Tag Archives: taco roll

Tuesday 8th October 2024 – AS SEEMS TO BE …

… the case the morning after the dialysis, I’m having trouble sleeping. Well, not actually sleeping, but staying asleep, as in awakening at … errr … 04:05 this morning.

And being totally unable to go back to sleep, leaping … "well, sort-of" – ed … out of bed and starting work.

In that unhealthy situation I decided to catch up with what I’ve been missing and attacked a pile of outstanding correspondence. So if you’ve been awaiting a reply from me, you should have had it.

If on the other hand you are awaiting a reply and it didn’t come this morning, I’ve possibly forgotten it so drop me a reminder.

Actually, being awake at 04:05 is not as dramatic as it sounds because it was just about 23:00 when I finally finished off all of the outstanding stuff and headed for bed.

Five hours sleep might seem to be a small amount but I went for years with never a sleep any longer than that. Thinking about it, it’s hardly any wonder that I was crabby all the time

Although I was asleep quickly enough it was another perspiration-ridden night during which I probably lost another kilo of weight. And it was probably that which drove me from my bed.

However, thinking about that too, I’ve not crashed out at all today despite the early start. So I did some mathematics.

The sleep that I was having during the day was on average 1.5 hours. So if I’m no longer crashing out, I’m saving 10.5 hours, which means of the 18 hours that I lose at the Dialysis Clinic, the net loss is only 7.5 hours.

Then there was the 1.5 hours that I used this morning, and the 3 hours on Sunday morning now that my lie-in is abolished, so now the net loss is 3 hours.

Take away three lunchtimes – total 1.5 hours – that I no longer have. And then working on a Sunday and relaxing on a Saturday morning means a credit of 6 hours working time.

So in other words, because of all of this I’m actually gaining 4.5 hours. So maybe it’s not as useless as I was thinking.

Of course I could be building myself up for a fall, such as going back to the crashing-out scenario, but on the other hand I could be thinking about work that I could be doing while I’m plugged in to the machine down there.

There’s no doubt about it – I’m certainly living in interesting times.

When the alarm sounded I crawled off into the bathroom for a scrub-up and then came back in here to carry on. First thing that I did was to listen to the dictaphone. To my surprise there was something on it. I was with Nerina. We had a son who was about 7 or 8 or about 9 or something. I’d been doing something, working or something like that and come home to find that there was no-one in. They’d gone down to the club to meet her father so I went down there. She was down there chatting to everyone else so I went to have a chat to her about something – I can’t remember now. She was rather annoyed that I was interrupting so we had something of an argument. She stormed off and left the building. I went round to see what our son was doing. He was doing some homework with his grandfather. It was a Saturday night so I told the boy to make himself ready to go home. He was rather annoyed because he wanted to finish his homework so I told him that we’d finish it off at home together. He then wanted to talk about reading. I told him that if he were to finish off his homework tonight he’d have all day tomorrow to read. As usual with kids he had a grumble and a groan but I prepared him. The grandfather asked if I was in my car. I replied “yes”. He said “I have some tins here for you. Would you take them?”. I was in something of a bad mood so I went into the foyer. I couldn’t find my coat for ages, the big brown corduroy coat that I used to have. eventually I fund it, and still in a very bad mood I put on my coat ready to leave.

The likelihood of Nerina being in a club and having a son was of course extremely remote. In fact at first I dictated the name of another girl and corrected myself and she might have been a much more likely candidate. And back in those days I was constantly in a bad mood as I lurched from one crisis to the next to the next with hardly any sleep.

Isabelle the nurse is on duty for the next seven days and she’s much more lively. By some kind of miracle I found the prescription that the Dialysis Centre had given me, asking the nurse to take a blood sample so I handed it to her. She didn’t seem to be in the least perturbed.

That’s going to be done tomorrow – à jeun – but then again I don’t have my breakfast until the nurse has gone anyway.

After she left and I’d made breakfast I went to eat it and read MY BOOK. Our hero has now left the Welsh Marches and gone off to York and Yorkshire to poke around some abandoned Roman towns

Before he left though, he was extolling the hill-forts in the borders and making some kind of claim that many of them were not Roman or Iron Age but were in fact Anglo-Saxon strongholds.

In that, he will be disappointed to learn that in the subsequent 170 years, the evidence of Anglo-Saxon occupation uncovered to date is “slight” and in no way displaces the volume of artefacts from previous occupation, whether Roman or Iron Age.

He did however make some prescient comments about several Roman forts in the East Riding of Yorkshire, where it was not until over 100 years later that archaeological investigation gave credence to his observations

Back in here I revised for my Welsh class and then we went into the lesson. Very few of us here again but nevertheless once more it passed really well and I was pleased with what I did. And I made a vow that at the Dialysis Centre I shall read the notes of the previous lesson as soon as I’m left in peace.

Let’s see how long I can keep this up.

After a very late lunch, during which I was disturbed by the cleaner, I made a start on writing the notes for the next radio programme – interrupted of course by hot chocolate and coconut cake. It’s only four days per week now of course so I don’t want to miss out on that.

And I forgot to deduct from my earlier calculation the 3×20 minutes that I’m now no longer taking in that respect.

The hospital in Paris ‘phoned too. I thought that they might have something exciting to tell me but it was just a check-up with a nurse and an exchange of pleasantries. While they might not have forgotten all about me, they may as well have done. It’s tile to light a fire under a few people but it could simply be a case of “no news is good news”.

Tea tonight was a delicious taco roll with rice and veg followed by the last of the jam roly-poly. Tomorrow I can start on the apple cake that I made the other day.

And now it’s bed-time of course. And here’s hoping for a better night’s sleep. I shall probably be away with the fairies quite quickly but I bet that I don’t have the same amount of luck that the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine thought that Lewis Carroll had.

But seeing as we have been discussing time just now … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’m reminded of the story about the two tourists on their way to Italy.
"I’m going to Pisa" said one. "I want to see the clock factory there."
"Where in Pisa is that?" asked the second
"It’s actually in the Leaning Tower itself"
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Yes"
"Why did they put it there?"
"It’s quite simple really" said the first tourist. "The owners thought that seeing as they had the inclination, they may as well make the time."

Tuesday 1st October 2024 – WHEN THE ALARM …

… went off this morning I was on my way back to sit in my office after having done everything that I needed to do this morning.

It seems to be the case that after a session at the Dialysis Clinic I awaken early, and a couple of times it’s been a complete awakening. And so it was this morning. Despite trying my best to go back to sleep I ended up tossing and turning around to no good purpose and in the end gave it up as a bad job.

It wasn’t as if it was an early night either. Once more I struggled to be in bed at a realistic time and failed miserably. After I’d done everything that I needed to do, I had some purchase to make on line and the web site froze. I had to wait until the confirmation of purchase e-mail came through before I could switch off the computer.

That seemed to take for ever and at one stage I rather lost interest but eventually it all worked out, I switched everything off and went to bed.

It didn’t take long to go to sleep, as seems to be the case these days, and I only awoke once or twice during the night before the major awakening at about 06:00, and that was that.

Back in here I transcribed the dictaphone notes. And I was surprised that there was so much. A new King was appearing on the TV at some kind of church service. For some reason there were a few of us watching it. At a certain moment, as they were playing a very poignant song someone gave him a flower so he walked up to the plaque in the floor where his wife and child were buried, put the rose on top of the plaque and then lit a candle. Of course the cameras immediately panned to his new wife to see what she made of the situation. This was something that was extremely interesting, not just with me actually watching some kind of Royal ceremony. There was a lot of dispute amongst us watching it as to what was the actual significance of what he did. We all had our own, different opinions of it.

As if I’d ever be watching a TV programme, never mind one with some royalty on it. Whatever relevance Royalty might have had in this modern World was totally abolished by Lizzie’s failure to stand up to the crooked politicians who lied to her and who were wrecking the UK.

A little later we were just moving into a new house and were organising ourselves in there, and I decided that I’d go to have a bath. I went upstairs and someone had just had a bath and had left the water in. Whoever it was had cut their hair in it. I wasn’t too impressed so I drained out the water, cleaned the bath and began to fill it. It started off with the water out of one of the tanks which was already hot. I ran that into the bath until it began to go cold and then I switched over to the electrically heated tank and began to fill the bath again. At that point my sister and her friend came along, my little sister. They came along for a chat and both climbed into the bath. I asked them how the water was. They replied that it was nice so we began to talk about something that I’d read. There was an article in there that was talking about ten-score houses in this village I asked my little sister “how many are there in a score?”. She replied “twenty” so I replied “yes. So why didn’t they just say 200 houses? As they were messing about in the bath I happened to notice one of the cars. There was a kind of radiator attached underneath the rear that vented out near where the tow-bar was. I’d just put my hand down there and it was wet. I had a look and saw a big stream of water coming out from the radiator. I told my sister to go to tell her mother to make sure that someone had a look at it before someone went somewhere in the car next morning.

Presumably the first tank was a solar water tank. Some of my experiments with solar-heated water were really good and I had quite a few showers, totally unaided by any water other than what the sun had headed. And some of them I even had to cool down once I had my solar shower unit installed outside. What’s more, the idea that I can remember what a score is while I’m asleep is quite impressive.

And finally I was back at that local coach company in Crewe again, the one that features regularly in my nocturnal travels. They had just bought a big, massive double-decker for long-distance work. It had been off on its first trip. It had come back into the yard and they were checking it over. The passengers hadn’t been very kind to it and it needed a good clean. The driver was also saying that there was a whine coming from the engine. My first thought was that it was the turbo but the driver wasn’t convinced so we had the engine running but couldn’t hear any unusual noise. The boss tried to go into the engine bay. It was a sealed-in bay so he thought “how on earth do you escape from here if there’s a problem?” He was telling us that the propshaft actually stretches out down to the front past the gear lever. We were looking at the signwriting on it. Whoever it was who had written the loads of text on the side had obviously had some kind of bee in his bonnet. It turned out that the engine was not an original MAN engine, which would be totally bullet-proof but a licensed version built by a company called TMS. They were supposed to be extremely fragile so we were very disappointed. We asked why the company had sold it . He told us that they were planning to update and buy a whole new fleet but to date he’d only seen one of them. We talked about other buses. He looked at me and said “your coach is due for a change isn’t it?”. I replied that I was quite happy driving the old Ford around as long as I’m not going anywhere far in it. You can go into much tighter places with a Ford than you can with something modern. So he told us about the time that he went to Olympia. There were all these brand-new expensive coaches there and they all looked sideways at him when he turned up in the Ford. There was an old guy who used to hang around there and he was telling us stories of his travels and how he once saved the life of a traveller in Africa. We all asked how so he said that he told him not to drink the water. I asked where he came from. Was it Connemara? He looked at me strangely so I asked him two or three times. He replied “Warwick” which I found extremely hard to believe but anyway that was what he said

They did actually own one of these big coaches but they didn’t really have the work for it. It was more of a vanity thing, I suspect. They would have been better off buying another heavyweight 53-seater standard coach. Those double-deckers are specialist machines, expensive, thirsty, and need to be kept working. You can’t use them on a lot of jobs either.

And telling jokes in my dreams now? Do my nocturnal talents ever end? How I wish that I was able to do all of this during my waking hours and turn them into some kind of remunerative activity. The one thing that I always lacked in my life was a practical person who could help me make my ideas work. We could have ruled the World.

There was quite a bit of stuff that I needed to do to which I attended, and was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse.

