Tag Archives: www.youtube.com

Sunday 15th September 2024 – I HAVE BEEN …

… a very busy boy today.

Yes, even though it’s not Pancake Tuesday, Eric’s busy baking. Currently cooling down on a rack is a coconut-flavoured oilcake and (rather overcooked) tray of flapjack. There’s enough here to keep me going for a couple of weeks.

And I’ll need it too because I won’t have much time for anything else once this dialysis stuff gets properly under way. I worked out that I’ll be losing at least 18 hours per week at this, and as I’m not crashed out for 18 hours per week, time that I can recover by having the dialysis, if I’m only crashed out for, say, 9 hours, I need to find the other 9 hours from somewhere else.

Either that or there has to be such a major improvement in my health that I can work twice as fast.

Either way, it looks as if many of those hours will be lost for good in which case I shall have to do something.

What I could do is of course go to bed later and use the afternoons in dialysis to catch up on my sleep, seeing as there’s nothing much else going on while I’m there.

And so we made a start on this idea by being later in bed last night, staying up to dictate the radio notes that I’d written during the week.

Actually a late night wasn’t so important because with it being Sunday it’s a lie-in day where I can stay in bed until 08:00.

That is of course provided that I don’t awaken at … errr … 06:25 like this morning.

Even so, no chance of my leaving the stinking pit at that hour even if I could have recovered 90 minutes of my missing time. Instead I curled up under the bedclothes and waited for 08:00

When the alarm went of I leaped … "yes" – ed … out of bed and headed off for the bathroom to make myself ready for the day

There was then time to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I seemed to have been subjected to the old dodge about the blind man who loses the bottom six inches off his cane, standing there on the edge of a precipice about to fall over. Luckily I came to my senses and realised what was happening before I’d made it completely out of bed so I could control the situation from where I was

Yes, I remember, in trying to help the old man I was almost out of bed before I realised that it was a dream and so I climbed back in. If I’m going to go sleepwalking around during the night, it’s a good job that I’ve started wearing shorts in bed. I don’t want to give anyone an inferiority complex

And then I was with Cecile. We’d had a huge, blazing row just before we’d planned to go off on a skiing holiday in the Highlands of Scotland. I’d picked a really interesting route by going as far as the Ayrshire coast and then island-hopping all the way to the far north, which we were both looking forward to. After this row she decided that she didn’t want to go and I had to persuade her and use all the tactics in my power to persuade her to go, telling her about all the wildlife that we’d see and the good time that we’d have have etc. But she was worried that her ex-boyfriend would be up there at that time and make life difficult for us but that wouldn’t bother me and all of the usual replies. The situation still never resolved itself by the time that the dream ended but I certainly did my best to try to have Cecile change her mind and come with me to the North.

Arguing with Cecile is a new dream. I seem to recall in a dream having argued with anyone else but not with her. And I wonder how she’s doing. Since she abruptly quit the Auvergne 10 or 11 years ago to go to help her mother on that isolated island in the Bay of Biscay I’ve not seen her, neither have I had any news. I hope that they are OK, although in all honesty I doubt if her mother is still with us.

Finally, I was with a group of people, Americans, and they wanted a cup of coffee so we went to a café but it was busy and the people were queueing outside. These Americans were most annoyed and snapping at the serving staff about the delay. I was so embarrassed because it was clearly nothing to do with them and was so sorry for them that I apologised. A little later I found myself on a stretcher being pushed around Charles de Gaulle Airport. The guy pushing me encountered a girlfriend and they stopped, chatting for 10 minutes. Then they pushed me, on this stretcher, onto a TGV. We had to go into the cafeteria carriage. We were there in the cafeteria, me on the stretcher and the guy in attendance, as we were hurtling at 300 kph across Europe. It was really most astonishing.

Where would I be going on a stretcher from Charles de Gaulle Airport on a TGV? If you’d asked me a year or two ago it would of course have been Brussels and then on to Leuven. Today it would be Rennes where I’d be put on a local train or, more likely, an ambulance to bring me back home

But issues with Americans, we all know about those. Many Americans, and indeed many other city-dwellers, don’t seem to understand that the pace of life is so much slower over here and they need to take it easy.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up. She wanted me to take off the plaster and look at my operation, so I asked her if she knew the reply given in the case of “Arkell v Pressdram”, which she didn’t.

She sorted out my puttees, took the recipe for Jam Roly Poly which she had asked me to prepare and then she complied with the reply given in the case of “Arkell v Pressdram”.

But Hans is going to have his work cut out writing the Epic Hall Book of Vegan Recipes at this rate

Once Isabelle had departed I could make breakfast and then go to read my book while I ate. Today we’re talking about abandoned settlements and those at Silchester and Venta Icenorum have been the topic of discussion.

As for the latter, its situation was only tentatively identified as “likely” and it wasn’t until 1928 when a chance aerial photograph revealed something hitherto inexplicable.

So if you take Google Maps or whatever, put it in “aerial view” mode and copy co-ordinates 52°35’00″N 1°17’27″E, now isn’t that absolutely beautiful, streets and all?

Back in here afterwards we had Stranraer v East Fife and what a game that was. Stranraer actually managed to win (for once) and that will make them feel better. With a squad ravaged by injury and barely able to put out any substitutes, they went into a 2-1 lead and clung on until the final whistle.

Meanwhile, in other news, over at the Excelsior Stadium in Airdrie, in the game between Airdrie United and Falkirk we had a classic example of PLAYING IT OUT FROM THE BACK from a goal-kick. What price a glorious hoof upfield?

After lunch I attacked the radio notes that I’d dictated before going to bed.

They are all edited, assembled, the length of the extra track calculated, the track chosen, remixed, notes written, dictated, edited and everything joined together as it should be to make one good hour-long radio programme

And then we started on the baking. A tray of flapjack and an oil cake, but with some of the oil substituted by melted coconut oil, and heaps of desiccated coconut added in

The oil-cake needed longer than the flapjack so I covered the flapjack with baking paper and that seemed to work (thanks, John).

The problem with my oil-cakes is that they rise really well in the oven but the moment that I open the door to take them out when baking is finished, they collapse again

Anyway, it’s baked now and everything else is cooling off. I’ll see what the coconut cake tastes like tomorrow.

With a stinking-hot oven I was sure that my pizza would cook nicely – and I was right. This new cheese is good, the base is excellent and the heat of the oven made sure that it was cooked really well.

So dialysis again tomorrow. I wonder where it will end. But I was so impressed with that aerial image, so if you have access to an aerial map, go for a look

But the story of the blind man with a cane reminds me of the time that a family was eagerly awaiting the return of their husband and father from work back in the Victorian era.
He’d gone up to London in a thick smog and throughout the day it went from bad to worse.
On the way back to the station for his train he found his way by tapping his cane along the street
"And then what happened?" asked his wife when he finally returned home next morning
"Suddenly, there was nothing. No sound, and no feeling" he said. "I thought that I reached the end of the pavement"
"What did you do then?" she asked
"I tapped my stick to the left, but nothing" he said. "So I tapped it to the right, but nothing. So I turned to go back, and still nothing. I thought that the World had come to an end so I stayed still, didn’t move, and prayed"
"So when the fog cleared and the dawn broke, what had happened?" asked the wife
"I found that the bottom six inches had broken off the end of my stick and it wasn’t reaching the ground."

Tuesday 10th September 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

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

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

old cars Panhard C24 coupe sartilly Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo 10th September 2024So here you are – a photo of an old Panhard C24 Coupé

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

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

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

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

No-one can be the best in these circumstances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday 7th September 2024 – THE PLAN WAS …

… to sit back and do nothing whatever today.

And so of course, as you might expect, I have been quite busy and done quite a lot of stuff. But nothing really towards the huge backlog of stuff that’s been building up. That seems to be growing even bigger as I’m simply swept aside in a torrent of paperwork and the like.

What didn’t help matters very much was that I had another really late night last night. After falling asleep so completely during the afternoon I was quite wide awake during the evening and come bedtime I wasn’t tired enough to go to sleep.

Too tired though to haul myself off my comfortable chair and cross the couple of inches that separates chair from bed. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s more exhaustion that I’m feeling than actual tiredness.

Nevertheless I did end up sorting myself out and at round about 00:30, long after the time at which I would have liked to have gone to bed, I finally hit the hay.

