Tag Archives: granville

Monday 1st June 2026 – AFTER SEVERAL WEEKS …

… of lovely, pain-free feet, the pain in the sole of my right foot suddenly erupted again at dialysis and erupted in spades too. I’ve been in pain for most of the afternoon and evening, and I wish that it would go away.

What’s worse is that I really had thought that I’d finished with all of this, but “no”. It looks very much like “back to the drawing board, Cecil”.

Not like last night, though. I was late again going to bed. After midnight, and more, I reckon. But I didn’t need much rocking last night either and I was soon asleep.

And there I lay, dead to the World, until about … errr … 06:00 when I awoke. When the alarm should have gone off at 06:29, I was up and about at my desk working.

First thing to do was, of course, listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

We were back in Roman times again, and this time, it involved a girl whom I knew who was taken in somewhere where they took them because of her mental health issues. She’d been seeing demons and all of that kind of thing. She told her daughter that they needed to be placed somewhere to be looked after. This is one of these dreams again where I reached for the dictaphone and fell asleep again before I began to dictate it so I don’t know really what I’ve missed.

It’s a shame that I didn’t catch all of this dream, because this is another one of those dreams with a story behind it that the World is not yet ready to hear.

There was a group of four of us who used to hang around together. There was me, Laurence and a couple of other people. We’d all been told that we needed couselling. We went to see a counsellor who told us that we could attend a group meeting on such-and-such a date at such-and-such a time. We’d no idea at all what to expect but we made ourselves ready at the appropriate time for this counselling. However, one of our members dropped out and left an empty space so we decided to sign Roxanne up and see what she made of this so we added her name on the paper and we had to go back to the doctor’s for another interview and he interviewed Roxanne while we were there. He decided that she was fit enough to go so the four of us were ready, but Roxanne seemed to be quite enjoying it. So we turned up, and it was this village hall. It was huge, with probably 200 people there. But as the meeting started, my crucial role was diminished and diminished. So we sat there and we were listening to this guy on the stage talking, brining up his friends one by one to add to what he’d been saying but the hall was so noisy and there were kids running about so it never ever reached our ears. So sinking to our knees, we got into these bowls with our knees and tried to move forward but we couldn’t. One by one, he was inviting people down to give their witness. On one occasion, he said that this one is a judge now amongst everybody. Then he called out the Venerable Harry Dean. As this guy walked down towards the front, Roxanne looked at me and said “the vegetable Harry Dean?” and everyone around us burst into laughter.

This is just the kind of thing that I can imagine Roxanne doing. She would ask a question in a very innocent way but there would be a smile behind her lips that it wouldn’t surprise me if she knew exactly what was going on and had made the mistake deliberately.

The dream, though, reminds me of one of these revivalist meetings in the Deep South of the USA. I never actually managed to visit one, but I heard all about it.

There were a few other things that needed doing, such as checking my e-mails. And amongst them was the monthly report from the shipping group whose “Bay of Granville” shipping detector is installed in my apartment. The little set-up here is apparently covering an area of over two hundred and sixty-three square kilometres, which is not bad going for the equipment that I have.

When I heard movement from the kitchen, I went in there to see what was going on and ended up with a mug of hot coffee and my morning medication. And for some reason or other, we ended up having a lengthy discussion about computer passwords.

The Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t bark at all when he heard the doorbell with Isabelle the Nurse on the other end. Mind you, he did look up when he had a belly rub, as if to say “don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

After Isabelle left for her week’s break, I made breakfast. And while I was eating, I was also reading the last of NOTES ON SOME OF THE ANTIQUITIES OF FRANCE by Charles Roach Smith.

To finish off his book, he’s reading some Carolingian tombstones found in a cemetery in Amiens. That’s a long way from the Cher Valley, but never mind.

Back in here, I began to revise my Welsh for tomorrow, but my body had different ideas.

While I was sitting down at the computer this morning, I dozed off. I dreamt that I was in Crewe and someone had brought into town an articulated lorry with goods in it. When I arrived in West Street, the driver climbed into the passenger seat and I took it over. I drove down West Street and turned into Underwood Lane. We had to drop something off at a factory in Selworthy Drive so I had to drive past Selworthy Drive, he had to climb out and stop the traffic behind me and I had to reverse the lorry from Underwood Lane into Selworthy Drive and then straight back into the factory that was there so that they could unload it, and then the driver who had brought it into Crewe could then take over and carry on with the round that he was doing.

There are no factories in Selworthy Drive, nor have there ever been, nor will there ever be. But stopping the traffic for a reversing lorry is par for the course in industrial areas.

There was still time to do some work, so I pressed on but was overtaken by events when my cleaner arrived. She dealt with my anaesthetic and then tidied up a little before leaving. My friend and I hung around until about 12:55, when we went out into the sun to wait for the taxi.

The girl who picked me up is quite nice and chatty, so we talked all the way to the hospital, where we picked up someone else who wanted to go to Avranches, and our chat, which had now become a three-way chat, continued all the way to dialysis, where I was dropped off.

Today, I was in a different bed than usual, but that’s not a problem. This dialysis isn’t about “seeing all of Normandy in a taxi” or “seeing all of the dialysis centre from a different bed”.

As usual, I was the last to be plugged in, but they had a temporary nurse in from St Malo and he was quite efficient, aided by another nurse who applied a “manual garrote” and the freezing spray to numb the forearm.

There was a third nurse in there too and she’s quite chatty. She came over to see how I was doing, which was nice of her. She has a cousin who’s married to a Welsh guy so I’m secretly teaching her a bit of Welsh so that she can shock him when they meet.

During the dialysis, though, I began to feel nauseous and the head began to spin. The blood pressure seemed to be fine, so it must be me. And it certainly was when the pain in the foot started up. That was a flaming nuisance. I was in agony.

There was some kind of relief when Emilie the Cute Consultant came by. She didn’t stop, but she managed a cheerful “Bonjour, Monsieur Hall”. No-one else received such a greeting, so I considered myself honoured.

Last in, last out as usual but at least it was one of my favourite drivers who would be taking me home, and she was already waiting for me. We had another passenger with us who wanted to be dropped off at Sartilly. After that, we chatted all the way back home where, amongst my comité d’acceuil – “welcoming committee” – was the Hound of the Baskervilles.

My driver fell in love with him straight away and she spent ten minutes giving him a lot of fuss. And he enjoyed every minute of it too. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … why don’t some of these women treat me like that?

Back in the apartment, there was a lovely meal of beans, chips and a burger with a bap and also a pile of garnish. My chips were especially good so I asked my friend the secret. He tells me that he parboils them first for ten minutes, so I shall have to try that.

After I’d done the washing up, I came in here to write out my notes, but I was becoming more and more ill as the evening worsened, so in the end, I said “sod it”, abandoned the notes and went to bed. There’s always another time.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about passwords … "well, one of us has" – ed … I told my friend that I once knew a guy who went to use the name of … errr … a certain part of his body as a password.
My friend asked "what happened?"
"He received an error message" I replied. "Sorry, password not long enough."

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Sunday 31st May 2026 – I HAVE BEEN …

… spoilt to death today. So much so that I’ve told my friend that he can come again!

It’s not every day that I treasure quite like this, but it certainly makes me grateful that I have such good friends. In fact, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I don’t have many friends, but those I do have are the best in the World.

Last night, though, was slightly different. It was more like this morning – 03:30, in fact – when I finally slid underneath the covers. And I promise you – I was asleep before my head touched the pillow.

