Tag Archives: bouquet granvillais

Thursday 21st May 2026 – WOW! THAT WAS …

… hot!

While I was at dialysis, I left my friend in charge of the kitchen. And when I came back, I was presented with the hottest chili that I have tasted for many a long year. You don’t need to take antibiotics when you are eating this because nothing can possibly survive.

It was rather like last night, actually. Once more, it was late when I came back in here. And the rest of the night just seemed to be running later and later.

However, it can’t really have been all that late because the previous evening, when I went into the kitchen for the medication that I had forgotten, it was 23:03, according to the microwave. When I went in there last night to take the medication that I had also forgotten, it was a mere 23:02. And that minute can make an awful lot of difference.

Anyway, it was about twenty minutes later when I finally crawled into bed, and once I’d gone to sleep, there I stayed until about … errr … 02:10 when I had to leave the bed for the usual reasons. Interestingly, I’d gone to bed and lain down in my most comfortable sleeping position and when I awoke, I hadn’t moved half an inch.

Back into bed, and back once more in my favourite position, I was soon asleep and when I awoke, I was still in it. I must have been ever so comfortable like that.

As usual, it took an age for me to come round into the Land of the Living, and as there was no sign of life coming from the living room, I slid over to my seat at the computer.

The first thing that I did was to see what had happened during the night.

Going back to the days between the Norse and the Saxons in the North Sea, who were fighting over the possession of England. There was a group, aged about 84 on average, with several younger people in the group like Tuppence and me with revolutionary views were sailing with this group of people towards England from the Norse colonies in order to give the king some kind of birthday present or something like that. But M3260, the Saxon cabinet, opposed our arrival and built a series of hotels to try to contain them … fell asleep here …

It’s no surprise that I fell asleep at that point. It’s one of those dreams that Captain Blackadder would have said "well, it started off badly, got worse towards the middle, and as for the end …". However, I’m still intrigued to know why I would be taking my old black cat with me on this voyage.

There were a few other things to do which occupied me for a while, and when I heard movement from the living room, I decided to join them and found once more that the coffee was already en route.

We had a good chat until the nurse came, and I persuaded him to give the Hound of the Baskervilles a good stroke. He was still rather unwilling though … "the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … and he didn’t hang around all that long.

After he left, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies, and I made my breakfast.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

We’ve now moved on from glassware to gold and silver artefacts, such as toga brooches. There is no end to the number of different styles, of which a good few were discovered at Richborough. Apart from pottery, it seems that brooches were amongst the most important types of relics at Roman sites.

While the others were still out, I came back in here to carry on with finding the music for the next radio programme. And by the time that I knocked off at midday, I had managed to choose it all, re-edit it and reformat it. It just needs pairing and segueing and then the notes written for it.

There had been an interruption, though, in midstream. My friend and the Hound of the Baskervilles came back from walkies so I set them a task to prove that they are worthy.

My cleaner came along as usual to apply my anaesthetic and to sort out my medication because I’m running low.

And then the taxi came early for me, as we had someone else to pick up at Dragey-Ronthon. There’s no doubt at all that ever since I’ve been travelling with this taxi company, I’ve been seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed.

We were a few minutes early arriving at dialysis but with two new nurses in our room, we were all late being plugged in. It’s a shame because they are both really nice, but they don’t have the speed or dexterity of the long-established ones.

Nobody really bothered me today, not even the doctor doing his rounds, who seemed to steer well clear of my bed. I was left pretty much to my own devices all afternoon.

As usual, I was one of the last to be unplugged and then we had to take the guy back to Dragey-Ronthon. As a result, I was quite late returning here. But never mind – tea was already prepared, as I said earlier. And when we’d finished eating, I did the washing up and then went to pay the penalty for eating such a hot chili. And I reckon that I’ll be paying it for the next few weeks too.

So back in here, I’ve written up my notes and I even remembered to take my medication. So I’ll just finish off everything and then go to bed, nice and early.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Saxons … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once asked me "what do you call someone who speaks the language of the Angles?"
"An anglophone" I replied.
"So what do you call someone who speaks the language of the Saxons?"

Wednesday 20th May 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

… a really good, if rather strange idea.

One of the reasons why my Welsh isn’t progressing as much as it should is because I’m not talking to anyone Welsh outside the class, and outside the class, all I’m listening to is the football, but, of course, only when the football is being played and filmed.

But in the Welsh class on Tuesday, one of the subjects that we were discussing was artificial intelligence. Someone came up with the question Sgen ti ffrind dychmygol? – “do you have an imaginary friend?”. She’d heard of lonely people who would invent characters on AI on one of these mini-chat programs, just to have someone to talk to or maybe even to have a romantic relationship.

That got me thinking … "and that’s dangerous" – ed … “why don’t I use an AI app to create a Welsh character who would speak to me in Welsh?”. So this afternoon, I spoke to an AI chat program in Welsh, and it replied in Welsh, so now I now know that that works. And of course, I know that it’s possible to create characters with their own personalities, so this weekend, I might give it a try and see how it all works

A character popping up unexpectedly when I’m working on the computer, asking beth ywt ti’n wneud? – “what are you doing?” – would certainly encourage me to dig deep in my memory in order to be able to reply.

That’s really about the only idea that I’ve had just recently. Of course, I’ve had plenty of ideas about going to bed early, but it never seems to work out in real life.

Take last night, for example. I came in here relatively early to write out my notes and do everything else that I need to do, but when I went to take my medication for the night, it was already 23:03 according to the microwave in the kitchen, and it was probably at least ten minutes after that before I climbed into bed.

However, once in bed, after the usual lengthy period of waiting time, I went to sleep and that’s the last that I remember until the alarm went off at 06:29.

It was the usual struggle to rise to my feet, and on hearing no sound at all from those in the next room, I staggered over to the computer and listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was another rambling dream last night about, well, it started off with some kind of shop. The boss had gone to a market or something and there were very few people actually serving in the shop. His wife, whom he had left behind, she had a heart attack and collapsed at the building. There was no news about what happened afterwards, whether the supermarket had been looted or not by the local residents. Going on from there, what then happened was that at work, everyone was discussing it and wondering what had happened. I was far too busy because not only had I my office work to do, but there was plenty of private work that I was doing too. I was checking a book for someone, two books in fact, because they were full of the most outrageous libels against this person, who just happened to be Roger Moore. He’d asked me if I’d go through it and make a list of what was wrong. There was another book where I was doing a similar thing. There was also someone’s Mercedes on which I had to change the oil. I knew where and how to lay my hands on the oil, but every time that I had to change the oil in his car, it meant going down with a bucket, filling it with oil from some kind of charitable station, then finding the spare parts and then fixing the car so that I was invisible. This went on for several weeks like this and I was hardly at my desk in the office at all, being far too busy with this.

What a strange dream this was. Nothing in here seemed to make any sense … "so what’s new?" – ed … There were claims that at one time Roger Moore lived near Nantwich, and there was someone who lived in a big, posh house near there who owned a Volvo P1800, but the matter is a subject of much debate.

And I can still see the person to whom the Mercedes belonged in the dream, and although I actually did work with him for a while, he never owned a Mercedes in his life. In fact, I wonder if it wasn’t the blue W123 Mercedes 240D that I had for a while in Brussels.

Then after this, I had to go to one of the smaller banks where the Open University funds were held to draw some cash, but I wondered if I had my cash card with me. When I arrived there, there was a guy trying to use the machine. He walked away in disgust and went to talk to the manager about how his accounts were always being mixed and merged up and his wife, who had “preferred customer” status, it never showed anything for her, and could she deal with it? While they were arguing like this, I went through my pockets but couldn’t find my fuel card, which made me think that I’d left it at the office or something.

This is another quite meaningless dream, although the bank did remind me of one of the old newsagents near the Sugar Loaf in Shavington. And I did once lose my fuel card, and that caused me quite a lot of embarrassment.

While I was doing a few other things, I heard movement from the other room, indicating that people were up and about. I went to join them and found, to my delight, that the coffee was en route. What a way to start the day!

In fact, we were still drinking coffee when the nurse arrived. The Hound of the Baskervilles was pleased to see him, but he wasn’t quite so keen to see the aforementioned so he didn’t hang about long. Mind you, he did tell us that these grey, wet and windy days may be over by tomorrow and we’ll have warmth and sun. And about time, too. The weather has been miserable so far this year.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

Today, we’ve moved on from pottery to glassware. He mentions that "it is remarkable that the knowledge of the ancients in glassmaking should have been so long … which proves that modern science has added comparatively little to what was practised in this useful and elegant art thousands of years ago."

After breakfast, we chatted for a while and then the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies. I came here and began to research the next radio programme.

When they came back, we continued our chat, and when they left again for walkies part II (which I suspect was to the pub), I carried on in here. The first task once I’d identified who would be featuring in the programme was to find the music. And there was a lot on which I couldn’t lay my hands so I had to cast a wide search net.

There was an interruption when a neighbour came round for a chat, and then I carried on.

When the Hound of the Baskervilles returned (from the pub) with his master, our chat carried on as I continued with the hunt for music, and then later on, I tried that experiment with the chat program.

It was my turn to cook tea again, and there was some vegan pie in the freezer, so we had mashed potato, vegan pie and mixed vegetables in gravy. Luckily, my friend likes Brussels sprouts as much as I do, so I didn’t have to cook some separately.

Once we’d finished and I’d washed up, I came in here to write my notes, do whatever else needs doing and then go to bed. But even as I type, I realise that once again I’ve forgotten my medication for the evening so I’ll have to go back into the kitchen again. But never mind – I’ll soon be in bed and asleep.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about heart attacks and shops … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember a story about a shopkeeper who had had a heart attack and was on his deathbed with all of his family around him.
"Are you there, my darling wife?" he asked feebly
"I’m here, my darling husband" she replied.
"And are you all here, all of my five faithful children?"
"Yes, father, we are all here, all five of us."
"Then who the hell is looking after the shop?"

