn’t" – ed … They had to have one man organising the gun, two men organising it and shooting it and another team of rangefinders. They had to spot where the shell landed. But the situation diverted towards Mons where they were all used in the English campaign, although only one of them became famous and was in danger of being captured by the Turks so its own sailors blew it up

What the Turks would be doing at Mons is anyone’s guess, but here I am merging two threads again – the Civil War and World War I.

After a disgusting drink break, I began to make everything ready in the kitchen and living room ready for my visitors, and to make sure that we had everything that we needed. It’s becoming quite complicated, all of this entertaining, but I’ll keep on doing it. It’s nice to have company.

Later on, I carried on with the radio programme but I stopped before I finished because we had football on the internet, Connah’s Quay Nomads (fourth in the table) versus Penybont (second).

This was another match that is best forgotten. Two teams with undoubted quality and several internationals on the field should have produced a match of real skill and entertainment but unfortunately, it was nothing like.

Penybont, who had a man sent off close to half-time, were dreadful. They played with no intent or ambition and were swept aside, 4-0, by the Nomads.

In their last three games, they have conceded a total of thirteen goals. That includes conceding three against a side that’s third from bottom. That is just totally unacceptable from a team lying second in the table. There’s something dreadfully wrong here.

Knowing that my visitors were now on their way, I made tea – more couscous and Moroccan bean tajine, but they had nibbled at things on the train and weren’t all that hungry. The chocolate cake and mango sorbet went down well, though.

It’s lovely to see them, even if it’s only for a very short while, and we spent hours chatting about the past. It was long after midnight when they went and as soon as I’ve pressed “send”, I shall be going to bed, long after 01:00.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my visitors being stranded in Paris … "well, one of us has" – ed … they told me that, in order to pass the time, they had been to an art exhibition featuring the works of a French painter who stayed for a while in French Polynesia.
"Gauguin? " I asked
"We don’t think so" they replied. "Once was enough."

Monday 6th October 2025 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning.

Mind you, that’s no surprise at all. The storm that had been raging for a couple of days had died down by the end of the evening and for once, it was as quiet as the grave outside.

Once I was in bed, I went to sleep quite quickly and with two days’ worth of sleep to recover, there I lay without moving, all through the night.

How I was looking forward to it too. Once more I rushed through the work that I needed to do before going to bed and by the time that I crawled in underneath the covers, it was 23:02 – past my ideal curfew time of 23:00 but I’m not complaining.

After that, I remember nothing whatever until I awoke with another one of these “sitting bolt-upright” awakenings at 06:20 precisely. It took a couple of minutes to summon up the courage to haul myself off into the bathroom, and then I went into the kitchen to take my medication.

With nothing on the dictaphone, I took the opportunity to do something that I’ve been meaning to do for quite a while, and that is to tidy up the freezer.

During the move, the freezer was filled in any kind of order and I had real difficulty finding anything that I needed. Now, though, a couple of the drawers are sorted out and there remains just one more to do. Everything that needs to be in there is in there, but it needs to be tidied.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up a little later. It’s her last day before her week’s break so she was quite naturally in a good mood. We had a good chat about her Breton grandmother and how sad she … "the nurse, not the grandmother" – ed … was that her grandmother hadn’t taught her to speak Breton.

That’s just how I felt too. My grandmother never taught my father to speak Welsh because it was considered to be shameful back in the 1930s. Consequently, I had to learn by other methods. My grandmother did say a few words in Welsh to us when we were very small but she never explained that it was Welsh. We thought that it was just meaningless speech.

After Isabelle left, I could make breakfast and read some more of BATTLES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

By now, it’s Spring 1781 and the British have all-but given up hope of retaking the United States. A few inconclusive battles have seen the British Army retreat, even when they have had the upper hand. I think that Cornwallis is retreating towards the coast in the hope that he’ll meet a British ship that will whisk him out of the mess that the politicians have created.

Back in here, I had the radio notes to check for this week’s programme and to carry out a little judicious editing. I was also chatting to my friend in Munich and my friend in Telford while I was at it.

With the time that was left, I spent doing my Welsh homework. It’s not finished yet but it won’t take very long. Then I can concentrate on the next unit.

My cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to await my taxi. Although he was on tie, there was someone else to pick up and for that, we had to wait around for a while. I had to sit in the back seat too, which was uncomfortable.

And so we were late arriving at dialysis and, as usual, even though I wasn’t the last to arrive, I was last to be plugged in.

For some reason that I don’t understand, my weight had ballooned since Saturday. The amount that needed to be removed was over the threshold for three and a half hours, so I expected to be there for four hours. However, the nurse failed to notice and I wasn’t going to say anything. The quicker that I’m out of there the better.

And jamais deux sans trois as they say around here. My niece’s second daughter contacted me for a chat while I was at dialysis.

Despite the fact that I was finished after three and a half hours today, I may as well have stayed because the taxi was late coming to fetch me. I didn’t complain because it was one of my favourite drivers so we had a good chat all the way home. With plenty of traffic on the roads, her driving was suitably restrained today.

Horribly late back home again, and totally exhausted because when the dialysis machine is going flat-out, it takes a lot out of me, I didn’t faal like eating anything. However, I can’t starve myself to death, so I made some pasta and veg with a vegan burger. That will do me for now.

Anyway, I’m going to bed, hoping to sleep for a week because I am so exhausted right now. I’m really beginning to worry about my health.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my favourite taxi driver … "well, one of us has" – ed … she’s one of the “old school” of taxi drivers who has her own way of doing things that wouldn’t fit in with modern ideas.
The first time that she took me to Paris, I remember it vividly.
Being someone who is famous for his very low blood pressure, I was surprised when at the hospital there, they told me that my blood pressure had gone through the roof.
"Well, you go for a long drive through the Paris rush-hour with my driver" I retorted "and see what yours is like when you come back!"

Tuesday 30th September 2025 – IT WAS ANOTHER …

… afternoon that ended up just like so many others just recently – with me hunched over the table in some kind of catatonic fit for well over an hour.

Perhaps not exactly a catatonic fit because for a good part of that time, I really was asleep. I know that because of how far the Byrds’ concert that I was listening to had advanced.

That’s the thing, though. When I’m having one of these fits, I can hear quite clearly everything that’s going on, but I’m just not capable of reacting to anything. Perhaps one of my followers from Avranches, presumably the dialysis clinic, can supply some information in this respect to help me understand what is happening.

But all of that is for another time. Right now, I’m more interested in what happened last night.

What also seems to be the case is that no matter how quickly I finish my notes, everything else seems to take correspondingly longer and I’m still no earlier in bed, no matter how I try.

And such was the case last night. My notes went on-line at 22:41 yet it was 23:30 when I finally crawled into bed and made myself comfortable. I don’t know why it takes so long to motivate myself these days.

During the night, I remember awakening and turning over a couple of times, but when I awoke at about 05:50, that was that and I couldn’t go back to sleep.

After vegetating around for a while, I left the bed and went for a good wash, followed by the medication and something to drink, because I had a thirst that you could photograph.

Back in here, I listened to the dictaphone to find out what had been going on during the night. It was in the Revolutionary War again. We were there patrolling the outposts of the British front line. We noticed that one of them had seemed to be under attack by the Native Americans because there was food scattered around, indicating that there had been some kind of fight during the lunchtime. We had to think about how to reinforce these posts with enough men to defend the front line, making sure that first of all we didn’t step on the toes of any colonist there, and secondly, that we could find some trained troops to do it, who wouldn’t panic and run if the Native Americans decided to attack.

By the looks of things, I seem to be totally immersed in BATTLES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. I wish that I could dream like this about other things in which I have an even greater interest.