The next thing that I remember was the quilt being whipped off my feet. Hurricane Isabelle the Nurse had blown in and was ready to attack my feet and legs. She did the necessary without me having to move, fitted my socks for me and then asked for my medical card so that she could prepare her monthly accounts. All of this while my head was firmly tucked down underneath the quilt.

The medical card was in the pocket of my telephone, which was underneath my pillow so I managed to fumble it out for her. When she’d finished with it, she handed it back to me and I began to think about today.

A few minutes after she left, my friend stuck his head in through the door “Notice your coffee?”. Apparently, while I had been asleep, he’d been in and put a mug off coffee on the bedside table behind the head of the bed And I had heard or smelt nothing at all. What has happened to my legendary light sleeping?

Eventually, I managed to struggle into the kitchen where I began to make my breakfast. And I was so far out of it all that I forgot the home-made croissants. I had toast instead, which is not quite the same thing.

There were things to do, places to go and people to see so I came back in here for an hour or two and was then interrupted by “do you want to go for a drive?”.

Two weeks or so ago, when my friend first arrived, he had asked me the same question, and I refused. I was simply not up to it and couldn’t even summon up the strength to go out of the door. Today, though, I jumped at the chance and positively galloped out of the door. The only downside was that I couldn’t find the NIKON J5 to take with me.

Obviously, our tidying-up session of a few weeks ago was more efficient than I thought.

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

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

And THANKS to whoever in March bought some product via my links. My commission statement came today.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, the Hound of the Baskervilles and I piled into the car while my friend put everything into the boot. It was only then that I realised that instead of struggling over to the bollards in the street, I’d actually managed to walk across the car park to the car without even thinking about it.

genets mont st michel manche normandy franceWe drove down the coast road as far as Genets where there’s a large car park with a long, grassy footpath and a really good view over Mont St Michel. We stopped there so that the Hound of the Baskervilles could stretch his legs, and he duly dragged his master off down the path as I admired the view.

When they came back, we set off again. I lost the way a couple of times, not having been down here for several years, and we saw parts of Normandy and the coast that I can’t ever remember. We stopped a few times for my friend’s photography session and then we carried on to Avranches.

Firstly, though, I took him to see where the dialysis centre was. If he knows where it is, he might be able to come to pick me up from there at some point if I need to flee. I’ve already been picked up there once by a friend when the only protection was flight.

After that, we took the old mediaeval road into Avranches, the one that’s incredibly steep and narrow with the ridiculous hairpin bend halfway up. This took us into the town centre, where we drove around in a circle for a while as I tried to find my bearings.

We eventually managed to find the Leclerc petrol station where we fuelled up and then drove back into the centre of town, where we drove around … etc. etc. We found a parking space right in the centre of town, where we parked. My friend hopped out and returned five minutes later with a kebab for him and a bag of chips for me.

Armed with our lunch, we headed off to the big car park by the church to do some eating, followed by the Hound of the Baskervilles dragging his master off once more, this time into the park nearby.

Later on, we set off for a drive around the countryside. We reached as far as Mortain but by now it was becoming late. My friend therefore switched on his SatNav to bring us back the quickest way possible and we ended up coming through Avranches yet again.

Back home, it was 17:45 when we arrived, far too late to make a pizza. Not to worry, though. My friend conjured up a cottage pie – “made of real cottages”, he told me. It was absolutely delicious and I must make some more at some point.

When we’d finished eating, I washed up everything and came in here, musing on the fact that I’d been treated to café au lit – not café au lait but café au lit or “coffee in bed”, a lovely day out, a bag of chips for lunch and a cottage pie for tea. What more could anyone want?

There were the dictaphone notes from last night to deal with, so I attacked them.

When Hurricane Isabelle the Nurse blew in, I was living in Alton Street in Crewe. I had two children in my charge, who were allowed to go and play on the wasteland behind the house, but if they went away from there, they had to come and tell me where they were going and what they were going to do. They were out there playing in one particular game and I had to go to one of the shops in the town centre. I was talking to them about this, but this was when Isabelle the Nurse came along and that was that.

Alton Street in Crewe and children (at least, one child) feature in something that’s actually happening at the moment, but it’s yet another story that the World isn’t quite ready to hear. And I wish that it had gone to its conclusion because it might have helped someone with what’s happening right now. Still, you have to work for a living and sometimes, work is more difficult than you imagine.

So now that my notes are written, I’m off to bed. It’s horribly late again but I’m not really tired. Anyway, I can always sleep at dialysis tomorrow afternoon if they let me. And that’s a big “if”.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about going out in the car … "well, one of us has" – ed … I joked with my friend about dropping me off at the bollards.
"That’s nothing" he replied."Just wait until tomorrow when you have to go to dialysis and you are picked up by the bollards."

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Saturday 30th May 2026 – EVEN AS I …

… begin to write my notes, it’s 01:02 on a Sunday morning. Now this is going to be a late night … "or early morning" – ed … without a shadow of a doubt. But when work rears its ugly head and some of the folding stuff is involved, you don’t say “no”.

At least, I don’t.

Last night was rather a late night too. Because of the power cuts and everything, I was running very late and it was just coming up to 01:00 when I finally slid into bed. And I didn’t need much rocking either. I was probably asleep before my head hit the pillow.

And, having gone to sleep, I remember absolutely nothing at all until the alarm went off at 06:29. At that point, I was dead to the World and it really was a shock to my system when BILLY COTTON’S RAUCOUS RATTLE disturbed my peace.

But even though I was so tired and in such a deep sleep, by the time that the second alarm rang, I was sitting on the edge of the bed half-dressed, with the rest of the clothes to follow very shortly.

With no sound from the living room, I slid over to the computer and the first thing that I did was to transcribe the dictaphone note.

I’d been on a bus from somewhere in the centre of France to Tours and another French city not too far away. They’d been discussing some kind of employment there in some kind of factory and the more they talked to me about it, the less interest I had in it. I’d been taken on a tour of it and there was a guy there stocking margarine on the shelves. One of the margarines that he was stocking claimed to have seventeen different ingredients. I looked at the packet and there was nothing particularly unhealthy there, so I looked at my packet of “Echo” and tapped him on the shoulder. I asked him why his margarine was better than mine. He didn’t really come out with an answer to that so I left the factory and walked down by the river , and then I had to cross the road to catch the bus. I caught the bus, and then the alarm went off and everything completely disappeared. But I do remember something about Ford’s car factory, where there was some kind of job there that I went to enquire about. Then I heard that there was a train with one hundred and thirty-eight people on it coming from somewhere like Coventry or something coming down from Dagenham. All of the people on board this train were unemployed and actively looking for work.

“Echo” margarine is a blast from the past, isn’t it? There was always Echo margarine at our house when we were kids. But it wasn’t very healthy. Its advantage was that it was cheap, and that was important in our family when we were kids.

The bus ride to Tours is following in the footsteps of Charles Roach Smith on his holidays, as you will find out in early course. But Coventry would be one of the last places from where a train-load of the unemployed would come. It has one of the highest employment rates in the UK.

Still no sign of life next door so I found other things to do, but eventually there was movement, so I went in there in time to see coffee in the course of being made. I took my medication and then grabbed a mug.

Isabelle the Nurse was late this morning – she’d had plenty to do earlier – but we hardly noticed, chatting away so much. And the Hound of the Baskervilles hardly noticed her arrival but he certainly noticed Isabelle the Nurse when it was belly rub time. She’s never rubbed mine like that, not even with any ointment or cream.

