Wednesday 2nd October 2024 – I’VE HAD ANOTHER …

… shower today. And you have absolutely no idea how nice it was and how much better I feel having had a really good soak under the jet of water

And I needed it too. Because I had a wretched night.

As I was finishing off the notes last night I began to feel that mysterious stabbing pain that I sometimes have in my right foot. Within half an hour I was absolutely doubled up in agony. It was the most severe attack that I have had to date and I have never hurt so much in all my life.

It was round about 01:30 when the need for sleep was such that it finally overwhelmed the pain and agony of what was going on and I could crawl into bed.

Despite the pain I did manage to fall asleep but it was a fitful, pitiful sleep that didn’t really do anyone, least of all, me, any good at all
.
When the alarm went off I crawled out of bed, still wracked by pain, and made my way into the bathroom where I had a good wash and scrub up despite everything.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone and, to my surprise, there was something recorded on there. It can’t have been such a bad night after all. I was with Roxanne and Laurence. We were wandering somewhere around Avranches and it was lunchtime. I was having health problems with this really bad attack of pain in the foot so I decided that I would have to sit down. I couldn’t walk any further. So we were sitting down on a chair alongside a wall somewhere. Suddenly I felt a splash on my shoulder. We were right underneath a bird’s nest. The two of us moved and sat at another table and had a chat for a while. Then she announced that she was going to have to go because she had to go to look for a job etc. She wasn’t sure how long it would take, whether her gran would help her but she needed to begin to move. She stood up and I pointed to a petrol station, the one that we had visited the other day, and said that I’d be waiting there if she decides to come back this way and Roxanne can meet me there if she likes. She said that she’d make a note of it and wandered off one way and I hobbled down to this garage as best as I could

What’s surprising about this is that even in a dream, I could remember an earlier dream. And it’s hardly likely that, even in a dream, I’d forget the pain that was stabbing my foot and running through my body along the central nerve

When the nurse came I mentioned to him about the pain in my foot but he didn’t seem to be interested. I think quite honestly that his heart isn’t in his work and he’s just going through the motions. It’s no surprise that his oppo is loaded up and snowed under with little tasks because I can’t be the only person who thinks like this.

After he left, I made breakfast and MY BOOK. Our author, Thomas Wright, is visiting the Medway Megaliths, a collection, of which Kit’s Coty House is one, of prominent megaliths in the Medway valley in Kent.

There’s a delightful, whimsical account of the excavation at which he assisted, of a prehistoric barrow on the chalk uplands at Holborough. They didn’t find much in the barrow but I carried out some further research, and it turned out that, unbeknown to them, while they were looking at the barrow they were standing on top of an Anglo-Saxon cemetery.

This only came to light when the Portland Cement company, who had bought the land to quarry the chalk for cement, began to unearth human bones in the 1940s. They stopped work and called in the archaeologists who uncovered 37 graves from the early Saxon period.

However, Thomas Wright had every reason to fear for the future of historically important artefacts. I tracked down the report of the excavation of the graves and there, in back-and-white, in chilling detail, is written that the archaeologists had learned that in 1943 a grave was uncovered and in there, apart from the human remains, there were two iron spearhads “that were disposed of to a scrap-metal merchant”.

That’s the Portland Cement company in 1943.

But that aside, here’s another little conundrum

A couple of days ago we were visiting all of the Roman ironworks around the Weald in the South-East of England, and that made me think.

Interestingly, our hero observes that Roman ironworking stopped practically dead in the Fifth Century and there was nothing for several centuries until a very primitive Saxon forge was uncovered, using nothing like the comparatively sophisticated techniques of the Romans.

In the days of the Romans the ironfields down there were the third most important iron-producing area in the whole of the Roman Empire, and once they restarted they slowly set off and as techniques evolved, still nothing like what the Romans could manage, they kept on going with a massive output almost until the 19th Century when coke replaced charcoal as the preferred fuel and the big Black Country industrial centres took off.

The current way of “politically-correct” thinking is that the Saxons, when they arrived, didn’t massacre the native British population but everyone lived quite happily side by side and gradually assimilated into one coherent race.

But leaving aside the absolutely overwhelming preponderance of Saxon place names in most of England and parts of Eastern Wales, all writing suddenly came to a dead stop until the monks like Alcuin and Bede began to assert themselves, urban life in the Roman towns came to a dead stop and the major, important Roman ironworks suddenly came to a dead stop and never really restarted.

It seems to me that there was a massive loss of all of the proto-Roman skills, most of which never ever restarted restarted. Take concrete, for instance. The Romans made massive use of concrete but it wasn’t until John Smeaton developed a technique in the 18th Century that it became a reliable construction material again. And the rediscovery of seawater-proof concrete is comparative recent.

All of this seems to suggest to me that there was a complete ethnic cleansing of the type that Pol Pot and Hitler would have been really proud. Even they managed to keep alive enough intellectuals to run the very basic needs of the societies that they had taken over.

Of course, “absence of evidence” is a totally different thing than “evidence of absence” but had here been some evidence, I’m sure that it would have been unearthed by now. But there’s nothing.

Meanwhile back at the ran … errr … apartment I wrote off to the Centre de Re-education to say that I can’t come on 2nd December. They wrote back to tell me to communicate with them again when my programme is more clear, so I sent them another message to say that it won’t ever be any clearer than it is and presumably they are still thinking about their next move.

Most of the rest of the day has been spent finishing off the notes for the radio programme and doing some more stuff about my visit to Jersey two years ago, one of my very last adventures.

There was an interruption when my cleaner came in to do her stuff, and she helped me organise myself so that I could have a shower.

Putting the wooden box on the chair so that I could swivel myself into the bath easier was a master-stroke and worked perfectly, and much easier than last time when it was something of a battle to find my way into the tub.

Propping myself up with a crutch could soap myself down as far as I could reach, and I relied on the force of the rinsing water to clean the rest.

With the seat of the chair much higher because of the box I felt much more confident about sitting down from a standing position and it was much easier to swivel myself out of the bathtub.

So now here I am, a nice clean boy with nice clean hair and how nice it all feels. Nevertheless, I can’t wait to be downstairs, rip out the bath and have a walk-in shower installed. Then it will be a shower every day

Regrettably, for the first time for several days, I crashed out. But only for something like half an hour and after the wretched night that I’d had, it really wasn’t any surprise so I’m not disappointed.

Tea tonight was a beautiful leftover curry with rice, veg and a naan bread. That’s the last of the naan bread dough and I’ll have to make some more next week.

So now having finished my notes, I’m off to bed to catch up on my beauty sleep now that the pain has subsided somewhat. And don’t I need it?

But all of this talk about archaeology and graves reminds me of the archaeologist who had been on an excavation of a historic cemetery.
He wrote to his parents about his discoveries, saying "in one grave we found a skeleton wrapped in an ermine cloak with a big gold chain around his neck and a crown on his head. He was all dressed up like a Count."
His father turned to his mother and said "Look at this! All that money we spent on his education and he still can’t spell!"

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!"

Monday 30th September 2024 – I SAW EMILIE …

… the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

She came to see how I was doing and her first words to me were "have you considered having your dialysis done at home?"

It looks as if our little romance is over, not that there ever was one at the beginning.

After all, the Hippocratic Oath that all doctors are obliged to take goes something along the lines of "you can make a patient out of your Mistress, but not a Mistress out of your patient".

And, I imagine, these days with all of these female doctors, I imagine that the oath has now become unisex

Last night anyway I dashed off to bed in eager anticipation of a possible encounter today, but my encounter with my pillow was rather later than I would have liked. I still can’t find the way to my bed at any kind of respectable hour.

For a few hours I managed a decent sleep too but I awoke early and then just spent the rest of the time tossing and turning and occasionally falling asleep until the alarm went off.

At the sound of the alarm I was with a couple of girls in a café. We were discussing some obscure English. I was explaining to her about the diphthong “EA”, giving her the example such as “heather”. We were talking about that for a while. Then the subject moved on to the triangular sign that you would see on a cassette keyboard so we were reminiscing about the old cassette players, the triangular arrow and the two triangular arrows, one key with two triangular arrows going one way and another key with two triangular arrows going another way. Then there was the key with a square on it, a key with a red dot on it. We were talking about all of this. These girls had grown up in the era of media and those buttons wouldn’t mean very much to them.

That’s something with which I have difficulty coming to terms. Never mind computers, I remember life before cassette tapes. I forget how old I am and that many people don’t have the same experience. Back in the good old days before I moved into the Real World I was bringing a coach and a hostess back from somewhere and as we were empty I put on a tape.
"What’s this music?" she asked.
And so I told her what it was. And added "it was recorded in 1971"
"1971?" she exclaimed "I wasn’t even born then!"
God knows what a girl of 19 would make of my choice of music today.

In the bathroom I washed myself and then washed my socks and undies, picking a clean pair off my bathroom octopus that hangs from the shower curtain rail. And then I had a shave and applied a liberal helping of deodorant. Must look my best in case I meet the aforementioned.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. I was out on the West Coast with Marty Balin and that lot. They wanted a bassist because their last bassist had had trouble with the USA Government so they called for me to ask me if I would come down. I went down and met them, and happened to mention that I was having trouble with the USA Government too. It considered me to be a citizen and wanted all my taxes and for me to go to join the Military etc. The Chinese guy who was there said that I had told him to put my name down on the form. I replied that that was the Census that wanted to know everyone who was where at a certain place at a certain time. We had a lengthy discussion about that. I was sure that nothing would ever come of it, but anyway … That night there was a party so I went to join in. I was more talking about business. I was with a girl who wanted to know that if she subscribed, what would she receive for her money. I didn’t really know myself so I tried to tell her some kind of vague story but she wanted some more precise details from that. In the meantime there was a stash of money about the place. This was in danger of disappearing so I took it and hid it about my person. I was sure that someone would be bound to say something about it and point the finger at me but I thought that it was all getting completely out of hand, just like anything on the West Coast when once the evil substances started to be passed around, then anything could happen and usually did, and it was usually to the detriment of those who were naïve enough to think that they were going to do the best for everyone.

In the past I’ve met loads of well-meaning people and almost inevitably, almost all of them have been taken for a ride by the more unscrupulous members of society. And as for life in a commune, my experience was such that I went to live in a van instead.

The nurse apologised for being late but she had a considerable number of blood tests to do. That made me laugh. It’s her last day and her first day was full of blood tests too. As I explained to my faithful cleaner later, I think that the clients of this little nursing circle have sussed out her oppo. I know which one of the two nurses I would rather have when it comes to sampling my blood and I reckon that all the other clients feel the same.

After she’d left I had breakfast and read MY BOOK

Our hero has now left Portus Lemanis and is now at Anderida, another “Saxon Shore” fort, this time at Pevensey just down the coast. Once more, he’s bewailing the lost treasures, the demolished walls and so on, and spends a lot of time theorising, much of which was confirmed by later excavations

Back in here I put a spurt on. Firstly I reviewed my Welsh from last week and completed the first part of the homework. Secondly I chose the first ten tracks for the next radio programme, and thirdly I reviewed the programme that will hopefully be broadcast this weekend and, satisfied, I sent it off.

While all of that was going on, our little travel group was having a good and lively chat. It’s nice to keep up with people, especially as I don’t see Alison as often as I used to, or, indeed, as often as I would like. And the same goes for the others too.

Mind you, I don’t know where that impressive burst of energy and concentration came from.

That took me nicely up to the arrival of my cleaner who applied my anaesthetic patches with her usual dexterity.

And her I upset her. I told her that I nearly spilled my breakfast porridge all over me because the microwave is not too high. So we worked out that we could lower its shelves three notches if we were to move the baking trays around and swap the rest of the stuff round on the two shelves.

The taxi came early again while I was in the middle of organising the baking bowls so leaving them on the worktop I hit the streets.