And then the Social Services had intervened in the case of a girl and her baby. One of the many things that they were doing was trying to sort out her car for her, an old Ford Escort estate. They had been in contact with a female friend of mine about this car. She had asked me to come along to look at it. The guy from the Social Services had sent a long list of work that needed to be doing on this vehicle, much of which wasn’t really all that important, such as grinding off the surface rust and treating it, painting it etc. I noticed that one of the gutters had come away and was flapping around. While I was examining it closely, I saw that the sill on the nearside was rotten. It would need to be replaced. First of all, I went to attack this gutter mount but I couldn’t find any self-tapping screws the correct size so I would have to go back to my garage to look for some. But the sill, I marked it off with a big piece of chalk where it needed to be replaced. I thought that at the weekend, I’d go to the body panel shop to see what I could find. But as soon as I’d put this chalk mark on, my brother went to fetch an angle grinder to cut it out. I told him not to do that because if we can’t find a sill and the existing sill had been cut away, we are going to have an awful lot of problems. I could patch it if necessary with some of the sill remaining by welding a few plates over the missing pieces, but if it’s all cut out, it’s going to be extremely complicated to manufacture something. When I explained this to my brother, he picked up the angle grinder again. I had an enormous amount of problems trying to stop him cutting this sill out. I still wasn’t sure that he was going to take any notice, and the moment my back was turned, he’d cut it away, and that would be that as far as this car goes if I can’t find another sill.

Once upon a time I did actually have a Ford Escort estate. It was quite a nice car and I wish that I’d kept it now. But the number of cars that I must have welded up in the past when I had my big oxy-acetylene kit – it must have been phenomenal. I remember once having to weld the floor back into someone’s ancient Cortina but we couldn’t remove the seat to take out the carpet. So I was underneath welding it and every time the carpet caught alight, the guy would tip a bucket of water on the flames – and on me via some of the holes in the floor.

And as usual, my brother is up to his shenanigans – not being able to leave things alone and doing his very best to make the situation even worse than it already is.

It’s Isabelle the Nurse’s turn to be on duty now for a week, so she breezed in as usual just as I was in the middle of doing something. She didn’t hang around long, though. She took my medical card so that she could do her accounts and when she’d seen to my feet and legs, she cleared off.

That was the cue to make breakfast, and with my porridge, toast and coffee I read some more of the aforementioned book.

The British invasion of the Hudson Valley from Canada has come to a shuddering halt and an embarrassing defeat AT SARATOGA, WHERE WE VISITED ALMOST EXACTLY TWELVE YEARS AGO.

It’s a defeat that can be summarised by three factors –

the failure to adequately supply General Burgoyne with the necessary men and stores
the failure of General Howe to push General Clinton and his troops further up the Hudson Valley to take the American defenders in the rear
the overall lack of aggressiveness and haste in the British Army, who, having cornered the Americans on several occasions, was far too slow to press on and finish the task

Although Point Three is probably the most crucial. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall – at least, those of you who were with me twenty years ago at the THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN – that the Confederates had the Union Army – and Washington DC – at their mercy, but failed to press home the advantage. This lack of the killer instinct seems to be infectious.

After breakfast, I came in here to revise my Welsh, and then I went to class. And how our numbers have grown! There are quite a few new faces, as well as one or two returning former classmates.

For a change, not only did the lesson pass really well, I actually felt confident, and it’s not at all often that I can say that. I reckon that over the summer, despite having done almost no studying, I’ve been listening to a large amount of Welsh football commentary, and I suppose that it’s a case of throwing a lot of whatsit at a wherever and some of it will stick. I was disappointed when the lesson finished.

Nest task was to book my taxi for the Centre de Ré-education tomorrow, and then to send off my order to LeClerc.

It was quite a large order today, and it took an age to unpack and put away correctly. And having done that, that was when I had my little wobble, and had to go to sit down.

It’s quite worrying really, these little fits that I seem to be having. One of these days, I’m not going to awaken from one of them and that will be that. I’ve tried to speak to people about them but no-one seems to be all that interested in discussing it with me. I have the feeling – and I don’t think that I’m too far from the truth – that the treatment that I’m having is more palliative rather than curative, maybe because the overall long-term prognosis is not good at all.

After a while dealing with the radio programme that I really need to finish, I made tea – a taco roll with rice and veg. And I managed to eat it all tonight – just about.

So my physiotherapy begins tomorrow morning. I’ll probably be worn out again after that but if it’s free, why should I worry? I’m not expecting it to do much good but it’s worth giving it a try. What do I have to lose?

Right now, I’m off to sleep in the hope that I can actually recover some of my force and energy. I’m not doing too well right now.

But seeing as we have been talking about force and energy … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of the doctors once prescribed some force and energy pills for me
However, I had to ring him up – "do you remember those pills that you prescribed to give me force and energy?"
"Yes I do" he replied
"Well, I don’t have the force and energy to be able to open the bottle."

Sunday 7th September 2025 – WHAT A BUSY …

… afternoon I’ve had today.

It’s been one ‘phone call after another after another, all three of which lasted for hours, and for a very, very welcome change, they were all from people from whom I wanted to hear. It’s really been my lucky day.

Not so last night, though. It was another one of those nights where everything that I tried to do dragged on and on. I finished writing my notes unusually early but even so, "the best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men gang aft agley" as Robbie Burns once famously said, and all kinds of things came along to interrupt me before I finally fell into bed, much later than I had planned (as usual).

And as usual these days, it was a very mobile night. Although I was asleep quite quickly, I awoke soon after, round about 01:30, and then spent the rest of the night drifting in and out of some kind of weird semi-consciousness, without actually being awake but without actually being asleep either.

Round about 06:20, I have up the struggle and, even though it’s Sunday, a Day of Rest where I allow myself to have a lie-in until 07:59, I arose from the Dead.

At least, that’s one way of putting it. Hauling myself out from underneath the quilt is one thing. Standing up on my own two feet is quite another thing entirely.

Once I’d finally made it into the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, and then went into the kitchen for the medication.

Back in here later, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And it sounded as if I’d gone miles. All the way to Avranches by the sound of things. I was back at dialysis last night. Again, it was a pretty bad session and I noticed that I was nothing like as autonomous as I am now. I had to have all kinds of help for this, all kinds of help for that, and that really disappointed me. However, one of the aides infirmières there was in something of a panic so I asked her what was happening. She replied that for some reason she had been the only aide infirmière who had been rostered that afternoon when there were usually five or six so she was expecting to be run around like nobody’s business and wasn’t really going to have the time to do all that she was supposed to do during her working hours.

Losing my autonomy is my major fear right now. At the moment, I can still move about, cook, wash and so on. But one of these days, I won’t be able to and that will be the end. As for the aides infirmières, they are all very nice but there are a couple of them whom I find very sweet and who seem always to be the ones doing the running around.

Later on, we were going somewhere again, a great big group of us, and we had several old cars, Cortina MkIIIs, that kind of thing. We were slowly packing them with what we needed and making a list of things that we didn’t have that we ought to buy before we went. Then, into the place where we were loading the cars came my father with a wheelbarrow. In it was all the frozen food out of the freezer. He’d obviously had it out there for so long that it had all melted. I went berserk at this and called him all the names under the sun for being so stupid as to take the stuff out of the freezer but he didn’t seem to be bothered but I was really annoyed about this. We had to take it all out of one of the cars again, take it away and put it back into an empty freezer for now for a place to keep it until we come back and sort it through. We had to load up the car with things like an old car carpet and one or two other bits and pieces. One of the women with me was again really angry by something. It turns out that because of some way that we’d packed the cars and some way that we’d organised the passengers in each vehicle, it was now up to her to take out insurance for everyone as some kind of group leader rather than the cars themselves having their own individual insurances as usual.