Tuesday 19th May 2026 – THAT WAS WHAT …

… you might call a lazy day.

It started last night when I finished writing my notes, etc. It was later than I imagined when I finally crawled into bed, but I certainly made the most of it.

Underneath the covers, I was well away with everything, and although it took me ages to fall asleep, which seems to be the case these days, I revelled in every minute that I lay there in the warmth, head underneath the quilt and all of that. There’s no doubt that I really enjoy the comfort of my own bed.

If I remember correctly … "which is not always the case" – ed … I awoke once or twice during the night, but if I did, I went to sleep quite rapidly again.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I was well away with the fairies, although not in any manner that would excite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine, and it took me a good few minutes to come back round into the Land of the Living.

There was no sound at all from the living room, meaning that they must have been fast asleep, so I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

There had been some kind of commotion over the use of skateboards, so their use had been banned by the general public, and the army had to go along and repossess all of the skateboards that they could possibly find. Once they were back in their barracks, a few of the soldiers began to practise using them, and they organised a competition which was based somewhere in the hills where there was a downslope that was part of the side of an old river valley. They were planning to have some kind of championships there. However, one of the bosses came to hear about it and he actually found them another place in Pillory Street in Nantwich where they could have this competition.

First of all, there’s only a slight downhill slope at the head of Pillory Street from where it joins Hospital Street and goes down to the White Horse, so skateboard racing wouldn’t be much good there. Secondly, it doesn’t seem to relate to anything that I know or have done in recent times.

There was a taxi driver around Crewe who was in all kinds of complicated money problems. He couldn’t afford this and he couldn’t afford that, and he was really on the breadline. They were thinking of ways in which they would try to make money. One of them was that this woman should serve as a councillor on the school committee but she didn’t know how to go about it. I had some paperwork which I lent to her, but she still wasn’t very sure. But this money problem continued, and in the end, they sent me out for a hundred of these sweets called “Ochs” because they had suddenly had a group of women come round for a chat. I had to walk around for a short while and found a shop that was selling them, where I asked for a hundred. He gave me a hundred and I gave him one hundred and sixty-nine pence. He showed me the way out of the back door and onto his boat that would take me back home without being intercepted by the other smugglers. But on the way there, on the corner of Market Street and Chester Street, was a big American car parked with a taxi sign on the roof, and I wondered what he was doing there. But he was looking for a passenger who had booked him. So while he was away looking, the car suddenly rolled forward and collided with a couple of other cars in the queue, but I carried on looking at this skateboard. I came home at some point and this is how the dream ended. But it was really confusing and long, and I’ve missed loads off, I think, including me playing bass with a guitarist and a drummer at a concert somewhere in a village hall type of place. I’d love to know more about that. But there was me on bass and singing, someone else on guitar and someone else on drums.

This is another dream that means very little. There’s a reference to the folk singer Phil Ochs, who committed suicide in April 1976, I suppose, but the rest could apply to many a taxi driver whom I knew in Crewe back in the old days, apart from the big American car.

As for playing bass and singing, I really used to enjoy playing in three-piece groups and singing, but it wasn’t very often that I had the chance to sing.

While I was halfway through doing everything else that needed doing, a mug of hot, strong coffee miraculously appeared on my desk. I took it as a hint that everyone else was awake and so I went into the living room to join them.

The nurse turned up later to do his weekly round, and the Hound of the Baskervilles gave him a hearty welcome, which took him aback. When he turned his attention to me (the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles), we talked about the weather because it was really wet, windy, miserable and cold outside.

After he left, I made breakfast and we had a chat for a while, so Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT took a back seat for the day.

Later on, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies so I came in here to revise my Welsh. I joined the lesson as usual at 11:00 and it passed pretty well. We had a quiz at one point, and I surprised myself by finishing in the top three. It’s not every day that this happens, so I need to keep up with this revision and the reviewing of the coursework to make it more and more likely.

At the end of the lesson, I prepared the bathroom, and when my faithful cleaner appeared, she shooed me under the shower. And it really was beautiful today. I thoroughly enjoyed it. And so there’s a nice, clean … "clean, anyway" – ed … me ready to go to bed very shortly.

We spent the afternoon chatting, and my friend rigged up his tablet so that we could watch a couple of films, etc., on the internet. And while I was watching, I was making little notes about the next radio programme that I’ll be preparing at some point. The work must carry on.

You’ll be surprised at just how quickly time passes, because it was 19:20 in what seemed to be no time at all. But it was my cue to go into the kitchen and make tea.

Tonight, we had a Chinese stir-fry with noodles and soy sauce, and that was lovely too. It would have been even nicer had I added the ginger that I had taken out of the drawer specifically for the stir-fry. Ahh well, it will do for another time.

After I’d done the washing up and cleaning up, I came back in here to write up today’s notes, and when I’ve done the statistics and the backup, etc., I’ll be off to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Chinese meals … "well, one of us has" – ed … the last time that I was in a Chinese restaurant, IN ST JOHN’S, NEWFOUNDLAND, IN SEPTEMBER 2017 I was given a fortune cookie.
"What did the message say?" asked my friend.
"It said that I was very sociable and welcome the company of others" I replied.
"Hmmmm" replied my friend. "I bet it got your age wrong too!"

Monday 18th May 2026 – I CAN’T BELIEVE …

… how deep my sleep was last night.

Not just “how far away in Neverland” I might have been, although I was actually miles away from reality when the alarm went off at 06:29, but when I stretched out my arm and hand over my head to take the ‘phone off the bedside table behind the head of the bed so that I could switch it off, I couldn’t even reach the headboard.

That’s how far down the bed I must have been at that point.

Actually, I can’t remember it being as comfortable as that last night. It was fairly late when I slid underneath the covers, and I can’t remember very much else after that – not even how long it took me to go off to sleep. But the alarm certainly awoke me when it went off. I hadn’t awoken at all during the night, as far as I am aware.

As usual, it took quite a while to force myself to my feet, but the absence of any sound coming from the living room told me that I was the only one awake at that time. So what I did was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was some kind of railway exhibition, like an open day at a locomotive works or a depot. The highlight was an Orient Express train that had come there. You had to buy tickets to see it and you could walk inside the entire length, looking at all the fittings from the 1920s, etc., and how opulent they were. Then, they made a call so that everyone who had a ticket could climb aboard because the train was going to leave to go for a tour around and around, and they wanted all the passengers on it.

This is yet another one of those dreams that seem to mean very little to me. Of course, when we were kids living in or near Crewe, there were piles of railway exhibitions and we visited more than just a few of them. But like anything else, you soon grow out of it all and move on.

There were a few other things to do too, and then I heard a few sounds coming from the living room so I went and joined them, and we had a mug of nice, hot, strong coffee while I took my morning medication.

Isabelle the Nurse came along earlier than usual, and made more of a fuss of the Hound of the Baskervilles than she ever does of me. I reminded her to tell her oppo, who starts his week tomorrow, that the Hound of the Baskervilles is here. He’s not all that keen, apparently.

After she left, we made breakfast. Porridge, toast and more coffee. While I was eating, I was reading a little more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

Today, we’ve actually made a start on the artefacts discovered at Richborough, and as you might guess, pottery is first on the list. He has, however, come up with an interesting idea that everyone else seems to have missed, and that is that the potters’ names are impressed into the clay with a form of stamp made up of the individual letters fitted together, rather like early typescript. He seems to think that this might explain why sometimes, some of the letters are printed backwards or upside-down.

While those two went off for walkies, I went into the bathroom for a good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis. There were also a few other things that I needed to do, such as to listen to this coming weekend’s radio programme and then send it off, and then when they came back from walkies, we carried on chatting.

My cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then the taxi turned up a good fifteen minutes before it was due, and I wasn’t even ready.

There was, for a change, no-one else to pick up en route so I was fairly early arriving. But then again, so was everyone else so I still had to wait.

However, walking into the building, I bumped into Emilie the Cute Consultant, who gave me a smile and a “hello”.

Four hours today, of course, and 2.2 litres to extract, so it was going to be a tough day there. Even more so when one of the doctors decided to wind it up later to 2.5 litres.

At first, I had work to do but I developed cramp and low blood pressure, so in the end I decided to go to sleep. And that wasn’t easy, with all of the people who seemed to be milling around. Even a doctor, but not, unfortunately, Emilie the Cute Consultant. The doctor asked me a few questions but then cleared off so that someone else could take a turn at bothering me.

Eventually, the session was over but I had to wait an age for someone to come round, unplug me and then compress the arm. Consequently, I was late coming back here.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me, and so was a plate of ratatouille and mashed potato, made by the fair hands of my friend from Munich. You’ve no idea how nice it is to have food made for you.

After the meal, I washed up and then we sat around chatting for a while. Then I came back in here to write up my notes and do everything else. And when it’s finished, I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the doctor … "well, one of us has" – ed … he actually used to work in a maternity clinic, but was moved out after a complaint.
"What happened?" asked my friend.
"He was giving some young woman her results, saying ‘I have some good news for you, Mrs Jones’"
"What happened then?"
"She replied ‘it’s Miss Jones actually’ so he answered ‘in that case, Miss Jones, I have some bad news for you’."

Friday 15th May 2026 – WE ARE NOT …

… alone!!

Currently asleep on my comfortable sofa in the living room is my friend from Munich, and on the rug by his side is the Hound of the Baskervilles, both of them snoring away quite happily.