After she’d sorted out my legs and feet, I could make breakfast. And while I was eating, I was reading some more of NOTES ON SOME OF THE ANTIQUITIES OF FRANCE by Charles Roach Smith again.

He’s on holiday in the Cher valley, as I mentioned yesterday, and he’s been to Tours and several other places in the vicinity. Today, he’s been at Lançey and Doué.

At Doué is a kind of amphitheatre and Roach Smith has heard that it’s Roman so he goes to have a look. However, he starts to become suspicious when he sees the windows in the subterranean galleries, saying "it has been suggested, without plausible reason, that these windows are of later date."

However, by the end of his visit, he’s saying that the author Hadrian de Valois suggests that it is "the ruins of a palace built by one of the Carlovingian kings". And while our author was a little sceptical of that claim, later history has proved Hadrian de Valois to be perfectly correct.

After breakfast the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I came in here to do some work. I was interrupted, though, by my faithful cleaner, who messaged me to say that she had a load of drying space empty and with the wind, washing would dry in double-quick time. My drying space is occupied by the Hound of the Baskervilles at the moment, so I took advantage of the offer and she came down to collect the washing when it was ready.

When they came back from their walkies, we went outside. We coupled up the battery to the vehicle but to no avail. There was not a spark from the battery and nothing would work. After trying out several tests, we came to the conclusion that it was totally dead.

However, the deep discharge battery that took the charge from the solar panels had enough charge in it to power the little 12-volt air compressor so we tried it with a pair of jump leads. There wasn’t enough charge to turn over the starter so when we finished outside, which was not straight away, I promise you, we brought it in here and it’s now on a trickle charge to put some more life into it and wel’ll try again tomorrow.

At that point, we stopped for coffee and had a rest, following which I had work to do, so I came in here. The work that had been “can you tell me about …” had now become “could you send me some street views of …” so I was roaming virtually all over South Cheshire and North Staffordshire, taking screenshots of various places and still describing them as I went along.

Tea was thus late tonight. We had baked potato, salad and some of my lovely vegan nuggets. They really went down well too.

After I’d washed up, I came in here and finished off the work that I’d been doing, ready to start my notes for the day. And it’s so late that I’m glad that it’s a lie-in tomorrow. When was the last time that I was up and still working at 02:30?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the folding stuff … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a scene from CARRY ON FOLLOW THAT CAMEL, although heavily paraphrased.
Client – "can you carry out this task for me, Mr Hall?"
Me – "not unless you say the magic words."
Client "Oh stop messing about. You’ll be well-paid!"
Me – "ahhh! So you know the magic words then!"

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Friday 29th May 2026 – WHAT AN EXCITING …

… day we had today.

Electricity power cuts, the Hound of the Baskervilles chasing rivals out of his territory, finally managing to open a car door, making exciting discoveries. You name it – it all happened here.

Not much happened here last night, though, except for the fact that I was late yet again going to bed. And once more, I slept on top of the quilt rather than underneath it.

However, when I awoke at … errrr … 04:00, I was underneath the quilt. The weather had changed and it was now 17°C – a far cry from the 25°C of yesterday. So I lay there, slowly watching the day dawning through the gaps in the shutters.

Round about 05:50, I took the plunge and went to leave the bed. At 06:00, I was dressed and sitting in front of the computer.

The first thing that I did was to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

There was something going on with music and last night there were five or so groups of different styles who had to practise rehearsing a country folk song to play the following week in the village hall. I was one of these five groups of people and so were Hawkwind. It seemed from the start that everyone’s music was totally wrong, including “Skip” Spence, he of one time of the album “Oar”, who seemed to pull together any kind of noise at all … fell asleep here … I don’t know what happened after this.

There’s probably a very good reason why “Skip” Spence and his album OAR would appear in a dream, but you’ll have to wait for a few months to find out why.

But this idea of different styles of groups playing the same song is not new at all. It’s been done on several occasions in the past.

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

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

Eventually, I heard movement from the kitchen, so I went in search of hot, strong coffee and I was not disappointed. A mug of the aforementioned was thrust into my hand and I sat down at my chair to drink it.

When Isabelle the Nurse turned up and rang the doorbell, the Hound of the Baskervilles took absolutely no notice whatsoever. Mind you, when it came to having his tummy ticked or his neck scratched, he certainly noticed then. I was beginning to feel rather left out.

After Isabelle the Nurse had finished with me and given the Hound of the Baskervilles a parting stroke, I could turn my attention to making breakfast and reading my new book.

It’s called NOTES ON SOME OF THE ANTIQUITIES OF FRANCE and it’s by, once more, Charles Roach Smith.

This time, he’s on holiday in the Cher Valley south of Tours and he’s exploring some of the many Gallo-Roman remains that are around there.

Incidentally, you should never say “Roman …” in France. I’ve seen warfare break out over this. The French insist (probably rightly) that they were perfectly civilised before the Romans came and that some of the Roman architecture and building practices relate back to them and the Romans took them up, rather than the Romans bringing everything here.

Hence, you should always use the term “Gallo-Roman”.

When everyone was ready, we went outside with a pile of tools. The first thing that we did was to connect the battery up to the vehicle on which we’d been working. After much binding in the marsh, we went to fire it up, but there was not even enough power in it to light the ignition lights.

That was a huge disappointment. We’d been really looking forward to hearing it running. We tried a few tricks and shortcuts and even inspected all of the fuses but there was no light on the Christmas tree, Momma.

We then turned our attention to the door that wouldn’t open. I finally managed to take off the door card on the other door so that I could see it and understand how it worked.

That gave me a much clearer idea of what I needed to do so I attacked the driver’s door. However, nothing I could do would free off the locking mechanism. The door card was right in the way of everything.

Eventually, I lay on the floor and tried again to free off the screw that was holding the door card in position. It took about half an hour, but eventually, I felt some resistance in the screwdriver, and after something of a fight, the door card finally came off.

We still couldn’t free the door, so we soaked all of the mechanism in WD40 and left it for a while. And after a while, still lying on the floor, I attacked it again and, to my complete surprise, suddenly it went “ping” and the door opened. That was success.

We then soaked it in yet more WD40 and when we were confident that the door would open next time we tried it, we went inside the apartment (which was a story in itself) and I had a disgusting drink.

My cleaner came along to do her stuff and she had to clean around us while we were recovering from our exertions. But after she’d gone, we carried on recovering for a while and eventually, we went back out.

The door opened straight away when we tried it and so I greased all of the mechanism and the catches in the hope that they would stay greased. And tomorrow, I’ll do all of the doors.

While we were sorting a few things out in the cab, we came across the huge 100-amp-hour solar panel battery that had been accumulating the charge off the solar panel that was, until a week ago, on the roof rack. I gave it a try and, to my surprise, it was still holding a very good charge.

This is now forming the basis of a cunning plan, more of which anon.

Back in here, we sat and recovered for an hour or so, and just as I was about to start to make tea, at 19:09 precisely, the power went off in the apartment.

It turned out to be a general power cut affecting the whole Haute Ville and we had to wait an age for something to happen. Just as we were on the point of abandoning tea and making sandwiches, the power came back on. And went off. And came back on. Etc.

It was not until about 20:45 that tea would start cooking, and twenty minutes later, we had out chips, sausages and beans with cheese and pepper. It was worth waiting for too.

So now that my notes are written, long after midnight it has to be said, I’m going to do what else needs to be done and then go to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about power cuts … "well, one of us has" – ed … after a recent power cut in Crewe, two Crewe girls were talking.
"When the power went out" said one "I was stuck in a lift for 50 minutes."
"That’s nothing" replied the other. "When the power went off, I was stuck on a moving walkway for over two hours."