This is another one of these weird dreams that would appear to have no significance. Of course, I made my money with MkIII Cortinas, running a whole fleet of them and their MkIV younger sisters on the taxis for a number of years. There are still a couple of MkIIIs, and also the newer MkVs, down in the Auvergne that will be worth a fortune to whoever has to clear out my farm and warehouse when I am no longer here.

One thing though is that I couldn’t ever imagine bawling out my father in real life. He certainly wasn’t stupid, not by any means.

Isabelle the Nurse blew in again, giving me another dire warning about accepting the “dialysis at home”. She really thinks that I ought to formally inform them that I’m declining the offer before I’m railroaded into accepting it. And she’s probably right too.

Once she had left, I made breakfast and began to read a new book. I started off by reading one of Nietzsche’s books. However, after about half a dozen pages, I found that it was like trying to wade through spaghetti so reluctantly, I abandoned it.

Instead, I turned my attention to ADVENTURES ON THE COLUMBIA RIVER.

In the late Eighteenth and early 19th Century, the fur trade of British North America was being effectively shared out between the Hudson’s Bay Company and the North-West Fur Company of Canada.

The American Jacob Astor wanted to break into the trade so he had to start off from a point that none of the other two had yet reached, so he sent a party overland to the mouth of the Columbia River in what is today the North-West USA but in those days was still part of British North America, and also a party by sea to navigate through the Straits of Magellan and up the Pacific coast.

This book is the story of the seaborne party, its voyage and its arrival and establishment ashore.

It’s a fascinating book, for a variety of reasons. For instance, when sailing past the Falkland Islands, the author notes "Although the Falkland Islands occupy in the Southern Hemisphere a similar degree of latitude to that of Ireland in the northern, still they possess none of the characteristic fertility of the Emerald Isle. Of grass, properly so called, there is none in those islands. In vegetable and animal productions they are also deficient ; and the climate, generally speaking, is cold, variable, and stormy : yet for such a place the British Empire was on the point of being involved in a war, the preparations for which cost the nation some millions !"

That’s what I call a “prescient” remark.

But to show that nothing has really changed since the voyage in 1811, in the Sandwich Islands, "Several quarrels occurred among the men, which were settled à l’Anglaise by the fist.". That’s a tradition kept up by the English even today, and it goes to show that it has long, deep roots.

He also mentions "stupendous enterprise lately set on foot of forming a junction between the Pacific and Atlantic by cutting a canal through the Isthmus of Darien.". How about that for predicting the future? This book was published in 1831.

What’s interesting about this comment is that he goes on to say "It is probable they will ultimately become tributary to Great Britain, Russia, or America; and in the event of war between any of these nations the power in possession of the islands, from their commanding position, will be able during the continuation of hostilities not only to control the commerce of the Pacific, but also neutralise in a great degree the advantages likely to be derived from the Grand Junction Canal.".

That was exactly the motivation for the Americans building their great naval base at Pearl Harbour in the Sandwich Islands, and the motivation for the Japanese to attack it.

Incidentally, see if you can guess the modern names for these places that our author records in the Sandwich Islands –
Whytetee
Whoahoo
Owhyee
Honaroora

After breakfast I did some more tidying up and then I had a task to perform. The water heater timer is all over the place and so I’ve been switching it on and off manually … "PERSONually" – ed … but the last two nights, I’ve forgotten, so I had to reprogramme it correctly.

That took quite a bit of studying and then quite a bit of trial and error but now I think that it’s working correctly – at least, I hope it is.

After a disgusting drink break, I came in here to begin to work on a radio programme at long last, but I hadn’t gone far when someone called me up on the computer. An unknown number, so I answered it and it was a former girlfriend of mine from my school days. At long last, she’s downloaded an internet chat service provider.

She’s talked in the past about coming up to see me sometime, and it looks as if it might be coming to fruition. She’s talking about some time the end of September, so we had a good chat about it.

After she had hung up, I had my next ‘phone call. And it was Liz, calling me for a chat. And how nice it was to hear her voice after all this time. We had so much to say to each other that the chat went on for almost the whole afternoon and, using the video attachment, I gave her a guided tour of the apartment.

But how nice it was to chat to Liz again.

Afterwards, no sooner had I put down the ‘phone than Rosemary rang. She’s just arrived in Italy to see her God-daughter who has recently had a baby, and so she told me about her drive down. As usual in a chat between Rosemary and me, a simple chat like that can last for … gulp … one hour and twenty-one minutes.

It’s hardly surprising that after all that and my bad night, I crashed out for half an hour later.

Tea was a delicious pizza, made in my wonderful new oven, and now, later, much later than I would like, I’m going to bed.

But seeing as we have been talking about telling the future … "well, one of us has" – ed … two men met in the street.
The second man replied "yes I can"
And the first one asked him "can you foretell the future?"

Saturday 6th September 2025 – WE HAVE A …

… water leak here in the apartment, as I found out when I went into the bathroom after the washing machine finished its cycle to take out the washing.

It’s actually nothing serious really. It seems to be the waste water evacuation pipe underneath the sink unit – the only pipe in the whole apartment that it’s not possible to pressure-test. But that in itself is some kind of blessing because the water isn’t under pressure.

Still, that all that I needed today because I’ve not had a very good day at all.

For some reason or other, I was horribly late finishing my tea last night and consequently, I was late, very late, in going to bed.

Although I fell asleep quite quickly, I awoke pretty soon afterwards and then I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was lying there for hours, wondering whether or not it might be worth abandoning all thoughts of sleep and leaving the bed instead.

However, I did doze off for about half an hour or so, and awoke again at about 06:10n when I decided that I would in fact throw caution, and the bedclothes, to the wind and leave the bed.

In the bathroom, I had a good scrub up and shave etc just in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant today, and then I loaded up the washing machine. It was a good job that I checked the water feed because it hadn’t been turned on. It would have been a strange wash had there been no water going into the machine.

After the medication I came back in here and listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We had some kind of file set up about some kind of village with all of the plans etc in it. What I was trying to do was to work out the story behind this village by reference to the plans. It involved going through all kinds of files looking for all kinds of papers and going through all of the different surveys over the years. There were notes about something, a plan, and notes about something else that was covered by a different plan and there were probably ten different chapters. What I was trying to do was to assemble something just by using one set of plans without mixing them. That way, it would be much less complicated. Everyone thought that it was a strange way to go about doing it but this was how I wanted to do it and how I thought it would be best. It meant disturbing quite a few people with different parts of the file but in the end, I managed to do it and find all the papers that I wanted and slowly stitch them together to assemble this plan so that in the end I could write my report about the history of this village. I knew that it was going to be extremely interesting when I’d finished. However, it turned out that this village was a model, not a real village at all. It was really some kind of paperwork exercise but there were lots of other people involved in this situation too.

This has a bearing on MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES where we have spent some considerable time discussing Saxon villages and their evolution over time during the five hundred or so years that the Saxons had ascendancy over the south and east of England.

In the middle of it all, we were in Gresty Road by the YMCA place. Something that I wanted was in the garden of one of the houses of the Claughton Avenue estate opposite so the girl with me set out to cross the road. She went into the wrong gate so I had to go over the road to direct her to the correct gate but she managed to work it all out, picked up what we needed and we met at the correct gate again ready to go back across. However, there was a three-legged grey tabby cat on the side of the Claughton Avenue estate side. It was waiting for a gap in the traffic to cross. It hopped across on its three legs to halfway across the road and then just lay down and stretched out in the sun. I thought that that was extremely dangerous. The cat wasn’t going to last much longer if it did that.

Where this fits in, I really don’t know. It doesn’t relate to anything to which I can relate.