Today’s driver was the young, friendly one and we had a good chat all the way through the rainstorms to Avranches

Some of Saturday’s weight loss has stayed lost, I’m pleased to say. And the “plugging in” was quite a lot less painful that other times. One of the nurses wanted to try out her English so we had a few little chats.

Emilie the Cute Consultant came to enquire after my well-being. No more friendly, social chit-chat perched on the edge of my bed. Instead she gave me a very broad hint that I ought to clear off. Maybe she really is a regular reader of this rubbish.

To pass the time I began to tidy up a few of the directories and, deep in the bowels of the computer, I came across a football match that I’d recorded but never seen, dating from 2019, Y Bala v Airbus. So now I can file that under CS too.

After they unplugged me I weighed myself again and I’d lost the grand total of 300 grammes. I want to lose a lot more than that.

The taxi driver had to wait a while for me and she already had a passenger with her. Ahh well, can’t be helped. But we had a nice little chat on the way home.

Having texted my cleaner earlier, she was waiting for me and watched as I made it up the stairs. Even managing the first one without lifting my knee up with my hand.

In here we sorted out the shelves and its now much more reasonable, as I found out later while cooking my delicious stuffed pepper

Now it’s time for bed, ready for tomorrow and my Welsh lesson.

During our on-line chat this morning the others were laughing at me because I’ve applied the deodorant “in case Emilie the Cute Consultant is on duty”.
It remind sme of when a solicitor had been searching for me in Brussels for several years and finally caught up with me.
"Mr Hall!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you? We thought that you might have been dead for years!"
"No he isn’t" said his assistant. "He just smells like it"

Sunday 29th September 2024 – TONIGHT’S PIZZA …

… was exceptional

Fresh dough that rose like a lift, that lovely cheese that my cleaner found for me, and the pièce de résistance, which is not a French virgin, Rhys, it was the home-made tomato sauce.

When I put the new tomatoes away on Friday I noticed two tomatoes left over that were looking distinctly the worse for wear. Ordinarily they would have been filed under CS but I decided to try an experiment.

Being now a member of “LIDL on-line” (God help me) I can now access their recipes. And they have about 300 vegan recipes, one of which I noticed was for tomato sauce.

So as I wound up everything last night by dictating the radio notes that I’d written, I resolved to make use of the two tomatoes, to see what I could do. And then I went to bed.

It was rather later than I would have liked it to be, but once more I didn’t stay awake for long. I was soon away with the fairies and there I stayed for a few hours.

At one point in the morning I awoke in a cold sweat thinking that it was Christmas Day. I’ve no idea why I did that. It was probably with having talked about Christmas previously but it was a very strange thing to happen. It really was quite a panic-stricken situation for a few seconds.

And then about half an hour later I dreamed that the cleaner had come in and shouted my name. Of course, that’s highly unlikely but even so, I’m really degenerating into a bad state. I’m not yet at the stage of locking the bedroom door but I shall have to take precautions. There are a few dreams that you would like to come true, but that’s not one of them.

When the alarm went off I was feeling terrible and it was quite a struggle to haul myself to my feet. Added to that the fact that it’s freezing. The weather has suddenly turned to winter almost overnight and it’s officially “jumper on” weather as far as I’m concerned. It won’t be long before it’s “big coat” weather, followed by “hat and gloves” weather.

Not that I felt like it but I had a good wash again this morning. With perspiring as I do in bed and a nurse that comes in the morning I can’t lounge around like I used to and go for several weeks in an unkempt fashion.

Back in here I hardly had the computer switched on when the nurse arrived. She chatted away as she fixed my legs and showed me some photos of her holiday in Brittany just now.

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK. My author, Thomas Wright, has now moved on from Dover.

If you were to read the WIKIPEDIA ENTRY FOR PORTUS LEMANIS situated on a cliff overlooking a drained arm of the sea that now forms part of Romney Marsh, you’ll notice that it’s not very useful for its architecture and remains.

It nots that “The site is still relatively unknown: the only major archaeological excavations were carried out by Roach Smith in 1850 and 1852”. And here I am, reading a book that tells me about the time when Thomas Wright was there with Charles Roach Smith helping out and doing part of the excavations.

His report is probably the clearest and most useful source of information about the fort and yet none of it is included in the Wikipedia entry.

By the way, regular readers of this rubbish may recall me having made certain “disparaging” remarks about Wikipedia. Don’t misunderstand me – it’s a great source to go to when you are starting your research and want to establish the background, but look at the entry and at the bottom you’ll see “References”, “sources” and “External Links”. They are the places to go to if you want to follow it up

Many of the older books are available on-line for download free and for nothing with such sites as the Gutenberg Project, my own favourite, ARCHIVE.ORG or the Google book-scanning project, and then you can check the sources used by the author of these books to find out where he had his information, if it isn’t first-hand knowledge.

And then work backwards from there, and so on. And so, like Nansen said, "the more extensive my studies became, the more riddles I perceived – riddle after riddle led to new riddles and this drew me on"

Back in my little office here I attacked the dictaphone to hear what I was doing during the night. My friends from the Wirral were coming round to Shavington. We had some kind of thing going on. It was quite early in the morning and I was out doing something when I saw them. So I drove like a maniac, overtook them dangerously so they flashed and blew their horns because they didn’t recognise the car, and then took the short cut home so that I was actually opening the gates to the drive when they turned up There was a friend with them, another girl, so the three of them were busy unloading things like bottles of cider, gallons of oil, things like that that they’d bought from the UK for me and I was stocking them somewhere. They had all kinds of exciting stuff. When my friend pulled into the driveway I told him to park down at the far end of the driveway as father would be home and he’d want to park in here too. They’d brought a crate with them too. One of the girls, I think that it was my friend’s wife, said “we’ve brought our furbabies with us too”. There were two cats in there. I thought that I hoped that they’d get on well with my two cats. We were busy unloading this thing when there were people round there interviewing everyone because we were going to do something to do with renewable energy, that sort of thing, and this was something quite novel for back in those days for a newspaper report or two. But it all felt so unreal and uneasy. I wasn’t really comfortable or at my ease doing this but I’d no idea why.

In fact, going back all those years, my friend’s wife, when she was a student did bring a friend with her a couple of times when she and my friend came to visit. But young, naïve, stupid me had absolutely no idea that she was trying to match us together until much later. And that’s not the first time that a similar thing has happened. I wondered why a friend in Chester used to bring his sister with him all the time when he came round to my bedsit. I really was that thick

But as for renewable energy, I was way ahead of my time. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I had solar panels and wind turbines on my farm as long ago as 1998. No mains electricity at all. And when I lived down there full-time from 2006 to 2015 there was still no mains electricity. It was all solar or wind.

No running water either. The mains water didn’t arrive in the hamlet until 1977 and my house had been abandoned before then so it missed out. Putting my Degree to work, I built a rainwater harvesting system with home-made water filters using volcanic ash – puzzolane – and sand. Where we lived, there was never any shortage of volcanic ash, that’s for sure.

Later on there were several cases concerning Immigration up before the Bench at the Old Bailey. The defendants were being assisted by a young Afro-type of guy who was doing the translations for them. Whether or not they were all speaking the same language he was doing it for all four or five of them. The barrister was a young Ethiopian or someone like that, a previous refugee who’d come across. He was a pupil in Chambers somewhere. At one particular hearing the Judge was unable to attend so it was the Recorder who took over the chair. There was a submission being made by the defence for an adjournment. The Recorder was actually one of the Seniors of the same Bench as the junior Immigrant barrister. What he was saying was absolutely awful about “how this case, if he loses it, is going to set back his career etc”. The guy asked “how could I do the best to advance my career?”. The Senior guy was really sneering at him with some quite offensive comments that some might have considered to be racist, especially in today’s climate in the UK. As a spectator I was horrified by what was coming out of the Bench. There was absolutely no place for any of this . It was completely out of order, completely irrelevant and completely offensive.

There have been some horrible scenes that I have witnessed in a Court at times, but I’m more impressed about what I can remember about the judiciary when I’m fast asleep. Nothing of what I have typed is different from that which I dictated, except maybe changing the odd “that” for “which” or “who”.

At some point during the night I had a feeling (but I didn’t record it) that I was telling a joke to a publican. It took him several minutes but eventually he “got it”. And I wish that I could remember what the joke was now. But it’s not the first time that I haven’t recorded something that I was convinced had occurred. There was even something once involving Castor. I wonder what else I might have missed.

And then I watched Stranraer lose to Stirling Albion. This was by far and away the worst game that I have ever witnessed. Stranraer lost 2-0 and they were lucky to get nil, that’s for sure. Bottom of the table again, and even so early in the season, they need to find some magic from somewhere, and quickly.

After lunch I did some tidying up in the kitchen, putting stuff away and so on, and then I had some personal stuff that needed my attention.

Once that was out of the way there was the radio programme. And in a wild fit of enthusiasm I bashed through the notes and actually finished it right off. What helped was that adding in the additional track and writing the notes and adding them in led to an overrun of just one third of a second. And it can’t be any better than that.

Following that, I made some pizza dough because I have now officially run out. I thought that I’d found some in the freezer but it turned out to be the leftover hash browns.

This batch of dough didn’t rise as well as some of the previous lots but it had a good consistency. I split it into three lots and put two in the freezer. The third, I rolled out onto the tray and left it to rise.

Wile it was rising, I –

chopped up half a small onion and a garlic clove really finely
poured a little olive oil into a saucepan
added the onion and garlic
followed by the two really soft tomatoes
A pinch of salt,
a dash of ground black pepper
some oregano, basil and marjoram to taste
Bring it to the boil and let it simmer, stirring constantly, until it reaches the consistency you want

That went on the pizza base, and then I piled on everything else and baked it. And wasn’t it just exquisite? I shall have to make that tomato sauce again without doubt

So right now, late again, I’m going to bed.

But the idea of taking precautions reminded me about the guy with twelve children whose wife was being interviewed by the Social Services. "Every Sunday afternoon after lunch" she said "my husband takes me into the bedroom and … errr … well, you know …"
"Every Sunday afternoon?" asked the Social Services person
"Ohh yes, every Sunday" she affirmed
"Do you take precautions?" asked the Social Services person again
"My husband does" said the woman
"What does he use?" asked the Social Services person once more
"A screwdriver"
"A screwdriver?"
"Yes " replied the woman. "He takes the handle off the outside of the door so none of the other kids can come in."

Saturday 28th September 2024 – ONE MORE DAY …

… in the Dialysis Clinic followed by another late night, followed by an early start on a Sunday again for the nurse. It’s relentless, all of this and there is no end in sight. Furthermore, I doubt if there ever will be.

But what happens at Christmas? It would surprise me (but there again, nothing surprises me any more) if the clinic were to be open on Christmas Day. And even if it were, would there be a taxi to take me? There are all these little things about which I need to think.

But not right now, of course. I’m beyond thinking. I’ve had a tough day, I’m deathly tired but I still have a lot to do so it’s going to be a late night.

Much later than last night in fact. And it was after midnight then when I could finally wrench myself out of my chair and into the bathroom. And that was when I noticed the cascade of blood from a wound in my leg. So off we go again. I’m fed up of that as well.

What I did in the end is to take one of the nurses’ sterile pads, fold it up against the wound and put some sticking plaster on it to hold it to the leg. That will have to do.

Once in bed I was asleep yet again quite quickly and only awoke a couple of times, perspiring away yet again. That seems to be becoming a habit as well.

When the alarm went off it took me a couple of minutes to rise to my feet and then to stagger across to the bathroom. No bread to make today.

However there was plenty of washing. My shorts, my socks, trousers and undies, and that’s before I could even think about washing myself. This sartorial elegance these days is proving to be too much for my routine. I might even end up being clean myself at this rate.