As seems to be the case these days I didn’t need much rocking. I was soon asleep and there I stayed until all of 04:30. After that, it was a miserable night of tossing and turning and trying to go back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 it was close to Christmas. Some of our friends were visiting. We hadn’t prepared any Christmas cards and had no idea about what we were going to do about this. It was noticeable that our friends sent their children to the door first so they were obviously paving the way to see what kind of reception they’d receive. They’d receive a warm reception of course but they wouldn’t receive a Christmas card. That might upset them. When they finally turned up at the door she (…my friend’s wife…) said something like “is it any use us doing this?”. It was something like this that she said.

Right at that moment the alarm went off. When the room finished spinning around I hauled myself out of bed and crawled off to the bathroom.

In the bathroom I had a really good wash, a shave and of course I washed my shorts ready for tonight. I must at least make an effort to be clean and tidy, even if I don’t feel like it.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. For some reason there was a pile of clothing in one of my dreams too, a pile of clothing for a small girl probably about seven or eight years old. I have no idea why but there were some high-heeled shoes there of the type that had a small high heel that didn’t have any superstructure above the sole at the back to hold the shoe onto the heel at all. It was just held on the foot at the toe by a strap there. I don’t know where all this came from.

And neither do I either. I know that I’m likely to have some strange dreams every now and again but sometimes even I’m amazed at what I dream.

The next one is even more bizarre. For some reason I was identifying as a woman last night. I was playing for the Belgian national ladies’ volleyball team against a team from the Netherlands in a cup match that was taking place against the Netherlands. While we were waiting for the game to start I saw the crowds arriving. There was a bent little old woman leaning over a stick. I thought that I recognised her – it turned out to be my aunt from Ottawa. After the game she came over to chat. She asked about the performance. She thought that it was rather lethargic. I explained that that was hardly a surprise. This morning I had to get up really early to travel all the way here. I’d missed my breakfast. I’d normally come on the train as far as here all the way from Belgium but luckily this morning one of the other competitors and her friend brought me in their car.

Unfortunately this modern way of thinking is not for me, where you can self-identify as something completely different and expect everyone to adapt to you. Let’s face it – I self-identify as an intellectual who can write some really excellent prose and I wish that everyone would respect my choice and identify me accordingly. But some of the names that I have been called are not only unkind but completely disrespectful and I am offended. So there! As far as my writing goes, I can only echo the comments of the Reverend George Gilfillan of Dundee who, when commenting upon the works of another author 150 years ago, said "Shakespeare never wrote anything like this"

This was a series of dreams about a small girl. She reminded me a little of Percy Penguin, probably in her late teens or early twenties but she wasn’t very switched on. You had to explain even the simplest of tasks to her three or four times before you thought that she might have grasped it. Everything that she was doing was always a couple of tasks behind for example I remember telling her once to do something then telling her to do something else then telling her to do something else, but she came back with a problem about the first thing “yes, I’ve emptied the bath” which she should have emptied ten or fifteen minutes ago. It was very hard for anyone to look after her because she was so willing that she’d run around trying to do things and being too eager, she’d usually do them incorrectly or there would be a mistake where she’d forget something so all her work would have to be re-done. It was terribly frustrating because she was a lovely, keen, willing girl but she just could not grasp the same ideas that we had as quickly as we did.

“I remember telling her once to do something then telling her to do something else then telling her to do something else” – hark at me, barking out the orders. Who do I think I am? However, as we very well know, some people are like that and need to have orders barked at them if ever you wish to accomplish anything. Sometimes, organisation can be something of a thankless task.

The nurse came round as usual and he seemed much more like his old self – almost friendly in fact. However he asked if I had been down to the pharmacy to pick up the anaesthetic cream.

and so I asked him how he thought that I should have gone down there but he didn’t answer me. Instead, after much beating about the bush he asked me if I’d received the prescription.
"What prescription?"
"For the anaesthetic cream"
"I’ve not had any prescription"

It turns out that I should have had a prescription for the anaesthetic cream, I should have collected (or arranged to have it collected) it from the pharmacy and everything should be ready for the nurse to apply the cream because I start dialysis on Tuesday.

"No I don’t" I replied. "Apart from anything else, I told them right at the beginning that I’m not free on Tuesdays"

Then we had the usual argument that I have with everyone in the medical profession. Their job is to keep me alive, and the longer they do so, the more of a success it is.

However that all comes with a payoff with regard to the quality of life. I’m determined to have some quality in my life and if it means that I shuffle off this mortal coil six months or a year or two years earlier, I couldn’t care less.

There’s no way that I’m going to finish my days living like a vegetable in a Home. As Neil Young said, BETTER TO BURN OUT THAN TO FADE AWAY

As you might expect, the nurse was horrified but that’s just too bad. That’s the way it is. If they come for me on Tuesday I’m not going and that’s all there is to say about the matter.

After he left I made breakfast and then sat down to read my book. I’ve finished the book on THE ICKNIELD WAY and have started on THE ROMANS IN BRITAIN

That’s a book written in 1923 as a collection of lectures that were presented at Toronto University. It doesn’t pretend to be a scholarly tome but more of a lightweight approach as an introduction to what will inevitably be an inexhaustible study

Once breakfast was over I made some more bread. I’d used up the last of the old loaf this morning.

The bread didn’t rise as well as I would have liked. Nevertheless it’s quite light and fluffy. It was really nice having a cheese and tomato sandwich for lunch made with totally fresh, soft home-made bread.

This afternoon I had a chat with Alison on the internet and also rang Rosemary back after Friday when I fell asleep.

Rosemary’s garden s doing really well, which is nice, but we didn’t have much time to chat – only a short one of one hour and seventeen minutes – because I had a caller at the door.

My transformer (thanks, Grahame, for the heads-up) to power the Genz-Benz has arrived at last. But I can’t use it yet because the power cable that I need wasn’t included with the order. That’s coming from the USA apparently and will be here in a few days time. So we still aren’t up and running.

And then we had the football. It’s sad to say it, but Llansawel are already down, in my opinion, after just a handful of games. If form is anything to go by, the remaining relegation place should be occupied by either Aberystwyth or Y Ffint, and they were playing each other this afternoon.

It’s smething of a grudge match because Aberystwyth’s manager apparently said something unkind about Y Fflint when they were relegated a couple of seasons ago, and that has rankled with Lee Fowler, Y Fflint’s manager.

So far this season I’ve already seen each club, and for a team second-bottom with no points, I’ve been impressed with Y Fflint. They’ve taken the attack to the opposition and have been robbed of some of the spoils on a couple of occasions just by the cruellest of bad luck.

On the other hand, although Aberystwyth haven’t impressed me, they always seem to find something special at the important moments.

Today’s game was actually quite entertaining. It roared from end to end and each team created quite a few chances. It was littered with mistakes though – neither team could hang onto the ball and would lose possession far too easily.

For once though, Y Fflint had the rub of the green and while the score of 2-0 in their favour might be an exaggeration, you have to ride your luck when you can. If they play with this kind of spirit and enthusiasm and their luck holds, they should be OK but sometimes this league can be cruel.

Tea tonight was as usual, a baked potato with salad and one of my breaded quorn fillets followed by home-made apple crumble. I know that my meals are quite repetitive but I happen to like them and that’s what’s important.

So right now I’m off to bed, later than usual but with a lie-in until 08:00. And won’t I be happy when I can say goodbye to all of this nonsense with the nurses?

But all of this talk about people self-identifying reminds me of the man who went to the psychiatrists
"Doctor! Doctor! I think that I’m a dog"
"Really?" asked the psychiatrist. "How long is it that you’ve had this feeling?"
"Ever since I was a puppy"
"I think that you’d better lie down on my couch"
"I can’t" replied the man. "I’m not allowed to"

Friday 6th September 2024 – SO THAT’S THE …

… end of this long series of Welsh-language Summer Schools for another year.

And I can’t say that I’m sorry because my head has turned to porridge or some such like. You’ve no idea just how much it takes out of you having to work like this

When you reach “a certain age” it’s not just your body that slows down. Your brain does too and if you don’t keep exercising your brain it tends to stick, just as your other muscles do if you don’t exercise them

It’s important therefore that you do what you can to keep your brain ticking over somehow or other and this series of Welsh-language courses is my way to go.