Finally, I was working in Chester and had to go off with one of the employees of the company. On the way back we went past a yard that looked as if it was a derelict railway marshalling yard siding and engine storage place. I noticed that one of the co-ordinates for this description a short distance further on was 53°15″ West … "he means ‘North’" – ed … but I couldn’t read the North … "he means ‘West’" – ed … co-ordinate. I thought that when I return home, I’ll have a look on the map to see where it is. Back in Chester again, I’d been off with a woman who worked in the area. She’d taken me down to her house which was at the back of Watergate Street, a really posh, nice house. On the way back, we came up Watergate street. I remember saying to her that right at the top there was a really nice bakery. She said that she knew the one that I meant but it had been closed down for a long time. Then the giuy who had taken me out earlier took me out again. It was early in the morning just after we’d signed in. We had to go round and pick up all these things that we had ordered for clients of the business. There were things like model cars and things like that from a particular shop. From another shop, it was a very expensive croissant and cake, and the baker signed his name on top with a soldering iron and molten syrup. It looked really impressive. The baker asked me if I needed anything but I replied “no, I’m only here to carry the stuff”. The baker turned round to the guy with me and said “well, in that case you should make him some kind of present”. As we were walking back past the first shop that we had visited, we noticed a display box with cars in it, a little round cardboard thing, very fancy. The guy asked if that should have been given to him in the previous load. The owner looked at his notes and said that it was. The guy said that he was glad that he came back this way to look. At the bottom of Watergate Street by the by-pass I had to climb into a lorry, an old Bedford TK. Climbing in there, being handicapped, was almost impossible. Several people tried to help me but I couldn’t manage it. The guy said that if I were to walk a little further on, there were some steps where I could climb in. In the end, I managed to haul myself in by hanging on to one of the mirrors and hanging on to something that was bolted to the roof. Then we set off. There was much more to it than this and I wish that I could remember it.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I lived and worked in Chester for two years after leaving school. It was a very happy time, even though I had no money and was living in run-down bedsits. However, I learned a lot and made some good friends, although they seem to be among the people who have dropped off the radar over the last few years which is a shame.

There was a really nice bakery at the top of Watergate Street when I lived in the city. It sold beautiful Austrian pastries and when I could afford, which wasn’t often, I would treat myself.

The rest of the dream is rather confusing, although incidentally, 53°15′ North is the geographical co-ordinate of inter alia Tarporley in Cheshire, midway between Nantwich and Chester on a route that I know very, very well indeed.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in and breezed out again, giving me another dire warning about accepting the dialysis at home; And then I could push on and read the rest of MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES, which is now finished.

The final points that we have been discussing in the survey of the land, and I was astonished by just how accurate the Roman measurements were. The Domesday Survey, based on the Roman measurements, shows Middlesex as having 181718 Acres. The Ordnance Survey land measurements that are quoted by our author puts the total acreage at 181706. The Roman figures are astonishingly accurate and shows just how advanced for their time the surveyors were.

After breakfast, I sorted out the washing and then sorted out the bathroom, and then I wrote to the plumber to inform him.

My cleaner turned up to fit my anaesthetic and then after she left I tidied up some more in the living room while I waited for the taxi, which was late today.

Once more, I was the only passenger, and as I was the last to arrive, I was dealt with straight away. However, it was still late.

There was football this afternoon, Cardiff Metro V Colwyn Bay. And the Bay were rampant, winning 4-1. It actually was an exciting game for a change and I enjoyed watching it.

After the football, my lack of sleep caught up with me and I crashed out for twenty minutes, which did me some good.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today but she doesn’t love me any more. She didn’t come to see me at all, and when I left I said “see you Monday” twice to her but she didn’t respond.

Back here, I had a relax for a while and then made tea, a breaded quorn fillet with vegan salad and baked potato. I didn’t feel much like food so it was only a very small meal.

The pain in my foot has started again tonight. It’s now down in my toe which is a change, but it hurts even more.

But on this point, I’ve had enough and I’m off to bed. A good sleep tonight, if I’m lucky, will do me some good.

However, seeing as we have been talking about geographical co-ordinates … "well, one of us has" – ed … a good forty years ago, a nudist camp opened in quite a secluded spot in North Staffordshire .
They were hovever bothered by a helicopter from the nearby RAF flying school that hovered overhead.
Afraid that their location would be exposed by the helicopter pilot, they wrote an angry letter to the commandant of the school. He then posted a note in the pilots’ briefing room "pilots should be reminded not to hover over the nudist camp, situate at (so many)°N and (so many) °W "

Friday 5th September 2025 – I HAVE HAD …

… a lovely afternoon this afternoon in the company of friends, and it’s not very often that I can say that. Or, at least, not often enough.

Back in 1970 when I was 16 I went on a student exchange and ended up in a small village in the Burgundy Hills at the back of Macon, and the poor boy went to stay with my family in the UK.

What with me living a very nomadic existence after that, we lost touch but A CASUAL ENCOUNTER WITH ONE OF HIS RELATIVES rekindled things and we’ve kept in touch ever since.

Anyway, the last few days, they’ve been camping in the area and today, in between all of my medical appointments, we managed to meet up and see each other for the first time for a couple of years.

While I was at dialysis yesterday, he and his wife sent me a photo of themselves outside the building here so they had found where I lived, and they arranged to call here today.

That gave me something to anticipate eagerly last night, because these days there’s not all that much in the way of eager anticipation. I could certainly do with more of it because, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

Especially when I was feeling as ill as I was last night. Apart from the pain in my shoulder, I was feeling quite awful everywhere else and flat-out tired to boot.

Despite finishing my notes early last night, somehow the time evaporated afterwards and it was after 23:00 when I finally crawled into bed, tired out, in agony and totally fed up.

When I awoke, it was 03:30 and once more, I couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. I was all for leaving the bed after an hour or so of trying, but I thought that I’d give it five more minutes.

The next thing that I remember, it was 06:18, eleven minutes before the alarm. I had apparently gone back to sleep at some point. But seeing the time, I thought that I’d better leave the bed quite quickly and claim an “early start”.

After sorting myself out in the bathroom I went for my medication, and then afterwards I spent a very pleasant twenty minutes … "I don’t think" – ed … tidying some more of the kitchen.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was with some friends again. We went to some kind of luxury hotel for breakfast one morning. The place was crowded and we had a struggle to find a seat. I ended up having to perch between the two seats of my two friends. I went to find some soya milk for my cereal. One of the waitresses said that they had some soya milk and it should be on the table at the back. I looked, but it wasn’t there so she replied that someone must have borrowed it. I walked around the table looking for the soya milk and saw a bottle on someone’s table, but as soon as I started to look at it to see if it was soya milk, the guy grabbed hold of it and put it on the floor between his legs. In the end, I went back to see one of the waitresses. She said that she would try to find me some more. There was no vegan butter either so I had to have my toast with jam on it. But by the time I finally returned to my seat, still without the soya milk, everyone else had been finished but I’d had no coffee, no cereal, no toast or anything. I was perched in between these two seats. I thought to myself that for a five-star hotel, this is absolutely awful. But while we were sitting there, some kind of Reverend or Vicar came up to talk to one of the girls with us. It turned out to be her brother. They were doing something with a car. The Priest or Vicar handed her the keys, saying that their mother had said to just leave it around somewhere and it will all be sorted out but it’ll need the keys for it.

In the past, I’ve stayed in five-star hotels where vegan alternatives don’t exist, and where I’ve met some of the most arrogant people on the planet. I’m much more comfortable and at my ease in steerage than I am up on the First-Class promenade.

Later on, I was talking to a former friend of mine from Stoke-upon-Trent. He was talking about my van, saying that someone had seen me and I was driving too fast, recklessly, all of this kind of thing. He gave some kind of fanciful description of a route that I was supposed to have driven around the town that this other guy had seen. I said that I don’t recognise that at all, and didn’t believe that it was me. He had a really good moan about the state of my van, about how when I first had it, I used to really look after it. I was by this time pretty much fed up because I didn’t recognise the journey that he was talking about, I didn’t recognise the state of the van etc. This kind of thing is really getting on my nerves now.