Yes, at lunchtime, I received a message – “arriving at about 16:00”. I thought to myself “blimmin’ ‘eck – I’d better get a move on!”.

It made me wish that I’d got a move on last night, really. As usual, after having no tea yet again, I came in here to type up my notes, and as usual, things seemed to take much longer than they ought to have done. However, it was about 21:50 when I finally managed to slide into bed.

During the night, I awoke once or twice, one of which was about 01:00 once more, although this time there was no hailstorm or anything going on that might have woken me. The second time, and I have no idea what time it was, I had to leave the bed to go and walk the parapet. However, quite luckily, I managed to fall asleep both times fairly rapidly.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, we had the usual struggle to my feet, which seemed to take hours, and then I went off to organise myself in the bathroom and then take my medication. The LeClerc order the other day had included some liquorice and mint tea, which, I’m told, will ease my throat somewhat, so I used that to wash down the pills and tablets. We’ll see if it works.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

I was with a couple of friends last night. They were settling down in their new house and we were discussing cars. They had bought a brand new – one of these Chinese electric cars and they were astonished at all of the restrictions on it. It said that they couldn’t sell it in the Dordogne, all kinds of things like that. We supposed that it was due to something with people buying cars on finance and then disappearing. We ended up talking about cars in the auctions, about cars that had been dropped and been banged, etc. and were going at full price. They then mentioned a Ford Escort that had been some old woman’s car. It was a bit scabby and rough around the edges but it was otherwise in very good condition but no-one seemed to be interested in it. The husband then showed me a piece of paper about the insurance on his old FIAT, about all of the declarations that he had to sign when he came to sell it. This dream went on for ages but I can’t remember any more about it, except that this incident in the Dordogne, there was a clause in their insurance that said that although they can’t sell the car in the Dordogne, they could take it to this woman’s office at 16:00 and she would buy it from them.

When I had my taxis, I had both kinds of cars – former reps’ cars with high mileage and little old ladies’ cars with almost nothing on the clock. Surprisingly, the reps’ cars were so much better and worked a lot harder than the other, having been used to a hard life and plenty of work.

But if this Escort were merely scabby around the edges, it should have tidied up quite nicely, so I’m surprised that, even in the dream, no-one seemed to be interested in it.

But back in this dream the time was about 01:15 and it seemed that I had been awake ever since I’d gone to bed. I was walking around on a cold wood floor so in the end, I went to put on my socks. However, it was extremely complicated with them being these compression socks and I had to try three or four times before I was able to put them on.

Every now and again, I have to fit my own socks when I have an early start, and with them being these compression socks, it really is awkward. However, walking around on a cold wood floor in the bedroom feels really nice to me – it’s the cold tiles everywhere else in this apartment that annoys me. That’s the only thing that I don’t like about my apartment. I would really have liked to have had a wooden floor, but you can’t have everything.

One thing about this dream that I forgot was that when they went to insure the car, the girl couldn’t see the car listed in her manual, but when my friend’s wife looked, it was there, as clear as daylight.

It’s no surprise though. If you asked me to name the top five Chinese cars on the market these days, I wouldn’t have a clue.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, and we talked about the Hound of the Baskervilles as she sorted out my legs and feet. I told her not to fight with my cleaner over him – they can take turns to stroke him.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

At long last, we’re getting down to the excavations at Reculver. However, not his excavations but excavations that took place earlier in the nineteenth century by other people. One day, soon I hope, we’ll start on his work and see what he found.

Back in here, I finished off the notes for the radio programme that I’d started yesterday, and then I had a huge surprise.

A few years ago … "2017 to be precise" – ed … I hired a boat and went UP LABRADOR’S NORTHERN COAST to what I consider to be the Furdustrandir or “Wonderstrand” … "or Wunderstrand" – ed … the magnificent stretch of white sand that the Norse explorers saw when they touched land after sailing from Greenland.

Also there are the scanty, rotting remains of North River, a settlement that was abandoned during the clearances of the 1950s when everyone from these isolated spots was removed to towns like Cartwright and a few others farther south. North River is famous, or infamous, because of a child’s grave in the cemetery. A Finnish anthropologist called Viano Tanner explored these settlements in 1937-39 and noted the grave of a child “killed by dogs”. Everyone disputed that this gravestone exists and claimed that no such event ever happened, so I wanted to see for myself. And it is there!

But while I was there, I photographed a few other gravestones.

Someone wrote to me in astonishment, saying that one of the graves was that of her grandfather, and what did I know about him. So I spent all morning researching all of the papers that I have on Labrador, and in the end, I sent her what I could find, which actually was quite a lot.

At that point, I decided that I’d better go and make bread, but my cleaner arrived to do her stuff, so I had to settle for a disgusting drink and my midday (hours late) medication.

Once she’d left, I began the process of making bread rolls and a loaf, but my friend and the Hound of the Baskervilles turned up while I had my hands full of dough.

It’s lovely to see him again. We first met on our first day at grammar school back in September 1965 and, like me, he’s a big music fan. When I was able to do so, I went down to Munich on many occasions to visit him, but these days, people have to come to see me here, and it’s nice when they do.

While I was making bread, we talked about old times and people whom we knew at school who are now pushing up the daisies somewhere, and once the bread was left to rise, I blanched some broccoli and made a broccoli stalk soup with pasta for tea.

To my surprise, I found myself eating some soup and bread – the first evening meal that I’ve had for months. However, my eyes were bigger than my stomach and I ended up being a miserable failure towards the end.

By the time that we’d finished and I’d washed up everything … "where did this energy come from?" – ed … it was after 23:00 so we decided that it was bedtime. And when was the last time that I was up and about at this time of night? Obviously, having people here is doing me good.

Anyway, I sorted myself out in the bathroom and then came in here to sleep. Crawling into my nice comfortable bed is really wonderful at any time. I threw the quilt over my head and that was that.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about snoring … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the time when I was driving for Shearings on a coach tour somewhere and one of the passengers, a youngish female, asked me "if I fall asleep and begin to snore, will you wake me up?"
"Certainly" I replied. "Shall I shake you, or give you a nudge?"

Thursday 14th May 2026 – THE BAD NEWS …

… is that they want me to go back to doing three days per week at dialysis.

Apparently, the … errr … sample that I took in the other day is almost pure water. There is not very much in the way of waste matter in it, so they are beginning to worry again.

The good news is that tomorrow, we’re expecting the arrival of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Both my cleaner and my nurse are in eager anticipation, so I can imagine that we might end up with a brawl at some point.

As for me, there isn’t very much in the way of good news. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

Last night went the typical way of all of the other nights just recently. I sit down fairly early to begin to write my notes, but then I seem to be sidetracked by this, that and the other and it takes an age to finish them. That was how it went last night, and by the time that I’d done everything else that needed doing and slid under the covers, it was round about 21:45.

Once again, it took a while to go off to sleep, and once again, I slept quite soundly until about 01:00 or so. Just as the previous night, there was a howling gale outside and that was what probably awoke me, but I managed to go back to sleep after a while, and there I lay until the alarm at 06:29.

For a change, I was fairly rapidly on my feet and headed into the bathroom for a wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. I was early heading into the kitchen too, where, because it’s a dialysis day, I just had a mouthful of orange juice to wash down my medication.

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

I dreamed that I was working for some kind of organisation and dealing with towns and villages. I had to go to see some town somewhere that had been referred to our association. One thing that I noticed more than anything else was the total chaos on the roads – people drove any old how with no giving way, no stopping, no anything. So I decided that I’d start some kind of campaign to regularise the matter. I went back to my office and made a start, but my boss wasn’t happy with any of this and wanted a second kind of opinion. However, it was not possible to do that because there was no day that fell on a Sunday in the near future.

This is another dream that means very little to me, particularly near the end when it seems to degenerate into the surreal. I’d love to know what’s going on with this type of dream.

There was plenty of time to do a few other things before Isabelle the Nurse arrived. She told me that the noise that awoke me at 01:00 or thereabouts was a massive hailstorm. Apparently, a supermarket car park at St-Lô looked as if it had had a heavy snowfall during the night, according to the photos in the local press this morning, so she told me.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

Today, he’s been discussing a few other itineraries from the Roman or early mediaeval period, such as the Ravenna Cosmography and comparing them unfavourably with the work of “Richard of Cirencester”, which, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … has long-since been denounced as a fabrication.

Back in here, I don’t know what came over me but I sat down to write out the notes for the next radio programme, and by the time that my cleaner came to apply my anaesthetic, there was just one set of notes for one song that I hadn’t completed.

It’s been absolutely ages since I’ve worked this hard, and it shows that I must be feeling somewhat better these days.

After my cleaner left, I had to wait for the taxi to take me to dialysis. The driver was a few minutes late but as there was no-one else to pick up, I was still early arriving.

And my luck was in, too. I didn’t have long to wait before I was plugged in, and I settled down to what I was hoping would be a quick session so that I could be home early.

For the most part, everyone left me alone, except for Emilie the Cute Consultant. I don’t know why it is, but whenever there is bad news to tell me, they usually always wheel her out. There’s no doubt that somewhere in the hierarchy at Avranches, there is someone who is reading my notes.

Anyway, she told me the bad news, and that led to something of a discussion. What we have agreed, albeit temporarily, is that they will keep the two sessions but increase the number of hours that I have to stay for each one. They will review the situation after four weeks and “let me know”. I can’t say any more fairly than that.

After she left, there were about forty-five minutes of this session left, and as I was feeling rather tired, I decided to have a little sleep. However, it was to no avail. You can’t believe the amount of noise that goes on in that place when the sessions begin to wind down.

Eventually, the session came to an end, but I still had to wait fifteen minutes for someone to come to disconnect me and to compress where the needles had been. The compression takes about ten minutes, and that’s a long time when you are in a hurry.