Previously I was registered with Oxford University’s series of continuing courses as well as the “OpenLearn” project and I learned some interesting things. But the study wasn’t really a formal study in any sense of the word, even if I did enjoy that course on translating Roman gravestone inscriptions

So formal study it is – and was throughout this Summer but now I’m going to sit with my feet up and relax until … errr … Tuesday, when the 5th Year of my Welsh course begins. Just this year and next year to go and I’ll be ‘O’ Level standard.

That is, in theory. Despite all of the courses on which I’ve enrolled I still feel as if I’m miles off the pace. I can understand just how Homer Simpson was feeling when he said "every time I learn something new, it pushes something old out".

But anyway, be that as it may, I had another late night last night. One of my groundhoppers, about whom I’ve spoken in the past, was out and about. He had been to Heriot-Watt University to watch them take on Arniston Rangers in the East of Scotland League.

He’s not a very good commentator and could benefit from learning a few of the rules regarding refereeing, but he goes to some interesting places and makes a good video. I had to stay up and watch the game

Eventually I managed to take myself off to bed, much later than I should have done, and was asleep quite quickly.

And there I stayed until about 06:20 with hardly moving a muscle. And then it was tossing and turning about until 07:00 when the alarm went off and I could haul myself off into the bathroom.

There wasn’t much that I needed to do or felt like doing at that time of the morning and I was soon back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was playing in a rock group. One of the songs that we were singing was THE RAIN SONG by Led Zeppelin. One day we began to dissect the song phrase by phrase, line by line to examine it to try to find out exactly what it meant. As we delved deeply into the song we found that it began to mean quite a lot that we hadn’t realised and hadn’t understood at all at the time. It was much more of an anthem than quite simply a song. There were a great many phrases in there that could be changed to give a completely different meaning so we experimented with some and swapped some round, put the emphasis on different words to see exactly what would happen to the song

You’ll be surprised just how many songs there are that talk about the rain. One of these days I ought to make a list and maybe even a radio programme. But it’s true that the Led Zeppelin song isn’t really about the rain at all if you look carefully at the lyrics. “The rain” is symbolic of bad luck and sadness.

I was attending University somewhere and had gone for a walk around the campus. There were several building with machines inviting you to play them. One particular building had a big embankment around it that effectively sealed it off from the rest of the University. Instead of going all the way around the path I decided to take a short cut by walking around the back of this building and climbing up the mound over the top and down the other side. The mound was much, much steeper than I thought and full of abandoned cigarette ends. When I reached the top I was spellbound by the view. It was like seeing the Sacré Coeur church for the very first time perched on the horizon. Behind me on the horizon was the spot on the high road where I’d stopped many times to take a photo of it but I’d never ever seen it from down here in the valley from the top of this mound. It looked so impressive that I wondered why I’d never come by this way before and why this view had never been shown to the public because it was really one of the best views that I had ever seen

And while it’s not exactly the Sacré Coeur, which is actually situated on top of a ridge on the edge of Brussels, the church that I saw during the night was L’Oratoire de St Joseph situated on its ridge in Montreal not too far from the Snowdon Metro Station. Where it is, it’s clearly visible for mines around and it so intrigued us as we kept on passing it at a distance that in 2013 WE FINALLY WENT TO VISIT IT. Those were the days when we used to get out and about at the drop of a hat at the slightest excuse. These days, even going to the bathroom has become a major expedition involving native bearers, well-versed local guides and the attendance of a registered nurse. What kind of state am I in?

At one time or another there was Pete Townshend’s son who was wearing scruffy clothes and drifting around from place to place but Pete Townshend suddenly decided to have a word with him to make him wear more respectable clothes and make him adopt a much more professional and personal attitude towards life, which didn’t go down very well at first but slowly the son began to take it all on board.

As if Pete Townshend would ever be interested in people being more respectable? Mind you I can tell you some stories …

The nurse was quite chatty this morning. He seems to have calmed down quite a lot from our eruption and explosion the other day and if he keeps up with the improvement he might become quite human. Apparently the clinic where I’m likely to be dialysed has been in contact with him. Things seem to be moving rapidly these days

After he left I went for the final day of my course. And it didn’t go as well as the other days which is a shame. I think that I’ve become saturated now.

When it was over I breathed a sigh of relief. I went into my nice clean kitchen – clean because the cleaner had been – and found that my course book for the forthcoming year has now arrived. So it’s “all systems go” starting on Tuesday.

Except that I have a hospital appointment on Tuesday afternoon, and so I had to ring up to book myself a taxi to take me there.

Rosemary had rung me and I’d promised to ‘phone her back but after my hot chocolate I came back in here and regrettably fell asleep, totally exhausted. I forgot to ‘phone her so there will be a red face tomorrow when I call her back

Tea was falafel and chips with a very tired salad. My lettuce don’t seem to keep too well, not even in the fridge which is a shame. However, when I move I shall buy a big, decent, proper fridge and start again from Square One with my food storage activities.

And so that’s it for today. I’m off to bed now if there’s nothing else going on. I’m totally exhausted after all of this.

But as Led Zeppelin said, “Upon us all a little rain must fall”. But not upon all of us equally
"The rain falls down upon the just
And also un the unjust fellow
But mostly on the just because
The unjust steals the just’s umbrella"

Thursday 5th September 2024 – AFTER YESTERDAY’S …

… excitement, things seem to have quietened down today. And having straightened things out with the nurse, he seems to be much more compliant this morning.

However, it remains to be seen whether this new state of calm persists, or whether it is simply the calm before the storm

But after the storm yesterday I tried to find enough calm to go to bed early but once more I was swept up in a tidal wave of things that needed to be done and it was once more quite late by the time that everything was finished and I could go to bed.

And glad I was to find my way under the covers because the effort of everything right now, from climbing up all the stairs to having brain-fade with this course, is driving me berserk and it’s completely wearing me out.

Once in the bed I fell asleep quite quickly yet again and there I stayed, flat out, until all of … errr … 01:55. Luckily, after a few minutes of tossing and turning I was able to go back to sleep again.

But the fact that I’m awakening so easily tells me that it isn’t sleepiness that’s tiring me out, it’s exhaustion. And that’s the kind of thing that’s worrying.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was helping a young African boy to read but I’ve really no idea why. That’s all that I can remember of that which is a shame because it would be the kind of thing that’s bound to be interesting.

Having made it to the bathroom I had a really good wash and scrub up, changed all my clothes and washed my trousers and undies in the sink. That’s a habit that I picked up during the days in which I was living out of a suitcase and which I try to keep up.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise there was something on there. This was where I had a LORD OF THE RINGS dream but you don’t really need to know any more about this dream, especially if you are eating your meal right now.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a dream like this. At one time I was having them quite regularly, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, but they seem to have calmed down just recently, in a similar way in which Zero, Castor and TOTGA have slipped off the radar. But if I could have the one type of dream as long as I had the other, then I would. As STEVE MILLER ONCE SANG, "you know you gotta go through hell before you get to heaven".

When the nurse came round, he was much calmer and quieter, almost subdued. He didn’t have much to say although he reckoned that the time that it’s taking my legs to heal, I’d be better off speaking to a skin specialist and the next time I see the doctor I should mention it.

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading my book while I ate. Today my prose-writing poet has referred us to a series of books written by a local Berkshire author called Eleanor Hayden. Apart from the fact that she’s one of the rare female authors of that epoch, he waxes lyrical over several pages about her books, concluding with "her (books) will last somehow or other as long as an old wall"

With a recommendation like that she has to be worth reading, and to my surprise, ONE OF HER BOOKS IS AVAILABLE. Considering the flowery prose that he is prone to use, then if he’s impressed by hers then it really has to be something.

And then it was class time. Day Four of Five. And once more we bashed through three more units and I’m exhausted. We had a 15-minute chat session at the end of the lesson and by then I had total brain-fade and so, it seemed, did everything else.

But at least if we’re overwhelmed by the course, the people are really nice. As I said the other day, I know a few of them from other courses but one person whom I didn’t know is actually a classically-trained flautist who plays other musical instruments.

At the moment she’s learning to play the harp, so I told her about Roxanne whose Wednesday afternoon activity back in Brussels was learning to play the harp, which was very impressive in a child of eight years old. I wonder if she kept it up.

During the pauses I didn’t do much except to unwind, and once the course had finished and I’d had my hot chocolate, I came in here and crashed out.