It’s the boss for the next seven days so we have to be on our best behaviour. I mentioned that Emile the Cute Consultant is talking about Home Dialysis but he didn’t pick up on the suggestion. So I’ll wait until Isabelle is back and talk to her.

After he left I made breakfast and read my book. Today we’ve explored the sunken remains of a Roman pottery factory in the marshes at the mouth of the River Medway and then we moved downriver to inspect the Megalithic Menhirs of Kit’s Coty House.

One thing about his voyages is that I’m visiting (by proxy) places that I never even knew existed.

Another thing is that he casually mentions that he went to help his friend so he borrowed a spade and unearthed a few items. Then you read something much more modern and the investigations of his friends are described as “major investigations”.

In fact, when you see some of these modern reports that criticise severely the shoddy nature of those early investigations, it’s quite clear from his notes that they were never intended to be anything else.

Back in here I had my Welsh lesson to attend. And surprisingly, it was one of the best lessons that I have had for quite some considerable time. It beats me what’s happening there but I really seem to have finally got to grips with this lesson today.

My cleaner came in and brought me the post. And now, starting on 2nd December, the Centre de Re-education wants to offer me 28 sessions as before. Only problem is that I can’t go to the appointment because it clashes with my dialysis. I shall have to see about that.

It’s astonishing though that I’m now being double-booked for medical appointments. There’s the 30 physiotherapy sessions to fit in too, as well as a possible summons to Paris.

But I’m amazed at what is being offered to me, all free and for nothing, in order to keep my alive. I honestly can’t believe it. It’s as if I owe them money and they are keeping me alive until I pay it off.

One of the things that I was doing this morning was to look for a free video-editing course at either OpenLearn or Oxford University but I shall have to put that on hold for now, I reckon.

After lunch I set about the radio programme and despite all of the interruptions that I had I managed to pair off and segue the tracks that I have chosen and even write some of the notes. I can finish off the rest tomorrow

Tea was a delicious taco roll, but I have noticed that the microwave is less powerful than my old one. But it’s only until I move next year so as long as it keeps on going I’ll be able to manage.

So now I’m off to bed ready for the morning and the possibility of a shower. We decided at lunchtime that we’d have another go tomorrow. I mustn’t forget to ring the Water Board and tell them that it’s on its way.

But the story of all these medical appointments reminds me of the man who went to the doctor’s with this really bad attack of wind that was producing the most appalling, pungent output from the rear.
He’d only been in there five minutes before the doctor went out of the room. When he came back he was carrying a pole with a brass hook on the end.
"Good god!" exclaimed the man. "You’re not going to use that on me, are you?"
"Of course not" said the doctor. "I’m going to open the windows!"

Wednesday 24th September 2024 – YOU’VE NO IDEA …

… just how much this dialysis is taking out of me.

It’s true to say that today, I haven’t crashed out. Nor have I felt anywhere near like it. But that’s a statement of fact, not a celebration, because I’ll need much more than one day like that before I ever celebrate.

However, leaving that aside, I’ve still felt far too exhausted to concentrate on actually doing anything productive. It’s obviously going to be a long-hard road, that is, if I ever arrive there.

What’s even more surprising is that when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was in the bathroom doing some washing. The puttees had been soaking for several days so it’s high time that I rinsed them out and hung them up to dry.

But then again, the early start might also be accounted for by the fact that I was in bed by 22:45. And I didn’t go very far into my night-time mantra before I crashed out. That was much more like how it’s supposed to be

It’s quite strange really – I don’t understand what has suddenly become easier. Or maybe I do. It’s no coincidence that since I set the clock on the microwave in the kitchen I seem to be pushing on a little more. Plus the fact that I no longer have puttees to roll up. That helps.

So having carried out the final tasks for the day I toddled off to bed and there I stayed until about 04.50.

As seems to be the case, after dialysis there’s a lot of sweating and that was what awoke me. It wasn’t as bad as the other night but nevertheless …

After a while I gave up the idea of going back to sleep and set off towards the bathroom

Having had a good washing session (of me and the puttees too) I came back in here to find that there was nothing at all on the dictaphone.

That’s a disappointment because, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, that’s the only excitement that I have these days (apart from fights between taxi drivers and bus drivers) and you never know who I’m going to meet. I can do without meeting my family of course, but it’s all worthwhile when Castor, TOYGA and Zero come to see me.

When there’s a night without any dream going on, I feel really disappointed

So with nothing to transcribe, I went through the videos again tagging them with identifying comments. And regrettably, the metadata on the dashcam that was in Strider and on which I recorded all of my North American travels and the early stiff in the UK is locked and can’t be edited.

It seems that the company that made the dashcam is claiming all the copyright for itself. We’ll have to see about that. There has to be a workaround somewhere, even if it’s simply relying on VLC’s re-recording facility.

Some of the videos have been recorded the wrong way round and my first efforts at rotating them 90° into the correct perspective cropped out a lot of the important information. Life is just one big cycle of learning, isn’t it? “Back to the drawing board, Cecil”.

The nurse was late this morning. Isabelle is back on duty and when she finally arrived she apologised and said "there was a lot of blood tests to do this morning" .

Of course, I almost choked when I heard this. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … that she has the “touch” and her colleague doesn’t.

So I imagine that everyone else is aware of that too and if they had a blood test to be done last week, they postponed it until she came on duty. I know that I have done in the past.

It was my turn to moan too. I had a moan about her colleague and a few of the issues that we had. As far as the medication goes, she suggests that I speak to the nurses at the Dialysis Centre, explain discreetly the issue, and see if they can find another doctor to talk to me.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on reading my book. Today we are in the abandoned Roman city of Magnae. Our author tells us once more of how walls, flooring and paving was discovered when they stripped away several centuries-worth of brambles. And how it was all ripped up, just like at Ariconium down the road .

A whole host of stuff that was discovered was given to one of the Bishops of Hereford who made himself a little collection, and when he died, the whole lot was auctioned off item by item and dispersed, and presumably lost.

All of that was in living memory of some of the elderly locals.

Back here I revised for my Welsh lesson and then, armed with a pot of strong coffee, I signed myself in.

There’s a new pupil started this year. She’s the curator of Denbighshire’s external museums and buildings. I can see that I will be cultivating her friendship if I can. She sounds like a very interesting person.

The lesson didn’t pass too badly. It could have been much worse, I suppose. But at least I recognise it from somewhere and it’s stuff that I’m sure that I’ve done before.

After lunch I attacked the choice of music for the next radio programme.

By now though, I was flagging. I pushed myself along until I’d chosen 10 tracks. It meant that my hot chocolate and coconut cake was rather late, but I’d finished that part of the exercise. I was too exhausted to pair it off later though. I was wasted.

Tea tonight was a taco roll with rice and veg. The stuffing in the roll was sprinled with garlic powder to make up for the absence of the fresh stuff. It was better than nothing and tasted quite delicious.

It was followed by dead fly pie – I mean, my spotted dick. I’ve tasked much better than this, but I’ve also tasted much worse. With the coconut … "are you allowed to use that word?" – ed … soya cream it was quite palatable and I’ll make some more of that in due course.

So now I’ll finish off and go to bed. But this talk about the author wandering around Roman remains reminded me of Nerina telling me that she wished that she had married an archaeologist.

When I asked her why, she told me "the older I became, the more interested he would be in me"
Presumably that was in reference to my telling her that when she reached 32 I was going to swap her for two 16 year olds
However I told her "his career will all be in ruins by then. So if he does take an interest in you, you ought to be worried."

Tuesday 17th September 2024 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

…night I had last night.

For a start, it was after midnight when, after I’d let it all hang out, I went off to bed. And if that’s not bad enough, I awoke again at about 03:30, and there I stayed, tossing and turning with one trip down the corridor, until long after 05:00. I have never been so fed up in all my life.

There was one moment round about 04:30 when I was actually thinking of leaving the bed and working, in an attempt to make up some of the lost hours, but it needs to be more sustainable than that if ever I do.

At some point I must have gone back to sleep, not that I remember doing so, because when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was fast asleep. So at least I’ve had some slumber somewhere.

In the bathroom I had a good scrub up to try to make myself presentable, and then I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. It was about 02:00 somewhere and I was wandering around the town. I suddenly bumped into one person after another out of my Welsh class. There were just three of us at first and there was something of a dispute between two of them about something rather trivial. One of them mentioned that he’d seen the others somewhere else in town and went off to fetch them. I went off to see if the little room in the café was free and we all met up there except the one who had been offended. He had disappeared and we couldn’t find him so we just ended up chatting amongst ourselves. This group slowly evolved into another group of my friends. We were upstairs on the top of a bus. I was sorting through some papers and had my personal, handwritten diary there. One of my friends grabbed it and began to read it. I asked for it back but she wouldn’t hand it back. I thought “well, never mind” and in something of a sulk went and sat somewhere else. I ended up having to go for a walk around the perimeter of the upstairs of this bus. I had STRAWBERRY MOOSE with me. It was quite crowded and we had to wrestle and fight our way through. By the time that I returned to where my friend was, she had almost finished my diary. I tried to take it from her and in the end she relinquished her hold. By this time I was in such a bad mood that when I noticed that she ws disappointed having to give it up I told her “well if it means that much to you, you carry on reading it!’ and I stormed off and went to sit somewhere else again. I found the place where I had sat before but just then a group of children in this real heavyweight pram pushed by these two women came past and crushed all the seats in under the tables etc. One of the little girls was sitting on my seat so I gave her Strawberry Moose, surprised that she hadn’t noticed him already. She began to feel all round him and I realised that she was blind. One of the other kids suddenly noticed the moose, began to cry and said something in Russian. I didn’t understand what it was that it had said but the woman replied in an American accent in English. I didn’t say anything but she made some kind of comment about the disturbance that she was causing and the mess that was going on. She said to me “and you should have grabbed me while the going was good”. I thought “well, yes, there’s not much chance of that, is there?” but I was still in such a bad mood about my friend hanging onto my diary and reading it

That is one of those dreams that the trick cyclist would have hours of endless fun examining. Freud would probably give you a completely different meaning and a third, say Nietzsche, would find another meaning. His involvement would be due to his famous phrase "out of chaos comes order" but he’d never looked inside my head at that point. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I feel really sorry for the person who draws the short straw and has to look inside my head

But that dream reminds me of one of Ambrose Bierce’s quotes – "A year is a period of 365 disappointments", and that dream seemed to be full of them

The chief nurse is back on duty today, complete with his sciatica, and maybe that’s the reason why he’s grumpy right now.

He told me that he used to work in a dialysis unit and began to tell me some in-depth information that I don’t need to know and I had to tell him three times to shut up.

Another thing he said was that if my legs continue to shrink widthways we will be able to dispense with the puttees and go back to these elasticated socks. We shall see.

Breakfast was next. And while I was at it, I was reading my book and we have reached a chapter about a Roman brickworks and Tile factory in my old neck of the woods just outside Holt in Wrexham.

It had been excavated at the turn of the 20th Century and my author, writing in 1923, was eagerly awaiting the published report. However he will have a long wait even today because after the archaeologist died in 1925 there was no trace of his notes.

The site is extremely difficult to spot from the air, unfortunately, but I checked it by overlaying a modern field map over the rough drawing, and to my surprise, if you go to an aerial map viewer like Google Maps and type or copy in the map reference 53.08382914907756, -2.8868042627705814, can you make out the trace of the Roman Road that went through the site?