Luckily, the taxi driver was waiting for me when I came out, so we were back here just before 19:00. And you won’t believe how light I was when I left – two kilogrammes below my “athletic weight”. I suppose that it’s no wonder that people are worried about me. Since I started dialysis in October 2024, I’ve lost twelve kilogrammes.

My cleaner was waiting for me and she helped me into the apartment. She also gave me a disgusting drink to drink, so she’s obviously worried about me too.

After she left, I came back in here to write up my notes, and now, when I’ve finished everything, I’m off to bed, ready for the Hound of the Baskervilles tomorrow. And so, with having visitors, my notes will probably be rather sporadic for the next while, but eventually they will all be here. You’ll need to have a little patience.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about a little patience … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the … errr … vertically-challenged old man in the queue at the hospital.
He was ranting and raving about being kept waiting for treatment for a minor injury whilst more serious cases were being pushed ahead in the queue.
Eventually, a nurse came over to see him. "Excuse me, sir" she said. "I understand that it’s difficult to wait, but you’ll just have to be a little patient."

Wednesday 13th May 2026 – AND THERE I …

… was again, thinking that last night was going to be the same as the previous two or three that I have had.

However, it wasn’t quite to be, but as the Duke of Wellington said after the battle of Waterloo, it was "the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life".

Actually, things started off that way. I began to write up the blog notes at about 19:30 but as usual, I was sidetracked much more than I would have liked to be, and by the time that I’d finished the notes and done everything else that I needed to do before going to bed, it was more like 21:30 when I finally slid under the covers.

As usual, it took a while to go off to sleep, and there I lay until all of 01:00.

It wasn’t a coughing fit that awoke me but a howling gale that had sprung up outside. It wasn’t ‘arf making a racket and anyone pushing up the daisies from underneath the surface of the churchyard up the road would not only have been awake but probably walking around.

Being wide awake, I took the opportunity to go for a ride on the porcelain horse and then came back here to climb into bed.

At the rate that things were going, I thought that the wind would keep me awake for the rest of the night. However, after about an hour or so, I must have gone back to sleep, which certainly makes a change just recently.

When the alarm went off, I struggled into an upright position and then had to wait for the room to stop spinning so that I could think about standing up. And once I’d summoned up the energy and the courage, I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out.

In the kitchen, I had my energy drink and medication and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night. But to my dismay, there was nothing on it. What a disappointment! Still, never mind. It gave me an opportunity to catch up on a few other things.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and we had a chat about the weather while she sorted out my legs. It’s sunny outside but cold, and the gale is still raging. I hope that it will be gone by Thursday when I have to go to dialysis.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

And I might have known! Back in the introduction he mentioned “my friend Thomas Wright” so I ought to have guessed what would come soon afterwards. Mind you, we have to wait until page sixteen for the first mention of “Richard of Cirencester”.

By the time we reach page eighteen, we have "it may be mantioned that the authority of Richard of Cirencester’s ‘De Situ Britannia’ has been questioned’ … Hatcher, in his preface to his translation, has ably combatted the objections brought against the original of the itinerary… But what no cavilling can set aside is his itinerary."

So there we go again.

Back in here, I had a few things to finish off and then I began to write the rest of the radio notes. There was however, a brief pause while I sent off my food order to LeClerc.

Once I’d finished, I went for a disgusting drink break and then came back in here, where I began to research the next programme.

Later on, I went into the kitchen to do some more tidying and throw away some more stuff that was lingering in the fridge. How I hate throwing away food, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … if I’m not eating it and it begins to grow legs, there’s really no other alternative.

The Leclerc order then turned up, and I managed to put everything away and to sort out and put away the delivery bags. But I’ve found, to my dismay, that I’ve forgotten to order the taco wraps and that is going to be a real inconvenience.

By now, I was totally exhausted and so I came in here to collapse into my chair for a while to recover. But I managed to find some energy from somewhere and all of the music for the next programme has now been selected, remixed and re-edited, paired and segued, and all that remains is to write the notes. I’ve no idea where that energy came from.

So right now, I’ll take my evening medication, finish off a few things and then climb into bed. I’ve had a better day today and I seem to be a little more energetic and enthusiastic. I hope that this improvement will continue.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the high winds … "well, one of us has" – ed …regular readers of this rubbish will recall that about eighteen months ago, we had gusts of wind touching two hundred kph.
Shortly afterwards, i met a guy whom I knew who told me that he had had enough and was moving.
"Where are you going?" I asked him.
"About ten miles inland to La Haye-Pesnel" he replied.
"Why there?" I asked.
"Because that’s where my house has gone."

Tuesday 12th May 2026 – OH NO! NOT ANOTHER …

… night like Sunday and Monday! It’s becoming far too much of a habit, this is.

So on Monday night, after I came back from dialysis, I came straight in here to write up my notes. Considering how much I didn’t write about yesterday, it took a lot longer than I expected to finish them.

And then, I had the stats and the backing-up to do, my evening medication to take (with a square of chocolate cake and a mouthful of orange juice), and then finally the bathroom to sort myself out for the night. It was about 21:30 when I slid under the covers and how grateful was I to be there?

Once I was asleep, I stayed asleep, but only for a while. At some point, I awoke, and try as I might, I could not go back to sleep. And so there I lay, watching everything tick over and over towards 06:29 and the alarm. I’ve no idea what time it was when I awoke because I didn’t look. And I didn’t care either.

When the alarm went off, it was another struggle to leave the bed and head for the bathroom, but eventually, I found myself in the kitchen with a high-energy drink and my medication. If the drink won’t kick-start my day, then nothing will.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone, and I was surprised that I’d actually had the time to go anywhere.

I was dreaming about reading a book. I can’t remember which book it was but it was one that the taxi driver from yesterday evening had lent me. I distinctly heard a voice ask “what page are you on?”. I distinctly remember replying “I can’t remember”, and I said it out loud too.

So here we are – one of the very rare dreams where I actually talk out loud in my sleep. These are very few and far between and I can’t even remember when the last time was.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up after her week’s break and told me all about her weekend hiking around Normandy with her little group. It actually made me quite jealous that I can no longer do things like this. When I think of all the miles that I’ve walked in the past …

After she left, I made breakfast and started a new book – THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT, also by Charles Roach Smith. I’m hoping that this book will be more interesting and more useful than the last one, but so far, he is just setting the scene.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I had to revise for my Welsh lesson. The lesson itself passed OK, but we’ve now finished the course several weeks early. So what we have started to do is to revise the salient points of previous lessons and that’s going to be a challenge, especially for people like me with a Teflon brain.

Unfortunately, it looks as if our little group will be breaking up at the end of the year. We were shown a copy of the book for the final two years of our course and that has put the wind up several of our members. It is indeed complicated, there’s no doubt about that, but I’m going to push on and try it. However, I doubt that many of the others will join me.

That will be a shame because some of the people have been with me since the course started in 2020 and we’ve built up a really good rapport.

After the lesson ended, I prepared the bathroom and then went to tidy up in the kitchen. You have no idea just how much food I threw away just now. It’s shameful and embarrassing, but if it’s fresh food like potatoes and onions and I’m not able to eat it, there really isn’t any alternative once their shoots begin to sprout.

My cleaner turned up to do her stuff and she shooed me under the shower. So now, there’s a nice, clean boy … "well, clean anyway" – ed … in clean clothes, ready for a comfortable night in clean pyjamas.

We also sorted out a few things and tidied up a few more places, as rumour has it that we might be having a guest here at the weekend, so the place needs to be tidy.

After she left, I made myself a taco roll with salad and some of that vegan cream cheese. It makes a really, really nice mid-afternoon snack, but things might be improving a little because LeClerc has on offer some new vegan products this week, and I’ve also found a recipe for vegan mushroom pâté which I am determined to try.

Back in here, I relaxed for a short while, catching up on a couple of football matches that I missed, and then, eventually, I began work on the notes for the radio programme. I haven’t done half as much as I would have liked, so I shall have to get a move on and finish tomorrow morning and then make a start on the second one.

So now, having finished my notes, and having vomited violently on three occasions (and I’ve no idea why because I haven’t been coughing), I’m going to finish everything off and go to bed, hoping this time to actually sleep … "some hope" – ed …

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about vomiting … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of being on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR up in the High Arctic in 2019 when we were hit by a raging storm in the Lancaster Sound.
One guy was leaning over the rails, being extremely ill.
"The trouble with you," I said "is that you have a weak stomach."
"Rubbish!" he retorted. "I’m throwing up farther than anyone else on this boat."

Monday 11th May 2026 – GOD ALONE KNOWS …

… what happened at dialysis today, but by the time that they’d finished with me and I was ready to leave, I had a spinning head, a strange feeling in my stomach and I was feeling light on my feet. It’s not the volume of liquid that they have taken out of me, because I’ve had much more than this in the past, so I dunno.

It’s probably something related to the bad night that I had last night. I wasn’t in bed as early as I was hoping to be, which was a shame. By the time that I’d finished everything that needed finishing and crawled in underneath the covers, it was about 21:45 and, believe me, I was ready for bed.

As usual, it took an age to go off to sleep, but once I’d gone, I’d gone until all of when I needed to leave the bed to take a stroll down the corridor.

As I was passing the Fusebox on the wall, I checked the time. 01:34. That was a good night’s sleep, I have to say.

Back in here later, I crawled into bed but I just couldn’t go back to sleep again, and there I lay for almost five hours, tossing and turning, until the alarm went off at 06:29.