There’s a long story behind this former friend of mine. One of the nicest, most helpful people on the planet, his character totally changed with the medication that he was obliged to take after a serious motorcycle accident. There were several occasions when I ended up in some quite uncomfortable situations and in the end I had to stop going round there. I had enough of my own problems with which to deal without having to deal with the consequences of someone else’s.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in, early for once. She was in chat mode once more and we spent a lively five minutes discussing this and that while she saw to my legs, and then she wandered off again, leaving me to make breakfast and to read some more of MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES.

In the past, I’ve often talked about the Local Government Act of 1888 that eliminated the hundreds, if not thousands of enclaves, counter-enclaves and even counter-counter enclaves of different Counties embedded within the borders of other Counties, speculating that the previous County boundaries an enclaves corresponded in many cases with ancient Bishoprics and Church lands.

Our author tells us that certainly in the case of Middlesex, the County boundary corresponded with the boundary of the Middle Saxons after the defeat of the West Saxons at the Battle of Fethanleah in AD584 but before the subsequent peace treaties in the Seventh Century. He goes on to quote from another author that the origins of these enclaves etc was during the reconversion of Britain to Christianity where "a lord had a parcel of land detached from the main of his estate, but not sufficient for a parish of itself, it was natural for him to endow his newly erected church with the tithe of those disjointed lands.".

This morning, I spent some time tidying up my office, rethreading cables etc, tidying boxes, putting things away and so on. But I’m really disappointed in how long it takes me to do even the simplest thing these days. It’s really depressing. Even picking up a box from the floor these days is almost beyond my capabilities.

After a disgusting drink break, my faithful cleaner appeared and set about today’s task of tidying up everything that I had not been able to do, but she was interrupted by the arrival of my friends.

They are Honda Goldwing owners and members of the Goldwing Owners’ Club. There’s a big annual reunion of the Goldwing Club up at Ouistreham near Caen, so they came from near Macon on the Goldwing to camp around here for a few days to see the area and to visit me before moving on to Ouistreham.

We had a good chat about all kinds of things, which was really nice. I don’t meet people anything like as often as I would like and I hardly talk to anyone these days. We ended up being here for hours drinking coffee and idly chatting.

After they left, I made tea – vegan nuggets, salad and air-fried chips.

Now it’s quite late, as usual, and I’m off to bed. Dialysis tomorrow afternoon, but I have washing to do in the morning which will be exciting. I’ve not had the washing machine going down here yet and I still don’t know where I’m going to put the clothes to dry. But as “It’s A Beautiful Day” once said, IT’LL ALL WORK OUT IN BOOMLAND

It better had, anyway.

But seeing as we have been talking about my student exchange visit, one of my sisters asked me afterwards "does their family say a prayer before they eat their meal like we do over here?"
"Ohh no" I replied. "His mother is a good cook."

Thursday 4th September 2025 – I AM HAVING …

… another bad day today. I’ve pulled a muscle or something in my left shoulder and it’s aching like Hades. I’m having trouble eating, typing, all kinds of things and preventing me from doing all kinds of things.

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, my painkiller is called “sleep” and I’ll be crawling underneath the covers before long, whether I finish this posting or not, in the hope that it passes during the night.

But not if it’s anything like last night, because I had another really late night, quite a way after midnight. I don’t know where the time goes but I just don’t seem to be able to push on with any sense of urgency.

Anyway, once in bed, it took an age to go off to sleep again, but I ended up being awake at 05:10. Try as I might, I couldn’t go back to sleep – or, at least, I thought that I couldn’t, but the next thing that I knew was the alarm going off at 06:29 so I suppose that I must have done.

It took a while for me to leave the bed yet again and go into the bathroom where I had a really good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant today, although that’s most unlikely because since my explosive discussion the other week with her boss, she’s keeping a more-than-respectable distance.

Once again, it was a very slow start to the day, what with the medication too. It was 07:50 when I came back in here, although some of that was probably due to putting away the crockery and cutlery from the last few days.

There was plenty of stuff on the dictaphone, but Isabelle the Nurse caught me right in the middle of it all. She breezed into the apartment, sorted out my legs, gave me another dire warning about accepting this offer of “dialysis at home”, and then breezed out even quicker than she came in.

Breakfast was next, and reading some more of MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES.

Today, we are discussing Anglo-Saxon Charters, and how you can tell family trees and orders of importance in Saxon regal families by the order and the way that the signer and the witnesses to the signature are listed on the document.

There were loads of Charters signed in Anglo-Saxon times, some as early as 675AD, and it’s astonishing how many of them have managed to have been retained intact despite all of the upheaval and turmoil that has taken place since they were signed.

We’ve also begun to discuss assemblies, folk-moots and all of that kind of thing during the Anglo-Saxon period, and with men being bound in groups of ten to answer for any of their number who became delinquent. It’s all quite fascinating stuff.

Back in here, I carried on with the dictaphone and eventually managed to finish it. I was back driving taxis again. I had an ordinary saloon car. One of the cars being used as a taxi was some kind of convertible that looked really nice and futuristic but I didn’t have the chance to drive it. Owing to some kind of confusion I ended up not picking up a passenger who was destined to come to me, who went to the car behind which was this sports car. It was a woman with two children, two girls, and I thought “how I would have liked to have taken her for a drive and had a chat” but I was there, stuck in the rank without moving. Later on, I was in the sports car for the very first time but it seemed that everyone, all the public, was ignoring me and I was sitting there waiting. Then someone from our office came over to say that there was a job to be done. He climbed into the car with me and we went to pick up this couple to drop them off somewhere else. I thought that this convertible was really nice, a lovely thing to have in the summer. We dropped everyone off and then we went back to the office. The guy with me told the dispatcher but she said that it wasn’t supposed to have been done until 07:00 tomorrow but we couldn’t understand why it had been confused like this. The guy said that that probably explains why the passengers were feeling rather miserable and wouldn’t talk very much.

As far as a convertible goes, I have yet to meet any Council that will license one as a taxi. Someone once gave me a Cortina MkIII with a full roll-back canvas sunroof but the Council wouldn’t license it so in the end I broke it for spares. As for sitting there being ignored, that seems to be the story of my life.

Later on, I was in Newfoundland again last night, but it was not the Newfoundland that I knew. There was a large fishing port there and someone had the idea of running a car ferry across from there to Europe, so we went for a good look around the port. It was a small port, so we weren’t sure how they were going to fit a large ferry into it. We had a walk around all the same and saw the arrangements, which were very primitive to say the least. There was someone there talking to everyone, a visitor. They offered him a free hot chocolate, saying that this is a thing that they can do while they are in the harbour. I had to go to rewire some switches, but this was extremely complicated because the switches were rusty. I was putting the pins into the switch and then putting the contacts on which, on reflection, I thought was the wrong way round. I should have put the pins into the contacts and then pushed them in. When I decided to change it and do it the other way, I couldn’t get the pins out. I thought that if I couldn’t get the pins out, I’m not going to be able to put the contacts on it. Eventually we were ready to leave so I climbed on board a bus. I’d taken a magazine with me from somewhere, and I’d read it so I put it in the magazine net under my seat. Someone came up to me and asked me if he could borrow it. Later on, when I was walking around the streets outside, I came across the workmen mending the road. I asked them what time they were knocking off and they replied “about 12:00 for lunch”. However, I wanted to know what time they finished. They said that they usually finish at about 17:00 but they didn’t think that they would still be here by then. They would have finished and gone to another site. I asked them at what time they thought they might be finished here this afternoon but the guy couldn’t really give me an idea. He thought in the end that maybe they would spend half the afternoon here and half the afternoon on the other site, which wasn’t really as helpful as I was hoping.