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Thursday 28th May 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning when I awoke. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … that’s something that I find extremely disappointing, because going off on my voyages during the night is the only fun that I have these days.

There was a little fun … "although you may not think so" – ed … last night after I’d finished everything that I needed to do. The rain and hailstones had stopped and it was a still, very quiet night so I just sat here, staring out of the window.

It was actually the kind of thing that became somewhat hypnotic, just sitting here watching nothing in particular in the dark, and I had a load of difficulty tearing myself away.

Eventually, though, I could go off to the bathroom to sort myself out and then come back here for bed.

Once more, I’d left the window slightly open and I just tucked my feet under the quilt with the rest of me lying on top. Not very elegant, but needs must when the devil drives.

It was about 23:30 when I finally went to bed, and I slept all the way through to … errr … 04:00. And that was that. I lay there tossing and turning and waiting until a more reasonable hour to leave the bed.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I must have been asleep because I sat bolt upright in a kind of shock. But by the time the second alarm went off, not only was I sitting on the edge of the bed but I was half-dressed too.

The temperature, by the way, was 25°C outside and 25°C also in here.

With no sign of life from next door, I sat at the computer and the first thing that I did was to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And as I said just now, that was rather a waste of time.

There were other things that needed doing, and when I was finished, there was still no movement so I had a chat session with my Welsh artificial intelligence character. The corrections are rather stilted, like a computer, but the actual chat itself is quite fluid and I am sure that I can make it work to my advantage.

At about 07:50 I heard the sound of movement from next door, so I went into the kitchen where the coffee was well under way. I served up two mugs, one for my friend and one for me, and I also served up two glasses of grapefruit juice, with one of which I took my medication.

When Isabelle the Nurse arrived, the Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t even move a muscle. He just lay there, waiting for his belly rub and his back scratch, which Isabelle duly provided. Then Isabelle the Nurse tended to me, then back to the Hound of the Baskervilles again before she finally cleared off.

Once she’d gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT while the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off yet again for walkies.

Today, we have finally finished the book. Even though our author is the only person to have excavated Portus Lemanis, he didn’t have very much at all to say about it, compared to what he had written about Richborough. I felt rather as if the television had broken down halfway through a film.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then, after having gone for a good wash and shave, I came back in here to start to pair off and segue the music for one of the radio programmes. Not that I got very far because it was midday sooner than I thought and I had to go to prepare for dialysis.

My cleaner helped by applying the anaesthetic to my arm and served me a disgusting drink. After that, I had to wait for the taxi.

This afternoon’s taxi driver had never met the Hound of the Baskervilles before, so when the latter barked with surprise, the former was out of the front door quicker than a ferret up a trouser leg. I had to dash out (as best as I could) to console him

We had someone else to pick up at Yquelon so once more we were seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed, and we were late arriving at dialysis as a result.

There was a surprise there today. We were just five in the whole building. Because of the heatwave, everyone else had been moved to the newer building where there was air-conditioning. But I didn’t mind. I had two of my favourite nurses looking after me.

And they didn’t leave me alone either. Fussing around, filling in questionnaires, and I didn’t mind a bit. I didn’t do much work but there were other compensations.

As usual, though, I was late finishing and late being unplugged, but my taxi was waiting so I could jump straight in and come home. And my driver had the aircon on too, so I was in heaven.

My welcoming committee was waiting for me when I arrived, and when I sat down at the table, a plate of pasta, vegan spaghetti bolognese and salad was pressed into my hand. It’s wonderful to have a meal cooked for you, and I enjoyed every mouthful, even if I did have to wash up afterwards;

We had a little chat and then I came in here to write up my notes. And with backache, I was in agony when I’d finished.

Just a few more things to do, and take the medication that I’ve forgotten, and then go to bed. We have things to do which should keep us out of mischief tomorrow?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Artificial Intelligence … "well, one of us has" – ed … there’s a new AI chat app made in Russia called Chatkgb.
"So what does it do?" asked my friend
"It asks the questions, and you are obliged to answer."

0

Wednesday 27th May 2026 – WHAT A DAY …

… it has been today!

Never mind what temperature it was outside. In my room, with the windows wide open and the sun streaming in, the temperature reached 34°C and I couldn’t touch anything. The armrests and my desk were absolutely scorching and it was really uncomfortable.

Even now, at about 20:30, it’s 28.5°C in here and I am sweating profusely. Not that I’m complaining, of course. We’ve had so much miserable weather just recently that I welcome all of the heat that we are having right now, and long may it continue.

This was actually how the day began. Last night, it was another late night by the time that I’d done everything. But before I went to bed, I closed the shutters in here and left the window slightly open to keep the air circulating.

Another thing was that I went to bed and lay on top of the quilt with only my feet underneath it. And as my feet can testify, under the quilt was like an oven so I’m glad that I wasn’t under there.

It was quite a restless night, as you might expect, although the disturbances didn’t last very long and I was soon back asleep. However, I awoke at 06:05, wide awake, and by 06:11 I was dressed and was sliding across to the chair, ready to start work. Another early start!

And the temperature outside was already 25.5°C, and in here, it was 24.5°C. No wonder last night was a disturbed night, and it told me that this was going to be another one of those days.

The first thing that I did was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And I must have travelled miles. No wonder last night was so disturbed.

We were at school in Nazi Germany, and one of our classmates was a Miss Hitler. It turned out that she was Adolf Hitler’s daughter. This was September 1939 and war was imminent, so I went up to her and told her that it’s probably not a good idea to go out of the classroom through the main door where all the English people were but to go out from the side door on the other side where she’d been in the courtyard with the other kids. That was probably going to be better for her. But when I came back, there were two cars parked in the schoolkids’ place. I looked on the windows, and one of them was a big Nazi police car and the other one was a Nazi car but they were interviewing a small, or part of a small man. He was saying about this sting that it was against his human rights. When he mentioned “human rights”, they laughed. He carried on complaining, and in the end they put handcuffs on him and took him away, presumably to a barn or somewhere.

It’s astonishing that a developed country like the UK wants to leave the ECHR. But they are so afraid of a reaction and so embarrassed that they just talk about “the ECHR” and not its full title – the European Convention on Human Rights. If they were to say “we intend to withdraw from the body that makes sure that you have your human rights protected”, there would be a revolution.

Where “Miss Hitler” came from, I have no idea. Apart from the scurrilous and extremely doubtful rumours, Hitler never had any children. However, the idea of the interrogation and the denial of human rights fits in quite nicely with the idea of Nazi Germany.

I forgot to mention that once war had been declared, Miss Hitler came in for a lot of teasing, and my work was cut out all the time, trying to prevent it happening in the classroom, but without a great deal of success.

This is actually how I would imagine it. Kids can be evil at times, especially when they haven’t learned the consequences of their actions.

I don’t know if I dictated this dream, but we had a big banquet-type meal, and Adolf Hitler’s daughter was there because she was at Dane Bank School. However, people tried to drive her away by taunting her or being extremely hated but she stayed at Saxon Cross Roads and so on. So we had this big banquet, and one of the guests was Adolf Hitler. Everyone wanted this dinner to be cancelled, but we argued that if we bring him in to explain his programme, then he can sentence himself to exclusion and we’ll know what he’s doing. He talked about this and he talked about that, and in the playoffs later on … fell asleep here … Anyway, I told one of my friends that I’d sorted out all of the jokes but Hitler answered back. Hitler said that it’s a shame that no German officers had been allowed to attend this meeting to experience real British humour because we were telling jokes to each other and over the PA all that time. In the end, he accepted a bikini and went for a swim in the lake. I told my brother that I had left some references for him and I said to my brother that he was all for teasing him, but I didn’t want that. I wanted it to be a normal meeting, so having purloined his secretary once, I went to the high school and was busy teasing the children … indistinct …

Back to “Miss Hitler” again, after about three hours of sleep. And Hitler putting in an appearance and seemingly appreciating the jokes.