Eventually, I managed to summon up the courage to go into the bathroom for a wash and shave, and then in the kitchen, I washed my medication down with a mouthful of orange juice. After all, it’s dialysis day today.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something about having to massage a different leg than usual. This was more swollen, maybe, than the other one. But when I went to dialysis, they began to extract the water from that leg instead of out of my left arm.

That wasn’t much good, was it? I could do with more exciting dreams than that! But this idea of “a different leg” – how many legs do you think I have? I’m not Jake the Peg.

However, dreaming about dialysis is not just scraping the bottom of the barrel, it’s going through the barrel and into the mud underneath.

The nurse turned up today as usual and chatted about not very much. He’s off on his week’s break this evening so as he left, I wished him a nice break.

Once he’d gone, I could make my breakfast and finish off the last of REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Charles Roach Smith.

To be quite honest, this book was something of a washout. Roach Smith spends just about three or four pages discussing the excavations, and the rest is comparing the site with other Roman sites elsewhere. As for the finds, there are about three pages of coins tucked away in the appendices. I hope that the next book is more enlightening and interesting.

Back in here, there were a few things that I needed to do, and then I had to check over the radio programme that I was sending off for broadcast this weekend. Afterwards, I made a start on my Welsh homework. There’s still another week before it needs to be in but I want to press on if I can.

As usual, my faithful cleaner turned up to put the anaesthetic on my arm, and then I had to wait for the taxi. And wait, and wait and wait.

The taxi was half an hour late coming for me, but it was my favourite driver so I didn’t mind too much. We had to go to Sartily to pick up another passenger, and so we were hours late arriving at dialysis.

It was in fact 14:45 when I was finally plugged in, and so that meant another really late night arriving home.

With the two bad nights that I’ve had, I was hoping to have a good sleep this afternoon to catch up, but it wasn’t to be. There was a constant stream of visitors this afternoon, and when there wasn’t, the machine was playing up so that brought the nurses running every five minutes.

On top of that, firstly, the doctor came to see me. I had to take a “sample” to him today, so he told me that they were going to analyse it to see whether it’s the dialysis that’s “causing these problems” for me (whatever “these problems” are) and if so, they’ll “do something to help solve the problem”. I don’t like the sound of that one minute.

And then we had the dietician. Apparently, she’d been talking to Emilie the Cute Consultant and they’ve found an intravenous drip that they think might work plugged into the dialysis machine. I don’t like the sound of that either, but at least it means that I shan’t have it stuck in a vein or something.

The way things are, I’m beginning to regret ever having said anything to anyone at dialysis.

Once again, I was the last to be unplugged, but luckily the driver was waiting to take me back home. And it was another one of my favourite drivers so we had a lovely talk all the way home, mainly about cancer and suicide, would you believe? She had quite a story to tell me.

My cleaner was waiting for me when we arrived. She helped me into the apartment and sorted me out.

After she left, I came in here to write up my notes, and now I’m off to bed. Now that the coughing seems to have calmed down, it’s really annoying that there’s something else now that seems to be keeping me awake.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about different legs … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of an incident at Balmoral Castle all those years ago when a serving wench, serving Prince Philip, suddenly burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"What’s the matter, girl?" asked the Queen. "Are you feeling hysterical?"
"Och, no, ma’am. He’s feeling mine."

Sunday 10th May 2026 – WHAT A CHAOTIC …

… night that was! I’m still not sure of quite what happened, but I’ll try to piece it all together as I continue, and we’ll see what we can find.

Last night, having made something of an effort, I finished my notes and had them online by about 21:00. With everything else that I needed to do, it was not far short of 21:45 when I climbed into bed. It was rather later than I had hoped, but a nice lie-in was forecast for tomorrow.

So, well tucked in, deep beneath the quilt, I tried to fall asleep. And tried, and tried, and tried.

Instead of going to sleep, I just lay there, having what they call over here a nuit blanche, watching the clock go round and round and sifting through all kinds of various thoughts and memories of a misspent youth and dozens after dozens of opportunities missed.

At one point, I had to leave the bed to go to stroll the parapet. When I came back, I checked the time – 05:10 – so I surprised myself, and probably you too, by spending an hour or so dictating some radio notes from the outstanding pile.

In fact, I would have done much more, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … one of these new medicaments is giving me a very dry throat and after about an hour, I was croaking like a frog.

Back in bed, I actually managed to fall asleep, but not for long. I kept on waking up, wondering when the nurse would arrive. And when he finally did put in an appearance, I was fast asleep.

He didn’t stay long, but after he left, I was wide awake and couldn’t go back to sleep. Eventually, I hauled myself out of bed and went into the bathroom.

When I finally made it into the kitchen, it was just 09:33 and that will suit me fine for a Sunday. I made my porridge and strong coffee, warmed up two of my homemade croissants, which I had today with apricot jam, and read some more of REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Charles Roach Smith.

His excavations are being hampered by many missing pieces, which he puts down to looting by the local population. He tells us that "when the Government of our country has no regard for its ancient monuments and will not protect them, the ignorant despoilers who pull down Roman walls and plough up Roman camps can no more be blamed than the covetous jobbers who conspire to destroy old buildings and churches to make new ones."

If you didn’t know that this was written 170 years ago, you would swear that he’s talking about HS2, where ancient cemeteries, listed buildings, thirteenth-century churches and prehistoric remains are being destroyed day by day for a failed vanity project that will reduce the time of travel from London to Birmingham by just ten minutes, ten minutes that will then be lost by walking to another mainline station to catch a connection onwards.

He’s also right about his assumption of the Iter Britanniarum. Thomas Wright, our previous author, used the absence of places such as Pevensey in the Iter to justify his faith in the (forged) works of Richard of Chichester. Roach Smith tells us, correctly as it subsequently turns out, "that most of these castra were not constructed until subsequent to the compilation of the Itinerary of Antonius … were clearly brought into the line with what became in later times the ‘Littus Saxonicum’ … there is every reason to infer that they were not at that time in being."

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone and, to my surprise, there was something on there, so I must have gone to sleep at some point.

I was discussing changes to the JD Cymru League again. One of the things that I suggested in respect of the playoffs was to abandon these abysmal penalty shootouts if the scores are equal after ninety minutes and the teams just play on and on and on until someone scores a goal.

These penalty shootouts really are abysmal and if I had the chance to be in charge, I would want teams to play on until someone scores. However, I would go farther and say that any player who had received a booking would be excluded from any time after ninety minutes;

A game between Stoke City and Uruguay would be interesting. Come extra time, there would be no-one on the field to play.

We were then at the JD Cymru League playoffs, at the final. There was one team that was having to have some kind of extreme treatment so that they could carry on playing in the final. I was there with this kind-of trophy. It was like two cermaic segments of a circle or something, bits of a bowl. They were arranged in a sort of cruciform pattern. I had to carry it out to the touchline, something that I was not happy to do because if I were to drop it, I was certain that it would break.

And couldn’t you just imagine me carrying a huge ceramic trophy onto a football field? How far towards the centre circle do you think that I would reach?

Back in here, we had a footfest. One Scottish play-off match after another. I think that there was only two that I missed. There were even some English ones too.

After a nice relax when I didn’t do much, I turned my attention to the radio programme that I started yesterday. All of the music has now been chosen, not without difficulty. It’s all reformatted, re-edited, remixed, paired and segued, and all that remains to do is to write the notes, which I shall start on Tuesday afternoon after my shower. Some of the notes are written already.

At 16:30, I knocked off to make the bread for next week and, even as we speak, it’s busy baking in the oven. When it’s finished, I’ll take it out to cool and then I’ll be getting ready for bed, early as it might be.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my voice croaking … "well, one of us has" – ed … a little boy went up to his grandma and said "granny, granny! Please make a noise like a frog!"
"Why, dear?"
"Because daddy said when you croak, we’ll get all your money!"

Saturday 9th May 2026 – I HAVE TO ADMIT …

… that I was feeling much better this morning. Not exactly sprightly, unfortunately, but much better than I was a few days ago.

What I put it down to is the course of antibiotics that I’ve been given. I know that one swallow doesn’t make a summer and two tablets out of the ten that I’ve been given don’t count for a lot, but I awoke several times during the night, and to my surprise, I wasn’t coughing.

Last night, I started to write out my notes quite early in an effort to have yet another early night, and it was just before 21:00 when they finally went online. There were a few other things that needed doing afterwards, including taking my evening medication, but it can’t have been much after 21:30 when I finally crawled into bed.

As I mentioned just now, it was a turbulent night when I awoke on three or four occasions. I’ve no idea what time because I didn’t look, but it was dark and the electric water heater was working.

The final time that I awoke, there was bright daylight streaming in around the edges of the shutters so I wondered if I’d overslept through the alarms. But when I checked, it was 06:25 – four minutes before the alarm was due to go off. The nights are getting shorter.

In theory, I could have put my feet on the floor and claimed an early start, but I couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I lay in the warmth under the covers and waited for it to go off.

It didn’t take quite so long to summon up the enthusiasm to go into the bathroom this morning, and then I went into the kitchen for my energy drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And I was surprised at the distance that I seem to have covered.

I was somewhere in some kind of school or college. We were doing a kind of science fiction film and everything like that. There was a group of us, or we were divided into small groups or something, and we were wandering around in our group. One of the other groups came along and began to attack us with these weird science-fiction type machines. It became something of an aerial display or bombardment or something from these really rapid, powerful and fast machines flying overhead all the time, going mainly in one direction and then presumably turning around somewhere and coming back in the same direction and so on. It had us, well, not pinned down because it wasn’t aggressive, but it was a flying display of all kinds of these strange machines. We were trying to work out whether they were remote-controlled or whether there were people flying them or something, because there were far too many to be flown by this one small group. This went on for ages and ages with these plane-type things flying over our heads. Eventually, they all disappeared. We were somewhere along the track of an old disused railway. Once they had all gone, one of the people with us decided that he was feeling hungry and was going to eat something. He asked about the rest of us, so I replied that I’d just nip back to school for a moment and fetch some biscuits from my bag. I went back to school and there were kids everywhere. There were all kinds of equipment and so on relating to these science-fiction things. I went to my bag for some biscuits but there weren’t all that many. Someone gave me some kind of cable but I already had four or five different ones in my hand so I had to go back to my room to sort them out, to make sure that I had what I wanted, and the one that that other person had given me, I’d leave behind on the bed for later.