The cleaner came in too for a chat. They’ve a couple of additions to the vegan cheese range at LeClerc so she wanted to see if I’d identified a variety that I like. Mmmmm – Cheddar Cheese is on offer …

At some point during the day, and I can’t remember when, I’d had a ‘phone call. The clinic place in Avranches wants to know the name and address of the nurse so that they can send him a prescription.

This may be to put the anaesthetic cream on my arm, and if so it’s a sign that the start of dialysis is approaching rapidly. God help me – an God help the people who are going to have to try to connect me.

For tea tonight I tried an experiment. I put a couple of handfuls of frozen veg into the microwave and a frozen slice of pie into the air fryer with the heat turned right down.

Fifteen minutes I gave them, and when they were finished they were perfect. A knob or two of butter on the veg and I had a lovely tea tonight.

However I was more interested in the experiment of defrosting and reheating in the air fryer. Defrosting in the microwave is all very well but it makes the pastry go all soggy. Using the big oven is a waste of resources for that so it was worth a run in the air fryer to see what happens.

And apart from the fact that it ended up rather dry, which is not really a problem, it worked exactly as it should.

And so right now I’m off to bed ready for my final Summer School tomorrow. And much as I have enjoyed it all, I’m exhausted and I shall be glad of the rest.

But talking about the nurse, the course and everything else driving me berserk, I’m reminded of the story told to me by one of the doctors at the hospital.
Apparently someone had come into the Accident and Emergency with a car steering wheel, the column of which was embedded in his groin
"How on earth did that happen?" asked the doctor
"I’ve no idea" replied the patient "but I’ll tell you something. It’s driving me nuts"

Saturday 31st August 2024 – IT’S BEEN ANOTHER …

… typical Saturday when I seem to have rather regrettably spent most of the day asleep.

It beats me why it seems to be that Saturday I grind down to a complete halt without actually making any progress whatsoever with the mountain of work that I need to do.

Mind you, admittedly I was rather late last night going to bed. Never mind midnight – it was long after that when I finally hit the sack and crawled into bed.

Once more, I was asleep quite rapidly and there I stayed until the alarm sounded at 07:00. There might have been the odd bit of tossing and turning during the night but nothing to worry about.

So at 07:00 I staggered off into the bathroom and did what I had to do, including washing my shorts. That’s a regular Saturday task and even though they had been through the machine earlier in the week they still went in through the washbasin.

Next task was to deal with the washing-up from last night which I hadn’t touched. What with the football running so late last night I’d just finished off here and gone straight to bed and left it. I know that it’s my pet peeve but if there’s a choice between washing-up and bed, it’s no contest.

Third task was to put away the frozen carrots. They’d been all prepared and had been draining on the worktop overnight. If they go into the freezer too wet they all cling together in one big clump.

The freezer is jam-packed full and it was something of a struggle to have everything fitted in – even more of a struggle than it normally is. I really need to empty some of the stuff but I’m not sure how to do it as I’m sure that the stuff in there is breeding and multiplying behind my back

Finally I could make it back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a game at Hwlffordd. The team was playing against someone else. It was under enquiry by the Secret Service who believed that the players of one team were communicating with the enemy, presumably by the fashion in which they were playing. They had observers there watching the game very closely. Because the secret escaped that there was at least one observer there that changed a few people’s thoughts about the situation but we pressed on al the same. Although we didn’t find anything when we had criticisms to answer about it we could point to the fact that we waited until all of our enquiries were completed before making a report and if we hadn’t sent the observers to watch the game the report would have been frivolous, unclear and possibly incorrect.

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, we were at Hwlffordd for a match last night. But whether the Secret Service was represented there was another thing. There were probably a couple of managers of local teams though, surreptitiously sizing up the opposition for the future.

By the way, I mentioned that I’d try to find a video of Hwlffordd’s sublime third goal last night. To my surprise it’s not been edited by the broadcasting company from the video of the game so I’ve done it myself and you can WATCH IT IN ALL ITS GLORY.

Believe me, it’s well-worth it. You won’t see a finer goal like this anywhere else.

Later on I was at work and the Occupational Guidance came to see me. He was only a young guy. We had a chat about my health. He then asked me if I’d take a little walk, a few steps so that he could see how I managed. I told him that I was totally unable to walk under any circumstances without my crutches so he replied “well, I’ve just seen you walk around the office on your crutches so why don’t you walk a few paces for me so that I can observe you properly?”. I stood up, picked up my crutches and set off on a little walk around the office.

Strangely enough, when I was awake I couldn’t think of the name of the job of the person who comes to check how you are coping with everyday life after an illness or injury. Yet there I am in a dream and I can come out with words like “Occupational Guidance”. I ought to go to sleep more often. But it’s all very well these people coming round to check on me, but they ought to be proposing things to help me out. I’ve had the thing to help me ride the porcelain horse but that’s all.

The nurse came round as usual and went through the process of changing the plasters on my legs and sorting out the puttees. He was quite gossipy but didn’t really say very much and was soon off on his way. I would have thought that after all this time there would have been an improvement by now but that’s not happening and it fills me full of dismay.

After he left I made breakfast and had a very leisurely start to the weekend reading some more of my book on THE ICKNIELD WAY.

What’s interesting with these old books is to see what they have to say and surmise from the evidence that was available 100 or so years ago, and while you’re reading, read a more modern version, say, from Wikipedia, that tells us about these places but with the benefit of another 100 years of research and evolution of archaeological skills.

For example, an earthwork that was described in an ancient book as “probably a Danish camp and certainly not much older” was noted in Wikipedia (which is not always correct I hasten to add) as “archaeological investigations in 1992 revealed it to be an Ancient British camp dating from Before the Romans”

In the book I’m reading there’s talk of a “derelict but magnificent packhorse bridge” whereas the village entry in Wikipedia tells us of “an old bridge which was demolished some time in the 1970s”.

After breakfast I came in here and vegetated for a while. I seem to be taking ages to liven up and start work. Once I was up and running I prepared the video extract that I mentioned earlier so that seems to be working well enough

Then I went to wash the puttees that had been soaking in a bowl for several days. They should be nice and clean now and drying quite nicely in the bathroom.

This afternoon I went to make a start on the next radio programme but regrettably I crashed out and that, I’m afraid, was that for quite a while.

Once I awoke there was more football on the Internet.

Apart from leaving the washing-up overnight, another one of my pet peeves is this modern, totally suicidal habit of playing the ball out from the goal-kicks.

In my day we had big towering centre-forwards matched by big towering defenders. Wingers pumping high crosses into the penalty area led to some famous aerial duels with forwards like Jeff Astle, Joe Jordan and Brendan O’Callaghan battling it out with centre-halves like Ron Yeats, John Wile and Gordon McQueen.

Goalkeepers added to the mix with potent long kicks pumped upfield and it all added to the chaos, panic and confusion in the opposition’s penalty area.

But these days, it’s all of this possession football where the object is to hang on to the ball as long as possible. It’s all very well if you have the skill but if you don’t, it’s a disaster.

Y FFlint, second-bottom of the table, were rather fortuitously 2-0 up against another team down there in the basement, Y Barri, and then they concede two soft goals. So with the game drawing to a conclusion they win a goal kick so they decide to hang on to the ball so that the match would end in a draw.

Anyone care to guess what happened? You can find out HERE. What a shambles. If I were Y Fflint’s manager Lee Fowler I’d be furious.

seriously though, it’s going to be a long hard struggle for Y Fflint. Their only hope is that maybe either Aberystwyth or Y Barri are worse than they are. They can’t go throwing away points like this, especially against the other teams stuck in the basement with them.

Tea tonight was another one of my delicious breaded quorn fillets with a vegan salad and baked potato. A different brand of quorn fillet and not as good unfortunately but we have to try these new vegan products that LeClerc offer if we want to encourage them to keep expanding their range.

So that’s everything for tonight. I’ll go to bed and start again tomorrow I reckon

But that story about the Occupational Therapist reminds me of the story about the guy who hobbled into the Chemist’s and asked to be shown some talcum powder
"Walk this way" said the chemist.
"If I could walk that way" said the man "I wouldn’t be needing the talcum powder."

Wednesday 28th August 2024 – MY GINGER CAKE …

… is really delicious. Not quite fiery enough, I reckon, but that kind of thing comes with practice. The consistency was exactly what it should have been, except that it was cooked more at the top than underneath.