Back in here I began to revise my Welsh – the correct unit this time – and then went for the lesson. There weren’t very many of us today and it was hard work. After my wretched night I felt awful too, so it was not my best lesson by any means.

But it was nice to see one of my classmates back after a long illness.

After the lesson I had work to do. Once more the fridge had iced up and before breakfast I’d switched it off. After breakfast I had emptied it and put some old towels (thanks, Liz) in the bottom.

Now I had the job of cleaning the fridge and mopping up everywhere, and that wasn’t the work of five minutes either.

Strangely, I always seem to be struggling for space in the fridge but just simply emptying it and refilling it seems to make plenty of room. I wonder if that would work for the freezer, but I’m not brave enough to try it. Every time I open the door, something inside closes it again.

There I was though, up to my ears in soggy towels and waterlogged floor and who should stick her head in with some supplies but my loyal cleaner. She shoved me aside and in five minutes flat had made the place habitable again.

But sticking that lino down on the wood floor in the kitchen area was a master-stroke

The rest of the day was spent choosing music for the next radio programme. That’s all done and the pairs of music are chosen and segued together. Tomorrow I’ll be writing the notes as much as I can, but I need to sort out a physiotherapist.

One of my UK bank cards and the new card reader finally turned up today so I had to configure them, make sure they work, and then set about transferring some money round and about here and there. I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that there’s something on the go in the UK and we are about to start in earnest

All in all, despite being totally exhausted, I’ve accomplished a lot today.

The bad news is that the cleaner has talked to the pharmacist, and she doesn’t think that the anaesthetic cream is any better than the patches and that we should persevere. My answer to that is that it’s my arm that they’ll be persevering with, not hers.

Tea tonight was a taco roll with rice and veg followed by jam roly-poly and coconut-flavoured soya cream, and it was delicious.

While we’re on the subject of coconut … "well, one of us is" – ed … I sampled my coconut cake today – the first slice. And it’s simply delicious.

It’s a standard oil-cake but with some of the oil replaced by melted coconut oil, and a big heap of desiccated coconut mixed in it.

So what else would work in this? I can make chocolate and ginger, and now coconut. Anyone any more suggestions? I haven’t overlooked a spotted dick – just haven’t reached there yet.

So that’s it, I’m off to bed. I’ve done enough, I’m absolutely worn out with my rotten night

But before I go, there are a couple of mails that I’ve received from some regular readers of this rubbish. I haven’t overlooked to reply – I’m simply overwhelmed with things right now

If anyone else feels the urge to write and say hello, don’t hesitate. There’s a contact form at the bottom right. And if you have a google or gmail address, it will be Strawberry Moose who will reply to you.

All hits, requests, comments and suggestions are welcomed, even those suggestions that are physically impossible. At least it shows that you are awake.

Once not too long ago there was someone who sent their son to study at the Sorbonne in Paris with the aim of giving him a formal and profound immersion in foreign culture and languages
"And did it work?" asked a neighbour
"Ohh yes" replied the mother. "In no time at all he could write home to ask for money in six different languages"

Tuesday 10th September 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

… since we’ve featured an old car on these pages?

Or, more to the point, how long is it since we’ve featured a photo?

So here you are – a photo of an old Panhard C24 Coupé

One of the very last models made by Panhard, this vehicle would have been built some time between 1963-1967, but this vehicle may well be manufactured later in the range rather than earlier judging by the restyled tail lights.

Not exactly my favourite old car, the styling of these 850cc flat twins was supposed to be aerodynamic and while well in advance of its period, I didn’t find it to be an attractive design at all

Another problem was that, unlike Fords, they required a lot of care and attention to keep them on the road, and the bodywork contained some notorious rust-traps

It’s a shame that the photo hasn’t come out too well, but it was taken on the camera on the phone in the miserable grey afternoon from a moving vehicle and through the car windscreen.

No-one can be the best in these circumstances.

And neither can I, seeing as I had a horribly late night again last night.

One of my ground-hopping friends was out and about and was somewhere near Bathgate just outside Glasgow, watching the game between Armadale Thistle Ladies and Bonnyrigg Rose Ladies.

Bonnyrigg were unbeaten this season but my friend thought that Armadale would give them a good run for their money tonight so he went along and streamed the game.

He was right too. Armadale matched Bonnyrigg all the way, and their Khya McGurk scored what surely must be a goal-of-the-season contender to win the game for Armadale.

Although the game was somewhat short on skill, THIS PIECE OF SKILL ought to be enough to win any game any time anywhere in the world. Thanks to NORRIE WORK for the video clip. You can hear him going berserk in the background of the clip!

You’ll notice the copyright logo on the video extract. I’m currently experimenting with a few videos and a couple of editing programs. Until I settle on a good version and pay the unlocking fees, I’m stuck with free versions and their copyright logos.

If anyone can suggest any programs worth trying, drop me a line. There’s a “contact me” button on the bottom right of the page.

So with a horribly late night again, I crawl off to bed and there I stay until the alarm goes off. That might sound as if it’s good but believe me, I’ve slept for much longer than that and called it a bad night.

In the bathroom I had a good scrub up, a shave, a complete change of clothes and I hand-washed my trousers and undies. That was rather drastic, and dramatic too, but I’m off out this afternoon, waging war.

First task though was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I can’t believe that I’m standing in a queue at an event somewhere or other and there are four people around me. Every single one of them speaks Welsh. There’s me, there’s that girl who looks like my friend from Trefynnon, there’s a guy called Gareth Owen and he’s speaking Welsh to Nerina who’s replying. I thought that there’s something totally strange happening here. We’re just in queue for a coffee at some kind of festival

That’s what I dictated anyway. And you wouldn’t have caught Nerina speaking a different language. She was a mathematician and computer person and therein lay her talents. But it’s not every day that I’m dreaming in Welsh. It’s really getting to me, isn’t it?

Isabelle the nurse came to see me too. She gave me the injection and fixed my puttees (which fell down shorty afterwards) while she told me about her walking holiday in Brittany. It was of interest to me because one summer in the mid-70s I went hitch-hiking around Finisterre and enjoyed every single minute of it.

Our Welsh course started up again today so I did some revision, of the wrong unit as it happened (which depressed me immensely) and then I had to abandon the lesson because the taxi came early.

We then had to drive around Granville picking up two others, and then the driver made a complete hash of leaving the town and we ended up stuck for ages behind a tractor. Mind you, if we’d gone the way that I would have gone, we’d have been ages earlier but we’d have missed the Panhard

That vehicle crossed our path somewhere near Sartilly and we followed it until it turned off on the outskirts of Avranches.

The hospital where I had all of these problems is installing a pay barrier, and that tells you everything you need to know about the hospital, its financial situation and why it’s trying to do its best to hang onto my money.

Because of our problems, I was late for my appointment and the doctor was waiting. I’d hardly got into my stride before he was full of apology for what had happened and was issuing instructions to his secretary.

The appointment didn’t last long. He looked at the reports, didn’t even look at his work, and gave the all-clear for dialysis to start. Apparently I’ll be “hearing from” the dialysis clinic.

There was then a phone call – from the hospital administration. Full of apologies (and excuses) but they have prepared a cheque and it will be sent to me “in the next couple of days”. We shall see.

The driver to take me home was my favourite Rastaman driver. After we’d dropped off some other passengers around Avranches and he’d given me a sightseeing tour of the town we set off for home.

He’s the most amenable of the drivers and as there were now just the two of us we stopped at the bank in Sartilly where at long last I was able to activate my new bank card, which pleases me no end.

At Granville my faithful cleaner was waiting and she stood and watched, impressed beyond belief, as I took myself up the stairs without help.

How long this will go on I really don’t know, but make the most of it!

She had some good news to tell me too about my ground-floor apartment. We’ll see how that develops too.

After she left I had a very late lunch and came in here where, true to form these days, I crashed out.

Just before I slid off into oblivion the dialysis clinic rang. I will have my dialysis on Thursdays, Saturdays and … errr … Mondays. Putting my foot down about Tuesdays has worked.

Afternoon though, not morning, but you can’t have everything I suppose. At least I have two full days in the week free. Roll on the Physiotherapy classes!

And then they called me back. I’ll have to go earlier than planned because the nurses are refusing to apply this anaesthetic cream stuff. But don’t worry – they’ll organise the taxis.

With some time to go before tea I attacked the paperwork again and sorted out some more stuff. The desktop is positively empty at the moment. How long will that last?

Tea tonight was a delicious taco roll followed by apple crumble. What a good pudding that is. There’s still enough for a couple of days, and then maybe I’ll make a chocolate sponge for pudding next week

But not right now, because I’m off to bed. And maybe another dream in Welsh. Who knows?

Unless it’ll be a dream like the one where someone went to speak to the hotel management where he was staying.
"Last night" he said "I dreamed that I was eating a marshmallow, but it went on for ages this dream."
"It must have been a huge one" said the management. "A veritable giant"
"I suppose it was" said the guy
"But what’s that got to do with me?" asked the manager
"I just wanted to tell you" said the man "that when I awoke this morning, I couldn’t find the pillow"

Tuesday 3rd September 2024 – I HAD A LOVELY …

… surprise last night. Zero came to visit me.

How long is it since one of my three favourite young ladies came to visit me during the night? I was really worried in case they have dropped out of the picture, as The Vanilla Queen seems to have done, but here we are.

It’s quite surprising really, because as you might expect these days, it was quite late when I finally went to bed last night. But once again, I didn’t need all that much rocking before I was away in the Land of Nod

As for how the night went, I’ll talk about that in a minute but it was a very weary, bleary me who made his way into the bathroom for a good wash and brush up ready to hit the streets

Yes, it’s a good idea to have a really good scrub because I’m being inspected by someone at the Centre de Re-education (or so I thought) later this morning.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been and, more importantly, who had come with me. And wasn’t it exciting? Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming that I’d met Zero. She’d figured in one of the dreams that I’d had while I was dreaming. Ironically, much later on when I “awoke” from that dream but was still asleep, deep in the major dream on the first level, Zero was actually there in the other room while I was asleep. She was talking to one or two other people and I wondered whether I’d actually manage to speak to her. I really hoped that I did of course. Eventually she came in so I told her that I had dreamed about her. She asked me to tell her all about it so I began to talk but I hedged some of the bits. She seemed to know that I was hedging so she asked me outright to tell her everything. I began to tell her about the dream and what had happened in the dream. But then I had a panic attack because I found that I couldn’t remember it. It was that that awoke me. I felt really upset and distressed by this – having Zero on my plate for the first time for ages and once again not being able to get my fork stuck in it.

“Disturbed” isn’t the word. I’ve been lying here awake for hours and I just can’t simply go back to sleep. I’ve no idea what I’m going to be like in the morning.

It was actually two hours and forty-three minutes later that I dictated that line there. I don’t think that I’ve ever been so disturbed about a dream as I was with that one. However it’s interesting that I was dreaming that I was dreaming. There are some people who can layer up a couple of dozen layers but I think that the most I’ve ever managed is three layers. It was interesting that it was about Zero too instead of some banal subject, and it was also very pleasant that she was still there when that “dream within a dream” finished.

However I wonder what bits about my dream with Zero that I was hedging on telling her. Can you imagine it? But that’s just another example of my wretched luck. Nothing seems ever to run as I would like it and the thought of what I’d missed totally disrupted my morning.