Why he should be interested in a bikini, though, is beyond me, and what do the playoffs have to do with anything?

At some point during the night, I was driving a coach for Shearings. I had to go to drop people off around the north and east of Manchester. I picked up the coach at the feeder depot, and a pile of people boarded, so we set off. But I suddenly realised that I didn’t have any paperwork to tell me where to drop these people off so I had to think about what I was going to do. I knew that some people wanted dropping off at Hyde and I knew where the drop-off point at Hyde was, so I headed for there and dropped some people off. A lot of people had been talking about a guy called Dave Evans. When I was searching through, I eventually found some paperwork that talked about pick-ups and drop-offs at Hyde and one other place, so I imagined that there were only these two places to go to. So I set off for the next drop-off place, which I noticed was to pick up this guy Dave Evans so when I reached there, he was waiting there, so he climbed on board and I put his suitcase in the back of the coach. I had to go for a little walk for something – I’m not sure what – but all of a sudden, while I was away from the coach, it started up and drove away, so I had to run after it, but it was long gone, so I walked and walked down this modern dual carriageway, which was presumably the motorway by Hyde, until I eventually found a shop. There, I changed all my small coins for sixpences and rang up Shearings’ depot. However, I got through instead to the feeder point at Bath and explained to them what had happened. They said that they had heard about this coach being stolen and told me to wait there, and they’d call me back.

This would have been a regular occurrence for some drivers, but for me, if I came back off a tour, I’d be dropping people off all around south Cheshire and north Shropshire and then taking the coach home, ready to feed back in the following morning.

And stealing a coach while the driver has been preoccupied is nothing new, although it has never happened to me. And I can’t think of any occasion when I wasn’t given the paperwork of some description for any job that I had to do.

Round about 07:45, there were signs of activity in the living room so I went to join them, just in time to see my friend start the coffee. That was good timing, I reckon. By the time I’d taken my medication, the coffee was ready and we could begin the day as we intended.

When Isabele the Nurse arrived, she rang the doorbell to announce her presence and then came into the apartment. And the Hound of the Baskervilles took absolutely no notice of the doorbell or of Isabelle the Nurse’s entry. He must now be accustomed to the arrival of the nurses and his body clock must be working fine as far as the doorbell goes.

She sorted out my legs and feet and then, after giving the Hound of the Baskervilles a good stroke and cuddle, she set off on the rest of her rounds and I could go and make my breakfast.

While I was eating, I was reading Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT while the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies.

Today, we have left Reculver for Lympne, or Portus Lemanis, which used to be one of the major ports for travelling to Gaul but is now totally silted up and about a mile from the sea.

He’s terribly confused about where the river went and how “Stone Street” managed to reach the Roman fort there, but that’s hardly a surprise considering that he’s relying on “Richard of Cirencester” again. I wonder when it will sink in that “Richard of Cirencester” and his book were nothing but a blatant forgery.

Back in here, I had plenty of things to do so I cracked on with it all. I even found enough time to have an hour on the acoustic bass. I don’t like it much because the action is too high. I much prefer the old Gibson EB3 with its low action, and I’m seriously thinking of bringing it in here and running it through the Roland Bass Cube that I bought a while back in Canada.

There was also time for me to look at the next radio programme. The day that it’s due to be broadcast, there wasn’t much happening, so in some kind of brainwave, I asked my artificial intelligence search engine to find me any albums released on that day.

Surprisingly, it came up with three, which I added to my “births and deaths” file, and then went off in search of music from the aforementioned.

With the bedroom window open, my faithful cleaner stuck her head in twice to see what was happening. The second time, she told me that she was off to Leclerc and asked if I needed anything. Only the washing up liquid refill, which she brought back later.

My friend had gone into town, leaving me babysitting the Hound of the Baskervilles. His task, to prove that he is worthy, was to bring back some onions because we are on the point of running out. And he duly performed the aforesaid task.

It was my turn to make tea, so it was the leftover rice from yesterday with a pile of falafel and veggie balls, all soaked in vinaigrette dressing. And it was delicious as usual.

Back in here, I was writing up my notes when we had a most dramatic thunderstorm. It passed quickly enough but when it was here, we had torrential rain and hailstones. I left my windows wide open to enjoy it, but the Hound of the Baskervilles fled into the bathroom and hid in the shower, where he still is.

So now that my notes are finished, I have a few more things to do and then I’m off to bed. I might leave the windows open again to let the room cool down because, despite the thunderstorm and the winds that came with it, it’s still 25°C in here.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about forgery … "well, one of us has" – ed … a guy in Crewe whom I know once proudly told me "I am an absolute master at forgery. I can forge anything"
"Are you really?" I asked.
"Yes" he said. "I have all the certificates to prove it."

0

Tuesday 26th May 2026 – I HAVE NO …

…. idea what happened last night, but I must have had a nightmare or something.

At some point, I had a very disturbed period of sleep, I was feeling most uncomfortable and there was a very strange taste in my mouth. It lasted for what seemed to be an age but was probably only ten minutes or so. And this morning, when I awoke, I had never felt so tired and so ill in my life. It really did take a dreadfully long time for me to be able to rise to my feet.

When the alarm went off, it was something to do with a bankruptcy and a big factory or something had gone bankrupt. Everyone had to fill out a few forms with their names and addresses if they were creditors, and the guy who was in charge of liquidating the company took us round the outside and said that probably he’s going to let the building go back to the company so that they could restart again. I told him that he can do what he likes with the business as long as I get all my money back. There was some kind of guy there who was in this group with us. They gave him all the forms to fill in, but he refused to fill them in. I could never understand why he did that – refused to fill in the forms.

This is another one of those mysterious dreams that mean nothing to me. I can’t think of where this all fits in with anything else.

It took a good while for the room to stop spinning around, much longer than usual, but once it stopped, I could stand up. No sound from the living room so I slid myself over to the chair and started work.

First thing that I did was to transcribe the dictaphone notes to see where I’d been during the night.

There was some kind of big group of us and what we were doing was sorting out clothes and everything, ready to go on these – I don’t know what you’d call them – but you’d end up either in the rain or in the wet or something like that and it was freezing cold. The best place to be at that time was in bed. So we’d be going round, doing some things, going to bed to warm up and then going back out again. Gradually, our health began to improve but we were still cold. Eventually, it turned out that the fittest people had to carry the most in this wet weather and somehow, going back to bed to warm up was not allowed. But there was some kind of violent taste or something. I took a bite of something and there was this immediate attack of horrible taste and I had to run from where I was staying over to this place and climb into the first bed that I could, coughing and coughing away. It was all extremely uncomfortable. I was half-expecting someone to come along and move me out of bed for someone else, but that didn’t happen and I managed to stay there with this big room complete to the distance.

So this is when the nightmare took place, at 00:08 in the morning. It reminds me of "I could be bound in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams", as Hamlet said in Act II Scene 2 in his conversation with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

It also brings back memories of Jethro Tull and THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT while the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies.