It’s a little-known fact that there is actually A CAR FERRY OF SORTS BETWEEN EUROPE AND THE REST OF THE WORLD and at one stage I was making some serious enquiries about shipping vehicles over to North America. I actually ENCOUNTERED ONE OF THEIR CLIENTS on the Saguenay Ferry on the Forgotten Coast of Québec.

Then there was the issue of the Fleet Data Recorder. Thanks to the little video that I sent the Head Office yesterday, they have worked out that there’s a fault in the equipment so I had all kinds of incident reports to fill in. The upshot is that they will send me some new equipment to replace that which is defective.

For the rest of the morning, I was doing some more sorting out of boxes. Things are starting to look a bit more like home here, but I still can’t find whatever I need. I suppose that this will be a very long process of sorting myself out, but the way that I feel right now, I won’t ever finish it.

My faithful cleaner was late coming to sort out my anaesthetic, which was cutting things fine as the taxi company had sent me a message to say that they would be early. Once more though, my cleaner stayed chatting until it arrived.

The reason that the taxi was early was because there were two other passengers to pick up, and they lived right out in the back of beyond. I really am seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed.

The taxi was late dropping me off at dialysis but it wasn’t as ridiculous as on Monday. I was seen quickly, connected up, and disconnected quite smartly at the end of the session.

The downsides were that firstly, the internet wasn’t working today, pretty sad when I wanted to use the time to organise my shopping, and with a late start, it was a late finish.

It was during the dialysis that my aches and pains began and by the time that I was back home, I really was in no mood for anything.

Tea tonight was a leftover curry, of which about half of it went into the bin. I really wasn’t in the mood for anything. And washing-up was agony too.

So now, I’m off to bed where I intend to sleep for forty years. Crashing out for fifteen minutes at dialysis doesn’t seem to have done me much good at all.

But seeing as we have been talking about cars and suchlike crossing the Atlantic … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of 2010 when, just after the Trans-Labrador Highway, a muddy morass of a dirt-track, opened, I drove all round it IN A CHRYSLER PT CRUISER.
Right near the end, I encountered a very nice woman, whom I met on a few other occasions (but that’s another story) subsequently. She looked at the car and said "did you drive the Trans-Labrador Highway in THAT?"
"Ohh, it’s not the car, it’s the driver that counts" I replied. "And for my next trick, I shall be crossing the Atlantic on a motorbike"

Wednesday 3rd September 2025 – WHEN THE ALARM …

… went off at 06:29, I was already sitting on the edge of the bed – and had been for ten minutes – trying to summon up the force, the energy and the courage to leave the bed.

Well, in fact, the alarm didn’t go off at all. I switched it off when I rolled out from under the covers, but you get the idea.

It was quite astonishing that I was up so early because it was a horribly late night. Feeling rather depressed and miserable, a concert by the Phil Beer Band came onto the playlist and there are several songs on there that seem to affect me like that and I really don’t know why.

However, I’ll always make time for the group to play THE BORDER SONG and, as you might expect, when you want to go to bed and there’s a concert of one hour and forty-three minutes, that’s the song that they always play to close the show, so you have to wait up.

Once in bed though, I was soon asleep and although I was tired, I awoke on two or three occasions. When I awoke just after 06:00 this morning, I couldn’t go back to sleep again and for twenty-odd minutes, there didn’t seem to be much point so I forced myself out of bed.

After I’d had a good wash and clean up, I went for the medication and then, changing the habits of a lifetime, I quickly tidied up the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Isabelle the Nurse starts her round today and I expect that she’ll want to examine the apartment.

Back in here, while I waited, I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night and, more importantly, who had come with me. And to my surprise and delight, I’d had a special visitor last night.

There was a group of us going off again. I first of all had to go to collect one of the girls who had a shop in High Street in Crewe. So she locked up her shop and had to go to the nightclub next door for the keys, but then found that there was a light on further back in the shop so she had to run down there to switch it off and then run back to hand in the keys. Meanwhile, my brother went across the road and fetched Zero. She was coming with me. Eventually, we all gathered in the car park and climbed into the van that I had. There were a couple of girls sitting in the front and I was driving. Zero was sitting right behind me, leaning over my shoulder. As we were driving, I made the remark that she looked rather like a parrot sitting on my shoulder, to which she replied in a bad temper that she wasn’t a parrot at all. I asked her what she was to which she replied “a bad-tempered, rude-mouthed girl” which made me laugh. After we had been driving a couple of years … "don’t you mean ‘hours’?" – ed … we pulled up at the side of the road to sleep for a few hours. I curled up in the back and Zero came to curl up next to me.

So after having mentioned yesterday one of my special young ladies, another one came to see me last night. And what’s more, she curled up next to me in the back of the van and for once, my family didn’t intervene. But the story about curling up in the back of the van with a young lady reminds me of another occasion that is much more recent, and just about as ethereal as curling up with Zero.

Nevertheless, I’m not going to complain at all.

When Isabelle the Nurse came in, she inspected the apartment and promptly fell in love with it. I’m not surprised, because I love my little apartment too. She sorted out my legs and then we discussed this “dialysis at home”. She gave me a very stern warning against it, for a variety of reasons.

Apparently, the people at dialysis describe it in one way that makes it sound attractive, but Isabelle described the same procedure in a totally different way that made it totally unattractive to someone as nesh as me.

And that reminded me of my first introduction to propaganda. When I used to drive taxis, I would always drive at night and the BBC would finish its broadcasts at 02:00 with a news bulletin.

Turning the dial slightly, you would then pick up the English language broadcasts of Radio Free Bulgaria that would start at 02:00 with a news bulletin. They would say the same news, but by changing the stress and the pronunciation, they could make it sound exactly the opposite to the BBC.

So the same news, told the same way but with different stresses and emphases to make it portray the opposite viewpoint. Who was right?

After Isabelle left, I made breakfast and read some more of MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES.

We’re now discussing the Saxon overrunning of Middlesex, with a highly fanciful account of the invasion that is backed up by almost no evidence whatsoever. Our author seems to like this flights of fantasy into unrecorded territory.

Modern research seems to discount almost all of his theories in this respect, but then again, modern research also seems to discount or deny the ethnic cleansing of the Romano-British population by the Saxons. However, ss I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the sudden and dramatic end of writing, of ironworking, of urban dwelling and of many other skills and habits cannot really be attributed to anything else. We have the classic example of Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge, the Killing Fields and the “Back To The Land” movement in this respect.

After breakfast, I changed the habits of a lifetime and began to tidy up. Having spent hours trying to find certain herbs and spices yesterday, that was the focal point of my attack and eventually, I’d managed to sort them out as I would like them to be.

There were a few other things too but I didn’t go too mad in this respect. However, I am having difficulty finding things, like the power pack to drive the little Roland bass cube for example.

There was a disgusting drink break of course and then I came in here to deal with a problem concerning the data senders for the fleet monitor, the transmissions for which are not being received at the Head Office in Denmark. The warning lights seem to be flashing as normal, so I took a one-minute video of the senders and the flashing lights.

There followed an interruption by the usual Wednesday visit by my cleaner. First thing that we did was to sort out all the bedding and I found a quilt cover and sheet that I didn’t know that I had.

She arranged the shower for me and I went and had a really good soak too. You’ve no idea how nice it is to have a lovely, warm shower in a lovely shower cubicle. But it’s rather precarious and I need to sort out the handrails so that I can have a much better purchase for pulling myself into the cubicle.

After my cleaner left, I came back in here and crashed out in one of those sudden, dramatic crashes that I have sometimes. I was out of it for an hour or so, which was disappointing, but even more disappointing was that when I awoke, I didn’t know where I was or what time of day it was, and I was half-expecting to go for breakfast at that point.

Not that that’s any surprise. I don’t know where I am or what day of the week it is even when I’m wide awake.