Usually that would mean lowering it in the oven, but that won’t work as it’s already on the lowest possible shelf, so it’s going to be to turn down the oven and prolong the cooking time.

But that won’t work if I’m baking bread at the same time, so it will have to do.

Consequently, given the shortcomings of my table-top oven, it was a resounding success. Just wait until I have a real oven, whenever that might be.

At least the sponge rose up as it was supposed to do.

While we’re on the subject of rising up as it is supposed to do … "well, one of us is" – ed … I rose up as I was supposed to do this morning when the alarm went off at 07:00

That was helped by the fact that for once I was actually in bed before my ideal curfew time of 23:00. Not by very much, I have to say, but even one minute is some kind of progress.

After I’d finished my notes last night I did everything that I had to do and then headed for the hills.

Once in bed I remember very little. I started my little bedtime mantra but didn’t get very far before I fell asleep. And apart from a couple of awakenings at various times, there I stayed quite comfortably until the alarm went off.

In the bathroom I had a really good wash and clean-up, followed by a shave and some clean clothes. I must look my best for my trip out today. Who knows? I might even meet Emilie the Cute Consultant.

While I was at it, I washed my trousers and undies in the sink ready for next time. I try to keep ahead as much as I possibly can.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. Nerina and I were going through one of our phases and were walking down Hospital Street in Nantwich or driving down there, but we stopped at a pedestrian crossing to let a pedestrian pass. I recognised him as he walked past. He was a musician and after listening to his album thanks to a recommendation by a friend I’d actually gone out and bought a copy. I just happened to mention that I’d bought a copy of his album and we ended up having a very lengthy discussion about the music business before he left. He noticed a cut on the side of my face so told him that it was nothing to worry about and began to sing a parody of the Dire Straits song I’D PUT A BIT OF PLASTER ON MY FINGER, PUT A BIT OF PLASTER ON YOUR THUMB. He came running back wondering where he’d cut himself. I had to explain to him that that’s the lyrics of a song. Once he’d worked it out he went on his way quite happily.

But I’ll tell you something for nothing, and that is that if I can write parodies of modern (well, for me anyway) songs while I’m asleep I’m doing really well here. And walking through Nantwich and encountering rock musicians would have been quite a usual occurrence in the mid-70s with a host of garage bands in the area and recording artists like Strife. They were some really good times with the pubs in Nantwich like The Wickstead, The Rifleman and The Bowling Green. There was a time when my friends and I were thrown out of most of the pubs in the town at one time or another.

There was a boxing match out in Aston, a girl from our class, whatever her name might have been. We set out in the car to go to see it. It was taking place outside the church. We knew that we had to rush. Nevertheless we arrived late and the fight was under way. It looked as if she had been hurt because she wasn’t her usual lively self for boxing. Her opponent, an older man, was there and they were standing toe to toe trading blows. She was fending off more of his but then she caught him with a beautiful overarm right just as he was trying an overarm right. It was a very painful, tired overarm right as well as if it was her very last effort that she put into it but it made a perfect connection on the point of his jaw and that was him out for the count. She won the competition again but this time it was much closer than it had been in previous attempts so we were going to have to work on why this was the case and do something about it for the next time

What beats me about this is that I actually mentioned the girl’s name. She would have been one of the most unlikely candidates for a competitor in a boxing match (having said that, had any of the girls in my year or thereabouts come up against a male boxer, my sympathy and commiserations would have been entirely with the boxer) but not only that, I don’t think that I’ve ever spent even a minute thinking about this particular girl since I left school. So what’s brought her suddenly to the forefront of my mind?

Later on we’d been sorting out some music concerts. There had been a complaint from one of the washrooms that all of the towels had been used by a certain group wiping the lipstick off their faces after being kissed by thousands of girls so there were no clean towels in the washrooms. A certain guitarist was also there on tour. He was a nightmare to handle as everything had to be absolute perfection but perfection according to his standards. He had no spatial awareness and no awareness of anyone else around him and their feelings and so on. Everything was all about him. It was a very complicated issue to deal with him. He was sacking everyone after the first show, replacing his staff and then firing them again after the second and we just couldn’t keep up with all of the changes. Neither could he. It was beginning to deflect from his show but he wouldn’t have it at all and wouldn’t listen to explanations from anyone that maybe he ought to moderate his unnecessarily high standards in order for a compromise to be made that would mean that everything would go ahead. The more people he upset and the more people he fired, the fewer people he would find who would be willing to work with him

Anyone in the music business would be able to name this guitarist – I did in my dream but I edited it out – whose constant search for perfection has had exactly the opposite effect to that intended. Anyone of any great competence will look at the speed at which our guitarist has been hiring and firing and decide that he’s better off where he is. It’s not at all like Neil Young who has often been criticised because of what is perceived to be the lack of ability of his backing group, Crazy Horse. But as he has said on many occasions, he’s here to have fun and a good time with his mates and make everyone happy, not to launch himself into an eternal quest for the unattainable goal of perfection.

The taxi was late coming for me but it was a lovely drive down to Avranches even if the driver kept the windows closed.

The letter that I had notifying me of my appointment showed a different time from the time that they had noted so I’ve no idea what was happening there.

Anyway, I was eventually seen and the first thing that the doctor did was to rip off the plaster and give me a lecture about having it covered. I felt like a small child up before the headmaster (although where I would find a small child up before the headmaster in that hospital I really don’t know).

So I have to keep it uncovered and let the air get to it, and like it. So far, I’ve managed to avoid not seeing it. How long I can keep that up I really don’t know.

The doctor ran her echograph machine all over my arm right up as far as my armpit, and passed it fit for service. So on the 4th September I’ll know when dialysis will begin.

While I was waiting for my taxi back I bumped into Emilie the Cute Consultant’s sidekick and we exchanged a few words. And then the taxi came for me

All the way back (with the windows closed again) and the taxi driver had to help me up the stairs – something that she found extremely difficult and so did I. Seriously, if my cleaner’s not available to help me it’s going to be a real struggle

First thing that I did back here was to have a very late breakfast. I’d had nothing to eat or drink all day as yet so I was ready for some food.

It was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse. "I was here at 08:20 but must have just missed you"

"Yes" I thought. "And the taxi was late so it was well after 08:30 when we left" but I didn’t say anything.

After breakfast I had a lengthy chat with a friend in the UK. We have a project on the go and that involved some lengthy discussion.

It should also have involved a transfer of money but the battery has gone flat in my card reader so I had to order another and the money will have to wait.

There’s some bad news about this project, but it’s not unexpected so it’s no skin off my nose really. But with having a professional on the job, there are already some considerable savings that have been made so it’s “swings and roundabouts” really.

Liz was on line too so we had a lengthy chat. She was keen to see how today went and what the plans are for the immediate future so I filled her in.

The cleaner was here too and she whizzed through the apartment.

Once everyone had gone and things had calmed down I went for a very late hot chocolate and a slice of ginger cake. And it really was delicious as I said.

But now I know that I can substitute things in my basic recipe, how about a coffee cake? What about strawberry cordial instead of water to make a strawberry cake, with real strawberries in there somewhere?

But this is how most recipes work – trial and error. Sometimes some of these experiments work in spades and other times they are absolute disasters.

After that I made some naan dough and put most of it to freeze but kept one ball for tonight’s leftover curry, which was delicious as usual and the naan was perfection.

But now I’m off to bed. I have no plans for the next two days so I might even do some work. But right now I’m listening to a live concert by a Canadian group called “Black Mountain” so I’ll be going nowhere for a while

But on the subject of Liz and “filling in” I’m reminded of the guy who went for an interview for a job at the Ritz Hotel in London
"You should fill in our questionnaire" said the receptionist
"Very good" he replied, and went outside and beat up the doorman.

Thursday 22nd August 2024 – I AM NOT …

… turning into a politician, or a Conservative.

The heart specialist had a play around with his machine and after much searching and so forth, actually managed to detect a heartbeat.

So something is working where it ought to be working and that can only be good news

The better news is that he seems to think that he can do something for me. And if so, that will take a great weight off my mind. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I’m being pumped full of blood-thinning products in order to ease the strain on my heart. That has some unpleasant side effects, such as my blood being so thin that I bleed at the slightest excuse.

And that was the reason why my early night last night ended up not being an early night at all. And once more we have a rail of blood all around the apartment from when I had to wander off and look for the sticking plasters.