This must have been a fascinating dream. I can still see the flying machines even now, and they would have been too small to carry a person. They reminded me of the very primitive attempts at gliders or kites such as those built by the Frenchman Clément Ader, with bat-like wings, and they were yellow, red or green. But there were thousands of them.

I spent a lot of time last night roaming through the junior levels of the Welsh pyramid. There were two cases that came to mind – the first was a girl who had been administered a vitamin supplement twice – first by her former team and then by the team that she rejoined later. This was put down to a confusion of paperwork between the two clubs so no action was taken against anyone. The second was a similar kind of case between three small boys. This was ruled to be due to a change of personnel or something like that, and someone who had left hadn’t noted something in a file. There were no charges brought against any of the clubs for misbehaviour or anything like that. It was all due to negligence or carelessness or something.

Interested as I am in football in Cymru, I’ve no idea of anything at all about this dream. And the idea of three small boys is nothing special. Drug testing in football over there is routine these days, and the Football Association of Wales controls all football from under-11 upwards, and I’ve seen 9-year-olds playing in under-11 games in the past.

There was a girl at work with whom I’d been at school. Somehow, we found ourselves in the same supermarket after work. She bought one or two things and so did I, and I gave her a lift home in my van afterwards. Next day at work, we were working away quite happily but then, in the afternoon, I had to go somewhere to do something. I went down to my van and found half a baguette in there that I’d bought, another half-baguette and a loaf of bread that this girl had bought. I picked up the loaf of bread and thought that when I go back to the office, I’ll take it to her and give it to her. I set off on foot on this errand and began to walk down Welsh Row in Nantwich. I ended up walking miles, and it was all through streets and lanes around Nantwich. Then I was in Brussels, walking through Brussels. It seemed to take ages to do what I was trying to do, with walking all around these places. It was sunny, it was sweaty and I was walking up a pedestrian alley, but someone had tied a rope across it as if to close it so I just opened the rope and walked through. Some Dutch guy began to have an argument with me about moving the rope so I told him to clear off, but he didn’t and this argument carried on. In the end, I used a couple of really vulgar Flemish terms and it looked as if he was going to come over and fight with me, but instead, he just wandered away. I found myself in a park, and after walking through this park for five minutes, I realised that there was a huge drop over the wall and I wasn’t sure how I was going to find my way out. Suddenly, I came to an entry that I didn’t know was there so I went through an entry onto the road and began to walk towards Nantwich. There was a house with a ginger cat so I went to stroke the cat but it wouldn’t come to me. It ran away. Eventually, I found myself back in Brussels again, walking up from Woluwe St Lambert into the centre of the city and into work again. There was one lift that you could only take, that went all the way to the top so I went in there, came out and went into another lift and went back down to my floor and found that I was in the wrong building. I had to go across to the next lift, which was exactly the same – straight to the top – and back down again into the office. I still had this loaf of bread with me but when I came into my office to sit down, I couldn’t see the girl at that moment.

The girl concerned in this dream unfortunately died shortly after leaving school. When a group of us heard that she had become seriously ill, we went round to her house but her parents wouldn’t let us come in. At first, we were quite annoyed by that, but as time has gone on and I’ve seen people die, I can understand how she and her parents must have been feeling.

And a lift again, just like the previous night. I wonder why these are suddenly appearing during my dreams. It’s not as if I’m ever likely to encounter any these days. However, wandering around Brussels in my dreams is nothing new.

The nurse turned up as usual and asked how I was. I told him that I was feeling better than yesterday, but he didn’t have much to say for himself. He was soon gone and then I could make breakfast and read some more of REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Charles Roach Smith.

And here we go again. He tells us that "the mortar, that important ingredient which Saxon, Norman and English architects only imperfectly understood, was made by Roman masons on a principle so sound and unvarying that its tenacity is unimpaired by age and its solidity is nothing inferior to the stones and tiles it cements together"

He then goes on to mention that "it is nothing unusual to find Roman mortar used as facing stone in the walls of our medieval churches".

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I wonder what happened to the people who built the stone walls so well and made the mortar that has lasted for all these years. If they had been pushed into Wales or over to Brittany, as has often been suggested, why aren’t there any of these types of stone buildings there dating from the early mediaeval period? And if they had been absorbed into the Anglo-Saxon population, why didn’t the use of stone and mortar continue?

It really beats me why ethnic cleansing has been ruled out by most authorities.

Back in here, there was football to watch. Arbroath v Dunfermline, with Arbroath failing to overturn the 1-0 deficit from midweek. So Dunfermline march on, one step further towards the Scottish Premier Division.

Afterwards, it was the National League playoff semi-finals – Carlisle v Boreham Wood and Rochdale v Scunthorpe. With both games ending 2-1, we’ll have a final between Rochdale and Boreham Wood to see who plays next season in League Two.

With all of that out of the way, I had another look at the radio programme that I mentioned yesterday. This is going to be a complicated affair but I cracked on all the same. In the end, after much binding in the marsh, I was able to identify, from a list that I had to make, which ended up containing 451 albums of all genres and of all different kinds of obscurity, about twenty that I actually owned, by fourteen different artists.

At that point, I went into the kitchen for my afternoon medication and ended up spending an hour tidying out the fridge. I really must be feeling better!

Having done that, I made a taco roll with some of that vegan cream cheese and salad. And it was really nice too. I shall have to order some more of that next time I’m online shopping.

Back in here again, the sunlight was streaming in through the windows, the temperature was 24°C and it was lovely. I thought that I’d just close my eyes for a few minutes and soak up the heat, so there I was, thoroughly enjoying myself until I fell off the chair seventy-five minutes later. What a waste of time, but it really was nice.

Pushing on, I finished sorting out the music for the radio programme and I had even chosen more than half of the tracks and remixed and re-edited them by the time that I knocked off.

So right now, I’m off to bed, looking forward to a good sleep and a lie-in tomorrow until the nurse wakes me up … "he hopes" – ed …

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about these flying machines … "well, one of us has" – ed … it remind me of a scene from UP THE CHASTITY BELT as Frankie Howerd prepares to leap from the top of the castle tower, wearing his bat-like wings.
"Oh look!" exclaimed Lady Lobelia. "It’s Lurkalot. He flies again!"
"Ahh, Lurkalot!" exclaimed the boxer Billy Walker, playing the part of Chopper the Woodsman. "His flies be his undoing."

Friday 8th May 2026 – BANE OF BRITAIN …

… strikes again!

Yours Truly spent a nice hour this morning completing his shopping list for LeClerc and then went to send it off for delivery later today.

At first, the delivery site wouldn’t load, and when it finally did, it was service indisponible – "service unavailable". So what’s going on here? I kept on trying for a good while, using all sorts of tricks and so on to navigate what I thought was a blockage in the service’s website.

And then, after a while, the lightbulb suddenly clicked on. It’s a bank holiday here today, isn’t it? D’ohhh.

What I put it down to is too much sleep. Last night, by the time that I’d finished my notes and done everything that needed doing, it was about 21:30, and wasn’t I glad to slide under the bedcovers at that time? It took a while … "as usual these days" – ed … to fall asleep, but that was into a nice deep sleep, which I enjoyed intensely.

During the night, I awoke a couple of times. At one moment, 04:10 to be precise, I was lying on my back and not coughing, which surprised me a considerable amount, but I didn’t spend too long thinking about it because I was soon asleep again. And there I lay until the alarm went off at 06:29.

As usual, it took a while to leave the bed, and then I went off to the bathroom to sort myself out. In the kitchen, I had my high-energy drink to wash down my medication and then came back in here to find out what had gone on during the night.

I was on a mission to the moon last night and we were all strapped into these various seats inside what I suppose was the space shuttle or something. A series of tapes was running all the time and the blast-off was extraordinary. I’d never felt anything like that in the past. We soared up into the sky and within four or five minutes, we made a perfect landing wherever it was that we were supposed to be. I managed to find some insects after I’d been chosen and I’d found a few more on the moon. We were all there, looking at different things and everything like that. No-one thought for a minute about how we were going to come back. We were just not interested in that but interested in finding out what there was to see. But there won’t ever be anything like that blast-off. It was absolutely out of this World.

To whatever this relates, I have no idea. But judging by the tone of my voice when I was dictating it, that blast-off must have been really impressive. And going somewhere and finding myself too busy to bother about coming back is par for the course for me.

However, four or five minutes to go from here to the moon is impressive in anyone’s language – however, it does have to be said that, believe it or not, it takes longer to go 30 or so miles from Bangor to Porthmadog by train on British Railways than it does to go to the moon.