At that point, Rosemary ‘phoned me for a chat. Just a short one today, only one hour and thirty-six minutes. It’s nice to chat to people like that and thanks to these internet chat applications, it’s all free too.

One of the things that we discussed was how good friends seem suddenly to drop off the radar and you never seem to hear from them again after a while. That’s something else that is perfectly true. Having said that of course, I still have a friend and a former girlfriend from Grammar School with whom I’m regularly in touch

Tea tonight was a taco roll with rice and veg, and now that I’ve finished my notes, I’m off to bed, late as usual. Tomorrow, it’s dialysis and I’m not looking forward to that at all.

But seeing as we have been talking about propaganda … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of the greatest exponents of the art of propaganda was General Hindenburg of the Imperial German Army, who claimed all of the credit for the battles in Eastern Europe that destroyed the Russian Army in 1914, much to the disgust of General Hoffman who had actually led the German troops into battle.
Years later, Hoffman used to take official visitors around the battlefields there, and he would always point out three particular farmhouses.
Of the first one, he would say "here is the place where our Glorious Leader slept before the battle"
And of the second one, he would say "here is the place where our Glorious Leader slept after the battle"
But of the third one, he would say "here is the place where our Glorious Leader slept during the battle"

Monday 1st September 2025 – I AM ABSOLUTELY SICK …

… tired and totally fed up with this dialysis nonsense, and if there’s much more of it, I’m going to write my wills (because there will be three), call a halt to it and let nature take its course.

One of the doctors told me a few weeks ago that if I were to stop the dialysis, I wouldn’t last out the week. But at least I would have a week to myself without being dragged around from one medical appointment to another and totally inconvenienced in the process.

The taxi was early today – 12:45 instead of 13:15, and we arrived at dialysis at 13:20. So there I was, looking for an early start, a quick “in and out” and back home early for once. But ohhhh! Cruel, wicked fate! How you (and I suspect some human agency too) conspired to thwart my plans. And in spades too.

The way things went last night, I might have expected some problems today. Despite my best efforts, it was 23:40 when I finally crawled into bed, much later than I had been planning. But once in bed, I had a really good sleep for a change.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I was actually on the point of throwing off the covers. Not actually out of bed though. And leaving the bed was not as simple as it might have sounded. It was a desperate struggle to beat the second alarm.

In the bathroom, I had a good wash, shave and clean up in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant … "if anyone from the dialysis centre finds this objectionable, may we ask why you have invaded Our Hero’s private life by hunting him down on the internet, in defiance of the Patients’ Charter?" – ed… and then in the kitchen I had my medication.

Some of the medication in the drawer in the table had run out so I had to go to the supplies. And what a marvellous surprise. I’ve moaned and moaned about the medication all over my apartment, making it look like a Chemist’s shop and depressing me no end but my lovely cleaner has fitted out a cardboard box, complete with little curtains, to store everything. That’s one of the nicest things that anyone has done for me.

Once more, I’d hardly come back in here before the nurse arrived. Once more, he was in a really chatty, sociable mood and I hope that he stays like this because it makes things so much nicer.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES.

Our author is now well into his stride about Roman surveying, and I’ve been having to rack my brains from my Primary School days in the early 1960s about rods, poles, perches, chains and furlongs. I suspect that tomorrow we’ll be discussing bushels and peck, and the difference between avoirdupois and troy weight.

However, it’s his comments that are the most interesting. When discussing the longevity of the Roman system of land division, he observes that "it is manifest that neither the rude Saxons nor their Norman successors were capable of designing or carrying out such a big undertaking."

It makes me wonder what the Saxons must have been doing, and did the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine know about it?

He also talks about the erection of wayside shrines at the intersections of Roman field trackways, and how Pope Gregory encouraged Christian missionaries to adopt these wayside shrines and convert them to Holy Christian places.

Anyone who has wandered around rural France as much as we have will have noticed statues of the saints at many intersections of rural trackways.

Another thing that he mentions is that on "Rogation days, when priests with the Cross went in procession round their parochia, and certain Gospels were read in the wild field among the corn and grass, so that wicked spirits which infest the air might be laid low to the extent that the corn may remain unharmed."

The ceremony of the Beating of the Bounds and of well-dressing is still carried on today in parts of the UK.

After breakfast, I came back in here to spend a brief fifteen minutes finishing off the connecting up of my office and all of the computer peripherals, and when my cleaner came to sort out my anaesthetic cream two and more hours later, I was still in here trying to sort it out.

No matter what I have tried, I can’t make one of the external back-up drives fire up. I’ve changed cables and everything, but the warning light is far paler than the warning light on another one and the computer won’t read it. I shall have to keep on trying. Everything else works fine.

Once my cleaner had dealt with my arm, she began to chat. And was still chatting when the taxi came. I really am flavour of the month around here these days.

There was only me in the car with the driver today – a nice young guy who has taken me to Paris before – and we had a good chat. But the fun came to an end when we arrived at dialysis because we arrived at the same time as seven other people.

Not only that, they weren’t ready in the wards so we had to wait. And when the doors were opened, it was a mad stampede to the beds. My bed was the farthest possible away from the door, as you might expect, and because I am the slowest, I was last to arrive.

It was not surprising that I would therefore be the last to be connected, but 14:30 – well over an hour after I had arrived – is really taking the mickey.

There was plenty of room to manoeuvre with the weight loss so I asked the nurse to wind it up so that I’d have a head start for Thursday, but for all the good it did, I may as well have saved my breath.

Once everything was under way I had a brief doze … "he means ‘half an hour of deep sleep’" – ed … and then I was in no mood to do any work. I really am over-tired these days.

Even worse, the chef de service came by, and said that one of the other doctors had made some remarks the other day about my overall health and how I seemed to be suffering under the strain of dialysis. And so, he cut right down to a minimum the amount of fluid extraction.

And the final straw – despite all my entreaties, he left me 700 grams short, which means almost inevitably that I’ll be stuck here for four hours on Thursday. People could be forgiven for believing that he’s deliberately setting me up in an act of revenge for my letter to his Head Office.

So the ridiculously low extraction came to an end at 18:00 precisely, but I wasn’t unplugged and attended to until 18:25. It was 18:50 when I finally walked out of the dialysis centre – the poor taxi driver had been awaiting me for over half an hour.

To cap it all, we had to drive right across Avranches to the private clinic to pick up someone else and run them to Granville, where they were dropped off first.

It was 19:40 when I finally came back here, as if I don’t have anything else to do, and I was totally seething. I really am fed up with all of this. I was away from home for almost seven hours for a three-and-a-half hour session and that is totally unacceptable.

If I don’t calm down soon, I’ll be the one blowing a gasket.

Tea was a quick pasta with chick peas and veg, and then I had the dictaphone notes to transcribe. I can’t remember who I was with but I was wandering around somewhere like Stoke-upon-Trent last night with someone. We came across a car that was for sale, a red Morris 1000 traveller and whoever I was with was trying to make up her mind whether to buy it or not. I couldn’t see how it would fit in with our plans but it was a nice vehicle all the same. We met a few other people wandering around there too and we had a talk with them. The next thing that I remember about this was that we were in Nantwich, having a look at the water pumps there and the system to distribute the town water. They were at the back of the Swine Market, at the back of one of the shops. We were talking about how they were installed and the controversy about digging up all of the streets, stopping the traffic from circulating for months but that’s all that I remember about this dream.

Nerina and I went to see a Morris Traveller once. It was for sale at a giveaway price because one of the spring hangers had torn out of the chassis. I would have had it and welded it up, but she decided against it, which was a shame. I’m not sure why we ended up in Nantwich though. In those days, Stoke-upon-Trent would have been much more likely.

So still fuming, still seething, I’m off to bed. I hope that I will have calmed down by the morning although I doubt it. But I’ll be interested to see how my dreams are tonight. However, knowing my luck, there won’t be any at all.