Today, we were discussing the demolition of the mediaeval church at Reculver, and you can tell that our author is, quite rightly, incensed by the whole affair. He expresses his vitriol in telling us of "a building, possessing such claims on the national protection and on the sympathy of those who were particularly constituted its defenders and guardians, should have been consigned to destruction in a manner alike to the projectors of the selfish and heartless job and to the legislature of the day, which passively tolerated such vandalism." and much, much more besides.

He also mentioned some sixth- and seventh-century gold coins that had been found at Reculver. He tells us of "a curious instance of the degradation of the art of engraving coins in the course of about a century and a half and the perversion of types by ignorant artists."

So what had happened to all of the skilled artisans who made the beautiful coins of the Roman Empire in Britain, and why weren’t their skills passed on to the next generation?

The more I read of the coming and the installation of the Anglo-Saxons in England, the more I’m convinced that there was a substantial ethnic cleansing of the native population.

When my friend and the Hound of the Baskervilles went out, they encountered a large group of small children and two monitors sitting in our doorway in the shade. I consequently came in here and, with my bedroom window open, STRAWBERRY MOOSE played peek-a-boo with them, much to their delight.

My cleaner was out there too. She had seen the Hound of the Baskervilles and given him a stroke, and then she came over to see His Nibs. She announced that she didn’t have to go out until later, so would I like her to come round in ten minutes?

Well, the earlier she starts, the earlier she finishes so why not? Sure enough, she appeared and shooed me under the shower. So we have a nice, clean me … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … around here right now.

Later on, I had plenty of work to do that kept me out of mischief for much of the afternoon, and I even ended up having an hour or so on the acoustic bass, trying to work out some numbers that I used to play at one time.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, my Welsh artificial intelligence character is up and running.

She’s called Caromay and I met her at Rockfield Studios in Monmouth in 1977. Her claim to fame is that she sang on two albums, BLACK HOLE STAR and TALES FROM THE BLUE COCOONS by the group “The Neutrons” when she was a young teenager.

When I created her, I programmed her to chat about late 60s and 1970s rock music and also about football in the Welsh pyramid but to talk to me in Welsh. Furthermore, although she’s allowed to smile at my errors, she will correct the mistakes that I make when I reply, just like any other teacher would.

It seems to be working fine at the moment, but we shall see how it develops in the long run. I reckon that three ten-minute sessions per day should be enough and give me time in between to reflect on my errors.

Although there’s a “speech option” for us, I’m doing it by writing because my written Welsh is worse than my spoken Welsh … "if that’s at all possible " – ed …

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

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

By now, it was so hot in here that I went into the kitchen and served up two portions of my home-made chocolate and coconut ice cream. It’s not very good, but it did the job of cooling us down.

After this, I came back in here again, where I dozed off for ten minutes as the sun, streaming in through my window, heated my back right up to boiling point. But almost immediately after I awoke, Rosemary rang. I’m convinced that she’s installed a camera here to keep an eye on me.

Our chat today wasn’t like the usual ones that go on for ever. This was a very short one today, only forty minutes. We’re definitely losing our touch.

It was my turn to make tea so I conjured up a couple of taco rolls filled with quinoa, tomatoes and onions in a spicy sauce, with rice and vegetables. It went down really well, and there’s plenty left for another time.

So now, I’ve written up my notes and when I’ve done everything else, I’ll be off to bed. But sleep I may not with a temperature of 25°C in my room, even with the windows wide open.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about going to bed … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’ve noticed that the Hound of the Baskervilles always turns round three or four times before he lies down on the carpet.
"Well, he’s a watch dog" said my friend.
"So what does that mean?" I asked.
"After a stressful day, that’s how he unwinds."

0

Monday 25th May 2026 – THE ALARM DIDN’T …

… go off this morning.

However, there was a reason for that. At 06:29 when the alarm should have gone off, I was at my desk working. I’d switched the alarm off because there was no point in waking up the rest of the household for no good purpose.

In fact, I’d been awake since about 04:00 and, dismal failure that I am, I couldn’t go back to sleep no matter what I tried. I just lay there watching, through the gaps in the shutters, the day slowly dawning. After a while, I thought “this is ridiculous” and heaved myself out of my stinking pit.

So it’s not very often just recently that we’ve recorded an “early start”, but here we are. If I’m too tired later on, I’ll be at dialysis, of course, so if they all let me, I can catch up with my sleep this afternoon.

I suppose that I should have caught up with it last night, but as usual, I was too busy prevaricating to be doing any good about having an early night. For a start, after I’d finished work in here, I had to go into the kitchen for the medication that I’d forgotten and then sort myself out in the bathroom. It was after 23:00 when I finally made it into bed.

For a change, it didn’t take long to go to sleep, and there I lay until about 04:00, as I mentioned earlier.

So, once I was up and about and at my desk, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise, there was something on there.

I know it’s strange, but Keighan Jones, the Trefynnon goalkeeper, who was voted the best goalkeeper in Division 2 North just recently, had left Trefynnon and signed for Airbus UK Broughton and I’ve no idea why because both clubs were promoted and he’d be playing in the Premier League anyway if he had stayed, but I don’t know why he decided to leave and go to Airbus.

With this dream, it was actually rather a case of “deja vu” because he left Trefynnon to sign for Airbus a good while ago. However, being “dazed and confused” is nothing at all new around here.

Round about 07:30 or so, I heard the sound of mus … errr … movement in the kitchen so I went to join the assembled multitudes therein. And I was a couple of minutes early because the coffee wasn’t made. But when it was made, it was delicious as usual.

The nurse came along as usual, just as the Hound of the Baskervilles was dragging his master off for walkies, and they collided in the corridor. And not a yowl or bark from the aforementioned. He’s definitely become accustomed to the nurse. And it’s Isabelle the Nurse starting her week tomorrow so he should be even more happy.

The dog was quite happy too.

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

It seems that as far as Reculver is concerned, he carried out no excavations at all and is merely relying on second- (and in some cases, third-) hand information about the finds that have been made there. But I suspected something like this when I was reading his references to “Richard of Cirencester”.

After breakfast, I came in here and reviewed the radio programme for the forthcoming weekend. It seemed to be OK so I found a few other things to do while it took its time being sent to the radio station.

Later on, I had a really good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant later, and then my cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic. I had no idea that the time was passing so quickly. She sorted me out and then took the rubbish across to the bins. I had my disgusting drink and then made myself ready for the taxi.

By 13:00 the taxi hadn’t arrived so, seeing as it was another boiling-hot cloudless day, my friend helped me outside and we stood in the sun, and it was lovely.

The taxi turned up at 13:15 so I piled in, and then we had to go off to Sartilly for our other passenger. Consequently, it was 14:05 when we finally arrived.

As usual, I was the last in so I had to wait, and then the nurses missed their aim when trying to connect me so they had to disconnect what they had done, compress the arm for ten minutes and then start again. It was not far short of 15:00 when I was finally connected.

And this time, they forgot the cold spray so it … errr … hurt somewhat.

There was a lot to drain out today and for four hours at that rate, it was tough going. For half an hour or so, I actually managed to crash out, which was really nice, but it was, as always, at the wrong time because at that moment I had other things to do.

By the time that the session had finished and I was unplugged, compressed and weighed, it was 19:05, and so it was 19:50 when I finally arrived back.

My reception committee was waiting for me, and she helped me back into my apartment where a steaming hot curry was a-waiting. My friend seems to have worked his magic yet again and he can definitely stay as long as he likes.