Yes, in the distance that it took me to go from my chair into the bathroom I managed to knock myself and bleed all over everywhere.

It was quite a while before the blood stopped flowing enough for me to consider going to bed. And once more, it didn’t take any effort at all to go to sleep. That doesn’t seem to be a problem anyway.

What does though is whatever it is that keeps on awakening me in the small hours of the morning. I’ve no idea what time it was this morning but it was still dark. But no chance of my leaving the bed. I PULLED THE BEDCLOTHES HIGHER, DREAMED OF SUMMERTIME INSTEAD until the alarm went off at 07:00

In the bathroom I had a really good wash and shave (for a change) and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a hold-up on the motorway and everyone was detained while the hold-up was fixed. It took several hours through the night and at one stage the Police had organised an impromptu football match between various members of people waiting in the queue. A lot of people weren’t happy and were making complaints but there was nothing that anyone could do. Even so they were coming up with the most incredible excuses about having to see the Queen, things like that. There were several young families there and entertaining the children was a huge priority. Although this was going quite well in one or two places it was quite bad in a lot more. No-one seemed to be able to get to grips with any of the issues that were arising, whether it was the passengers. Of course, the longer the delay went on, the more urgent some of the passengers became and the more targets the Police and Customs had to pick to search, which only aggravated the issue even more. It was all part of some natural disaster and wasn’t a man-made issue that had blocked the motorway

Later on there was a huge thing about illegal immigrants and with the Pole Board blocked the immigration service was going through interviewing anyone and absolutely everyone about their immigration status. It was upsetting to a great many people but nevertheless it was something that was carried out and it was interesting to see different people’s reactions. Some took it quite calmly. Some took it quite emotionally. It was absolutely everything there. In the end it turned out that what it actually was was tickets for a Scottish Cup Game between Rangers and someone else at the other team’s ground. The Police had this barrage there to control the arrival of fans. After Rangers had won the match they contacted the club that was hosting the next round game to ask them about ticket arrangements but Rangers were quite happy for it to be a “pay on the gate” game. They didn’t seem to think that it should be a “ticket only” match so the Scottish FA was giving the matter some consideration about simply making it “first come first served” for a seat

This may not seem to make any sense at all but that’s not surprising. Hardly anything that I do or say in a dream seems to make any sense at all. But then again it’s probably not supposed to.

The nurse was very late coming here today. She’d been across the road to take a blood sample from someone and it had proved to be more difficult than she imagined.

She was pleased that we have some new puttees on the way and that her supplies have been ordered. She saw my prescription for a blood sample and is going to take it on Saturday

After she left it was too late to have breakfast, which was just as well that I didn’t start anything because the taxi was early. The driver helped me down to the car and we had a nice, pleasant drive to the Medical Centre.

But that’s twice now that I’ve been out and about in the sun and it makes me yearn to be in the apartment on the ground floor where, with a folding chair, I could sit outside and enjoy the beautiful weather

Being early at the Medical Centre I had to wait for a while before I was seen. The doctor remembered me from three years ago and asked me what happened to my cure.

And so I recounted to him my story about being passed from pillar to post in Belgium to such an extent that I lost interest. He pleaded with me not to lose interest this time.

So fair enough. Let’s see what he’s got under the hood, as the old saying goes. Can he really conjure up something to help ease all of my issues?

He wasn’t impressed with the fact that I’m covered in bruises and wanted to know if I’d had a fall. I explained about how I bruise really easily while I’m taking all of these blood-thinning products.

While I was waiting for my paperwork I encountered one of my neighbours, just back from holiday. We had a little chat and then my driver came to take me back home.

He helped me up the stairs as far as the lift and I could go the rest of the way on my own. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that the lifts are only on the half-landings and don’t go all the way down to the ground floor, which is an inconvenience.

Back here I finally could have breakfast which I took at an extremely leisurely pace, and then joined my Welsh class.

My Welsh Summer School seems to be going very well, which is nice. I can’t think what I’m doing right. I wish that I knew because I’d do it all the time

During the lunchtime pause I made some dough for the next loaf, and in the afternoon break gave it its second kneading.

At the end of the lesson, in a mad fit of enthusiasm I made a pie using a couple of vegan burgers that I diced, along with onions, garlic, sweetcorn and lentils.

All of that went into the oven with the bread and some potatoes, and I ended up with a lovely tea tonight – baked potatoes and pie with vegetables in gravy. There’s enough pie left for three more meals so it’ll go in the freezer when it’s cooled down enough

My faithful cleaner stuck her head in the door too. We went through the medication so that she knows what to order on the next prescription supply from the chemist’s.

She says that she’ll go tomorrow, but I reckon that she’ll need a lorry to bring it all back.

So on that note I’ll go and give my puttees a good wash and go to bed, see if I can have a decent sleep ready for my last day for now in a Welsh Summer School (there’s a third week later). We have piles of homework to do and that will keep me out of mischief.

But not before I tell you the story about the Eye Clinic in the Health Centre.
A patient went in and told the doctor that he was having difficulty seeing and needed his eyes testing.
"Fair enough" said the optician, and turning to his secretary, said "take your clothes off, Miss Smith"
The patient was outraged. "I’m the one who needs his eyes testing" he said. "Why should she take off her clothes?"
The optician turned to the patient and said "if you can’t see why she should take off her clothes you really DO need your eyes testing."

Thursday 15th August 2024 – SO THAT WAS …

… Day Four of my Summer School.

And I’ve no idea what’s happening here but things seem to be going quite well with this course. That’s something that I don’t understand because usually I struggle to get to grips with everything. I don’t know what I’m doing right but I wish that I could do it more often

So while some things seem to be going my way, cà plâne pour moi as Plastic Bertrand once said, I wish that everything else was too.

Like actually being in bed at something like a reasonable hour instead of hours late, as seems to be the case these days. It was another “almost midnight” when I slid underneath the covers last night

Once again I was asleep quite quickly. In fact my little bedtime mantra hardly had time to get underway before I was off with the fairies. And that was that until all of … errr … 04:30.

But no chance of my showing a leg at that time of the morning these days. I curled back up underneath the covers and there I stayed until Billy Cotton ROARED HIS RAUCOUS RACKET at 07:00.

When the World stopped spinning round I made my way into the bathroom for a good scrub up to make myself pretty, but I suspect that it might take more time than I have available to do something like that

Instead, I came back in here to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I’d been hot-rodding around the town, doing doughnuts, things like that and the police had come along and caught me. But there was something important going on and I was waiting for some kind of news about this but all the police were interested in doing was to give me a very long lecture about the perils of careless driving etc. I was perfectly aware of what’s happening and it was all just getting in the way of this ‘phone call that I was expecting. I thought that they’d never ever finish this discussion with me and I’ll miss this ‘phone call if they carry on much longer.

It’s an absolute certainty that if any member of Cheshire Constabulary’s finest were to find me performing stunts with a car, it wouldn’t be a lecture that I’d receive. I remember, back in the olden days, a friend of mine performing a few stunts on a car park in Crewe late at night and actually being summoned under the local council by-laws for “using a car park for purposes other than parking”. Mind you, it was right next to the police station so what did he expect? He should have been more circumspect.

The nurse didn’t have a great deal to say for himself this morning. He was in and out quite quickly, leaving me in peace to have my breakfast and carry on reading my book. I’m quite engrossed in this book and not only that, it’s had me hot on the trail of a couple of other books on the subject of the forts on the Bozeman Trail.

If you followed the link that I posted the other day, you’d had walked with me several miles along the Bozeman Trail to the site of the Fetterman massacre where Lieutenant Fetterman and his soldiers were cut down by Red Cloud’s warriors

That was a brilliant trip, that one in the Summer of 2019 where I visited all of the sites of the major confrontations between the Native Americans and the European settlers and soldiers, including such places as the Powder River, Wounded Knee and Little Big Horn

And, as usual, LITTLE BIG ANTLERS accompanied me.

One of these days I must finish off editing all of these …gulp … 6,000 photos that I took of my trip and post them on line before it’s too late.

There was more homework to do so I tackled that and then went to join my lesson.

As I said earlier, it passed off quite well despite a really flaky internet connection somewhere and I only fell asleep twice. We seem to be making a little progress in this respect although it’s far too early to start crowing quite yet.

When the lesson was over I made myself some hot chocolate and had a slice of chocolate cake, and then came back in here to edit the final batch of radio notes.