Back in here I attacked the dictaphone notes. Mountains of them too. I wanted to perform some experiments. That involved being outside so I set up a small kind of cubicle or tent inside the barn that I could use to change etc into some strange kind of clothes with a large woolly black mop as a hairpiece. I thought that if I were to set myself up there and then were to go outside I’d be fine. However it took so look to organise myself that everyone began to leave the house. The lorry driver who was leaving – he left at the same time every day – seemed to be leaving quite quickly and I was nowhere near ready to go to step outside so I knew that I was going to have problems doing what I had to do. One of my neighbours came down with his wife and he had to climb over my legs in order to find their way through the barn and go to the outdoors. He asked if I was living in here now. I relied “not exactly” and tried to explain the circumstances about where I was living but I was more interested in them clearing off so that I could continue making myself ready to go outside for just about what was left of the afternoon, most of which had disappeared with everyone either being late or hanging on. That I suppose included the Welsh class – I dunno – I can’t remember the Welsh class being there but I suppose that it must have been if I’m talking about it, I dunno but I still managed to get rid of everyone and carry on preparing myself in my little room or tent in the barn so that I could then step outside and do what’s needed.

And isn’t that the problem? I never see people for weeks then everyone turns up at once or they call me on the phone, and it’s always at just the wrong moment. I’m convinced that some people have installed a camera here at this apartment.

Did I dictate the dream about the old British couple and their mobile home thing towing a trailer? … "no you didn’t" – ed … They were somewhere in France heading back to the UK. I came across them on a car park and went over for a chat. While we were chatting, another vehicle pulled in on the car park and hit the trailer. I looked in the mirror and saw this car, which drove off across the car park to the far side. I ran after it and as I reached it a big woman, probably in her late 30s, a horsey type of person, alighted. She was in a car and trailer too. I asked her “why is it that you’ve driven all the way over here after hitting the trailer and making me run after you?” She went “ohh, I have my English insertion exam”. I said “you’d better come and sort out this trailer first that you’ve just hit”. She made a few disagreeable remarks, saying “that old guy is already in trouble for sexually assaulting me”. I couldn’t help thinking that no-one in their right minds would ever want to have any sexual contact with this woman at all. We stormed over to the old guy with his trailer with this woman still complaining that it was everyone else’s fault but hers, and how she had this important exam etc.

There are dozens of people like that whom we all know. “The rules are meant for the little people”. I know that I’m not exactly the best person to appeal to if you want someone to stick to the rules, but whatever comes out of it is no-one’s fault but my own. And if I can’t bewilder the opposition with brains, I will baffle them with b*llsh*t.

I was at a friend’s house and his mother came in and began to tell him off about something or other. After a couple of minutes she turned round to me and began to blame me, calling me all kinds of things as if it was all my fault, whatever it was that I had done. I’d contributed a little but it certainly wasn’t my responsibility. He had to nip out for ten minutes leaving me on my own with her. She continued to lecture with me while I was preparing to leave. I went downstairs into the kitchen. She was slitting eels open ready to jelly them. Of course I felt sick immediately but she carried on and carried on moaning at me. Then my friend came back so I said that I’d better go to say goodbye but I want to go to my garage next door and take away my tools because whatever is left in there you can have it. I have to liquidate some of my affairs and generally make a bit of space in my life. I’m never going to get round to doing these. I went next door to the garage. all the alarms were whistling because all the lights had been left on and the batteries were all low. I turned everything off but I couldn’t turn off the lights in the main room for some reason. Then I began to go through my tools and collecting the ones that I needed. I suddenly realised that there was far too much stuff here for me to take away. There’s nowhere for me to keep it back in my flat so I’ve no idea now what I’m going to do about anything. I am just so confused. That’s another dream about having garages and Ford Cortinas scattered halfway around the World isn’t it? I’ve had plenty of these in the past.

And I tell you what – I’m impressed that I can remember my previous dreams while I’m dreaming. That’s some achievement. But it’s true that in our dreams in the past we’ve had Ford Cortinas and workshops dotted about all over the place. Just like the old days, in fact. But I did once have a friend whose mother was from an island in the Mediterranean, and she was rather … well, I was going to say “emotional” but ” volatile” is a much better word.

The nurse put her sooty foot in the door and sorted me out with bandages and so on. She taught me a new phrase as well. I told her that the only way I would leave this building would be horizontally, but she explained that she would say les pieds à l’avant – “feet first”. She told me that when she worked in a hospital she was always taught that it’s the heads to the wall in bed, and if you are pushing a trolley or a bed with a patient on it, it’s always head first if they are alive, and feet first if they are dead. hence the expression.

After she left I made breakfast and then settled down to read my book. Our hero, lamenting the dispersal of excavated treasures into private hands and subsequently disappearing, has now left Rutupiae and set out down the coast past Deal and has arrived at the Roman lighthouse at Dover

Of course, it goes without saying that I agree with him. What treasures have been lost by being found before there was a system of registration and recording? And walls demolished for the rubble at Rutupiae and Verulamium and elsewhere?

Back in here I didn’t do much – just watched the highlights of the week’s football and watched TNS turned over by Y Bala with a couple of mystery time goals

My cleaner came along and fitted my patches. She also brought me a fairly new baking tray and oven pan that were on their way to the dechetterie

The taxi came early today so I wasn’t ready. She had a fare at Avranches to pick up at 13:30 so she wanted to get ahead if she could. It doesn’t bother me. After all, it’s free so it’s not an issue.

We picked up someone else going to the clinic and we had a good chat all the way down there. We were quite early so we had to wait, but that’s no big deal.

Once in the ward I weighed myself, and some of the weight that I’d lost last time has stayed off. Not all of it, but to say goodbye to some is encouraging.

Next step was to clamber into bed where eventually after a little wait they coupled me up. Nothing like as much pain as the other day when I literally hit the roof.

While I was being done I amused myself by finishing off the tagging of the videos and then read my book on Curious Church Customs. That is, when I wasn’t asleep. I did have a doze for half an hour or so but that’s the first time for several days. Isn’t that a change?

The driver who brought me back was quite chatty and had a lot to say for himself, and then my cleaner watched me up the stairs. On one stair I could lift my foot by just the leg muscles without using my hands. Just one, but that’s an improvement. The first time for several months.

Football was next. And it was also a pleasure watching Caernarfon turn over Connah’s Quay 3-1, and well-worth it too. But they had to cope not only with the opposition but with being on the receiving end of some of the most bizarre refereeing decisions that I’ve seen for a while.

And if you think that it’s just me, there were several comments made from the commentators’ box too. The referee was clearly refereeing a different game to the one that we were watching.

Tea tonight was a burger on a bap. When I looked in the freezer the other day I saw that I had enough burgers to last a lifetime – well, mine anyway. So I’d better start to eat them and make some space

So late again thanks to the football, I’ll dictate the radio notes and then go to bed ready to Fight the Good Fight tomorrow.

But thinking about cleaning myself up reminds me of A FILM in which another one of my heroes, Frankie Howerd, plays the rôle of a priest accompanying a leper in the Middle Ages.
There he is, ringing his bell and shouting "unclean! Unclean!"
And then he breaks the fourth wall, turns to the audience and says "well, let’s face it! It has been up to now, hasn’t it?"

Friday 27th September 2024 – AND I ALMOST WROTE …

… Vendredi too. Obviously the stress is getting to me.

Today, my old microwave has gone the Way of the West.

When I moved here, I bought everything new, but (apart from the bed which was expensive) really cheaply so that I could have everything all at once, and then gradually replace it with something much better item by item as the cheap stuff gave out.

A few things, like the kettle, my office chair and so on have gone before it, but today it’s the turn of the microwave.

It’s not actually stopped working. For €49:95 seven years ago its mechanism is still boldly going forward, but the enamel has flaked off in places inside to leave bare metal and it’s become corroded.

Anything that might be living in there has long-since been radiated into nothing but it’s still not looking good. However I was rather hoping that it would soldier on until I am downstairs, I can erect the two cabinets from IKEA Munich that are still in the van and buy a fitted microwave.

Meanwhile back at the ran … errr … apartment, my neighbour who has left to go to live in a Home had her family in liquidating her apartment. None of them wanted her microwave because it’s another cheap €49.95 affair but it’s only a few months old.

So, as they say, the rest is history. I hope that it’ll keep me going until I can sort myself out downstairs, whenever that might be.

It would have been useful here last night if I could have fitted my bed into it, because once again I had another late night. The stress of the dialysis is getting to me too and I couldn’t haul myself out of my chair and cross the Great Divide of several inches over to my bed.

All of the tasks had been finished early and I could have gone to bed early too had I forced myself, but never mind. “Ahh well …” as they say.

But something happened last night that made me realise that maybe there is an improvement with this dialysis. And that’s going to cause me more than a few problems at the moment.

Once I was in bed, long after midnight, I slept all the way through until … errr … 05:00 when something awoke me in another mess of perspiration. But I didn’t stay awake for long and was soon back asleep.

It was a real struggle to haul myself out of bed when the alarm went off. Nevertheless I staggered into the kitchen to make some dough for the bread. It’s not the best mix that I’ve made but it would do.

After I’d scrubbed myself up I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was summoned for an interview at a Government office. When I arrived there and was in the waiting room some guy eventually came to a little cubby hole and called my name so I went forward and stood there. He began to look through the papers and I heard him say under his breath “oh God it’s one of these cases”. When he looked at me I said “I’m really sorry for being ‘one of these cases’ and wasting your time”. He made a smirk but didn’t really say anything and then began to ask me questions. But it was strange because he was actually reading through the notes, stopping and asking me a question about what he’d just read instead of having read the thing through thoroughly first and prepared a list of questions. It’s true that quite often you never ever reach the end of your list of questions because you’ve gone off down a side trail somewhere but even so you have to have some plan about where you’re supposed to be going and I could see that I was becoming just as exasperated as he was by all of this

It’s important during a contentious interview to establish a moral ascendency over your adversary. And it’s also a good idea to be thoroughly prepared, have your list of questions ready, have your responses ready to whatever questions they might ask and be ready to go off at a tangent and side-track the issue whenever there’s a possibility. Also, and most importantly, answer the question and nothing but the question, and do not volunteer any information that isn’t directly asked for. You’d be surprised at the number of people who actually talk themselves into trouble. And “yes”, I HAVE learned some bitter lessons in the past.

The nurse came along and talked away about nothing while she sorted me out, and then after she left I gave the bread its second kneading and them made breakfast. While I was eating it, I was reading MY BOOK.

Thomas Wright was still at Ozengell Grange for a while this morning. And I learned something that hasn’t made it into modern research.

Modern research has uncovered more graves that his excavations “missed” and his team has been roundly criticised for its shoddy work. But in fact, Thomas Wright made it clear that they only excavated where the railway wanted to dig its cutting, and they had to do it quickly as the railway company wanted to press on, so they did it when they could with who and what they had. They would come back and carry on “another time” as time permits but they clearly did not.

After that they moved on to Rutupiae to inspect the Roman fort. Regular reader of this rubbish in an earlier version will recall that we visited here in 2006 when we were on the trail of our forebears down in Kent. But when we saw it, it was quite different from how it was when Wright saw it in 1847.

He talks about the little foreshore and the remains of the Roman landing stage where the first Roman visitors to Britannica would have landed once the Romans had secured the area and built the defences. Today though, it’s all been obliterated by the railway that passes through the site

Some of the walls have been gone too, carted away by the local landowner of the time to use as hardcore or rubble.

It’s really sad when you think of what has been lost to history in only a handful of generations. When you think of it, two generations ahead of me and two generations behind me, and those five generations spans 130 years.

Back in here again I’ve been working on transparent *.gif files, overlays and trying really hard to remember *.srt encoding. It’s years since I’ve written an *.srt file and while I managed to finally work it out, I could only make it run in the trial version and couldn’t make it embed into the final video file.

It’s really sad just how much I’ve forgotten. I’m going to have to go back to Education and look for a free video-editing course offered by the Continuing Education Programme.