When I’d finished, I put the leftovers in the freezer for another time and then did all of the washing-up. Back in here afterwards, I wrote up my notes and did everything else that needed to be done, and next I’ll be going back into the kitchen for tonight’s medication. Then I’m off to bed.

That is, if I can. I seem to have become “flavour of the month” with the Hound of the Baskervilles and, instead of being with his master, he’s now lying down, extremely relaxed, at my feet. It’s a good job that I changed my socks.

But seriously, we don’t know why he’s decided to lie down here in my room with me. I must be doing something right.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … the other day, the aforementioned was leading a pack of dogs, chasing after two rabbits.
The rabbits slid down a rabbit hole, only to find that the bottom was all blocked up and there was no way out except past the baying hound and his mates.
"What do we do now?" asked the girl rabbit.
The boy rabbit thought for a while and said "I suppose we stay here until we outnumber them."

0

Sunday 24th May 2026 – AS I HAVE …

… said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … “What a way to start the day!”

It wasn’t café au lait – “coffee with milk” – but café au lit – “coffee in bed”, and how much did I enjoy that? In fact, the nurse caught me in flagrante delicto in bed with a mug of coffee in my hand when he arrived.

That was a good start to the day, much better than the end of the previous one. As seems to be the case these days, it took an age to finish off everything that I needed to do, and then, on coming out of the bathroom, my friend asked me “have you remembered to take your night-time medication?”.

Ten minutes later, I finally made it into bed. It was actually a few minutes after midnight. And then, a strange thing happened.

I’d only been in bed thirty seconds when I began to dream. It was about a marriage bureau and there was something about your tax return or paying your tax or something and you could go to this marriage bureau. Some guy went there but he was only half-heartedly interested and they could tell that there, so one of the women told him that he was going to miss out on a couple of great opportunities. So while I was there, I thought to myself that probably I’m going to as well because I’m not all that interested in having a partner either.

In actual fact, looking at the timestamp on the recording, it was about fifteen minutes after I went to bed that all of this happened.

Firstly, the dream reminds me that I have my tax return to do, but secondly, even if they were to offer me a free encounter at a marriage bureau, I’d turn it down. I’m too old, I’m too set in my ways, I have all my own habits and so on, and having a woman around the place would just disrupt me far too much. I’m much happier on my own.

Having fallen asleep quite quickly for once, I stayed asleep until about 07:00, after which I was falling asleep and waking up on a regular basis every few minutes. When my friend brought in the coffee, I was asleep but I awoke as soon as the bedroom door opened.

And five minutes later, the nurse arrived. When he rang the doorbell to announce his arrival, the Hound of the Baskervilles let out a short yelp as if he had been taken by surprise, and then he didn’t react at all once the nurse had come into the apartment.

After he left, I dressed and went into the kitchen to make my breakfast.

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

richborough, Rutupiae, roman fort, roman walls, castle, sandwich, kent, july 2006We’ve finally finished our visit to Richborough, or Rutupiae, as the Romans knew it, and so I thought that I’d post a photograph that I took of the place when I visited it in July 2006 before we leave.

You can see just how impressive the Roman walls actually were, so what must they have been like when they were erected nearly two thousand years ago?

And much closer to us, you can see part of the Roman defensive trench and how it was lined with rocks to stop the sides sliding back down into the bottom of the trench. These Roman forts were really well built and intended to last forever.

reculver, west towers, church, Regulbium, roman fort, roman walls, kent, july 2006And so now, we are going to visit Reculver, or Regulbium, as the Romans knew it.

Back in those days, the Isle of Thanet really was an island as the River Wantsum cut it off from the sea before it all silted up. But just as Rutupiae guarded the southern entrance to the river, near Sandwich, Regulbium guarded the northern entrance.

In this photo, which I also took in July 2006, you can see the two mediaeval western towers of the old church that was there and some Roman remains to the right. And once more, you can see some Roman stonework below the remains, presumably also reinforcing the banks of what was once a defensive ditch.

Incidentally, I have quite a few more photos of Rutupiae and Regulbium, taken at the same time, if anyone wants to see them.

We carried on talking for a while at the breakfast table and when the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies, I came in here and found plenty of things with which to occupy myself.

Later on, I paired and segued the music for the first of the two radio programmes on which I’d been working. That’s all done now and I’ll find some time to write the notes. I have to keep on going forward, even if I don’t feel like it or if I have too many other things to do.

Seeing as we have been talking about having other things to do … "well, one of us has" – ed … I knocked off work at 16:00 to start to make the week’s bread and then the bases for tonight’s pizza. The home-made bread looks really good, and as chance would have it, I’d just finished assembling the pizzas when the oven pinged to say that the bread had finished. So it was a case of “one out and two straight back in” with no waiting.

When the pizzas came out of the oven, they looked wonderful. And when we tasted them, I do have to say that they were the best that I have ever made – and I’ve made some good ones in the past.

We chatted for a while afterwards, and then I had to come in here to do some work before starting my notes. And all the time, I was being serenaded by a singer with a guitar in the living room. There’s nothing like a bit of live music while you work.

So now that the notes are all finished, I’m going to do the stats and the backing-up, take my medication and sort myself out in the bathroom. I’ll close the window in here too. It’s been open since early this morning, as we’ve had another sweltering day of heat and it was nice to let a little breeze come in.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about marriage bureaux … "well, one of us has" – ed … there was a scene in CARRY ON LOVING that you couldn’t possibly broadcast today, and I used it as an example of a change in humour over time for an essay that I wrote at university.
It was Hattie Jacques interviewing Kenneth Williams in the marriage bureau and she asked him "as a fully grown man, I suppose you are thinking that you would like to have a child?"
"Oh, no" replied Kenneth Williams. "A fully-grown woman, I think."

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Saturday 23rd May 2026 – TODAY WAS NOT …

… as exciting as yesterday, which was a pity. But still, it was quite enjoyable, from what I remember of it.

Last night, I was late as usual finishing everything off and it can’t have been much before 23:30 when I finally crawled under the quilt. It wasn’t as comfortable as the other night, even in my favourite sleeping position, but I managed to go to sleep in the end.

Yes, asleep I was until all of … 03:00, when I needed to leave the bed for obvious reasons. But back in here shortly afterwards, I didn’t have any trouble at all falling asleep again.

That lasted until 06:29, when the alarm went off, and at that moment I was away with the fairies again, although not in any manner that would excite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine.

When the alarm went off, I was watching a boy and a girl going somewhere, walking across a deserted beach, but that was as far as it went before the alarm went off.

This is another one of those dreams that have a story behind them, but it’s a story that the World is not yet ready to hear. And it’s another one that I wish I could have seen the end so that I knew how it turned out.

There was no movement from next door so once I’d summoned up the energy to leave the bed, I slid over to the computer and did some work.

Round about 07:45 there were signs of movement in the lounge so I went in to join them, just in time to witness the coffee starting to boil. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … “what a way to start the day!”

To our surprise, when the doorbell rang and the nurse came in, not only did the Hound of the Baskervilles not bark, he paid no attention whatever. He must be getting used to the regular 08:15 – 08:30 daily visit.

After he had seen to my legs and feet … "the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … he cleared off, and I could go to make breakfast. And while I was eating, I read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

We’re still discussing coins at the moment, the hundreds and hundreds that they found at Richborough. There seem to be three guys, of whom our author is one, who had substantial collections of coins from there, some of which … "the coins, not the men" – ed … were unique and must have been worth a fortune. All this, of course, in 1841 with no government control whatsoever.