One thing that I am going to do at the dialysis clinic though next time, is to watch very carefully how the nurses operate the machines. And then, when their backs are turned, I can adjust my machine myself to how I would like it to be. Then we can watch the sparks fly!

But seeing as we have been talking about religion and Priests … "well, one of us has" – ed … a priest and a couple of parishioners were standing on a road with a sign saying "The End Is Nigh. Turn Round. Retrace Your Steps Before It’s Too Late"
However, a car drives past, with the occupants hurling abuse at the Priest and his parishioners.
Next moment the Priest and his parishioners hear a loud “splash”.
One of the parishioners turns to the Priest and says "Yes, I reckoned that a simple ‘Bridge Washed Away’ sign would have been a better idea"

Wednesday 27th August 2025 – AND ONCE AGAIN …

… when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was still fast asleep.

It’s no surprise really, for when you don’t go to bed until after 00:30, there really isn’t all that much time for sleeping. It is, however, disappointing to say the least. I was hoping that this series of very early starts would go on and on and on.

Yes, it was after 00:30 when I finally went to bed last night. I know that what with one thing and another, it was a late night but I hadn’t realised that it was that late until I checked the time.

Once in bed, though, I remember nothing at all. I must have gone to sleep quite quickly and stayed there until the alarm. Being as tired as I have been over this last week or so since chemotherapy, the good (well, for me, anyway) sleep probably did me some good.

Mind you, I didn’t feel like leaving the bed when the alarm went off. Once again, for two pins I would have gone back to bed. I had a real struggle to leave the bed before the second alarm went off.

It really was a slow start to the morning. It took an age to sort myself out in the bathroom and I didn’t rush to take my medication. It was about 07:40 when I finally made it back into here.

First thing that I did was to check the dictaphone, “just in case”. I was travelling miles in my sleep but I can hardly remember anything of it because the alarm awoke me yet again. However, I do remember that on one occasion I was going back into a place where I worked, trying to smuggle out a textbook or instruction book or something so that I could do some work at home on the Thursday or Friday and have the book back in the office for Monday morning. I also remember doing something with a sheet of newspaper, rolling it up into some kind of spiral like the kind of thing that you’d make if you were lighting a fire. That’s all that I remember about what was going on during the night.

And isn’t that disappointing too? Having a really interesting dream, only to find it evaporate away like that.

The nurse was early again and he was once more in a spirit of amiability. I hope that this keeps up, rather than his usual depressive state

After he left, it was breakfast time. However, I had hardly started it, never mind finished it, when there was a ring on the doorbell. I’m not sure that I mentioned yesterday that the dialysis centre wants me to go for a Doppler examination on the implant in my arm. It had been arranged for 09:30 this morning here in Granville, so I wasn’t expecting the taxi at 08:45.

We arrived at the hospital at 09:05, in plenty of time for my appointment at 09:30, so it goes without saying that I wasn’t seen until a little after 10:00. My taxi driver had already been once to pick me back up but she found me sitting there waiting to be called.

The doctor who performed the examination was someone whom I have met on several occasions in the past. A small lady of “a certain age”, she would make a very good companion to my favourite taxi driver, for she is another one who gives a running commentary of “a certain kind” while she is working. Those two working together would make a wonderful combination.

She had me there for well over half an hour, and the result is exactly as I knew it to be before we even talked about going – namely, there’s a fault in my implant right where the second needle goes, and the fault has been there for months, exactly as I said that it had.

That is the responsibility of the clinic that tried its best to rob me of €1667 or thereabouts last summer, and for which I had to fight over four months for it to be returned. I am now awaiting the formal report before I decide my next move.

However, I shall be having words with the doctors at the dialysis centre too. I’ve been complaining about this implant for months, and no-one has done anything about it. It’s a shame that I had to write to the dialysis centre’s head office so that something could be done, and despite the objections of the chef de service who, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, took great exception to my letter, my letter has produced some kind of results.

When I left the radiology booth, my poor taxi driver was still awaiting me. I felt terribly sorry for her but there wasn’t all that much that I could do about it.

It was 10:55 when I arrived back here and I’ll tell you something for nothing, and that was that it was lovely just to walk back all on my own across the courtyard to the front door, into the building and straight into my new apartment without having to worry about how I’m going to climb 25 stairs.

First thing that I did when I was back here was to reheat my porridge and coffee in the microwave and then finish my breakfast, at long last.

The second thing was to say hello to my faithful cleaner who came in carrying an urgent letter. And so it’s official that Tuesday 16th September I go to Rennes for my next session of chemotherapy.

It looks as if it’s just for the day too. Plenty of mention about what I need to bring, but nothing at all about an “overnight bag”. Of course, I’ll telephone to check. However, if it is just a day visit, that will cause a few other problems because I don’t think that I’ll be in much of a state to travel afterwards, if the previous sessions have been anything to go by.

Much of the afternoon has been spent beginning to unpack my office and installing my external drives. There’s a lot to do in this respect and it will take a while to do it all.

However, the good news is that I have had my first shower. And it was gorgeous too. It worked just as I wanted it to and I was so impressed. However, climbing in and out of the shower is difficult. The step up is just a little too high for me.

But I have a solution to that. Lying around here are all kinds of offcuts of scrap wood from the kitchen, and if I put two or three together and screw them so that they don’t move, they would make a nice step up of half-height and so I should be able to manage the ascent so much better.

What kind of state am I in these days?

Later on, we had another foot-fest. I’d missed the match between Stranraer and Clyde at the weekend, and last night Stranraer had taken on Glasgow Rangers Youth in the Scottish League Cup.

The match at the weekend was a tame 1-1 draw but last night’s match was … errr … interesting, to say the least. Stranraer won 4-1 but, big Stranraer fan that I am, their third goal was scored from the softest ever penalty award that I have ever seen which in 99 games out of 100 would have been waved away, and as for the fourth goal, you can show me that again as many times as you like and from every kind of angle too, and I will still say that the Stranraer forward was half a mile offside.

However, Stranraer has in the past been on the wrong end of several dubious decisions in the past so I suppose that things eventually even themselves out.

Tea tonight was an aubergine and kidney bean whatsit out of the freezer with pasta and vegetables, and in a return to normality after the upheaval of the last week or so, I read some more of MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES by Montagu Sharpe.

Sharpe has been discussing the Iron-Age occupation of Middlesex by the various Celtic tribes and that has led me on a chase around cyberspace for buried treasure. Quite literally too, because the subject of buried hoards from the Iron Age came into the discussion.

Of course, I went off on a side-track and in the words of Fridtjof Nansen, "the more extensive my studies became, the more riddles I perceived – riddle after riddle led to new riddles and this drew me on."

And that, dear reader, is the answer to why it takes me so long to write up my notes, and why my Degree studies were not as they ought to have been. I am side-tracked far too easily by things that, to me at least, are much more interesting than whatever I am supposed to be doing.

So late once more, even though at one stage it promised to be quite early, I’m off to bed, wondering if I’ll have another “lie-in” until the alarm goes off.

But despite my having the first decent meal tonight since before chemotherapy, it’s been something of a bad day. On several occasions, I’ve felt my head spinning round and I’ve had to hold on to something to stop me falling. I’ve still not recovered from chemotherapy, I reckon, and I have no idea for how long this is going to continue.

But seeing as we have been talking about Fridtjof Nansen … "well, one of us has" – ed … he is of course famous for his epic hike across Greenland in 1888. During his trek he came across an Inuit building one of these little round houses out of ice blocks.
"What do you call this building?" asked Nansen
"It’s an ig" replied the Inuit
"Don’t you mean ‘igloo’?" asked Nansen
"Oh no" replied the Inuit. "There’s no plumbing up here on the Greenland Ice Cap."

EPIC HALL

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