After lunch (cheese and tomato butties on nice fresh bread) my cleaner turned up with the microwave and we had a wave of laughs confronting all of the various problems and then solving them

One thing that I have done is to reorganise the shelving in the kitchen. The oven with its drop-down door was above the microwave whose door opened to the side and that was the wrong way round, so we emptied those shelves, cleaned them and rearranged it with the electrical appliances in the correct place.

So now I’m not going to drop boiling hot stuff on my head, but instead I’ll have a spice jar falling on me. I need to sort that out.

In the middle of all of the fun, LeClerc arrived. I sent off an order earlier in the day and it turned up in mid-rearrange. So having put the frozen food away and after my cleaner had gone and I’d had my hot chocolate and coconut cake, I had 2 kg of carrots to wash, peel, dice and blanch.

Once that lot was done, I could think about tea. Chips and vegan nuggets with a vegan salad, followed by the last slice of roly-poly that I found in the fridge

Now, its bed-time at long last and I need to psyche myself up for the next trip to the Dialysis Centre to which I am not looking forward at all

But thinking of Thomas Wright uncovering Saxon skeletons at Ozengell reminds me of another team that uncovered some skeletons from that kind of era and the professor in charge was talking to his pupils about some of them
"These two here buried in the same grave are obviously a couple judging by how their arms are entwined around each other" he sad "and if you look closely you’ll see that the one on the right is obviously a woman."
"How can you tell that?" asked a student.
"Examine the jawbones" he said. "The one on the right is quite worn down yet the one on the left is hardly worn at all."

Thursday 26th September 2024 – SO THAT’S ANOTHER …

… visit to the Dialysis Clinic done and dusted and out of the way.

Mind you, it’s no use counting them because they’ll go on for as long as I do, and if I have to keep on climbing up these blasted stairs that won’t be much longer. Roll on the end of May next year when, if all goes according to plan, I can finally plan to move downstairs.

After the events of the other night, I was actually in bed at something very much like 23:00 which was really nice for a change. It’s certainly better than 03:20, that’s for sure.

Even better, I fell asleep straight away, and there I stayed, curled up like a bug in a rug, until all of 04:20 when I had a rather dramatic awakening. However, I’ve no idea what it was that rocked me awake.

Eventually I could go back to sleep and there I stayed until all of 07:00 when I awoke. At that moment I was actually away with the fairies somewhere but I’ve no idea where because the moment my eyes opened, it all evaporated.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up and even a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then came in here to listen to the dictaphone. I was going somewhere with this girl. She and I were not actually a couple but it was very clear to everyone that there was something between us. When we came to a particular place one of the guys insisted on trying to chat her up which was most inappropriate. When we returned to the car he sat in the back where the two of us were sitting so I sat in the middle of the back seat with the girl on the other side. He had a good moan about that but I thought that he was behaving completely inappropriately. When we reached the airport we all ended up having to sit on separate seats. She was near the back, he was in the middle and I was at the front. He came and had a few words with me so I had a few words with him. He went off and sulked . The girl went and sat next to him to try to console him. I thought that that was rather inappropriate too. Later on we were somewhere in the van. I was trying to give the girl directions. She said “don’t worry, I’ll look at it on the map”. She was looking on the map and giving me directions. We were supposed to be in the mountains but this wasn’t very mountainous to me. I tried to look at the map while she was holding it but I couldn’t see exactly where we were so we were having a discussion about this. Suddenly we came into a village and I recognised it as Pipe Gate (in actual fact it was Madeley). I thought that there’s nothing for it now except to head home. We entered the motorway and began to drive North. I was wondering whether I should stop the car for five minutes with the girl, or ask her f she wanted to go straight home or to stop somewhere or something like that, but quite honestly I wasn’t really in the mood – this incident with that guy had spoiled the whole evening

So here we go again, people putting the spanner in the works, me snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, all of the usual clichés. But this “sitting in separate seats on an aeroplane” does remind me of a real-life event. And never mind strangers trying to chat up my bird, I had a friend who used to do that too. He thought that no-one else should have a girlfriend if he didn’t have one so he thought that he should have yours, and even if he did have one, that still didn’t stop him.

The nurse came round a little later and sorted me out. Her usual bouncy, happy self. They are quite a pair, she and her oppo. She brings joy and smiles wherever she goes, and he brings it whenever he goes. She had a lot to say for herself but nothing of any great importance.

After she left I made my breakfast and then read MY BOOK. while I ate it.

We started off this morning still at Verulamium, reading the account of the discussion that the author Thomas Wright had with the person who excavated the amphitheatre there.

There’s tons of interesting anecdotes about that which never seems to have made it into the official report and it’s fascinating to have all of this unfold before you.

And the more I read of him, the more I’m admiring his work. He has learned that a society has bought some land in old Verulamium and plans to demolish what’s left of the Roman remains in order to build houses there. Our author’s comment is –
"I can only offer up a prayer that some unforeseen event may interfere with their ruthless and unpatriotic designs"
As you might expect, I’m liking this author more and more. For a comment like that to be committed to writing in the early Victorian era, that would have actually been quite startling.

After we left there we went to Ramsgate, my mother’s old stamping ground in the south-east of England.

In the early 1840s one of the many railway companies down there was building a line from Canterbury to Ramsgate and digging out a cutting, came across an early Anglo-Saxon Cemetery at Ozengell Grange.

An archaeological team (such as they were then) was called in to investigate and our hero, hearing of the events, went along to spectate. We’re just beginning to reach the exciting bit.

A little later, I went to carry out some modern research onto what was going on down there. And even today they are still coming across bodies buried in parts of the cemetery that they didn’t uncover.

And regrettably, one of the modern reports refers to the excavations at which our friend was present, and calls it “a very poor excavation”, which it probably was, bearing in mind the fact that our team from 1847 had no radar, no resistance meters and none of the modern techniques that are available to archaeologists today.

Yet with the relentless commercial pressure in those days and no Government body to protect them, it’s a miracle that it was done at all.

Back in here I was tagging films again and lost all track of time until my cleaner burst in at 12:00 to put on my patches. We had a little chat and a laugh about last night and then after she left I packed my bag and waited.

The driver who came for me was a young girl who had quite a lot to say for herself, and it was quite interesting too. She even took me on a little sightseeing tour.

She was a traveller and had spent a lot of time on the roads around Europe. So I suppose being a VSL driver was … errr … right up her street … "groan" – ed …

After she dropped me off I weighed myself and found to my dismay that the weight that I’d lost the last time had come back on again.

So I installed myself on the bed, the girls plugged me in with just a little less pain this time, and they left me to it.

To pass the time I tagged some of the videos on the portable laptop and had a probe into the depths of one of the graphics programs that I use

When they kicked me out I weighed myself again and the weight had gone once more, so it must be water retention that’s doing this, so my kidneys aren’t improving.

A friendly but rather taciturn lady driver brought me home and my cleaner helped me upstairs and we made plans for the future.

After a little rest I made tea – an aubergine and kidney bean whatsit out of the freezer followed by spotted dick and the last of the coconut soya cream. That made a nice change. I like surfing through the special offers at LeClerc on-line because sometimes they have some nice stuff in there that makes a change.

So now I’m off to bed. It’s a day with no outings planned but I have bread to make first thing before I can organise myself as I’ve run out

But that dream that I had reminded me of a girlfriend I had once who insisted that she could read a map, even though she couldn’t.
Once we were driving somewhere and I was convinced that wed become hopelessly lost
"Where are we now?" I asked
"Just here" she said, stabbing her finger on the map. "Driving down this road here"
"On that blue road?" I asked
"That’s right" She said
"That blue line, dear" I said "just happens to be a canal."

25th September 2024 – YOU WON’T BELIEVE …

… this, but this afternoon, I have had a shower. In my apartment.

Had you been here, you would have laughed, watching my faithful cleaner and me struggling to help me climb over the side of the bath into the basin and, with even more difficulty, climbing back out afterwards.

Many people have a life that is full of nothing but problems, but it seems that my cleaner and I have lives that are full of solutions and we managed it in the end.

But I’ll tell you something for nothing, and that was that I was so exhausted afterwards that I almost fell asleep standing up while I was making my hot chocolate. And I did crash out later for half an hour or so on my chair in the office.

However I put that down to the miserable night that I had last night. When it came round to bedtime I was too exhausted to stand up from my chair (and I’m not sure why, as I’d done nothing strenuous all day) but not tired enough to go to sleep.

In fact I was so exhausted that I didn’t even have the strength to perform my daily back-up of the computer. Instead I just sat here with a blank expression on my face … "so what’s new?" – ed … just like Chris Isaak, WAITING FOR THE RAIN TO FALL

It was about 03:20 when I finally fell into bed. That was what I call “ridiculous”. But it’s no wonder that I fell asleep this afternoon, and it’s surprising that it was only for half an hour.

At least it didn’t take me long to drop off and there I stayed, totally out of this world when the alarm went off at 07:00

When the alarm rang I was away with the fairies. I was carrying out some kind of investigation into a General who had recently come out of hospital, I don’t know why, whether it was for an operation or a war wound. But this was coming back to Roman times, and as they began to tell me the story about the General I suddenly realised that I’d heard all this before some other time and this was a repeat of a previous incident that had taken place. So I wondered what on earth was going on about this because this sounded just far too unusual to be any kind of coincidence

And I’ll tell you exactly where this took place too. On the way to Avranches, half a dozen kilometres from the railway station, there’s a roundabout with a petrol station just past it and a wood to the eastern side of the road. It was in that wood, looking north-east where this went on. Obviously the stress and strain of hitting the road three times per week to Avranches and back is starting to take its toll.

It won’t surprise you to learn that I had a struggle to haul myself out of bed when the alarm went off. I really didn’t feel much like it at all but it’s one of those things that the longer I leave it, the more difficult it becomes

In the bathroom I had a good scrub up and then came back to listen to the dictaphone. There was nothing else on it so I carried on with tagging the videos. And that’s difficult too because for many of the videos, the metadata is locked and I can’t edit it.

When the nurse appeared she sorted me out and gave me a few instructions about this and that. She didn’t stay long either so I could carry on quite rapidly.

After she left I made breakfast and read MY BOOK. And the more I read, the more I like the author, Thomas Wright.

Today we’re wandering around the remains of Verulamium. And if you think that I’m far too cynical for my own good, you ought to read his account of the history of the Abbey of St Albans and the founding of the town
"The monks who built it wanted a saint; they found in a then popular Christian Latin poet, Fortunatus, mention of a man named Alban, who was said to have suffered martyrdom in Britain. The Saxon monks accordingly dug up some Roman bones, declared that they belonged to the martyred body of St.Alban, and built their church upon the spot"
And later on, when King Offa decided to found a monastery on the site in penance for the murder of King Aethelbert –
"More bones were dug up, and these were miraculously shown to be the same relics of the saint which had been lost since the first church was neglected"
And I thought that I was cynical. I tell you – I have nothing whatever on him

But all these little anecdotes from people who were there at the time or who interviewed people who were, they are all in danger of being lost as modern research is just centred around Wikipedia and nothing else, and the old books are abandoned.

Back in here I went to pair off the tracks ready to write the notes but I hit a problem. The audio-editing program that I use has had an upgrade, and all of my settings have been set to default. That means that when I’m editing, the program is doing things that I don’t want it to do.

This issue cropped up previously and I asked for help in the users’ forum and we managed to resolve it. And here it is again, I can’t remember what I did and I can’t find my original request in the forum.

It took me an age to find my question and once I had the answer it took just seconds to fix. And then I came across more issues but I had an idea of what might be causing them and I was able to fix them with e little persuasion and a lot of time.

It wasn’t until after (a late) lunch that I began to write the notes, and it took an age to finish them, what with all of the interruptions.

Firstly, I had to hunt for my swimming trunks. In the end after about half an hour I gave up. They aren’t in here. However I did find the missing pair of shorts which is good news. And that’s what usually happens with me. You never find what you are looking for but you always seem to find what you hunted and gave up looking for last time.