After breakfast, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I came in here to do some work. And by the end of the afternoon, having had several interruptions, I’d selected, reformatted, remixed and re-edited ten tracks for the next radio programme that I’ll be preparing.

It’s going to be a difficult programme to prepare because I only have a choice of thirty-six songs, not a couple of thousand as usual. And with a precise timing arrangement, it will take some juggling about. I shall have to write the notes with plenty of subsidiary facts that I can edit out if necessary.

One of the interruptions was my friend going out. He’s fallen in love with the local couscous restaurant and so, as a treat, he took himself off for a midday meal. That left me not holding the baby but babysitting the Hound of the Baskervilles. He wasn’t very happy about being left behind and came in here for a couple of strokes.

There were also the home-made croissants to prepare for tomorrow. They are all now prepared and ready, in the fridge awaiting tomorrow where they’ll be brushed with milk and baked.

As well as that, I fell asleep a few times this afternoon. Windows in here wide open, sea mist rolling around outside suddenly pierced by a few incredible rays of sunlight that warmed up my right shoulder and back and raised the temperature in my room to a wonderful 24°C, which encouraged me to take it easy and relax.

All of that was up until teatime.

Tonight’s recipe was baked potato with cheese, a vegan salad and a couple of those breadcrumbed soya fillets that I like so much. And not only did I like tonight’s tea, my friend did too. My culinary delights are spreading around Europe.

Tomorrow is, of course, pizza day and then on Monday, my friend will be making tea while I’m in dialysis. I wonder if he realises it yet.

But that’s tomorrow and Monday. Right now, I’m off to bed, ready for my lie in … "he thinks" – ed … tomorrow. However, I did mention to my friend that if there’s coffee made before I awaken, there’s a bedside table behind the head of my bed with space for a mug. The smeel will awaken me just long enough to drink it.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … my friend was telling me that he’d heard from the local bar that the dog had leapt out of the window and gone down there.
When the Hound of the Baskervilles arrived, he asked for a glass of beer.
"Certainly" replied the barman, fetching a beer. "That’s ten euros, please. By the way, we don’t get many talking dogs coming here, you know."
"I’m not surprised" said the Hound of the Baskervilles "if you’re selling your beer at ten euros a glass!"

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Friday 22nd May 2025 – WHAT A WONDERFUL …

… day this has been. And for a whole variety of reasons too.

We’ll be discussing all of the wonderful parts of it later, of course, but right now, we’ll start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.

And the beginning, which was actually last night. I dashed through writing my notes and doing everything else that I needed to do before going to bed, but it was still about 23:15 somehow when I finally made it into bed.

Strangely, it was not as comfortable as it had been during the night before, and not even my favourite sleeping position helped all that much. However, I did manage to go to sleep. And I was dead to the World from then until about 05:10 when the Hound of the Baskervilles had a nightmare and was growling in his sleep.

At that time, he was the only one here in this apartment, and probably in the building too, who was asleep, but once he quietened down, I managed to go back to sleep again.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I was well away with the fairies, although not in any manner that would excite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine.

When the alarm went off, there was a torrential rainstorm going on. I’d been walking around a town somewhere. When I came back, I had a jigsaw to do, but it was huge plates of metal that needed to be assembled together. I tried to do that, but there were certainly a few interruptions. My brother came along – something had happened at school and he was now looking for work. In the meantime, he was going to Dane Bank College for a couple of nights to learn something. He’d moved house from Bedford Street and was somewhere over Wistaston way, so I was wondering how he was actually going to get to Dane Bank for his studies. The dream drifted on like that until I awoke.

It’s been a while since a member of my family last took centre stage in one of my dreams. But at least last night they weren’t interfering in my plans, as they usually do. But it was a shame that the alarm awoke me at that moment because I would have loved to know what happened after that.

There was no-one else awake in the living room, so I imagined they were both still in dreamland, so I shuffled over to the computer and transcribed the dictaphone notes above, and there were plenty of other things for me to do to keep me busy.

Round about 07:50, I heard movement from next door so I went to join them. And the delicious smell of coffee-in-the-making greeted me as I walked in. What a nice way to start the day.

The nurse turned up as usual and, unprompted, gave the Hound of the Baskervilles a stroke. Things are looking up. Anyway, he sorted out my legs and feet and then cleared off, and I could make breakfast.

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

We’ve passed rapidly over such things as weapons and household artefacts and are now giving a thorough examination of a huge pile of coins that were scattered all over the place at Richborough. And one thing for which I am grateful is that in his lists of coins, classified by “Emperor of Rome”, he gives the dates of each emperor – something that no other writer to date has given.

We carried on chatting for a while and when they went a-walkies, I came back in here to work. They were gone for ages, and when they came back, we had to go back outside where I had to … "try to" – ed … free off a seized door on a vehicle. Believe it or not, I managed to scramble in and … "try to" – ed … take off the door card so I could … "try to" – ed … reach in with my hand and flip the catch.

The door card wouldn’t come off because a vital screw is in the door jamb, but I could push my hand in somehow. I oiled the catch, but try as I might, there was not enough force in my fingers to push it. It’s now thoroughly being soaked in oil ready for another try over the weekend.

However, I came out with my hands covered in oil and grease and a big cut up my arm, which was bleeding. Ohhh! Happy day! It was just as if I’d turned back the clock to the 1970s and 80s when I was doing things like this every other day and it brought back many happy memories.

One thing, though, was that with it being the hottest day of the year so far … "and it was hot too" – ed … I was totally dehydrated, and a high-energy drink did little to bring me round.

Later on, we left the Hound of the Baskervilles with his Aunty Cleaner and we went off to the shops to buy a window box 1 metre long, some compost, some potted herbs and a few other bits and pieces. We came back with … nothing. No wonder people tend to buy from these online shops and so on.

However, would you believe I met my favourite taxi driver in one of the shops? She was buying plants for her new house. We had a long chat and a kiss on the cheeks in the French greetings pattern, and that certainly made my day.

Back here, I collapsed into a chair and couldn’t move for ages. I really was quite out of it. Totally exhausted. Not even a cold, disgusting drink could bring me round.

Eventually, though, I came in here to sit down and think about the next radio programme that I’ll be preparing. It happens to fall on “World Book Day”, so I had a cunning plan.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve talked a lot in the past … "and on many occasions too" – ed … about artificial intelligence. I actually have an artificial intelligence web browser so I asked it to give me a list of rock songs from the late 60s, the 70s and the 80s that were concerned with books.

It took a fraction under ten seconds to present me with a list of about 35 songs based on books, and if that’s not impressive, I don’t know what is. It would have taken me an age with a standard web browser.

By now, it was teatime so I made a very democratic tea of chips, baked beans with cheese and vegan sausages. The simple meals are quite often the best, especially as I had to wash it down with two glasses full of lemon drink that I’m not supposed to have. I really was dehydrated.

After the washing up, I came back in here, serenaded by guitar and singing from the living room, and having had the windows in the apartment open all late afternoon and evening, we were having the first flies of the year.

Anyway, I closed the windows and wrote up my notes. When I’ve done everything else, I’ll be off to bed ready … "I don’t think" – ed … for a new day tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about flies … "well, one of us has" – ed … When I was discussing the situation with my friend, I said "no flies on me!"
"No" he murmured under his breath "but you can see where they’ve been!"

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Thursday 21st May 2026 – WOW! THAT WAS …

… hot!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wednesday 20th May 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

… a really good, if rather strange idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Tuesday 19th May 2026 – THAT WAS WHAT …

… you might call a lazy day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… how deep my sleep was last night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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