So for two hours and forty-three minutes at least, I was tossing and turning according to the timestamps of the sound files. Meanwhile, twenty-seven minutes later I went out for a wander around and came to a town centre where there was a huge queue of pedestrians going all the way down the High Street. I wanted to turn into the High Street but it was impossible. But some of the pedestrians hung about and presented a gap so I pulled out of the side street into it. Then all the pedestrians in front of me who had scrunched up then spread out to give themselves some space. Those in front recoiled backwards and collided with my car so I shouted at them to be careful. However I had my words all mixed up so they had a few things to say. It seems that I’d fallen into the middle of a big group anyway so everyone was all around shouting to each other. It was a queue for a shop, a sewing and seeds shop so I thought that I’d have a look in for my friends. They were selling some seeds for some kind of jasmine plant for £0.89 so I bought a bag. I thought that it would be OK for one of my friends but I couldn’t remember which one. When I went to pay I suddenly realised that I’d picked up a card. I had it in my inside pocket. I made a light-hearted joke about being so forgetful. The woman replied “don’t worry. We’d have frisked you down anyway before you left. So, rather impressed, I paid for the card and seeds and then cleared off

So which friend was it who was going to receive a packet of lavender seeds and a card? I don’t have that many friends I suppose so it’s not a wild, mad choice amongst a large selection of people.

The nurse and I had another row today. Tomorrow I have to leave early and he doesn’t like the idea. Well, that’s rather a shame, isn’t it? He’ll be here at 08:05 by the latest or else I’ll go without him and he can either come back later or send another nurse. But I’m not disrupting the work of the taxi company or the clinic in Avranches just because he can’t be bothered to arrive here early for once.

Isabelle, his replacement, is quite reasonable about it. She can’t/won’t come here early but if I ‘phone her when I return she’ll pop round at a convenient moment with no complaint at all.

Once he’d cleared off I could have breakfast, and read my book.

The author, Edward Thomas, refers us today to a friend of his, another poet called Ralph Hodgson

Hodgson’s claim to fame is that he wrote a poem called “To Deck A Woman” and with a title like that, I just had to hunt it down to read it

So after much searching and tracking down, here you are – “How To Deck A Woman” by Ralph Hodgson
"I know a place of summer doves,
Rapt lizards in its alleys lie,
And mostly there a linnet loves
To mend a wanting melody*

No men talk there ; no pit or gin
Trips Beauty on that sunny hill ;
Its voice is ever gracious din
Of bee and song-bird never still,

And anthem yet from other quires :
The muffled diapason gushed
From lips occult and privy lyres
And pipes of Eden never hushed —

The pipes and lyres and lips that are
In sods and bubbles, stones and trees
And flying seeds from woodlands far
And wandering airs and essences*

Within, about, above, below,
Sprites elemental, Night and Day,
And winds and climbers, frost and snow
And wild things only, know their way"

It’s certainly not what I was expecting, with a title like that, but it’s an example of how much has language evolved over the last hundred-odd years.

The taxi turned up bang on time to whisk me down the hill. It’s a girl whom I know who was the driver so we had a good chat and then she helped me sort myself out at the Centre de Re-education. I saw my favourite doctor but it wasn’t she who was looking after me today which was a shame.

The one who saw me today was also quite cute. I’d seen her before, the last time that I was here, so she wanted to know

why I hadn’t organised the physiotherapy sessions that she had prescribed
why I hadn’t gone for the echograph on my knee

Sometimes it’s very difficult to explain to people that even with the best will in the World, you are often overtaken by events over which you have no control

She’s re-prescribed the physiotherapy and she’ll fit me in for a day at the Centre for a complete reassessment. Unfortunately there’s a terrific backlog and she won’t be able to fit me in for quite a while.

So I enquired when that might be

"Quite a while, I’m afraid" she replied. "October, maybe even November"

It’s a good job that she doesn’t work in the UK where a “normal waiting period” would be about eighteen months, never mind “quite a while”.

Back here there was no-one to help me up the stairs but I managed on my own with some (considerable) effort. That was something to celebrate. But at least the taxi driver didn’t moan, like the last one did.

Having made a pot of coffee I came in here for my Welsh class and if you think that two units of the book was going some, we did three today and I am totally whacked.

So much so that while I didn’t actually crash out (well, maybe for 10 minutes or so) I was in no fit state to do anything.

Tea was a taco roll with rice and veg, delicious as usual, followed by yet more strawberries. I really have some wonderful neighbours.

So right now I’m off to bed. Avranches in the morning to see the nurse and find out what’s going to happen about dialysis. I shudder to think.

But I hope that Zero comes to see me again tonight. I can just picture the scene if ever I’m lucky enough tonight to be all alone with her –
"I dreamed about you last night, Zero" I shall say
"Did you?" She’ll ask
"No" I’ll reply. "You wouldn’t let me."

Sunday 1st September 2024 – SUNDAY NIGHT IS …

… pizza night. And tonight’s pizza was an absolute classic.

This vegan cheese that my cleaner found for me really is the business and I hope that LeClerc keeps on stocking it. I shall have to give her instructions to find some more of it just in case …

That’s the highlight of the day, it has to be said It wasn’t really a good day today unfortunately.

Last night was pretty good though. With nothing to dictate (I’m keeping off the two projects that I’ve done because I want to review them first) I was in bed before midnight.

Of course, 23:00 is my planned curfew time but as there’s no alarm until 08:00 on a Sunday morning I can stretch a point.

Once in bed even I was surprised at the speed at which I fell asleep and there I stayed until … errr … 07:15 when I awoke.

Awake I may have been but leaving my stinking pit? Not on your Nellie! Even though I couldn’t go back to sleep I didn’t give in and leave the bed. There I stayed until the alarm went off.

Staggering off to the bathroom, I had a good wash and clean-up and then back in here to wait for the nurse to come. There was time to transcribe the dictaphone notes while I was waiting. There was someone who was having some kind of control because people were being examined for what they were carrying. One guy was carrying a kilo of something or other and when they asked what it was, he gave the name in French for it, which of course the people didn’t understand. It sounded pretty banal and ordinary enough but with the name being in French and they not understanding it they were rather concerned. They decided that they would give him a thorough search. In the meantime there were all kinds of explanations and arguments about this particular name and how everyone really ought to know what it was etc

This is the thing though, isn’t it? You ask any schoolgirl of my generation what a bèchamel sauce or a bain-marie are, and they’d know without hesitation. But nowadays the emphasis on schools is to pass the exam and lift your school up the league table, and these subsidiary lessons have gone by the board. Educating kids isn’t just passing exams, except in the UK where it’s the exam that counts and nothing else matters.

The nurse came round to sort me out this morning and also to interrogate me over my pizza. He’s probably looking for cookery tips, I suppose, but I don’t have too many to give him. I just do things and adapt recipes to suit my tastes and diet.

Breakfast was next, a nice, slow leisurely stride into morning with porridge, toast, coffee and juice. And a tonne of medication of course. I took y time, reading more of my book on THE ICKNIELD WAY.

Interestingly, the author tells us of an abandoned railway that he crossed on his walk. Not surprising but this is 1906. It appears that there was a railway into Newmarket that only operated for a handful of years and upon the bankruptcy of the operators it closed down – in 1851. One of the very first railway closures.

Just to make sure, I looked at an aerial photo of the area and there are still a few vestiges of the line remaining today.

Back in here there was football. Stranraer were away at Bonnyrigg so there was no stream this morning. Instead I watched East Fife stick five past Clyde with Nathan Austin, who’s far too good for this division, stick anther two to go with the three that he scored last week

One of my groundhoppers was out and about too so we ended up with a Scottish Cup match between Bo’ness Athletic and Kilwinning Rangers. Bo’ness won with a comfortable 2-0 scoreline.

But there’s something going on with these groundhoppers. There are three patrolling the grounds in Scotland and three or four patrolling them on the Irish mainland.

It’s a major initiative, I know, from the Scottish FA to publicise the game and flood social media and the internet in general with the games, but I’m wondering about these groundhoppers. Their output is all pretty much of a same style with similar editing and the like, so I’m wondering if there’s a School of Journalism somewhere that’s pushing these guys out to practise their art.

Lunch was a taco roll with salad filling, seeing as I’ve run out of bread. And I had to rush because I had Hamilton Academicals v Airdrie United. The Accies 2-0 up with just minutes to go to the final whistle but then two moments of inattention and that, dear reader, was that.

At this point I fell asleep for a while but woke up in time to head to the kitchen.

First task was to make some dough for bread. While it was rising, I took the pizza dough that I’d taken from the freezer after lunch and now that it was defrosted, gave it a good working over and rolled it out onto its tray.

And with half an oven to fill I made another crumble like the one the other day. And it looked delicious.

The bread dough had now risen so I gave that its second kneading and put it in its mould.

While I was waiting I cleared up and washed up everything, and when the bread dough was ready I put it and the crumble in the oven

While they were baking I assembled my pizza and had a chat on-line with a neighbour who had contacted me and very kindly brought me some more strawberries

When the bread and the crumble were cooked the pizza went in. And when it came out, it was absolute perfection.

So right now I’m off to bed ready to Fight the Good Fight tomorrow.

But talking of abandoned railway lines and stations and the like, there’s a railway station in the North of England called “Dent” – which is all very well, but it’s almost five miles from the town whose name it carries, and over some steep hills too.
One day an American tourist staggered into a pub in the town and exclaimed "why did they build the goddam railway station so far from the goddam town?"
"Well" said the landlord "I suppose that they thought it a good idea to build it close to the railway line."

Tuesday 27th August 2024 – I HAVE MADE …

… myself a ginger cake this afternoon.

As yet, I haven’t sampled it, but I’m quite looking forward to doing that tomorrow. I’ve no idea what it’ll turn out like because it’s a recipe that I’ve pretty much invented, so we shall see what we shall see. It promises to be interesting, to say the least.

Like last night, which was also quite interesting, not the least because the nurse had fastened my puttees quite tightly, and as my foot expanded it felt as if the little toe on my left foot was being amputated with no anaesthetic. It’s a long time since I’ve felt pain like that

And so I had to undo my puttees quite a while before going to bed, which is not what I want to do as all of the water in my body will them settle down into my legs and feet and make them swell even more. Ahh well …

Going to bed was interesting last night because I can’t remember anything at all about it. I must have been asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. And there I stayed until the alarm went off. I had awoken a couple of times but I can’t remember when and why.

When the alarm went off I switched it off and headed to the bathroom to sort myself out for the morning, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was doing a radio programme on mutations last night, why they exist and what’s their meaning, which words mutate and why. We were broadcasting it over a period of several days on several different platforms. There were several people who didn’t really receive the message at all, that Welsh is a completely different language from most that they’ve already encountered before. The German language mutates a little and there are a few mutations in the English language but the Welsh language is full of them and has specific rules. These need to be understood by the speakers whether you are native or a graduate Welsh speaker so this was the point of telling them about our discussion. But I’d noticed that these lamp posts have to be secreted well below the road surface but the two that they were about to install at this road junction didn’t look anything at all heavy enough to me … fell asleep here …

This was interesting. German, and to a lesser extent English, employ mutations quite a lot but it’s mainly the vowel that mutates – gIve = gAve, hOld = hEld etc and it’s a very rare consonant that mutates – leaF = leaVes etc. But in Welsh it’s the consonant that mutates most commonly, and when I say “common” I mean “common”. I’m at the stage now though where I can’t remember the rules of mutation and am just learning phrases parrot-fashion as a small child would. As for where the second part of this dream came from I really have no idea. Perhaps it’s just as well that I fell asleep in mid-dictate.