That’s all done now and tomorrow morning I’ll finish off everything by joining it all together, choosing the final track and writing the notes for it.

Tea tonight was a burger with pasta and veg – a long time since I’d had something from the European Burger Mountain.

Mind you, it’s not so much of a mountain these days. I’ve whittled it down since it reached the heady heights and overflowed the fridge. That was a long time ago.

So now I have a few things to do and than I’m off to bed.

But talking about performing stunts in cars, I remember hearing of a really hairy drive once where a guy set out to impress his friends and scare his girlfriend.
After screeching around a few corners, with tyres burning and engine overheating he turned to his girlfriend and, indicating the smoking tyres and burning Castrol R oil, said "now smell that!"
"Smell it?" she asked. "I’m sitting in it!"

Tuesday 13th August 2024 – DAY TWO …

… of my Summer School passed by today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday 10th August 2024 – IT’S NOT BEEN …

… all that much better today than it was yesterday. There has been a slight improvement to be sure but almost anything would be an improvement over what surely must have been one of the worst days of my life.

It was another late night last night. and I’m not talking about midnight or anything respectably late but I’m talking about times like 02:00, that sort of thing.

Something awoke me at 05:45 and I’ve no idea what it was. At te time I was in the middle of some kind of panic attack thing about how I must catch a bus to somewhere, a long-distance coach. I have to be somewhere else by 08:00 to board this bus and I’ve no idea what time it is and when the alarm goes off will I have time to go – another one of these panic attacks. But whatever awoke me sounded so real that I actually left the bed to answer my phone, which hadn’t rung or even received a message, so I’ve absolutely no idea why I would have done that.

Having made sure that there was nothing going on that might have been of an importance I went back to bed.

These days I’ve had a few of these panic attacks while I’m asleep.. I wonder if some part of my body is telling me something and that I need to take heed. But I really can’t think where I have to be that involves any kind of travel that I would undertake in a long-distance bus. The only place where I would ever be likely to want to take one would be between Montréal and Florenceville in New Brunswick, but not even that bus runs any more.

Once I was back in bed there I stayed until the alarm went off.

When Billy Cotton ROARED HIS RAUCOUS RATTLE I staggered off into the bathroom to have a good scrub, wash my night-time shorts and change my clothes. I have to look my best for Isabelle’s last day before she goes off on a well-deserved break.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was in a scrapyard somewhere and we had an old Class 20 or similar shunter. For some reason we had to go to a quarry. At the quarry was another one of the same type of machine. There was some issue involving the driver of that particular machine so as we were there one of our people drove it. There was a huge argument and he ended up escaping in this machine, not before he’s destroyed half of their infrastructure, driven over the top of a crane cutting the bodywork etc. The bailiffs or someone turned up at our place and wanted to take away our machine thinking that it was theirs but when they compared the registration numbers of our train with the registration numbers of the locomotive from the quarry they found out that it wasn’t the same so they couldn’t take it, so they left Then the guy turned up with this machine from a quarry so we ended up with two identical machines due to people losing their temper

Actually, I know someone who has a Class 20 diesel locomotive. He might even have more. He’s the neighbour of a former friend of mine and runs a company in Staffordshire hiring out locomotives to various railway companies and has a useful side-line ingoing round various locomotive breakers yards rescuing the more valuable spare parts. He started off with just one locomotive that he had bought to preserve but made a fortune hiring it out to the builders of the Channel Tunnel and, like Topsy, his business “just growed”.

Isabelle was in “chat” mode again today and she spent some time here. Having covered for her boss’s absence on holiday she’s now going off for ten days. He starts back tomorrow and their cycle of “one week on, one week off” begins again.

While I was having breakfast I was reading about the Maginnis Gulch Stampede, or Montana’s Phantom Gold Rush, an incident that was played to perfection in CARRY ON COWBOY

But for those of you who have expressed an interest, the book is called FOLLOWING OLD TRAILS, written by a newspaperman called Arthur L Stone.

Later on in the morning there were the highlights of last night’s game between Queen’s Park and Livingston, and then I joined that guy I mentioned the other day, Blair McNally, for a trip to the East end of Glasgow for Vale of Clyde v Port Glasgow Athletic, a proper amateur football match in about the eighth level of the Scottish Pyramid.

This afternoon I’ve been tracking down concert dates. And much to my surprise, because of all the ones that I’ve done this is the first, I came across one that took place on a date on which I will have a radio broadcast within the current cycle of programmes that I’m preparing.

So on 21st March next year we’ll be having a live concert from the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago in 1974. This afternoon I’ve mixed the music for the concert and I’ve written half of the notes. I could have written more but unfortunately I was away with the fairies for a while at some point.

While I was at it, I came across a few other interesting bits and pieces, and finally turned my hand to downloading a concert that had been sent to me by one of the musicians who took part, featuring the almost-last concert on which my hero Deke Leonard played.

It’s a real pity though because of how the dates fall, this one won’t be broadcast for several years yet.

Tea tonight was one of my favourite quorn steaks in breadcrumbs, with baked potato and vegan salad. And it was delicious as always. Something that I eat every week but why not if I enjoy it.

So now I’m going to dictate the next batch of radio notes and then I’m going to try to go to bed at something like a reasonable time.

But talking of “Carry On Cowboy” reminds me of the two bandits (one of whom was Sid James) talking to the Indian chief Big Heap (Charles Hawtrey)

Big Heap – "And this is my son, Little Heap"
One Bandit – "How"
Other bandit (Sid James) – "How"
Big Heap – "And this is my squaw. I bought her for two buffalo skins"
One Bandit – "How"
Other bandit (Sid James) – "Never mind how. Where?"

Monday 29th July 2024 – I’VE HAD A …

… lovely chat this morning.

Round about 10:30 I noticed that Ingrid had come on line. It’s been a while since we’ve had a chat so I ‘phoned her up to find out her latest news.

Like most of us these days, it’s a mixture of good and bad but it’s still nice to keep in touch with each other and exchange our news regardless of what type of news it is

Something else that was nice was to be in bed before 23:00 last night and it’s been a long time since that’s happened. I’d all-but given that idea up as an unrealised ambition, but there we are.

With having prepared the pizza dough and the pizza early, I’d soon eaten it and cleaned up the kitchen (I try to do that every night – I don’t like to wake up to the washing-up), then I came in here to write up my notes.

Everything was all done and dusted by about 22:30 so I just had to undress and roll up my puttees before hitting the hay.

And once again, I didn’t need much rocking. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall I have a little … well, mantra, I suppose, that I follow when I’m in bed to give me an idea of how long it takes to fall asleep. And I haven’t reached the end of it yet, certainly not last night.

Despite everything though, I was awake again at 04:15 for some reason. But there’s no danger whatever of my leaving the bed at that time. I curled up and went back to sleep, and that’s where STRAWBERRY MOOSE found me when the alarm went off.

On my way to the bathroom I took my puttees into the living room. And in that distance, a mere handful of yards, I managed to lose yet another clip for my puttees. I’ve absolutely no idea what’s going on with those. There is no rhyme or reason why they should disappear, and nowhere for them to go.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and change of clothes, washed the clothes that I’d taken off and then put into the bowl the crêpe bandages from the last few days and left them to soak ready to clean tonight.

Back in here again, nursing a thirst that you could photograph, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And I’d gone far too by the looks of things. I was miles away on some kind of visit to the hospital. They checked me over and gave me a couple of injections. They gave me a tablet and I began to hallucinate. I had a kind-of hallucinatory dream at that point where I was just seeing all kinds of shapes like speech bubbles that kept appearing and disappearing etc. That went on for several minutes. Someone from the hospital said “doesn’t that feel better than a ponction lombaire or whatever it was, which of course it does but I couldn’t understand what they were doing and what was the significance of it. It just seemed to me to be a series of random tests but there was this kind-of geodesic dome thing in there that was containing all the balls, stopping them all flying everywhere I suppose but it was so big that you couldn’t actually see it. To all intents and purposes there was nothing there doing that. It was all just so surreal.