It’s like when I was rebuilding the house. I’d seen stuff on sale at a bargain price and think “I’m going to need that in six months time” so I buy it at the cheap price. And then when I come to need it, I can’t ever find it, have to buy a full-price article and then find the bargain price one two weeks later.

Anyway, now that I have two pairs of shorts, I can wear one in the shower. I don’t want to frighten the cleaner.

Helping me into the bath was one thing. I sat on a chair at the side of the bath, lifted my legs over the side and then tried to stand up. At first I almost fell over but the cleaner caught me and I struggled upright with the aid of a crutch. Imagine that – a crutch under the shower!

The shower wasn’t all that good, mainly because I couldn’t stand directly in the stream, having to lean against the wall. But it was so lovely just to be there with the warm water cascading down onto me.

There were many things that I could have done better, and I will do next time. Because there will be a next time. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I never make a mistake. I just learn a lot. I can’t remember who said it but I do remember someone saying "experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted". … "It Was Randy Pausch" – ed …

Helping me out of the bath was even more fun. As the bath is higher than the floor, the chair on the floor at the side of the bath was too low for me to sit on. My cleaner had the bright idea of fetching a wooden box and putting that on the seat. I could manage that and I gradually managed to lift my legs out of the bath, dripping water everywhere.

But at least I managed it

We did have quite a laugh though. "Imagine if someone came to the door now" said my cleaner
"Yes" I replied. " ‘Just give me a minute to put on my trousers’. They’ll wonder what on earth we’ve been doing"

After she left I carried on with the notes and then had a pause for my hot chocolate and coconut cake. And it’s quite nice, my cake. It really is. The coconut oil works really well. I’ll make this cake again, that’s for sure.

As I mentioned earlier, I almost fell asleep standing up while waiting for the chocolate to heat up, and back here, I didn’t hold out long before I was gone.

While I was asleep I dreamed that I’d gone to look at someone’s ‘H’ registered Volvo 7-series estate that was for sale. There was some kind of comparison run by the local newspaper. They had a total of 5 adverts for similar cars and compared the prices. They thought that one at €1895 by a private seller sounded like a good deal. And then We ended up somehow in the tundra and someone was driving a green industrial machine down along the railway track through a pine forest.

And I almost had a Volvo 7-series estate too once. Not long after I’d started chauffeuring in Brussels the garage where we bought our petrol had one on the forecourt at a reasonable price, a diesel, so I took it for a drive. It was a lovely car but it was at the wrong time. I couldn’t really afford it. But it’s true to say that I am yearning for the tundra. A trip to Upper Labrador, every night, “sleeping out” like I did in Strider, listening to the timber wolves howling. I’ve told my niece and her husband to make sure that there’s a cross planted for me at my favourite spot in the Mealy Mountains.

After I’d finally finished the notes I went for tea. Tonight it’s a leftover curry with rice and a naan bread, and there was enough leftover to make two helpings. And I’ll be looking forward to the second helping because it really was good. Right now though, it’s freezing to be put aside for another time.

The spotted dick with coconut soya cream for pudding was lovely too and I’ll make that again as well. My cooking is improving and I reckon that I’ll go berserk when I finally have a decent oven, whenever that might be. It’s a shame about the one in Caliburn.

So right now I’m off to bed, to catch up on my beauty sleep. And I need it too.

But talking about miracles … "well, one of us is" – ed … reminds me of the Priest who came back from a trip to Lourdes. At the airport coming home he was stopped by Customs who searched his belongings.
"What’s that in that flask there?" asked the inspector
"Holy water from Lourdes" replied the Priest.
So the Customs inspector opened it and sniffed it. "No it isn’t!" exclaimed the Inspector. "It’s brandy!"
"The Saints be praised!" shouted the Priest. "Another miracle!"

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."

Monday 23 September 2024 – I’M FED UP …

… already of these blasted visits to the perishing Dialysis Clinic. 13:30 when I arrived and flaming 18:30 when I finally made it out of the accursed door. It’s really becoming ridiculous.

And to think that I went to bed early again last night. A good few minutes before 23:00 and settled down quickly to sleep. I didn’t have much to do in the evening after I’d finished my notes. I just washed my socks and that was that

It was a good sleep too and I wished that there had been more of it. I did actually awaken at some point but I’ve no idea what time, I didn’t go to look or anything like that. I just snuggled up under the quilt and that was that.

There I stayed until 07:00 when the alarm went off, and then I took myself off to the bathroom.

While I was in there I had a really good scrub, a shave, a complete change of clothes in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant at the Dialysis Clinic, and washed my trousers and undies, As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I have to keep on top of the clothes issue here.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a group of five of us doing casual work at some factory. It was a very well-paid job so there were many applicants for the post but basically someone else and I were given the job and I was to bring three other people with us. We had some kind of informal rota. On one occasion we’d gone home for lunch but one of the people wouldn’t come back in the afternoon for some reason so I suggested that someone else come along and they’d go and fetch this other person. In the meantime the person who wasn’t coming back had given his place up to his friend so after lunch to climb back in the car to go back there were six of us and that was not possible. We began to have a discussion that led to some kind of argument.

Most of the problems in the World are caused by lack of communication and lack of clear instructions. It seems that, in my dreams, I’m as guilty of this as anyone else. But no-one would leave me in charge of anything, not even today. I’m very much a cat that walks by itself. In the past I did have quite a bunch of followers but, like you lot, they only followed me out of curiosity.

We then all ended up in a coach owned by a local company in Crewe for whom I used to do some driving when Shearings had nothing else going on. We were about to go somewhere. It was a woman driver and she was telling me all about what you had to do have a licence these days and what different types of licence there were. For her, she had to apply for a new licence and had to take some kind of logic test because she’s over a certain age limit. We all piled into one of their coaches and the woman began to drive it. The first thing that she did was to reverse it out of this parking spot. I thought when she pulled up that it would be much easier to drive in and reverse out but she decided to do it the other way. It led to quite a long reverse and she was complaining about it. I said “I hope that it chokes you” because really she should have done it the other way round. But she was going on about her driving test too, how she wasn’t looking forward to it but she’d still be taking it all the same

It beats me why people drive into parking spaces and then have to reverse out when they want to go. We see dozens of examples of this down in the parking spaces by the port, and I bet that you can see this every day of the week in any supermarket car park. People reversing out into narrow roads when there are loads of other cars and pedestrians going by. I used to have crowds of shoppers watching me open-mouthed when I used to reverse into a parking space in North America. Reversing into a parking space is totally unknown across the Atlantic. But this came about because on Saturday our taxi driver had to go down a long entry to pick up another passenger and had to come back out the way she came in. So she drove up and reversed out, which was the strangest decision that I’ve ever seen made.

The nurse came this morning, and once again he got on my wick right from the start. Seeing my empty bottle of 0% Leffe on the worktop he asked me "have you had a beer?"
"No" I replied.

He really is getting on my nerves. If he’s still here and I haven’t cleared him off by the time that I’m downstairs and have a cat he’s going to be even more confused. I shall be blaming everything on the cat

The cleaner stuck her head in as she passed. She wanted the prescription that they had given me on Saturday so that she could take it to the pharmacy. The nurse buttonholed her and gave her a list of more supplies. I bet she regretted coming by.

After everyone had cleared off I made my breakfast and went to read my book.

Today, we are walking around the site of Ariconium, a Roman industrial settlement in Herefordshire. It’s sad to say that even as late as 1854 there were elderly locals who remembered when farmers, having cleared away a huge mess of brambles, came across walls, flooring and roadways of the abandoned town, and promptly pillaged them for building material and hardcore.

The amount of stuff that must have gone “missing” just over the last couple of centuries must be enormous. The author. Thomas Wright, tells us that every cottage in the area has examples of Roman coins that they found in the ruins. I wonder where they are now.

Back in my room I finished off my Welsh homework so that’s ready for a final check before I send it off.

Next, I began another project that has been in the pipeline for several years – to identify all of the videos that I’ve recorded and tag them with comments so that I can see from the File Manager what they are

Not that I managed to proceed very far because my cleaner turned up with the supplies and to put my patches on my arm.

"Il me saoule" – he p155es me off she said of our friendly neighbourhood nurse and I know exactly what she means. What … errr … colourful language I never learned working in a pool of French-speaking chauffeurs, my cleaner is completing my education.

And it seems that we both have the same idea. "One of these days I’d like to try having a shower" I said "But only when you are here in case I fall"
"Yes" she replied. "I was thinking that you ought to try"

So now I’m not sure whether that says more about my new improved mobility or the current state of my personal hygiene.

After she left I had to wait for a while until the taxi came, and when I finally made it downstairs I witnessed a heated “discussion” between the taxi driver and the driver of the local bus in whose bus stop the taxi was parked. Still, it makes life so interesting for the spectators.

Our driver forgot about the roadworks and so we had to make several deviations which took time, and he just dumped me at the Dialysis Centre while he cleared off with our other passenger to his appointment.

Emilie the Cute Consultant and her sidekicks were coming up from the hospital so she said hello as she went past and disappeared inside while I made my way to my bed.

The nurses there had plenty to do and it was long after the efficacity of the patches had worn off before they came to see me. I’m sure that they did that on purpose. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … you can tell how much the nurses like you by how they stick the needles in.

They eventually managed to couple me up to the machine and gave me an orange juice as my blood sugar was at a critical level, and then they cleared off. They were soon back though, as the machine had been wailing for five minutes.

It seemed that they had managed to put the needle into exactly the same hole as in a previous occasion and there was a leak. There was so much fiddling around and in the end they took it out and put it in elsewhere, long after the anaesthetic effect of the needle had worn off.

A little earlier I’d asked to see the chief of the unit, but he’s on holiday, so I’d asked to see Emilie the Cute Consultant because I really do need a second opinion about this massively increased dose of medication that’s been prescribed.

Instead she sent a sidekick – the same doctor who had written the prescription, so I didn’t bother to waste my time. Instead, presumably as a punishment, he increased the dialysis time by half an hour

When I wasn’t asleep, I was tagging the videos on the portable laptop and I made quite some good progress. The nursing assistant, with whom I’d been having a laugh and a joke, brought me a person-sized mug of coffee which was nice.

Eventually they finished with me and after a laugh and a joke, and a weigh-in during which I discovered that I’d lost over 2 kilos today, I could go to meet my taxi driver.

She was friendly enough but didn’t have much to say for herself, so we drove back to Granville in comparative quiet.

My cleaner was waiting for me and she watched as I climbed wearily up the stairs and into my lair. Thoroughly exhausted and thoroughly fed up, and a pain in my big toe. We discussed the latest situation and then she cleared off.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper – really nice and it would have been even nicer had I remembered to put the garlic in there tonight. I really don’t know what’s the matter with me these days.

So now I’ll read through my homework and send it off, and then go to bed, thoroughly fed up. And I wonder what kind of night I’ll have tonight.

But it’s sad that Emilie the Cute Consultant doesn’t love me any more. Perhaps she’s a regular reader of this rubbish and recalls what I have written in the past. Still, as Edward Fitzgerald wrote when he translated The Rubbaiyat of Omar Khayyam into English in 1859,
"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it"

But while we’re on the subject of translations … "well, one of us is" – ed … it reminds me of when Estonia and Malta joined the European Union. They couldn’t find a single person anywhere who could translate directly between Estonian and Maltese.
Instead, they had to translate from one into English and then from English to the other.
And so we ended up with delightful phrases such as when the Estonian President said "our desires for the future …" the Maltese President heard "our lusts for the future"
When he was questioned about it afterwards, the Estonian President simply said through gritted teeth "we must not be rude to old women, children or interpreters"

Sunday 22nd September 2024 – SUNDAY IS A …

… Day of Rest officially, but no longer these days for me. What with a nurse turning up at 08:30 every morning 7 days per week, I can no longer have the rest to which I was accustomed.

No longer lying abed until ridiculous o’clock, no longer lounging around in a dressing gown and not very much else.