Back in the 1930s was one of these sweat-shop offices in New York where you had to walk around about 50 flights of stairs down 10 basements to find where people were working in all kinds of overcrowded and unhealthy conditions. Someone finally went down there – he was moving to Chicago and wanted to take members of staff from New York with him. He identified people on the basis of “you, you and you” – that’s how he recruited his “willing” volunteers, by pointing to them and ordering them to accompany him. One or two of them were upset but there was no other alternative. While the rest of his staff were discussing this, a news report came in that the Police had stopped someone riding a motor bike in their area of the city. They had found out that this person was unlicensed so they told him that his bike would be confiscated. As the police officer was pushing it into someone’s driveway to await collection a shot rang out and she fell dead. There was a huge enquiry launched, which upset just about everyone and the local papers crusaded on behalf of the residents who, they said, had lost many of their civil rights as a result of the police coming into the Borough in numbers to try to track down the murderer and the tactics that they used to deprive them of their civil rights too.

That was how things were run in American offices back in the 1930s and while evolution in the UK office culture, thanks to the Trades Unions, has made the office a much more friendly place to work, that’s not the case in the USA. Not by any means. I worked for an American company for a while, in their Brussels office. There was a knotty problem that needed fixing and I was on the ‘phone to New York one Friday afternoon trying to sort it out. At 18:00 our time (12:00 their time) I said that I was going home and we’d catch up to finish it off on the Monday. Monday at 15:00 (09:00 in New York) I waited for his ‘phone call, which never came. Just before going home I rang up the New York office to speak to him. "Ohh – Mr (so-and-so)?" came a voice. "I’m afraid that his position was made redundant on Friday." So he was finished there with (less than) six hours notice. Not exactly shot on his doorstep but not far off.

The nurse was late this morning and that had me running around rather late today. But she and I had a row. She was on the point of refusing to put a plaster on my operation but I stood my ground and insisted.

She thinks that I’m being a big baby over this and she’s probably right too, but I can do without a panic attack right now. There will be time enough for that in a few weeks time. But thanks to my faithful cleaner I have brand-new puttees on today and the previous lot are soaking in a bowl.

After she left I had breakfast, nice and at my leisure reading my book on the Icknield Way. And then I had plenty of things to do.

Firstly, to find the batteries that I took out of the dictaphone one night a few days ago and which fell on the floor and were lost to view. They’ve been tracked down and are now charging up.

Second thing is to have a much closer look at the Genz Benz combo amp. My initial inspection is regrettably correct – the two-way voltage switch is missing and the data plate shows that the “115 Volt 60 Herz” option is the only one selected.

That means that I need a transformer to run it from a 230 Volt 50 Herz” European electricity circuit, which wa what I suspected in the first place. But there are transformers readily available

Another thing is to make a slow start on the outstanding correspondence, of which there’s more than enough over the past few weeks. I owe several people a response and I haven’t forgotten you

After lunch I did some work on the radio and finished off the first of my special projects. You may be wondering why someone born in 1892 deserves a special rock music programme dedicated to him and him alone but if there is ever one man who has contributed more to rock music than any other one person I’d like to meet him

“Finished” I say, but I’ll be reading it through a few times before I dictate it. It’ll doubtless have a few amendments before it’s ready, but in a few months time I shall be inviting my merry little band of listeners to come for a walk with me in a most surprising place.

After the mid-afternoon hot chocolate there was baking to do. Firstly, a loaf of bread as I have now run out yet again, and secondly, while the dough was busy rising, I made my cake.

The chocolate powder was omitted this time of course, and its volume was replaced by extra flour, and then melted a tablespoon of coconut oil, which replaced an equivalent amount of oil. Then some ground ginger, ground mixed spice, and thanks to my loyal cleaner, some fresh ginger, finely diced

It probably will be the most ridiculous cake ever but at least it looks as if it might be a cake – of sorts. It actually rose in the oven too so that’s definitely progress of a sort

Tea was taco roll with rice and veg and for the benefit of those readers who say that I need stuffing, there was plenty to hand. So much so that it will be a good leftover curry tomorrow night, especially if I remember to make some naan bread.

But tomorrow I’m off to the hospital at Avranches – an 08:15 pick-up. I’m not sure that I’m looking forward to that but I shall do my best.

But while we’re on the subject of baking … "well, one of us is" – ed … the fact that I’m willing to have a go at baking is keeping me away from these agencies like the one that Sid James and Hattie Jacques were running in CARRY ON LOVING

Terry Scott who had “good cook” among his requirements went storming back to the office after a meeting set up by Sid James
"I don’t know why you’re upset" said Sid James. "I told you that she was a good cook"
"Yes, and she had something in the oven" said Terry Scott. "For nine months on Gas Mark Eight"

Tuesday 20th August 2024 – I WAS GOING …

… to say that Day Seven of my Summer School passed uneventfully.

However, after my hot chocolate I came in here and sat down in my comfy chair ready to start work and the next thing that I knew was that it was 19:07. I’d been out like a light for well over an hour and hadn’t felt a thing.

One thing that can be said though and on which many of us are agreed is that we are cracking on at a hell of a pace.

The conclusion was reached that there are some people attending the regular courses who are maybe not as committed as the rest. Those who give up several weeks of their Summer and pay the money to attend the course are amongst the most committed and most enthusiastic and hence push things along that little bit quicker.

But it’s all at quite a cost. And I’m not talking about money either. I’m totally exhausted and there are another three days to go before I can have a week’s break.

It might possibly help matters if I manage to have an early night one of these days but last night was another one of these interminable evenings where I seem to have so much to do and not enough time to do it.

By the time that I’d finished whatever it was that I have to do, it’s long past my bedtime and I’m eating my way into the next day. This kind of thing is doing me no good at all.

So eventually I managed to stagger into bed once everything had been completed. I was soon under the covers and once more, I was out for the count. No need to even start my little bedtime mantra because I was away with the fairies almost straight away.

At some point in the middle of the night I awoke, but I’ve no idea what time it was. A strange, random fact is that since I’ve stopped wearing that new watch that I bought a couple of months ago I’ve not felt the urge to scratch my arms. That’s really quite strange. I think that I must be allergic to whatever the watch strap is made from.

So for that reason, I didn’t notice the time at all

Instead I turned over, tucked myself down under the quilt and went back to sleep until the alarm went off.

After I switched off the alarm I went into the bathroom to sort myself out, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. The Police in North Wales were investigating a big drugs ring in North Wales. One of the people whom they actually pulled in in this respect was someone who played for one of the bigger clubs but has recently been transferred. He was caught with a considerable amount of drugs that he was trying to move around the country and was imprisoned practically straight away. From there on the Police were working really hard to dismantle his ring and to catch who else was in it if they could. They were interviewing some man who seems to have been involved in it for three years. Interestingly they had come across a car with three women in it. It turned out that these three women were Russian and worked as interpreters so naturally the Police became interested in them to find out exactly what they were doing and why they were travelling, where they were going. They speculated that these women were officially listed as dead in the Russian people’s work so that they cold move around quietly without being controlled and use their skills to infiltrate organisations or societies, things like that, where they could be expected to extract certain information, submit it to Russia and move on to the next case. The Police felt that they were on the edge of breaking some kind of case in some kind of record numbers. This would be a huge feather in their cap for their Force.

As for the footballer, I could tell you much more about him but this isn’t the kind of event with which too many people would wish to have their identity associated, even if it were in a dream and bore no relation to reality. But it was certainly interesting. As for the three women, that was a well-known ploy back in the olden days for someone to acquire a birth certificate and hence a passport in the name of a person who had died. But after the STONEHOUSE AFFAIR that particular loophole was blocked which was a shame because I had … errr … plans…

Later on I was working in some office. There was an issue with regard to the electricity that we were using. The bills were coming out really complicatedly and expensive. When the Accounts girl complained to the Electricity Company she was accused of being nothing but a lousy American cheapskate. Being British, she was immediately offended. But that gave her the idea then that if she converted all of the temperatures and all of the figures in the office to Centigrade instead of Fahenheit the consumption of electricity would be a lot less and that would spike the guns of this company. As well as that, they had te habit of using one of our car-parking spaces. That privilege was immediately revoked. All the labels on our appliances were changed from Fahrenheit to Centigrade throughout the office. Several Americans didn’t understand it. I had to ring up the File Repository later on about the disposal of a file, the origin was someone called R. McHarrie, a young, tall, slender white girl with long light brown hair dressed in Office Manager-type of clothing.

Can you imagine anything worse than being described as a “lousy American cheapskate”? I know that if anyone were ever to think that I were American I’d be outraged. I’m not sure how changing the labels from Fahrenheit to Centigrade would reduce the electricity bills but the fact that “several Americans” wouldn’t “understand it” is something with which we would all agree. And I’m impressed that I could remember a name like R McHarrie when I’m asleep.

It’s Isabelle doing the nursing duties now for the next seven days, and I don’t mind her cheerful chatter quite so much. We “exchanged pleasantries” and she wants me to wash my puttees tonight. So yet more work to make me late going to bed.

After she left I had breakfast and then I had a few ‘phone calls to make.

The first was to the taxi company. There have been one or two extra trips added to the list just recently and I needed to make sure that they would come to pick me up. And that reminds me – I need to collect a taxi voucher for one of the trips. I mustn’t forget to ring up to request one from the doctor concerned

The second call was to that evil clinic where The Beast of the Hôpital de la Baie hangs out. They want me to go for another appointment on 10th September so I phoned them to say that I wouldn’t be going.
"I’ll find you another date" said the secretary
"It won’t do any good because I wouldn’t come" I replied
"But you have to come" she wailed. "It’s the post-operative review"
"I’m sorry" I said "but I’m not setting one single foot inside your “maudit établissement”" and I told her my tale of woe about the bill

She was totally astonished, as have been everyone else to whom I’ve recounted my little story. And having told it now to the surgeon’s secretary, it’ll spread like wildfire. Yes, the French have a saying – la vengeance, c’est un plât qui se mange mieux froid – “revenge is a dish that’s best eaten cold”. And I have the patience to play this out for as long as I think it necessary

There was no Welsh homework but nevertheless I went over a few things, and then I went to the lesson. We have now acquired a student from that well-known outpost of Welsh culture … errr … The Czech Republic. It’s becoming quite an interesting course.

In fact, the lockdown was the best thing that ever happened to the language. With the College that provides my courses, when the courses were face-to-face they had on average 100 students per year from North-East Wales. With lockdown and on-line courses, the first year they had 1038 students from all over the World.

During the pauses I was chipping away at these radio notes with the intention of finishing them off later but instead, at the end of the course I crashed out. And while I was out I was away on my travels. There was something going on about being in a house with a conservatory and to reach the hilly land behind the house the only way was to climb through the venting window in the roof of the conservatory. I had that down to a fine art, even as far as wearing my shoes inside an oversize pair of wellingtons when it snowed, which t did quite often. But the conservatory soon became too public with other people in there so climbing out of the roof window became more difficult and led to confusion about whose shoes were whose when it came to climbing out of the window

That was a complicated procedure but it did remind me of my family home in Davenport Avenue in Crewe which did in fact have a glass conservatory of the type in this dream. But at the back of our house instead of hills we had the Mornflake Oats factory and then the railway line to Shrewsbury.

Tea tonight was a taco roll with rice and veg followed by another slice of this delicious apple crumble. That was a lovely recipe that has produced a really good topping and I’ll have to make this again

Back in here I finished off the radio programme. I now have my two halves but tomorrow morning I’ll have to choose the final track and write the notes for it.