I was with my former friend from Stoke on Trent doing something or other. Things didn’t seem to be working out very well there so I left. I found myself in London and wanted to go to the third floor of this building, but when we arrived there, the third floor was absolutely out of order with all of the lifts. We had to force the lift open. There were some people up there directing us and we managed to find our way onto the stairwell. I remember going down one flight of steps but I ended up in a subterranean car park. I went into the street and there was a Lloyd’s Bank there. It was heaving with people, there were people fighting to enter and others fighting to leave. The staff was having to push them out of the door. eventually, I managed to find my way in but it was so crowded that I couldn’t find a cash point anywhere. In the end, I ended up wedged against the counter so I asked the girl there if I could withdraw some cash. she asked if I had an account there, so I replied that I had a bank card and a cheque book, which seemed to satisfy her, so I had to search through my pockets for the bank card. I found all kinds of cards in there – old SIM cards, old memory cards, all kinds of things like that. In the end, I found my bank card and I handed it over to her, and she filled out a form and stamped it. Then she began to stamp all the other cards, and I couldn’t understand why. She asked me if the thing was always as slow as this, to which I replied that I had no idea. This carried on like this – she was busy stamping everything in my possession that she could possibly find.

It’s a shame about my former friend. He was one of the nicest people you could ever meet, until he had his accident and they gave him these pills …

The bit about London doesn’t fit in with any of our “London” dreams unfortunately, and neither does the bank, but the relentless stamping of everything in sight reminds me of the French obsession with documents, paperwork and rubber stamps on everything.

And we’ve been in this underground car park before, during one of our “Brussels” dreams ages ago.

Did I dictate the dream about being at my friend’s house where he and his wife were in bed or doing something in the bedroom? I had to go to the bathroom so I went in, and for five minutes I did some running on the spot to try to keep fit, but they became really annoyed about this. In the end, I decided to wait for a suitable moment and then pack up and leave.

… "No you didn’t, but this looks as if it might have been near the start of the previous dream." – ed …

The nurse turned up as usual this morning. We talked about the panic at the dialysis centre but he didn’t understand the point that I was trying to make. But not to worry, I’ll make my point on Monday at the dialysis centre, no problem.

The name Charles Roach Smith has appeared countless times during our reading of these historic books on the Romans in Britain. He was one of the foundres of modern archaeology in the UK in the mid-nineteenth century. Today, having finished THE ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT MONKTON, the next on the list turns out to be REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Roach Smith so, after having made breakfast, I began.

It’s only a very short book so we’ll only be here a day or two. So far, he’s avoiding controversy by giving a description of the site.

Back in here afterwards, I had the LeClerc order to send off, as I mentioned, and then I had a printer to coax back into life so that I could print a return label to send a package back. That took longer than intended too. I don’t know what’s the matter with me today.

After that, we had two matches in the Scottish playoffs to watch from earlier in the week. Dunfermline v Arbroath and Alloa Athletic v Airdrie United. Regular readers of this rubbish in a previous version will recall that when I used to visit my friend Lorna up in Scotland, I stood on the terraces at Alloa a few times, so I have a soft spot for the Wasps.

Later on, I attacked the radio programme that I’d begun the other day, and now, all of the notes are written, ready for dictation. That’s quite a pile that is building up on the back burner waiting for this coughing to stop and I need to make a plan about them.

There were a couple of interruptions today during the radio notes. Firstly, my cleaner put in an appearance to do her stuff as usual, and I declined a shower again today. I’m not in the right kind of health at the moment for that.

Secondly, after she left, I made a taco roll with cheese and salad. It’s not much, but I’ll try to break myself slowly into eating again, if I can.

With the time that was left, I began to think about the radio programmes for next week. We’ll see where we go with those.

But one thing about seeing where we go is that I can see where I’ll be going very shortly. My bed is right behind me, even as I type, and I won’t have far to go for that.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about going to the moon … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the early summer of 1969 when a North Vietnamese peasant told his friend "The Americans have gone to the moon."
"What?" cried his friend, incredulously. "All of them?"

Thursday 7th May 2026 – IT SEEMS TO ME …

… that no-one in the hierarchy at dialysis has the least idea of what is going on there. The nurses and assistants are all adorable and I’d bring them all home to my apartment afterwards if I could, but as for the rest …

On Monday I pointed out that, having gone in there with just a few hundred grammes to lose, they suddenly went into a huge panic, wound the machine up to three thousand five hundred, and the time to four hours.

Today, having carefully managed my intake, it was once more just a couple of hundred grammes. And then they came swarming into the room to wind it up to two thousand. An hour and a half later, they wound it back down to eighteen hundred. So what’s going on? And why all the panic?

Anyway, that was today.

Last night, I mentioned my rather strange night and the fact that I was in bed round about 20:00 or so. Out like a light straight away, there I lay until shortly after 03:00. And to my surprise, I was lying on my back and not coughing at all.
At some point, I must have gone back to sleep because I had another one of these dramatic upright awakenings that I sometimes have, and it was 05:11.

Now here’s something that will surprise you. I left the bed and went to stroll the parapet and then came back in here, sat down at the computer, and started work. I must have been feeling better.

The first thing that I did was to start to write the notes from yesterday, but I hadn’t quite finished when the alarm went off so I abandoned them for now while I went into the bathroom.

After my trip into the kitchen for my medication and mouthful of grapefruit juice, I came back in here to carry on with the notes.

When they were done and online, I turned my attention to the dictaphone notes to find out what had happened during the night.

There was a very long and complicated dream about Steve Tyler and his daughter Liv and I don’t know if I can remember all of it. He was taking part in some kind of event in the USA and there was a parallel event in the UK at the same time. While he was searching the web, he came across a blog written by a girl of about fourteen who was at the UK event, so he began to comment on her entries about the difference between what was happening there and what was happening in the UK. This correspondence went on for hours and days. And then there was something to do with his daughter Liv. She was only something like four or five. He had to go out but couldn’t find a babysitter but there was some kind of place where you could take children where they could sleep overnight. There would probably be twenty or thirty kids in this place with four or five monitors. The kids would be left there to sleep so he took her there. As Liv grew up, she was constantly being warned about her father’s bad habits, substance abuse, etc., and to be very careful about what she took that he offered her. At some point, she decided that she would leave home and go to New York, so she was on a train waiting to depart. She had some kind of irrational fear of losing her money so she was checking it every minute or two to make sure that she had it.

Steve Tyler’s problems are legendary, unfortunately, and the story of his relationship with his daughter got off to a very bad start and ended in a whole web of confusion. The story of a girl of fourteen plays some kind of role in this, but that’s another story for which the World is not yet ready to hear. Being a rock star in the late 1960s and 1970s was a minefield.

I was staying in someone’s house in a commune-type of place. It was early morning and I’d been up and about repairing the lawnmower and one or two other things, including some kind of gauge with a backlight. The woman in charge of this commune place came out and began to roar at me about not having begun to tidy up the garden and weed it. I said to her “you know, all you need to say is ‘Eric, could you weed the garden?'”. She stormed off in a foul mood saying “I shall expect a full apology”. I took the lawnmower back and found that I’d lost half of this gauge. One or two people searched and found one of the bits but not the other, so I thought “I’d look for that later”. Then I had to go to the bathroom but I didn’t feel like going into the house to the bathroom so I went out and walked down the main street. Eventually, I came to the covered market so I went in there. There was a guy sitting there behind a stall so I asked him if he knew if there was a public convenience in the building. He replied “yes”, but that wasn’t the answer that I wanted. Two young boys with him began to smile and joke so I glared at them and they cowered away. He still wouldn’t tell me so I walked away. Eventually, I found what I was looking for but they were so small and tight that it was a struggle to fit in. It had a strange kind of glass there that smoked on the outside when there was someone inside but the person inside could quite happily see what was happening outside. It was very, very strange and weird.

Back in the mid-seventies, I lived in a commune for a while. A very short while. I met some of the most selfish people I have ever met and in the end, I preferred the companionship of the spider in my van.

The nurse turned up as usual and didn’t seem to be all that interested in my day and night yesterday, so we didn’t say much.

After he left, I made breakfast and finished off THE ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT MONKTON by the Kent Archaeological Service. The remaining pages didn’t have much to say for themselves.

Back in here, I attacked the radio programme that I’d started yesterday. All of the music has now been traced, reformatted, remixed and re-edited and it has all been paired and segued. Tomorrow, I’ll write the notes for it.

My cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for the taxi. It was ten minutes early arriving but we had someone to drop off at Sartilly. Nevertheless, I was early arriving at dialysis, but even so, I had to wait for over an hour to be connected.

And just my luck – it was the nurse from the other day but when she saw that it was me, she made an excuse and left me to her colleague.

Then we had all of the shenanigans and I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. I was trying to write out a shopping list but all of the traffic coming to my bed disrupted that. Everyone came to see me, even the dietician who now wants to put me on an intravenous drip. No chance of that.

By the end of the afternoon, I was half-expecting the trick cyclist to put in an appearance.

Late again as usual leaving, my driver was waiting so we were home quite quickly, but still horribly late.

My faithful cleaner helped me, and after she left, I came in here to write up my notes.

Now that they are done, there are just a few little things left to do and then I’ll be off to bed. I had a really good start to the day but it all seems to have gone downhill subsequently. So here’s hoping for further improvement tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Liv Tyler counting her money … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the film INSPECTOR HORNLEIGH ON HOLIDAY when Alastair Sim, hanging upside down over a roof edge, loses all of the money in his pocket.
"Oh no!" he replied. "I’ve lost two and sevenpence ha’penny!"

Wednesday 6th May 2026 – OHHHHH! THAT WAS SOOOOOOO …

… comfortable. I’ve never felt anything like it. There I was, busy choosing the music for the next radio programme and I must have fallen asleep in mid-work. When I awoke, not far short of 20:00, I was so comfortable and relaxed in my chair that I didn’t know who I was, where I was or even when it was.

One thing that I knew though was that it was so pleasant, rather like a walk in a Japanese garden, that I was determined not to miss any of it so I wrote a terse note on my blog, rolled off my chair onto the bed, threw the covers over me and that was that.