There was an episode of “Gunsmoke”, the famous American radio programme where one of the actors said "Sunday is the one day of the week a man can get up at noon and sit around with his boots off without anybody hollering at him about it" and whoever it was, I had a strong affinity with him.

However, let’s look on the bright side. That extra three hours in the morning eats back into those 18 hours per week that I lose at the Dialysis Clinic. It’s an ill-wind that doesn’t blow anyone any good.

And whatever ill winds that were about last night blew me into bed at a reasonable time. Although I couldn’t make 23:00, it was still before 24:00.

And I’d dictated the notes for one radio programme and also the commentary for the concert that I’ll be broadcasting in due course too so I was quite impressed.

Even better, with the pain in my foot having subsided I could fall asleep with no problems, and so I did. And quite quickly too. No-one and nothing disturbed me until about 06:00 either, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had six hours of undisturbed sleep.

No danger of my leaving my nice clean pit at that time of morning though. I curled up under the bedclothes and went back to sleep.

When the alarm went off I crawled into the bathroom and had a good wash and scrub up ready for the nurse.

When he arrived I asked him about this dramatically increased dose.

The story about this is that for many years I’ve been taking a certain medication that has some side effects so they have been very careful, giving me the minimal dose, and even stopping it altogether at one stage, which led to other problems.

Back in the Summer they put me back on it, an increased dose. The doctor told me that he was worried about this increased dose and thought long and hard about increasing it.

But yesterday, I was given by another doctor a prescription that doubled the dose. So is it in error?

It took several goes with the nurse until in the end, frustrated by his prevarication, I asked him outright "so you aren’t going to answer me then?"
He replied "if the doctor prescribed it, then that’s what you have to take" and told me some cock-and-bull story about how much one of his other patients took.

He really is getting on my wick right now.

After he left I made breakfast and then settled down with a new book, WANDERINGS OF AN ANTIQUARY; CHIEFLY UPON THE TRACES OF THE ROMANS IN BRITAIN

This book, published in … err … 1854, is an account of a peripatetic and keen amateur concerning his travels to various sites that had their origins in Roman or early Saxon days

Being such an early work, it’s bound to be confusing compared to what has been discovered since but that makes it all the more interesting because we can see things from a completely different perspective.

Even then, he was worried about the effects of the “urban sprawl” upon many interesting rural sites and the need to save them, long before there was an official Government body like English Heritage. Everything depended on the generosity of the local landowner.

The first chapter concerns his trips around the slag heaps of the Roman iron smelting works in the Forest of Dean. He made the point that so imperfect were the Roman smelting techniques that even in the mid nineteenth Century there were companies that were exploiting the slag, or “scowle” and re-smelting it.

Incidentally, the Roman smelting works had foot-operated bellows, so he says. I bet you didn’t know that.

Back in here, I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was in Nantwich and due to go back to Crewe but I’d already changed my bus ticket once and it was now coming up to 09:00 and I didn’t think that I’d be ready to catch the 09:00 bus so I wanted to come on the 09:15 instead so I ran like hell to the bus station and arrived there before and said that for some reason I want to cancel it and go on the next one but the filling in of the forms was so complicated that I nearly missed that one too. The guy in the ticket office was so confused as to why I wanted to cancel the bus ticket for a bus that I thought that I couldn’t catch even though I arrived in his office well on time to fill in a form to cancel it. I noticed too that my address was “Winsford” at that time, 330 New Road Winsford, but I was in such haste that it looked like another address completely on the form so this would certainly be a puzzle when it arrives at Head Office.

My dreams really are confusing at times. Can you imagine going into the bus station office at 08:55 to change your bus ticket for the 09:15 bus because you’ll be too late for the 09:00 one! And then taking so long to fill out the form that you’d miss the 09:15 too. Especially when there was no office on Nantwich Bus Station.

Stranraer FC was next and they were away at Forfar Athletic. And from 1-0 up and cruising comfortably, they once again rose to the occasion and snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. With two moments of madness in defence.

And we had another one of our famous “let’s play it out from the back” moments, and you can see the inevitable result on STRAWBERRY MOOSE’S TIKTOK ACCOUNT

Yes, the World’s most famous Moose is going into multi-media. We’ll be working on his past travels around North America. There are dozens of his videos, especially of his Arctic travels, and it’s high time that he did something with them.

Over the next few days we’ll be having a trial run with a video or two but we opened his account with the video that I mentioned above.

After my salad butty for lunch I knuckled down and did some work. And rather slower than I would have liked, I ended up with two radio programmes, one the normal one and the other the concert that will be broadcast on Friday and Saturday far in the future.

And I do have to say that the concert will be well-worth the price of the admission alone because it’s excellent. I don’t know how I came by it. It must be one from the deceased son of a friend, but his group wasn’t the supporting act that night.

Alison was on-line for a while, sunning herself on the beach somewhere exotic so we “exchanged pleasantries”. And what wouldn’t I give to go somewhere like that? Anywhere, in fact? That is, apart from this blasted dialysis place.

At lunchtime I’d taken some dough from the freezer and it had been defrosting. later this afternoon I kneaded it and rolled it out, and when I’d finished working I assembled and baked it.

It’s not a legendary one like one or two have been just recently, but it was still good nevertheless.

So now I’m going to do some Welsh homework and then go off to bed.

But while there might not have been a ticket office on Nantwich Bus Station, there was a street map.
It was one of those maps with the little lights on it, and if you pressed, say, the “car parks” button, little lights would light up on the map to show you where the car parks were.
There were about twenty buttons altogether, with things like “public toilets”, “chemists”, all that kind of thing
There was also a big arrow pointing to the centre of the map that said "you are here"
And someone, a legendary hero in my schoolboy mind, suffering clearly from pangs of anguish, had written underneath in big black letters "Yes! But where are all the f@#king buses?"
Strangely enough, I can still feel his pain even today, 60-odd years later.

Saturday 21st September 2024 – I WAS RIGHT …

… about the pain in my foot keeping me awake all night. That was definitely a horrible night last night

Not that there would have been much sleep last night anyway by the time that I crawled into bed. Never mind 23:00 – it was long after midnight when I finally crawled into bed. At least it’s a little quicker with these socks rather than the puttees. I don’t have to wind them up before going to bed.

Once in bed I actually fell asleep – for all of about a minute. And then the first of the stabbing pains arrived. And that was it. In my nice, clean bedding too of which I was so hoping to make the most. Still, I suppose that I did in a way.

It took me a few minutes to gather my wits (not that there are too many wits to gather these days) after the alarm went off, and then I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out.

And believe it or not, I began to wash my shorts. Which is what I do most Saturdays (when I remember) but today there’s a big heap of washing in the corner. And so I piled as much as I could (including the shorts) into the machine and set it all off on a 60°C cotton wash. That should shift some stains.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise there was some stuff on there. I must have gone to sleep at some point. There I was, back with some members of my family. There was a new girl there so of course I was doing my best to impress her. It seemed that for once everyone was co-operating in a way by asking intelligent questions to which I knew the answer. This went on for quite some time but it made no impression on her at all. I was very surprised. She hardly said a thing. Anyway one of my friends or family or someone had to go to visit some neighbours so I said that I’d go too in order to have some fresh air. We went to see the neighbours but on the way up the road we bumped into an elderly, disreputable alcoholic man from the neighbourhood so we pretended to walk straight past the house where we were going to visit and doubled back once he’d gone out of sight, otherwise he might have come along and joined in the party and it wasn’t much fun with him anywhere. We passed through the gate and saw a lovely new sign on the door. My fried asked me what the sign said so I looked much more closely and saw that it was a rather offensive, vulgar message. I thought “well this is how this family is, I suppose”. We passed through the gate to the back garden. They were all there sitting on chairs sunbathing. I thought of all the other work that other people had been doing this afternoon and there they are, sitting here and I immediately thought of the expression about “if you want to work then you should but otherwise you can always let other people work for you and you can sit and put your feet up”. My friend said “yes, it’s a shame that there are people like this on the planet.

These people must have been my friends. It’s not like my family, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, to aid me in enticing some innocent young maiden into my lair. Mind you, even my closest friends (do I have any?) would do their best to prevent my evil clutches grasping around some helpless maiden. But as for neighbours as described in the dream, when we lived in Shavington we had those a-plenty.

Later on I heard a voice say something like “don’t be so sarcastic”. It concerned an enquiry that people were making about my health. With this terrible pain in my foot I thought that it was best that if someone else were to write it down they could record all of the “aarrgghs” and the horrible reactions as the pain kept on coming back. Anyway I was told not to be sarcastic. Then I thought about Oldham and the Roman remains around there but I was told to pick somewhere nicer. In the end I picked the Roman Empire in general and discussed the religious excesses and (…fell asleep here …) anyway I could hear all of these people commenting on me when I was there trying to talk about these illnesses that I had.

Me being sarcastic? Perish the thought, hey? But I bet that there were plenty of arrgghhs and reactions last night as the stabbing pain kept reoccurring. And Roman remains? I must stop reading all of these exciting books.

When the nurse came I told him about the pain in the sole of my foot. He examined it for foreign bodies but found nothing. There’s a slight swelling but that’s about it. But he knew all about the stabbing pain when I had another attack while he was holding my foot.

After he cleared off I went to have breakfast. And I’ve now finished my book on the Romans in Britain. The final chapter, on Administration, was not very interesting. I had been hoping on a final chapter containing details of the collapse of Roman civilisation in the aftermath of the depart of the legions but I imagine that whatever written records there might have been, the barbarian hordes who arrived did for all of those.

The washing was finished by now so I emptied the machine and hung up the washing. It’s not as clean as I would like it but it will have to do. I suppose that once I have my new shower and so on downstairs I ought to think about buying new bedding.

Back in here I had to hunt down the work that I did yesterday. I’d saved it without thinking and didn’t have a clue in which directory I’d saved it.

Eventually I could find everything and could sit down and finish off all the notes. I now have 13 lines of text which at 17 seconds per line is not far short of 4 minutes, and I have 2 minutes 51 seconds to fill. Consequently there will be a lot of stuff edited out, but that’s no problem. I’d rather be over and edit out than be short and have to rewrite.

My faithful cleaner stuck her head in the door to see how I was and to fit the anaesthetic patches on my arm. She wasn’t sure about where to put them so she put them in the place where their sticking plasters had been. That will have to do.

While she was here she put the quilt cover straight on the clothes airer. You’ve no idea how difficult it is for me with just one hand.

The taxi driver was another cheerful soul (sarcastic? Who? Me?) who didn’t want the car window open, and didn’t say a word all the way down to Avranches

And they were ready and waiting for me today, the fools. They told me that the doctor has said that I have to lose 2.8 kgs in weight. Was I happy with that?

"Not at all" I replied. "I’m looking to lose three times that" so they went away for a further consult.

Nevertheless, the patches worked and the pain was only momentary and much less than on Monday when I quite literally hit the roof.

Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there today so a side-kick came to see me. He gave me a new prescription to keep my cleaner busy.

As for the pain in the sole of the foot, which was still going on, he didn’t even look at it. Leave it a couple of days, he sad (presumably by which time he’ll be off duty and someone else will have to examine it), and see how it goes.

And then despite the pain, I fell asleep

They woke me up to disconnect me and send me home, but the taxi was late arriving. It was a very friendly driver and we had a really good chat on the way back.

My faithful cleaner was there to help me back upstairs and I just fell into a chair and that was that for a while. I’d done enough

Tea was a baked potato with one of my breaded quorn fillets and a vegan salad, followed by jam roly-poly and chocolate soya cream.

So that’s it. I’ll dictate what I’ve written this week for the radio and then go to bed. Early, I hope.

But even as I write, I’m listening to the concert that I assembled. And it really is good. Technically one of the best that I’ve ever done and the music is excellent too. I think that I picked the correct tracks to feature.