So having finished my notes I’m going to wash my puttees – or, at least, put them to soak – and then go to bed ready to fight the good fight tomorrow. In the evening I have a medical appointment which ought to be fun. Would I have a neighbour in the next cubicle as the one that I had last time?
Once I overheard a discussion between the doctor and his patient. The patient was bemoaning his lack of … errr … success.
"What do you expect?" asked the doctor. "You’re eighty-three"
"My friend Joe is eighty-seven" he said "And he tells me that he makes love to his wife twice a day"
"So what?" asked the doctor. "If it bothers you, you could always tell him the same thing"
"Maybe I could" he replied. "but I don’t know his wife as well as all that."

Tuesday 13th August 2024 – DAY TWO …

… of my Summer School passed by today.

And to my surprise, it all went really well. I’ve no idea what’s happened there, but that’s simply not normal. Things just don’t go quite like that.

So last night I washed my puttees and went to bed in something of a hurry. It was later than I would like – about 23:30 – but that’s not late enough to be worried by anything.

It didn’t take me long to go off to sleep either. Just a matter of minutes. Although I can’t remember falling asleep, I know how far I reached with my little bedtime mantra and it wasn’t far at all. Still, with not crashing out at all during the day I must have been quite wasted.

Once I was asleep, I slept through all the way until about … errr … 05:30 when something outside must have awoken me. I’ve no idea what it was and I didn’t go to find out. I just pulled the bedclothes tighter, and had my RAIN SPLATTERED WINDOWS MADE ME DECIDE TO STAY IN BED I’d have dreamed of summertime instead.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I fell out of bed and once the room stopped spinning round I headed for the bathroom for a good scrub up. I have to look my best for these on-line meetings, even if I don’t feel much like it.

And I managed to dress without falling over of having to sit down and that’s some kind pf progress. And if you think that it’s strange that I’m celebrating something like this as being an achievement, you just don’t understand the state that I’m in.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. That big freshwater lake in South America was due to close so I’d gone down there to hire a boat and was messing about on the water before it all disappears. In the meantime while I was down there it seemed that there had been some kind of incident. A tractor had driven straight through the crowd from some fellow’s field onto the road, scattering everyone. What an insane use of language. There were many words here that I had never heard before in the UK and in some respects I was glad that I don’t because some of these people are really out of control and this is appalling.

There aren’t too many words that I have never heard before. working in a pool of chauffeurs from all corners of the European Union speaking a variety of different languages and having been as popular as I was with my colleagues, you can imagine that I’ve heard them all at close quarters too. But this reminds me of my prevarications a couple of years ago – I was always going to learn to sail “next week” or “next month”, and look at me now. It’s an object (or maybe even an abject) lesson of “never put off until tomorrow any plans that you can do today”.

I was taking a coach trip somewhere. I had to give my passengers an afternoon out and there was a nuclear power station in the vicinity of where we were going so I went round there and tried to speak to someone about the possibility of bringing my coach and tourists around for a look. The guy whom I saw explained that it would be rather difficult because of the organisation of the factory. I said that the factory would be organised into three parts. There would be the equipment, the operation and the security and we would just be interested in the operations, how the thing worked and what it did etc but the guy was extremely stubborn and made the point that with the building and plant not being equipped for this kind of thing we could lead to all kinds of problems about security etc. I was still in the middle of an argument trying to convince him when I awoke.

When I worked for … "he means “employed by”" – ed … Shearings, my coach tours were fun. I never stopped at the usual motorway service stations. I know that on one occasion I even managed to arrange a coffee break in a local monastery. People had their money’s worth. In all seriousness, if I could have taken them for a guided tour and coffee break around a nuclear power station, I would have done without a second thought.

When I was trying to organise myself I dropped a carton of milk that I was drinking into a bucket of cold water that was standing close by me. Of course all the milk and all the water mixed and I was extremely disappointed in that because I was enjoying that carton of milk .

And it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve done something stupid like that either.

The nurse came around to deal with my legs and to give me my injection. I’m not sure if I’ve told you that the blood test results came bac a few days ago – and they make grim reading.

But I’ve received the message loud and clear about the plaster on my operation from the other day. The nurse is ignoring it completely. He and his colleague think that I no longer need it, and medically they are probably correct.

However, psychologically I’m certain that I do, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, and tending to my psychological needs is just as important as attending to any other needs.

After he left, I had breakfast and carried on reading my book. And I’ve finally reached the part that interested me – that of Nelson Story’s famous cattle drive along the Bozeman Trail at the time of the Fetterman Massacre.

One of the reasons why it’s so interesting is that it was written 35 years after the disaster that befell Fetterman’s patrol along the Bozeman Trail near Fort Phil Kearny, which regular readers of this rubbish will recall that WE VISITED IN 2019, and after several public enquiries had been held to establish the true facts and after written memoirs had been published, the old myths, legends and falsehoods were still circulating.

Back in here after breakfast I did my Welsh homework. And to my dismay we weren’t asked for it. It wasn’t even discussed. Nevertheless, I suppose that there’s a point in doing it so I’ll press on

As I mentioned earlier, the Welsh lesson passed off quite well and I only fell asleep twice – but on both occasions there was a dramatic and instant awakening and the second time pumped enough adrenalin around to stay awake for the rest of the day.

At the end of the lesson I went into the kitchen for my cocoa and chocolate cake. The cake was nice and cold, having been in an airtight container in the fridge.

That’s at least one good thing to come out of this – that even though I’m trying to do away with plastic here, I can’t do without them completely and had to rescue a couple of containers from the stock that I’d put to one side

Once I’d wound down I chose the final track for the radio programme that I’d been editing, and written, the notes for it.

There’s one radio programme left of this batch that I recorded so I’ll start on that tomorrow.

But tomorrow I’m having my assessment. Not that it’s likely, but we could be moving into an entirely new ball-game. It wouldn’t be a disaster if I were to be placed in a Home, but it wouldn’t be far off. As long as it’s not a Home where the jacket fastens at the back.

Tea was a delicious taco roll with rice and veg. Plenty of stuffing left so its going to be a lovely leftover curry for tea tomorrow night, with rice and a naan bread.

So that’s me finished for the night. If I’m lucky I might have an early night but I’m not betting on it. There’s still plenty of stuff to do.

But going back to what I said earlier about going to the Monastery, we had a guided tour around the place
"But you can’t go in this room" explained the guide
"Why not?" asked one of the tourists
"It’s the … errr …. laundry" he replied
"What does he mean by that?" whispered another tourist
"He means that it’s where the monks go when they want to deal with their filthy habits" I explained.

Tuesday 23rd July 2024 – THESE LATE NIGHTS …

… and early mornings are slowly beginning to catch up with me.

After all, I can’t keep on going to bed at midnight and getting up at … gulp … 06:15 night after night and morning after morning without something giving in the middle.

This evening I should have been searching for an anonymous VPN somewhere to which I could have connected the computer so that I could have watched Ferencvaros v TNS but I was simply too tired to concentrate on what I was doing.

That’s a shame because in order to enable me to do it I’d rushed through the evening’s chores and had tea prepared and cooked on the tray ready to eat all within 28 minutes flat and if that’s not a record in recent times, I don’t know what is.

Actually, it wasn’t midnight when I went to bed last night. It might not actually have been 23:00 but it was a much more reasonable time nevertheless

And I was asleep quite quickly too. I don’t seem to need much rocking these days once STRAWBERRY MOOSE has tucked me up and read the bedtime story

However, I was awake yet again at some kind of silly hour. By 06:15 I’d given up any thought of going back to sleep and was actually up and about yet again.

After I’d had a wash and a shave I came back in here to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And what I dictated, verbatim, was Round about the early part of the morning I awoke from quite a deep sleep. A picture rolled into my mind that I needed to go to hospital to have my bandage re-fixed because it had slipped. However the district nurse managed to make it look a little better. When I went to hospital the first thing that they did was to ask me about the dressing so I explained what was happening about it so they set to to undo it to have a closer look. They had actually taken all of the bandage off before I was able to turn round on my heels all the way to the (… fell asleep here …)
So whatever is the significance of all that, I don’t know.

Next task was to write a letter.

Well, it wasn’t actually. It was to track down the siège social or “registered office” of a certain company and the name of its Director General. And then to write a letter.

It concerns the affairs at this hospital last week. I’ve decided to fight the good fight at the top of the tree by writing not to the hospital but to the Director General of the company.

Not that it will do much good. I don’t expect any results or anything at all to change, but seeing as I don’t have a spleen to vent these days, I have to find other ways of expressing my displeasure

The nurse was in a rush this morning. He gave me my injection, dealt with my legs and that was basically it. He didn’t hang around much at all.

But I wish that he’d put things away when he’s finished with them. My life is totally chaotic and disorganised and the only way that I can cope is by having a place for everything and everything in its place.

If something isn’t where it’s supposed to be or where I expect it to be, then I’m sunk. I can fall into some enormous depths of chaos totally on my own without any help from anyone else.

After he left I had a leisurely breakfast and then came in here for a nice, slow start to the day.

There’s been some good news this morning, which is nice, because as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

The recorded devilry letter to my tenant telling her that the lease isn’t to be renewed has been delivered and the receipt returned to the agent. And so it’s official that, barring any last-minute hiccups, I shall take possession in about 10 months time.

Mind you, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, there’s many a slip ‘twixt cup and lip. “Never be sure of the bird on your plate until you have your fork stuck in it”. I’ll believe all of this when I’m actually unlocking the front door with the genuine set of keys.

Although I feel bad about ending someone’s tenancy, it has to be said that firstly, if a property is offered for sale it has to be offered first to the sitting tenant. It’s changed hands twice since she’s been in there so she’s had two chances to buy it.

Secondly, this apartment in which I’m sitting right now is more-or-less identical to the one downstairs, apart from the 25 Steps it takes to climb up to it, and I have offered to swap accommodation so that she can move in here, but she’s turned down that opportunity

Once I’d come round into the Land of the Living I carried on with where I’d left off with the notes for the final radio programme that I dictated on Saturday night.

That’s all done now, the programme is prepared, the final track has been chosen and the notes for that written ready to dictate on Saturday night.

It took me long enough but I wasn’t in a hurry, and besides, I had a little … errrr … relax here and there while I was doing it.

Making tea tonight was a mad scramble to be ready in time for kick-off. Nevertheless my rice and taco roll were cooked to perfection and were delicious. But I couldn’t concentrate on trying to configure the computer for the football.

However we did end up with a football match, and what a match it was.

One of the biggest rivalries in football is in Ireland between Dundalk and Drogheda. Drogheda are bottom of the table, having been soundly beaten by Dundalk a short while ago in a match that triggered off all kinds of nonsense reminiscent of the worst days of the 1970s

And so we had the Irish Cup, where Drogheda were at home to … errr … Dundalk.

With a whole town itching for revenge in a packed cauldron of a stadium with an atmosphere you could cut with a knife this game was played at 100 miles per hour and ended with Drogheda having their revenge, winning 2-1.

The Dundalk fans were contained within the stadium by an enormous force of police until long after the Drogheda fans had dispersed and so the worst excesses of the previous match were avoided.

Which was a shame because it’s much more exciting when most of the action takes place on the terraces. We all need more passion in our lives. I know that I do.

There was something else that I saw earlier this afternoon that reminded me of the 1970s.