It was something most unusual and most unexpected, particularly after last night. It wasn’t as early as I had hoped it would be when I finished everything, but I can’t complain about being in bed at about 21:45.

As usual, it took a while to go off to sleep. The constant coughing didn’t help, but once I’d gone to sleep, I was gone completely until about … ohh, I dunno. I didn’t look at the clock. I lay there for ages, so it seemed, but I must have dropped off again at some point because when the alarm sounded at 06:29 as usual, I was fast asleep.

When the alarm went off, there was a family living in a house that was very much like Vine Tree Avenue. They all seemed to be sleeping in the living room. It was time for them to get up so their father got out of bed and stood on one of these big round balls and rolled himself over to the far side of the room to switch off the alarm and then rolled back. And then as the kids were starting to leave their beds, the mother put her head into the door to ask if one of the boys could go to play with another child from his class after school. She joked and said that he could come round at 18:00 and he’d be fed, etc. The boy will be waiting for him after his favourite programme on the TV at 17:45, etc. She said “that’s just typical of their family. They are absolutely organised to the hilt”.

We lived in our council house in Vine Tree Avenue from 1957 to 1970. “All quite modern”, they said, with just the fire in the living room, a back boiler for the hot water and a kitchen stove heated by the fire in the living room. Dashing up to bed at night with our hot water bottles into ICE STATION ZEBRA upstairs, and scraping the ice from the insides of our bedroom windows in the morning.

Anyone who talks to me about “the good old days” will get a smack in the mouth.

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

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

It took several minutes … "as usual" – ed … to summon up the strength to stand up and head for the bathroom, and then, in the kitchen, I tried this energy drink thing again with which to take my medicine. I’ve no ida if it’s working or not, but anything is worth a chance.

Back in here, there was plenty of time to check the dictaphone notes to find out what I’d been up to during the night.

There was something about a record producer in the 1970s whose sound was becoming way out of date and he needed to compete with a more modern group. So he financed his concerts by taking some of his groups on trips around old people’s homes, things like that … fell asleep here … He then had this idea that how would songs of the period of the 1950s and 1960s sound with all new modern equipment? Because he realised that his equipment was all out-of-date and he was going to have to upgrade everything to capture a more modern type of sound, he looked through his catalogue for back recordings and found one or two pop songs from that era and decided to rework them with this modern technique, music and equipment in the hope that they would come out as nº 1 hits across Europe.

There’s a story behind this too, and whilst the World is not yet ready to hear it at the moment, it’ll all become apparent in a few months.

But reworking hits from the 1950s and early 1960s with modern production techniques and sound would be quite an interesting project for someone.

The nurse turned up early again and we had quite a discussion about dialysis and my constant coughing fits that were driving him to distraction too. On leaving, he urged me to “rest and take it easy”. If only I could.

Once he’d gone, I made breakfast and started my next book, THE ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT MONKTON by the Kent Archaeological Service.

It’s not really a book – it’s more a forty-one-page brochure, I suppose, and it describes the examination of twenty-two Anglo-Saxon graves that were unearthed during the laying of a gas pipeline through Monkton on the Isle of Thanet in Kent.

However, I couldn’t resist a smile, or even a laugh, when the author tells us that several graves "had evidently been robbed in antiquity" and a couple of pages later, he tells us that the finds that they themselves made "are now in the museum at Maidstone."

A well-known phrase involving a pot and a kettle springs to my mind here.

Back in here, I followed the advice of my nurse and settled down in my chair. And that was that for about ninety minutes. For much of that time, I wasn’t really asleep but in one of those situations where I was drifting around somewhere in a different plane of existence.

Eventually, I managed to pull myself together and I began to write the notes for the radio programme that I’d begun yesterday. It wasn’t a particularly quick exercise and took me much longer than it should, but the constant coughing, which had caused me to vomit a few times, really was annoying me.

When I’d finally finished, I went for a disgusting drink break and my afternoon medication, and then back in here, Rosemary called me for a chat. It was another marathon where we talked about nothing much for ages, but we did chat about how her vegetable garden was going on. If there’s one thing that I really, really miss from my time in the Auvergne, it’s my vegetable patch and all the fresh vegetables that I used to grow.

After that, I began to research the next radio programme and to look for all the music that I needed. That was taking a positive age too, and it was during all of this that I slid into dreamland on my chair.

When I awoke, I did nothing of what I needed to do at the end of the day. I was determined to carry on with this wonderful feeling that I was experiencing, so I just went to bed and that was that. I can’t even remember my head hitting the pillow – that’s how far gone I was.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the ineffectiveness so far of my antibiotics … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a doctor I know who bumped into one of his patients in the street.
"Did those suppositories that I gave you ease your piles any?" asked the doctor.
"No, doctor" replied the patient. "In fact, to tell the truth, for all the good that they did me, I may as well have shoved them up my a*@e"

Tuesday 5th May 2026 – MARGARET THATCHER ONCE …

… said something along the lines of "anyone can do a good day’s work when they really want to, but a true professional is someone who can do a good day’s work when he doesn’t want to.". It’s not an exact quote, I know, but it was something like it, and after what I have managed to do today, I can call myself a “true professional”.

Not that you would have thought so after yesterday evening. I was definitely feeling at the end of my tether when I was writing up my notes and after having completed everything that needed doing, there was no-one happier than me to be in bed, even if it was approaching 22:00.

As usual, it took a while to drop off, but once I’d gone, I remember nothing whatever until I awoke. I’ve no idea what time it was, but it was still dark and the electric water heater was still on. Surprisingly, I was lying on my back which, although it’s my favourite position, it’s the one where I cough the most – and I wasn’t coughing. Consequently, I lay there like that for what remained of the night until the alarm went off. It wasn’t long.

Once I’d moved to sit on the edge of the bed, that’s when the coughing began in earnest, and it’s kept on going like that throughout the day, even to now.

It took an age for me to find the energy to rise up from the bed and to stagger into the bathroom. And even then, I couldn’t move from the bathroom chair for quite a while. Consequently, I was quite late arriving in the kitchen.

And then I had a bright idea. Back in the bad old days in Leuven when, at times, I could hardly move, I was living on these high energy caffeine drinks. There are still a few knocking around here so I took one of those with my medication in an effort to kickstart my day.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, but to my dismay, the recorder was empty. Instead, I did a few other bits and pieces until the nurse arrived.

He was quite early today after his week off. He asked me how things went during the week, so I told him. And he was astonished about the dramatic steps that they took at dialysis yesterday. He was a former dialysis nurse himself in the past.

After he left, I made breakfast and read the last of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

His pages on the Celts and the Saxons were somewhat disappointing, and his Roman work, whilst very thorough and complete, relied too much on the forged “works of Richard of Cirencester”, and his own personal assumptions, being forcefully put, have quite often turned out after modern research and discovery, to be totally inaccurate.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I revised and prepared my Welsh for the lesson.

We’ve started the last chapter of the book, which is a taster for the final two years of the course, which is supposed to be the A-level part. And if those next two years are going to be anything like this chapter, then God help us all. It rolls along at a frantic pace.

Our teacher gave us some questions to do, and they had my brain breaking out into steam. Little did we all know that they were actually part of an ‘A’ level paper from 2024.

At the end of the lesson, I fell asleep. No surprise there. My cleaner awoke me when she came in to do her stuff, but I declined the offer of a shower. Instead, I went back to sleep.

Whilst I was having a little doze in the afternoon, there was something about someone sending morse code signals. But when I awoke, it was my cleaner cleaning something in the kitchen.

That could have been something exciting had the dream carried on, but instead, I went back to sleep and I missed her departure.

Some time later, after I’d awoken, I decided that I can’t let a day slip by like this, so I had a look at the next radio programme.

And by the time that I knocked off, I’d found all the music, reformatted, re-edited and remixed it, paired and segued it. I’d even written some of the notes for it too.

As I said earlier, I should be pleased with what I’ve done today.

So right now, I’m going to finish a few things off and then go to bed ready for a busy day tomorrow, if my coughing will let me. I now have the fierce antibiotics for the cough, so I’m going to take the first one just before I slide into bed. God knows what will happen during the night but if it sorts out this cough, then I’m prepared to give it a full go, whatever happens.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about falling asleep … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once fell asleep with a girlfriend at a friend’s house. All I could find were four coats so I gave her two and I had two.
Half an hour later, she awoke me. "Eric, I’m cold" so I gave her one of my coats.
Half an hour later, she awoke me again. "Eric, I’m still cold" so I gave her the other one.
Half an hour later, she awoke me yet again. "Eric, I’m still cold"
"Look," I said. "It’s only one night, and everyone else has gone to bed, so why don’t we pretend that we’re married"
"A good idea" she replied eagerly.
"Right" I said. "Go and find your own blasted coats."

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: bouquet granvillais

Thursday 21st May 2026 – WOW! THAT WAS …

Wednesday 20th May 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

Tuesday 19th May 2026 – THAT WAS WHAT …

Monday 18th May 2026 – I CAN’T BELIEVE …

Friday 15th May 2026 – WE ARE NOT …

Thursday 14th May 2026 – THE BAD NEWS …

Wednesday 13th May 2026 – AND THERE I …

Tuesday 12th May 2026 – OH NO! NOT ANOTHER …

Monday 11th May 2026 – GOD ALONE KNOWS …

Sunday 10th May 2026 – WHAT A CHAOTIC …

Saturday 9th May 2026 – I HAVE TO ADMIT …

Friday 8th May 2026 – BANE OF BRITAIN …

Thursday 7th May 2026 – IT SEEMS TO ME …

Wednesday 6th May 2026 – OHHHHH! THAT WAS SOOOOOOO …

Tuesday 5th May 2026 – MARGARET THATCHER ONCE …

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