Going back to the clinic this afternoon though, they weighed me on arrival and again on departure. And I’d lost 1.2 kgs during the process. So I made a quick calculation.
"Cheer up, girls" I told the nurses "If it keeps on going at this rate, after 70 more visits I’ll be gone completely"
But as Kenneth Williams once said to Alfred Hitchcock, "it’s a waste of time telling jokes to foreigners"

Friday 20th September 2024 – MY SPOTTED DICK …

… rose up really well this morning.

But that’s enough about me. Let’s talk about my baking instead.

And so as I had a loaf of bread to bake and there would be half an oven going begging and the supplies of jam roly-poly are diminishing, I thought that I’d experiment.

The other day I mentioned a spotted dick when I was talking about vegan oil-cakes and so I decided that quite literally the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and I’d bash one out

Thinking about it though, I could have bashed it out much earlier than I did because I was wide awake this morning at about 03:15.

Last night I was in bed early once again planning on making the most of having finished everything early, but it never worked out like that.

One thing that I’ve noticed is that a couple of nights following the dialysis have been difficult, and the night sweats that I used to have when my cancer was raging have also come back.

But last night I had everything in spades – wide awake early and the sweat pouring off me in buckets. They measured me with an echograph at the hospital and said that I had six litres of water in me. I bet that I don’t have that much now.

And so it was really difficult to go off to sleep and although I was drifting in and out of some kind of sleep, I saw 06:45 come round on the clock and then 07:00

When the alarm went off the first thing that I did was to go and make some dough for bread. I gave it a good working-over too because I wasn’t very happy with the last lot of bread that I made.

Then into the bathroom to organise myself and have a really good wash. And to wash a pair of the elasticated socks because the nurse wants to try those on me instead of the puttees.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise I found that I’d travelled quite some distance too. A new junior manager started. He was quite a nice friendly young guy. We used to have some quite interesting chats. He was in charge of the motor pool so I’d made arrangements to borrow the modelling clay that we used for repairing dents for the cars so that someone could try a piece and I could order it because where they were living the prices were so extortionate that they were looking for ways of economising. This manager also had a list of clients whose files he was working. several of those people were quite interesting so I told him that I was going to photocopy it for taking home with me during the summer because there were a couple of names on there of people with whom I’d like to keep in contact. He was rather dubious about this but in the end agreed for me to do so. We were the last people out of the office on that Friday night. Getting everything together took much longer than I thought it would. By the time that I’d finished it was rather late. Then he told me that when he came back from holiday he didn’t have all that much longer to remain in our office and was going off to somewhere else. I thought that that was really sad because he was the first person in that place with whom I’d managed to create some kind of rapport

Once upon a time I did work with a really nice trainee junior manager. He was a keen snooker fanatic and there was a snooker club just down the road so at lunchtimes we’d go and bash off a couple of frames. He was writing a book in his spare time. I wonder if he ever finished it.

And then I had to go to Bangor University. There were some files that I wanted and someone had to sort them out for me. They were rather reluctant to do so but in the end they gave me the files. Then I heard a voice in the distance whisper “and keep an eye on him”. There was a mirror on the wall. I had a look in it and could see a man who looked like a policeman gesturing to two other men who were probably also policemen. I felt that they were on the point of following me to see what I would be doing with these files. Then we were at a railway station. There was a film being filmed although I didn’t realise that it was a film at first, about a Chinese girl and her boyfriend who were supposedly heading off from the interior to the city to spend a different life there. They were having the usual regrets about parting etc. Suddenly the girl announced that she had tickets not for the city but to actually go to the USA. They were off to the USA instead. The film then cut to the girl standing outside the window of the lottery office with some kind of wistful air on her face. I thought that if ever there was a moment to end a film it should have been there with that shot with that look on that girl’s face but for some reason the cameras kept turning and filming some further pointless action that totally spoiled the entire dramatic effect. I thought that they’d really missed an opportunity with letting the film roll on after that particular shot.

So it seems that I’m adding film-directing to my nocturnal curriculum vitae. I wish that I’d been able to do all of this when I was awake and could earn a living by doing it.

But the University story is familiar. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I once went to Cambridge University to raid their library to look at some papers that had been bequeathed to them. But no such luck. “We give priority to our own students” said the registrar “and it’s only when one of those has had the opportunity to look at them that they will be released into the public domain for other researchers to examine”. And they’ve had the letters and papers there under lock and key waiting for one of their students to examine them since they were bequeathed in … errr … 1869. It’s positively indecent, this incestuous academia. God alone knows what other papers there are lurking in their archives and what tales they could tell us?

And Bangor University? I had a girlfriend who went to Bangor University and if the group in which I was playing didn’t have any bookings I’d spend my weekends in Bangor. My old J4 van didn’t ‘arf clock up the miles.

So finally I’d been out with my girlfriend. We were on our way home and were looking in the newsagent’s window at different things, looking at some of these head-dummies that they use for displaying wigs etc. There were a few with very elongated necks for displaying polo-necked jumpers. We thought that they looked horrible and thought of a few people who resembled them. On the way back past a newsagent’s we saw a bust of a clown and of course made the usual politician remarks then carried on walking home. At one point I was sure that I’d taken two steps without using my crutches but I didn’t say anything. We arrived home, I undressed and went to bed. There was a cup of lukewarm tea so I began to drink it but my partner told me to wait. She was in the kitchen fetching me some medicine. Afterwards when I was drinking the tea she said “come over here. You have to be looking at this (…fell asleep here …) so she went over to check the computer before coming to bed. She said “God! Come here! You have to see this!” so I left the bed and walked over towards the computer but suddenly stopped and said “do you notice something?”. She replied “yes. You’ve just taken two steps without your crutches” so that was twice on that evening that I’ve managed to walk without my crutches.

That was only a dream though. I tried in real life to walk without my crutches but no such luck. I can’t even move, never mind walk. But who was the girlfriend? I can’t believe that I was in a situation like that and I didn’t pick up the girl’s name. How depressing is that?

When the nurse came round he sorted out my legs and fitted the clean socks that I’d found. We’ll see how that goes for the next few days. Last night I’d put the puttees in to soak and they’ll have a good clean over the next few days.

The nurse didn’t stay long. He’d soon cleared off and I went to check the bread. It had risen really well and I was quite pleased with that. I gave it a second kneading and put it in the mould, and while it was doing its stuff I made a basic oil cake with a couple of handfuls of raisins.

It’s not exactly a sponge cake, but it’s the nearest thing that I can make for a spotted dick with the facilities that I have

Our book this morning was talking about religion in Roman times and he makes a few very interesting points.

One of which was that Christians owed their loyalty to their faith above that of their Emperor and if they had to choose one if the two ever came into conflict, they would choose their faith.

There was an parallel with that, which I noticed immediately. Catholics were until comparatively modern times not allowed to hold a Government position or work in the Civil Service.

The reason was that they owed their authority to the Pope. And the Pope could excommunicate a King or even summon up an army to depose him. And in a case of confrontation, a Catholic would have been obliged to support the Pope rather than his monarch. They were not prepared to “abjure the temporal and spiritual authority of the pope” as required by Law.

When breakfast was over I put the bread and cake in the oven to bake and went to undertake part two of my tasks for the day.

The bedding has needed changing for a few days but I’ve been hoping somehow, somewhere, to be able to take a shower. That’s not going to happen but after last night the bedding needs to be changed and the quilt aired. After all, it was a glorious sunny day with a nice stiff breeze

That took longer than expected but at least I could clamber easier over the bed. Something is working somewhere. And while I was at it, I gave what little hair I have left a good wash.

When the oven stopped I checked the stuff in i. The bread was cooked nicely but the spotted dick, although it had risen nicely with the baking powder in it, was only half-done. I gave it another 20 minutes. I only have a table-top oven which is rather “hit and miss”. In view of its shortcomings I’d bought a fitted oven from a friend who was remodelling his kitchen and I wish that I’d brought it up here from the van while I still could.

After lunch, cheese and tomato sandwiches on nice, fresh bread, I did some work.

One of the concerts that I have “in stock” I identified and found that it fell on a day in which I’ll be broadcasting a programme in the near future. So why not have a concert “anniversary edition”?

The concert itself is almost an hour and a half long so I’d been listening to it all morning on repeat play to try to identify which tracks I could edit out. And that wasn’t easy because I liked them all.

Eventually though I’d edited it down to about 57 minutes, which means three minutes of speech which is 11 lines of text.

So now the concert runs together seamlessly and you can’t hear the joins where bits have been cut out, and I’m halfway through writing the text

The cleaner came round and we went through the medicine shelf, made a list of what is running low and she went off to the pharmacy. Another good job done. She also fitted the new quilt cover on the quilt – in a fashion that took seconds and I was so impressed.

Tea tonight was a rushed chips with nuggets and salad. Delicious as usual

And rushed because we had football, Penybont v TNS

And history was made tonight because for the first time EVER, in front of a four-figure crowd, Penybont managed to defeat TNS. And that’s TNS’s first league defeat for almost 18 months

Of course, one swallow doesn’t make a summer but Penybont were surprisingly good and well worth their win

Now I’m off to bed, late as usual because of the football.

And I won’t have much sleep tonight because that strange, stabbing pain that I used to have in my right foot? It’s now reappeared in my right ankle and this will keep me awake all night. You can be sure of that.

But that dream about walking home with a girl reminds me of one night in Nantwich late on a Friday evening (and anyone who has been around Nantwich late on a Friday evening will know what I mean) in the days of my youth I stumbled upon the young sister of a friend of mine hurrying home
"Would you like me to walk you home?" I asked. "Keep you safe from all the drunks and layabouts?"
She looked at me. "Frankly Eric" she said "I’d feel safer with the drunks and layabouts"

Thursday 19th September 2024 – DAY FOUR OF …

… my dialysis today, and the trick cyclist came to see me. They are obviously taking this really seriously

And she’ll come back to see me in a fortnight, she says. "Maybe you’ll feel differently about the needles and tubes and so on by then"
"If I’ve not grown accustomed to tubes and needles over seventy years" I said "fifteen days isn’t going to make much of a difference"

God alone knows where they find these people.

If you had come by my apartment last night at my official bedtime of 23:00 you would actually have found me in bed. And asleep too because it didn’t take a fraction of a second before the light went out in my head.

As usual there were a few awakenings and tossings and turnings during the course of the night but nothing too much to disturb me. When the alarm went off I really was miles away.

When the second alarm went off I was on my way to the bathroom with an armful of clean clothes. Who knows? I might meet Emilie the Cute Consultant so I have to look my best

That meant a shave too, and then I washed my trousers and undies in the sink so that they’ll be ready for another time. I have to keep abreast of my clothes because I don’t have many here.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had been going on during the night. At 04:30 the front doorbell rang. I awoke thinking that the nurse will be here in two minutes. Why hasn’t the alarm gone off? Then I looked at my watch and it was 04:30 and I’d obviously dreamed the doorbell going again. At that point I was actually somewhere else, doing something within a small family. There was a little girl who’d been fostered there for some reason. She was chatting away and suddenly announced to everyone that it was me whom she’d dreamed about the previous night. Of course I was extremely interested to know what the dream was but we never actually reached that point because of this doorbell

So now, as well as phantom alarm calls we’re having phantom doorbells. I’m really not doing too well with things like this. But then again, maybe it was a real one, although I doubt it. And being the subject of someone else’s dream? I wonder what it was all about. It’s a shame that that dream ended.

We were at a police station and someone had been brought in for questioning. He was proving to be rather difficult and wouldn’t answer any of their questions hoping that he could sit and sweat out the 24 hours and then be let go. We were listening to it – I can’t remember what we were supposed to be doing – we were far more interested in what was happening in this room. When the interview was paused so that the interviewer could go off somewhere I went in to see him, the interviewee, and began to chat with him thinking that maybe if he were more relaxed he might actually let loose a couple of hints but the alarm went off at this point – the real one.