This modern habit of “playing the ball out of defence” that has led to more loss of possession and more goals conceded than I could ever imagine has been getting on my nerves this last couple of years.

But this afternoon I watched the highlights of a Scottish Cup game between Spartans and Bonnyrigg Rose where we had two goalkeepers really travelling back in time, launching enormous clearances out of their own penalty area into the opponents’ penalty area.

Modern players have forgotten, or never learned, how to deal with this kind of tactic and there was all kinds of chaos going on at the back. Nothing wrong with a return to the good old days of 6’5″ Ross Jack of Crystal Palace leading the line against battle-hardened centre-halves like Ian Ure and Gordon McQueen

So on that note I’m off to bed. It’s too dark for any more football anyway.

But that reminds me of the time Port Vale moved to their new ground at Burslem in the mid-1950s and they had their floodlights installed – one of the first grounds in England to have floodlights.
They wanted to have some sort of showcase occasion to celebrate the switching-on of their new floodlights and, according to the headlines in next day’s Evening Sentinel "Neighbours Stoke City did the honours with a match"

Wednesday 17th July 2024 – I CAN’T BELIEVE …

… the nerve, or cheek of some people.

Highway robbery at the point of a pistol is a fairly common phenomenon, but highway robbery at the point of a card reader is something else again.

But anyway, more of that anon. Retournons à nos moutons as they say around here. Where was I?

Ohh yes, finishing off my bread and carrot purée and going to bed.

But not to sleep, unfortunately. It was a long, long night listening to my neighbour snoring away and waiting for the inevitable 06:00 stampede as the nightshift dashes to finish off its tasks before the day shift comes on at 07:00.

They gave me a diabetes check and it went off the scale, so no orange juice for me which was a shame. But I’m convinced that their reader must be wrong. How could it be off the scale when I’ve had next-to-nothing to eat for 36 hours?

After breakfast (which included jam despite the diabetes check) a doctor came to see me. She didn’t have much to say for herself but I managed to winkle out of her that I’d be leaving at 10:30

With that news I contacted my faithful cleaner but she told me that she wouldn’t be home until 13:00. And so I asked the staff here if I could postpone my departure but I was told in no uncertain terms to sod off and like it.

With that news I sat down to transcribe the dictaphone notes from the night while I was waiting. Some doctor here was looking for an e-mail about my health but he’d filed it away somewhere on line and when he’d gone to fetch it back it had disappeared so he was found rounding up all of his colleagues to come and look, to see whether any of them could help to try to find out how to fetch it back

That sounds about right for “cloud” storage systems. Everyone else can access the document except the person who posted it there. I’m afraid that I still favour the old traditional method of copying to USB key. There’s one plugged into this computer into which I back up every night, and there’s a “travelling key” on my keyring that I use for moving documents about between the big desktop machine and the portable that I take with me when I go anywhere.

And then Zero had come to see me during the night. She was in something of a bad mood, saying that she had to go to see the physiotherapist a week on Monday. Her step-father insisted, so I wanted to find out why. She told me that it was to fetch the results, the “results” she said in inverted commas, so I imagined that it was something to do with an incident that had happened a couple of weeks earlier in respect of which a complaint had been lodged. I thought that this was going to be the decisive moment but for some reason or other she was clearly not happy at all about having to go and I couldn’t understand why

How lovely to see Zero again after all this time. Wasn’t it nice of her to come to see me? But it wasn’t very nice to see an unhappy Zero, that’s for sure. I much prefer the lovely smiling face, puffy cheeks, green flashing eyes and all those miles of vibrant red hair. But a “step-father”? What’s become of her real dad? That’s worth a story all by itself. I wonder if I’ll have part two of this episode any time soon.

While all of this was going on, someone from the admin office came to see me and asked about my Health Insurance. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I don’t have the State insurance system. I have a private health insurance paid for by the European Commission so I gave them the form and also a copy of the form that they can use to seek direct billing.

The above is quite important, as you’ll see as the story unfolds.

The taxi turned up for me bang on time so we went to the Admissions Office to collect the paperwork for leaving, and this was where I was “held up” with the card reader

"That’s One thousand five hundred and seventy two Euros and 68 cents please"

"You have my Health Insurance details there" I said "and a form to apply for direct billing"

"It’s an assurance that I don’t recognise" (like, the European Union and she doesn’t recognise it) "so you’ll have to pay"

She was totally and utterly intransigent, apart from being too utterly bone-idle to scan my documents and send them off.

So eventually I made it home and as the taxi driver was helping me up the 25 Steps the phone rang. It was Isabelle the nurse. She’d heard that I was back on the loose and would I like my legs seeing to?

A cheerful word and a smiling face is always welcome so I told her to come round. By the time she arrived, so had I and she was able to sort me out.

She wasn’t impressed with what the hospital want her to do. She didn’t think that it was her job but with a good grace (which was nice to find someone with good grace after this morning) she agreed to do it.

She needed a lot of equipment and material so she wrote herself out a prescription and said she’ll leave it at the pharmacy. My faithful cleaner can pick up the articles this afternoon.

When my cleaner came round later we went through the medication, worked out what we were short of, and she went down into town to do the business. Poor thing – she had a struggle to come back with all of the supplies for the nurse. She’ll have to bring some back tomorrow, bless her.

So in my nice clean kitchen I made a taco roll for tea with rice and veg. It should be “leftover curry” night tomorrow but it’s also football so it’ll be pasta and veg, with the curry on Friday. It’ll probably walk out of the fridge on its own by then.

So having washed my puttees tonight, I’m going to bed nice and early, still fuming about today’s events but hoping that if I’m lucky Zero will come to console me. Good news is hard to find and, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

But going back to the hospital, my room-mate had a rather bad habit of … errr … breaking wind. And it was quite embarrassing at times.
At one moment, whilst being examined, poked and prodded by a doctor he let out an extremely loud raspberry
Obviously, to save his embarrassment, the doctor turned to his nurse and said "stop that, nurse!"
"Certainly, doctor" she replied. "Which way did it go?"

Tuesday 2nd July 2024 – I CAN’T BELIEVE …

… (well, I can actually, because regular readers of this rubbish will recall that it’s always going like this with me) that as well as everything else through which I’m currently suffering and all of the aches and pains that go with it, I’ve now gone down with a severe bout of the ‘flu.

No wonder that I’ve not been feeling too well (relatively speaking) this last couple of days with all of this brewing away inside me, but it erupted last night. I’m now shivering, freezing, I’ve lost my voice, my nose and eyes are streaming and I have aches in places that I didn’t even know that I had places.

That’s a shame because last night even though it was quite late when I went to bed I was feeling something like normal and a lot more optimistic than I had been feeling for a while. So that didn’t last long, did it?

Round about 03:00 I awoke with my streaming nose and eyes. Even a liberal dose of Vick’s Vapour Rub didn’t seem to help all that much so I just lay there vegetating as best as I could, trying to doze off to sleep.

At about 06:00 I abandoned the struggle and took to my feet. I went into the bathroom for a wash and a change of clothes and by the time that the alarm went off at 07:00 I was at the computer working.

Much to my surprise, and yours too, I bet, there was plenty of stuff on the dictaphone. It must have been a very mobile night, that’s all I can say. We were discussing our school days, talking about the game of “tick and it” and how it differed between the way that it was played in France and the UK. It all came down in the end to whether one had had actually earned the confidence of your playmates or not. The discussion carried on for quite a while. There was one guy there who didn’t really have too much to say. One of the people asked him if he was married. He replied “oh I was taken once” and made tat beautiful Gallic gesture of throwing something over his shoulder like “well it’s all in the past – it’s all behind me”. I thought “yes, I can identify with all of that”. The conversation carried on but it was obvious that I could see that I was going to be the one who was “out” in this case. I didn’t seem to fit into the clique that everyone else had been creating.

And that doesn’t surprise me very much. I never learned how to socialise and wouldn’t know how to do it today. I’m much happier in my own company than in a room full of random strangers. Even in childhood, if there was an odd number of us and we had to be paired, I’d always be the one on his own. And it didn’t bother me in the slightest once I became used to the idea. But as for marriages not working, it’s rather too late in the day now to say that I should have worked harder in the right direction. But then again, had I stayed in The Land That Time Forgot, I’d probably still be driving a bus or a taxi, and I would have seen the inside of Shrewsbury Gaol and not as a tourist either. The storm clouds were definitely gathering and they chased me all the way down to Dover.

The computer came up with an error when I was downloading a file. It was a book that I was downloading from ARCHIVE.ORG. The message said that basically a certain extension was required to read it so I had to download that. I downloaded it and it seemed to take for ever. It was an enormous file so I wondered whether or not it was correct – whether I’d been the victim of some kind of phishing attack. I downloaded the program and tried to install it on my computer but while setting it up I came across another kind of discussion where this extension was being discussed so I stopped what I was doing, sat down and began to read the notes on this particular extension. This was where I awoke.

Yes, waking up in the middle of a phishing attack, and actually reading the notes too – that’s a new one for a computer program. Normally, most people just click on the “I Agree” box, mainly because they don’t understand the agreement and don’t have the motivation to read on down to the end. As for instructions, computer programs don’t actually work like that. You think of a function that it would be a good idea to have, you think “surely the program designer has already thought of this” and then you go by trial and error through the menu until you find the function or something that resembles it?

Later on we’d just been repairing and revictualling a Royal Navy battleship. Even though I wasn’t in the Navy I was quite used to giving commands to the crew now that the ship was prepared. I was ordering my assistants around making sure this was right, making sure that was right, going on about how things are going to be changing in the Navy soon. You wouldn’t be able to give orders like this – it would all have to be polite requests. We went on like this for some time, then in the end I said “we might as well have the men lined up” to my assistants so we dashed to the front of the ship and chalked the assembly points on the deck and shouted the ship’s company to assemble and come to attention

Civilians giving orders to matelots would be an interesting concept and I can’t see how that would work, except along the Dock Road in Liverpool during the hours of darkness in the good old days of the “Dockers’ Umbrella”, but that’s another story entirely. However many warships did set out to battle with their civilian repair and maintenance crews on board and a great many lost their lives.

And although I didn’t dictate this, I have a vague feeling of being out at Slochd Summit in charge of a breakdown crew in a heavy snowstorm clearing a track for the trains through the snowdrifts

In the middle of this the nurse turned up. I’d rung him to tell him that I didn’t think that he should come. After all, I don’t want to pass over to his other patients whatever it is that I’ve caught but he didn’t seem too bothered so why should I worry?

He sorted out my legs, gave me today’s Injection of the Last Resort and then cleared off. He had recommended a medication to deal with the ‘flu so I sent a message to my faithful cleaner and then had a slow, leisurely breakfast.

Today has been a very slow day, slower than usual and although I didn’t actually crash out at all, which is surprising, I may as well have done for all the good that I was doing at times. But at least I have achieved my target for today, which was to edit the last lot of notes that I’d dictated and prepare the relevant programme.

The final song has been selected, the text has been written, and all that I need is a nice quite moment to dictate everything. But when that is likely to be, I really have no idea.

The cleaner turned up in mid -afternoon. The pharmacist had warned her off the product that the nurse recommended and anted to know my exact symptoms so I duly obliged. Half an hour later she was back with something that the pharmacist thinks is more suitable.

And who am I to argue?

Tea was a delicious taco roll with rice and veg, and plenty of stuffing left over for a leftover curry tomorrow. That should be delicious.

And in a mad fit of enthusiasm, before going to bed I washed my puttees and rolled up the ones that I’d washed last week so that we can use them from tomorrow;

But going back to life along the Dock Road in the days of the “Dockers Umbrella” I knew a girl who married a sailor. And everyone told her that if he suggested "the other way" she was to flatly refuse.
So for the first few months of wedded bliss things were going fine but this thing about “the other way” was playing on her mind and on her curiosity. And it eventually got the better of her.
"Why don’t we … errrr … try it the other way?" she suggested meekly.
"What?" exclaimed the sailor in astonishment "and fill the house up with screaming kids?"

Tuesday 25th June 2024 – SO IT’S OFFICIAL.

The anaesthetist “wants to see me” and has set aside 16:45 on Wednesday 3rd July for the purpose.

And then the operation will take place on 16th July. I shall be there overnight because given my opinions of hospital, operations, blood and gore as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I have elected for the “General anaesthetic” rather than the local anaesthetic.

There’s no way in this World that I’ll be lying there watching a local anaesthetic slowly wear off and catching sight of what is going on.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall my adventures in Castle Anthrax a few years ago where they turned up unannounced in my room, whisked me and my bed off to the cellar clamped a gas mask over my face, said “smell this” and the next thing that I knew, it was four hours later and I’d had a surgical operation.

Even today, I still don’t know what they did, and that suits me fine. If all operations went like that, I’d have more of them. But this modern 21st-Century society where I have to be informed of each step and each procedure in graphic detail and formally agree to them.
"But it’s your right!" they wail.
But what about MY right not to want to know? No-one cares about my rights.

As long as the operation is in the morning. TNS are playing in the Champions’ League that evening. That time in Castle Anthrax I missed Newtown v Caernarfon

Meanwhile, abandoning another good rant for the moment, last night was again horribly late by the time that I went to bed. I just don’t seem to be able to make the time go any slower

Yes, when we were kids, our six weeks of summer holiday used to last for ever. Now six weeks goes in the blinking of an eye.

And once in bed, I didn’t need much rocking yet again. It’s lovely and warm and comfortable in there, just me and STRAWBERRY MOOSE tucked up tight.

Not so comfortable that I didn’t awaken before the alarm went off. When I awoke at about 06:00 I made some kind of comment and I’m certain that I had some kind of reply from someone sleeping in the next bed about life in the RAF. Of course, then then kind of thing evaporated and I realised that it really was 06:30 and I really was awake in my own bed with my own things

And that was weird too. It really did sound as if there was someone else in the room. And it wasn’t His Nibs either. If only he could talk, he would have a few tales that he could tell that would be worth a good few bob to anyone who might be interested.

He could tell me a few tales too of when he’s been let loose on his own in the company of ladies of the opposite sex.

But returning to the dream, I’ve no idea what was happening there.

I also have a vague impression of walking through Shavington en route for somewhere else, just using one crutch and feeling quite confident about it too

If only I could walk with one crutch. I used to be able to do that up until about 9 months ago but how my mobility has reduced over that period of time. There are times when I’m hard-pushed to walk with two these days.

Just to prove that I can do it when I really try, I pushed myself out of bed before the alarm went off. Only by five minutes, it has to be said, but five minutes is five minutes and they all count.

After a good wash and scrub up I loitered around for a while transcribing the dictaphone (such as they were) until the nurse came round.

When he arrived I told him about the prescription to which he readily agreed, and then he cleared off without writing one out. I hope that he does it back at the office and drops it off in the morning.

Once he’d finally gone I made breakfast – porridge and toast with orange juice and strong coffee. And believe me, I needed it.

There wasn’t much time to revise or review my Welsh before the lesson started, and having missed a week, Bane of Britain revised the wrong module. But it makes no difference because I’m rubbish whether I revise or not.

And having given the matter serious thought, as well as studying next year as normal, I’m definitely going to retake this year in an evening class with another provider because I’ve missed so much of it with hospital and all of that, and I don’t want to embarrass Coleg Cambria by doing it with them.

The difficulty is finding a provider who offers “North Welsh”.

For the southern dialect there are more courses than you can shake a stick at. It’s not too much of a problem because my grandmother came from down south even though she lived most of her life up in the north-east so I’m used to hearing both dialects. But I’m definitely a “North-id”. Bangor University is affiliated to the “LearnWelsh” programme so they might have something.

After the end of the lesson, when we all went our separate ways for the summer holidays, I changed the habits of a lifetime and had a sandwich seeing as I won’t be having my mid-afternoon snack.

And then I made myself ready for my trip to Avranches.

The trip down there was the first time that I’d felt tired? but I soon livened up when I couldn’t get out of my chair and everyone in the building had to rally round and help. Fancy a hospital waiting room with no arms on their chairs!

Anyway, the surgeon played ball, which was nice. He understood my fears, mumbled his way through what he was supposed to say, didn’t say anything else and asked if I agreed with what he’d just said.

How could I do anything else?

Next step will be the anaesthetist. He wants to “see me” – I suppose, in the same way that the executioner looks over the condemned man. I’m already feeling rather uncomfortable and we haven’t started yet.

We had a full car going home – it seems as if we went to every medical establishment in Avranches on some sort of Cook’s Tour to pick up everyone heading to this neck of the woods.

Back here I was first out, and my faithful cleaner helped me up the steps, standing behind me lifting up my foot with hers.

This can’t go on much longer. I don’t have the force to keep on dragging myself up the handrail, and neither does she, I suspect. I can only see an unpleasant future of doom and gloom if this carries on. And if I have dialysis, I’ll be doing it three times per week at least.

Once I was home I sat down – and crashed out. I was dead to the World.

Only 20 minutes late starting tea. At least it was taco roll with rice so it didn’t need much preparation.

As for me, neither do I. I’ll be in bed before you know it and there I intend to stay until my name changes to Rip van Epic. I am totally wasted after this afternoon – and I have to do it tomorrow too. That’s when I go to see Emilie the cute consultant’s sidekick.

But as I said, I’m off to bed to reflect on the events of the day and mull over the words of the surgeon – at least, the words that I understood.
"I’ve listened to you for fifteen minutes" I told him "but I’m still none-the-wiser"
"Maybe not" he replied "but you’re certainly better-informed."

Tuesday 28th May 2024 – “YOU ARE REQUESTED …

… to come for an appointment at the hospital at Avranches on Friday morning at 09:00. Ohhh – and bring your overnight things”.

Things are moving faster than I even expected and it’s rather important because this weekend I have friends coming over from Germany to visit me. I bet that they didn’t expect to come to visit me in a hospital bed.

But yet more visits? More visits this year than I’ve had in all the other years combined since I’ve been living here. Anyone would think that I’m dying or something.

Last night I actually felt like dying. I’d done all that I could to have an early night and then the fates conspired against me, one thing led to another, and once you begin you’ve no idea how many other things there are. As a result I was late into bed once more.

However I actually found it a little easier to crawl into bed last night and turning over through the pain barrier into the only position in which it’s possible at the moment to be comfortable was nothing like as painful as it has been

My legs were well inside the bed too which meant that I didn’t fall out once which was an improvement on the previous night. Nevertheless I was awake a long time before the alarm went off and wandering around the bathroom when it finally did ring.

No blood test today for some reason. He’s going to do it tomorrow, which probably means that I won’t have my injection of the Last Resort until Thursday, if it’s not too late by then

But I do wish that he’d stop moaning. Things may well not be pleasant for him around here right now, but imagine how they are for me. Don’t you think that I’d change things if I could?

After he left I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There wasn’t actually anything on it but that’s not to say that I didn’t go anywhere.

In fact I had the greatest memory of another one of those really long dreams that I’m sifting through my head before I dictate them, just like the other night. This was a lengthy newspaper article that I was writing about how unjust it is to blame goalkeepers for their errors on the field. A keeper who lets a shot roll in under his body has no more lost the game for his club than the centre-forward who misses a sitter. Yet you see plenty of “goalkeeper error” videos but very rarely a “centre forward error” one.

What started this. I suppose, was a game that I saw the other day between Annan Athletic Under 17s and Threave Rovers Under 17s when the Annan keeper was yellow-carded for “deliberate handball” giving away a freekick that led to a goal by Threave Rovers. The game was being played on a sports centre pitch where there were five different sets of markings and he simply carried the ball out to the wrong set of lines. So what I was doing in my sleep was going through lists of games where a keeper had made a mistake and conceded a bad goal and a striker had missed a sitter in front of goal, and comparing who was blamed for the defeat.

Of course, each time that I thought that I’d had my list ready to dictate I remembered something else and had to start my list again. But I was awake before I could do that.

Coffee and delicious flapjack were next, then back in here I didn’t do all that much for a while.

A ring on the doorbell, a real one this times, jogged me into action. It was the doctor. He took one look at me and almost collapsed with shock.

He gave me a good going-over and reckoned that I ought to have a spell in hospital – “and not just a couple of days either”. He’d “have a word with the nephrology professor” at Avranches about me

So after he left I began to bring my medical file up-to-date, weeding out all of the time-expired stuff and adding in the new stuff. You’ve no idea how much has changed over the past few weeks.

My prescription – I’d given than to the nurse this morning. I had to print off another one along with yet more paperwork.

In the middle of all of this the hospital at Avranches rang up with the convoquation. So here we go.

Firstly, I had to book the taxi to take me. Secondly, I had to tell Paris where I was going just in case I can’t make their appointment on the 10th of June.

The doctor’s office rang me back later too “there’s another medicament …” so I had to contact my poor cleaner. And having one hospital take me off the Burinex for something else, Avranches has now put me back on the Burinex. And that’s just as well because I never had these problems when I was taking that.

In the middle of all of this I’d been doing some radio stuff. I’d started by choosing some music for another programme but with the news that I had, I verified three more programmes and sent them off. I told you that it’s a good idea to have a few prepared in advance.

At long last I could go for tea – a taco roll with rice and veg. Totally delicious as usual. I really do like my boring meals. They are totally different from what I’ll be eating in a few days time. I hope that some of you will be sending me food parcels.

But that’s for another time. I’m living from day to day here – in fact, from minute to minute. Getting into bed is the next challenge

The hospital should be fun – in the sense of interaction with others. I don’t see enough people, stranded as I am in my apartment. I know that regular readers of this rubbish will recall having told me that I need to get out more.

But it’s going to be a struggle for them at Avranches. Last time I was there I heard more than one nurse say, as I was climbing into the taxi to take me home "if he comes back, I’m leaving!"

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: taco roll

Tuesday 8th October 2024 – AS SEEMS TO BE …

Tuesday 1st October 2024 – WHEN THE ALARM …

Wednesday 24th September 2024 – YOU’VE NO IDEA …

Tuesday 17th September 2024 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

Tuesday 10th September 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

Tuesday 3rd September 2024 – I HAD A LOVELY …

Sunday 1st September 2024 – SUNDAY NIGHT IS …

Tuesday 27th August 2024 – I HAVE MADE …

Tuesday 20th August 2024 – I WAS GOING …

Tuesday 13th August 2024 – DAY TWO …

Tuesday 23rd July 2024 – THESE LATE NIGHTS …

Wednesday 17th July 2024 – I CAN’T BELIEVE …

Tuesday 2nd July 2024 – I CAN’T BELIEVE …

Tuesday 25th June 2024 – SO IT’S OFFICIAL.

Tuesday 28th May 2024 – “YOU ARE REQUESTED …

Your reactions

Excellent

Useful

Interesting

Weird

Surprising

Boring