And that’s a well-known interviewing trick – to pause the interview but send in someone sympathetic to the victim. It was almost de rigeur in World War II with captured prisoners and everyone was warned against it, but hundreds still let their tongues run away.

The nurse came along and didn’t stay long. He moaned about my puttees and said that tomorrow we’ll try the elasticated socks. Well, it will give me something else to hand-wash, I suppose.

But I wish that he’d cheer up. He’s supposed to be helping me improve my morale but it’s not working when he looks and acts like a wet weekend in Weymouth.

After he left I made breakfast and went to read my book for a while. We’re discussing Roman funeral monuments today and that’s something that I know something about, having been on one of these free courses from Oxford University.

Yes, that’s right! I’ve studied at Oxford University! Not that it’s done me much good.

Back in here I spent the morning going through yet more of my live concerts trying to find the dates. And apart from being able to identify another half-dozen or so, there won’t ‘arf be a big surprise in due course

My cleaner came round at lunchtime and put on the anaesthetic patches for me. And then she put on one of these tubagrip bandages over the arm to hold them in place and stop them falling off

The taxi came a little early so it was a bit of a panic to prepare myself. We had someone else to pick up out in the back of beyond so we didn’t go straight to Avranches.

The driver today didn’t have anything at all to say for herself so the three of us drove all the way there in silence. I’d given up trying to stimulate some conversation.

But by God! Didn’t she go down some of these narrow lanes at a hell of a rate? Not that it bothered me because it’s how I drive – but only when I’m on my own. Nevertheless wouldn’t we have had a problem had we encountered a herd of cows or a harvester?

It was a different nursing team on duty today and they had, well, issues trying to come to terms with the equipment and it all descended into something like chaos.

And I remain convinced that they deliberately waited until after the two hours when the anaesthetic wears off before they came to deal with me.

But the cleaner and her tubagrip bandage did its job. The patches were still there and it only hurt … errr … somewhat. Nothing like it did on Monday

They gave me a kind of echograph test and told me that I have six litres of water still in my body, despite all of the medication that I’ve taken. Whatever must I have had before?

And then the trick cyclist turned up. Painted-on, forced smile and patronising discussion. She probably thinks that I’m some kind of old, doddering has-been or, perish the thought, maybe even a coconut (no comments, please)

She had the typical psychiatrists’ trick of these long, pregnant pauses that are designed to embarrass the other party and make them feel guilty, thus encouraging them to talk. But having had the family and the upbringing that I’ve had, nothing embarrasses me any more and she’ll have to try harder than that.

But of course these people are professionals and even a stony silence will tell them something.

After about 15 minutes she asked me if I’d like her to come to see me again.
"I’m here to be cured" I said. "If the doctor thinks that I need it and sent for you, it’s for him or her to decide"
"No-one sent me" she answered, turning her head and whistling into the breeze. "I come to see everyone."
"Well you’re the professional" I replied. "If you think that I need it …"

And after more pointless, aimless discussion she agreed to come back in a fortnight. And why not? It’s free and I may as well have my money’s worth. But God help her when the going gets tough.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there as well and she waved at me – with all four fingers raised, not just two. But she soon P155ed off when they threw me out of the clinic

The driver on the way back didn’t have much to say for herself either – maybe she’d been warned about me – but she was friendly enough

There was something of a reception committee here when I returned. My cleaner was here to keep an eye on me as I climbed the stairs and she was chatting to another neighbour who had just come home from work.

Tea was something out of the European Burger Mountain with pasta and veg, with roly-poly and soya cream for pudding.

So now I’m off to bed. I have bread to make first thing in the morning as I have now run out, and my cleaner will be here to check the medication before she goes into tow,

But the story of the psychiatrist reminds me of why we have ten commandments

Jehovah appeared to Moses on Mount Sinai and said "hey, Moses! Do you want a commandment?"
"How much are they, my Lord?" asked Moses
"To you, Moses, they are free"
"Well in that case I’ll have ten"

Wednesday 18th September 2024 – THE LATEST NEWS ..

… coming out of the UK is that you can’t be prosecuted for implying that someone is a coconut.

It was news to me that you could, and if you think that it’s a joke, as I did when I was told, I can assure you that IT’S PERFECTLY TRUE. Someone was prosecuted for implying that someone was a coconut.

The interesting part about this is that it wasn’t the “victims” of the “insult” – the then-Prime Minister and the then-Home Secretary – who made the complaint, but a third party who was offended that that the two people concerned were so attacked.

The implications of this are quite frightening. If cases like this can be brought in re, it means that there doesn’t have to be any proof of offence. It just has to “appear to the judge that …”

Not only that, I can only think of countries like North Korea, Saudi Arabia and Thailand where it’s an offence to make any criticism of the ruler. And that looks just like what is happening in the UK right now.

Really, when I think of some of the names that I have been called in the past and none of you lot have rallied to my defence and lodged a prosecution, I would have been happy to have been called a coconut instead.

As yet, as far as I’m aware, no-one as yet has been prosecuted for calling someone a banana. But wait until someone calls the current incumbent of the Prime Minister’s office a lemon. Then we’ll see some legislation.

In East Germany years ago they had an approved list of insults. And, for example, it was against the law to refer to “Americans” without using the adjective “degenerate” or to refer to the British people without using the adjective “servile lackey running-dog”.

So is the UK going to go down the East German route and publish an approved list of fruit?

Years ago I spent a lot of time behind the Iron Curtain with its strict and invasive border controls, and how the West spent 35 years trying to persuade the Eastern bloc to dismantle its controls. And 30 years later we have controls at western borders that are far stricter than anything that I ever encountered in the East.

And the west spent 35 years trying to persuade the East Germans to demolish a border wall, and then 30 years later the Americans build their own.

And now we have people prosecuted for calling our leaders in the West a fruit … "are you allowed to use that word?" – ed …

The West is becoming more and more like the Old East every day and one of these days I’ll finally after all this time hear someone in the West (apart from me) admit that maybe the Soviets had a point.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment I finally made it to bed before 23:00 last night.

And it was just as well too because I was exhausted. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow and apart from the odd bit of tossing and turning I slept right through until the alarm went off.

At the first raucous rattle I staggered to my feet and when the bedroom stopped spinning round I headed for the bathroom to sort myself out

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what went on during the night. While I was asleep a voice said “are you into …?” and stopped there. I asked “into what?” but of course no-one replied. But there was something going on about the army again. I’d taken some kind of food mixture and assembled it to make some kind of pudding and taken it in what would have been a third of my work to somewhere where this dream paused and I fell asleep. But I had this altercation and I’ve no idea what’s going on here but here I am regarding a couple of railway locomotives somewhere on the edge of town outside Scotland, a strange man asking me strange questions but as far as I can see there’s no-one about at all, in the street, in the shops anywhere. It’s totally deserted

That sounds as if it might have been really exciting and it’s a shame that it didn’t continue because I would have loved to have learned more about what was supposed to have been happening here. Who the man was, what he was saying and what he was meaning, that was bizarre too. But I definitely heard him quite distinctly.

Since he and his mates have moved out of their headquarters at 2011 he’s not really had a base to work from. Places always being obstructed by something or other but here where they are now it seems to be their home for good and they are pretty permanently installed. All the local village tribes are taunting them out and trying to make them come out and attack them the same way that the Native Americans did to Fetterman and his mates

It looks as if I’ve missed off the start of this dream or else it refers to another dream at some time. I’ve noticed that a few times – that a dream that I have seems to refer to one that I had a few days earlier. But then this is the point of this exercise anyway.

I was somewhere in North America and had been given a job. I had to write out the different types of driving licence, different types of vehicle and the type of licence that you need to drive each type of vehicle. There was a group of people around there and some guy was giving me instructions and another guy, he’d already made a start and said “it should take four seconds for each entry”. I thought “what planet is he living on?”. When he dictated what he’d been writing it was much longer than four seconds for a start. Eventually everyone cleared off . There was just a girl and me left behind. She ws doing something there similar. I sat down and made a start. It was much more complicated than I imagined and took much longer than four seconds for each entry. She kept on coming up with small problems in the work that she was doing, stopping asking me for help and advice. I thought “we’re going to be here for ever at this rate doing this. Nothing like four seconds per entry at all”. There was someone in fact who was a famous Creole restauranteur person who’d imported cookery into the USA. I had to write a little biography about him and how he was killed, and someone else with their Harley Davidson motor cycle. It was the kind of thing that was taking for ever. I could understand why no-one else wanted to do it.

30 or 40 years ago I would have welcomed the opportunity to go to work in the USA and in fact in 1998 I was on the shortlist to fill a vacancy at the New York office. But these days it seems that a monster has been let loose. 20 or so years ago someone opened Pandora’s Box over there and now they can’t fit the lid back on.

The nurse came around later and we had an exciting conversation.
"Which do you think is more effective?" I asked. "The anaesthetic cream or the patches?"
"You’ll find the patches easier to apply" he said
"That’s not what I asked" I retorted. "Which is more effective?"
"The patches will be easier for you to apply" he replied

And so we went on, getting absolutely nowhere.

Then he cleared off, left me on my own and I made breakfast.

My book is talking this morning about the Traprain Hoard, how the latest coin in there has been dated to AD425 and how there are religious relics in there that bear all the identity of having come from Gaul.

The speculation is that it’s loot from a pirate raid on a church in Gaul, but that seems totally bizarre to me. Why go all the way there at all kinds of risks?

AD425 corresponds very well with the collapse of organised proto-Roman society in the north of England and so my theory is that someone, maybe a Roman soldier, brought the religious relics from Gaul when he was transferred to the north of England, and left behind when the legions were withdrawn in AD410. The undefended north of England then fell victim to a series of raids from the north that destroyed organised society and carried off anything and everything of any value.

Back in here I’ve been radioing today. I’ve written all of the notes for the music that I chose yesterday. I’ll dictate that on Saturday night and edit it on Sunday in between all of the baking that I need to do.

As well as that, I’ve been doing some work on my Jersey notes, trying to tie them in with the relevant photos and write some text. I need to get back into all of the good habits that I used to have 20 years ago

Another thing that I did was to try to arrange some physiotherapy. My preferred place won’t take me because the taxi wouldn’t be authorised to take me there, but the one that I tried that was within the authorised range never returned my calls.

And that’s not the first time that I’ve tried to spend money somewhere and no-one seems to be bothered enough to want to earn it.

My cleaner came round too to do her stuff and the place now looks as if someone lives here. It’s nice when it’s clean and tidy, and it’s a shame that I have to go to spoil it.

Tea tonight was another delicious leftover curry with naan bread and I ought to make this more often because it’s really nice, especially when there’s some soya yoghurt mixed in with the curry.

So I’m off to bed, where someone is bound to call me the name of a fruit during the night. Rather like when I first came to France on a school exchange in 1970 we Brits were described by the locals as les Rosbifs – “the roast beef” – and no-one was in the least bit offended.
"Do you call us that because we’re strong, muscular and tough?" I asked in all innocence
"Ohh no" came the reply. "You want to look at yourselves after you’ve been lying in the sun for half an hour"

EPIC HALL

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

Wednesday 2nd October 2024 – I’VE HAD ANOTHER …

Tuesday 1st October 2024 – WHEN THE ALARM …

Monday 30th September 2024 – I SAW EMILIE …

Sunday 29th September 2024 – TONIGHT’S PIZZA …

Saturday 28th September 2024 – ONE MORE DAY …

Friday 27th September 2024 – AND I ALMOST WROTE …

Thursday 26th September 2024 – SO THAT’S ANOTHER …

25th September 2024 – YOU WON’T BELIEVE …

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

Monday 23 September 2024 – I’M FED UP …

Sunday 22nd September 2024 – SUNDAY IS A …

Saturday 21st September 2024 – I WAS RIGHT …

Friday 20th September 2024 – MY SPOTTED DICK …

Thursday 19th September 2024 – DAY FOUR OF …

Wednesday 18th September 2024 – THE LATEST NEWS ..

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