And that reminds me of the hallucinations that I had when they started me on that anti-potassium powder. Until I’d become used to the stuff I was all over the place. I could honestly have sold that down the back streets of a Paris suburb and made a fortune. And, of course, anything, absolutely anything, is better than a ponction lombaire – except for a ponction thoracic

I was working in the same place as my father. I wanted a couple of days off so I told my boss that I had to take my motorbike in to have some work done on it. I asked for a couple of days off which were granted. When I was off on the first day he sent a mail around saying that he’d recalculated everyone’s holidays and I only had two days left. I couldn’t understand where all my holidays had gone to so the first thing that I did was to go back into the office and cancel the day’s leave for tomorrow. He looked at me and asked “is your motorcycle done?”. I suddenly couldn’t think what he meant but it suddenly hit me and I said “yes, that’s OK”. He wanted to speak to my father but my father was having this intense private conversation about his leave and how many more days he wanted off etc but it was difficult for him to talk with the boss there and difficult for the boss to interrupt and difficult for the boss to comprehend what was happening so I interrupted him again to ask how come I’d only had two days leave left. He began to go through my list of entitlement of my days that I’d taken off already. I could see that there was some kind of mistake but I could see that he wasn’t particularly sure about anything and carried on going through it. I thought that the only thing to do was to wait until he’d finished and if he hadn’t picked up the mistake then I’d pick it up but it was all extremely confusing. I certainly felt that I had a lot more than just two days annual leave left. It was only July and most of my annual leave wasn’t taken off until the last week in August and the first week in September.

We always used to take our holidays the first two weeks of September. The brats would be back at school and out of the way but the weather would still be nice and all of the venues would be open. My last holiday was at the end of September though, in 2022 when I went to Canada. But that was due to force of circumstances

My team was called out to do some work on a road maintenance thing. When we turned up there was equipment everywhere, material everywhere and this road maintenance thing was a right mess of total confusion. We eventually tracked down a couple of guys. They were supposed to be edging off people’s gardens where they were overgrown, their hedges, on the public highway. We asked them how far they’d gone with that they were doing. They replied “nothing” – that was why they had called us out. One of my friends said something and this led to something of a brawl between the two teams. Of course the boss stepped in and stopped it. He said that it was totally ridiculous. He said that we’d come here to do a job and all we needed was some information – how much of the job they had done and how much they hadn’t done. If they tell us, we can start. It seems ridiculous that they’ve contracted for this and called us in as subcontractors because we’re cheap, and just because we’re cheap all we’ll end up doing is brawling amongst ourselves. It’s totally futile. We’ll never have anything done unless someone gets a grip and tells us now “how far have they gone with this job or are we expected to do it all? If so, let’s get on with it”.

Not quite a regular theme, but people making even the most simple task into something that is complicated way beyond belief seems to be the way of the modern World and its inhabitants. But my griping reminds me of Great Western Railway chairman Sir Daniel Gooch at a Railway Inspectorate hearing saying that "it’s high time we threw all these modern safety contraptions into the fire and returned to he business of running railways"

I’d stepped back into that period of dream about the road-mending. We were there doing the job that we were supposed to do when suddenly a bull appeared around the corner and began to charge at all of our equipment and personnel. I’ve no idea where it came from and why it was here but it was an extremely aggressive bull all the same

It beats me why I can step back into a banal nondescript dream like that but whenever I’m with Zero or TOTGA or Castor I can never manage to do so. You would think that after all of these years I’d be able to summon up my female companions at will

There was some time left before the nurse arrived so I began to watch a football match from the weekend – Queens Park v Kelty Hearts. It was interesting to me because after all of these years and complications involving Hampden Park, the stadium known as “Lesser Hampden” at the side of Hampden Park is finally complete and the Spiders, who own Hampden Park and used to play their home games there, now finally have a home that they can truly call their own. And while I won’t ever be able to watch a game there, I was there in spirit virtually this morning.

It’s the nurse’s last day today for a while. He’s off on his holidays. It’s Isabelle for the foreseeable future starting tomorrow so I hope that she’s in a good mood.

The nurse this morning was reasonably happy with everything which was good. Things are so much better when the nurses are cheerful and happy.

After he’d gone I had breakfast. And then I came back in here to watch the football.

This is THE LINK to the game. It’s interesting because firstly, you get to see Little Hampden, and secondly, you’ll see the most one-sided football match that I’ve seen for many a year.

Kelty Hearts were not just bad, they were appalling. They lost the game 6-0 and they were lucky to get nil. Had it not been for the heroics of their ‘keeper and some inept finishing by the Spiders’ forwards, we could have had a cricket score here. Dominic Thomas even blazed a penalty miles over the bar after it had been awarded shortly after the kick-off.

And then Ingrid was there so we had a chat. She told me inter alia that after a spell just now in hospital, there’s nothing more that can be done for her left leg. She’s had to give up all kinds of things, including her beloved walking and cycling

But it’s an ill-wind that doesn’t blow anyone any good. Wondering how she was now going to move around, do her shopping etc, a woman in her village mentioned in the middle of a conversation that she was planning on exchanging her car, an elderly but perfectly serviceable Toyota diesel automatic, for a new one.

Of course, if it’s your left leg that will no longer work you can still drive an automatic. And when you find an insurance company that will recognise all of your no-claims discount from your previous car insurance years ago, the rest is, as they say, history.

And so in the near future I might be having another visit. I hope so because I like Ingrid. In fact, I like all my friends and wish that they’d all visit me more often.

Most of the rest of the day has been spent working on radio stuff. The second long radio notes has now been edited, the programme has been assembled, the final track has been chosen and the notes written ready for dictation.

Something else I’ve been doing too is to make a start, or a re-start, should I say, on the notes about my trip to Jersey in 2022. There’s about 100 photos that need editing and the notes writing. The longer I leave them, the harder it will become to do it.

But apart from the two bad falls that I had, that was a really good trip and I wish that I’d gone over there on other occasions instead of leaving it until the last moment when I was at the limit of being able to do it.

To my surprise, I only crashed out for about 20 minutes today. And if that’s not progress I don’t know what is. I hope that I can keep it up.

The cleaner stuck her head in the door to give me some post. I’m summoned again to that hospital in Avranches where I had that dispute. So that’s another phone call to organise.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with pasta and veg. Plenty of stuffing left but I have a cunning plan for that tomorrow. I’m planning a baking afternoon seeing as it looks as if I’ll be running out of bread.

But that’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m off to bed. Late again, but not all that late. Let’s see how many puttee clips I can lose tonight.

But dreaming about that bull reminds me of a sign that I saw in a field near Ironbridge when we were looking for a place to camp once.
"I let people use this field for free, but the bull may make a charge."

Monday 22nd July 2024 – I HAVE NO IDEA …

… what on earth is going on right now with my flaming body.

It’s quite obvious that whatever time I decide to go to bed, it’s making no difference whatsoever.

For example, last night I FINALLY made it into bed at something like a reasonable time

However, I was wide awake at 05:15 (not OUT OF MY BRAIN ON THE TRAIN unfortunately) and up and about at 05:45, long before the alarm went off at 07:00.

You really can’t make up a story quite like this.

To complicate matters further, although I did crash out this afternoon at one point, it was for just about 20 minutes or so, not several hours like on Saturday.

So I dunno. But I wish that I did.

Last night I’m not quite sure what happened either because for some reason or other I’d finished everything that I’d needed to finish by 22:10 and that’s certainly a new departure for me. As a result, I had a leisurely stroll through the evening and at 23:00 I was already tucked up in bed with STRAWBERRY MOOSE

It didn’t take me long to drop off to sleep either which was also nice. But regrettably, I was soon awake again, as I mentioned earlier.

There’s no point lying in bed tossing and turning and being unable to sleep. I may as well be sitting on my chair unable to sleep watching Clyde stuff five goals past a hapless Edinburgh City at Meadowbank. That’s not exactly productive either but with a mug of instant coffee for a change, it was rather nice.

At the final whistle I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was working in a design bureau, working on some kind of design for a hovercraft. We’d had some kind of office party the previous evening and everyone had had quite a lot to drink and it had all passed off really well. This afternoon they sent me to tidy up. I began to collect up bits of drinks etc and taking them downstairs for people to finish off. Someone noticed that there was a bottle missing. It was the Nuits St George wine that someone had brought. I said “if it’s that ‘Jeux Sans Frontières’ stuff I didn’t bring that down because it was pretty awful rubbish” and everyone agreed with me. They all wanted to know what was happening with a bottle of Special Brew lager that I’d brought down. I discreetly, but with a bit of a show to give them a bit of a laugh, smuggled that up to my desk. One of the girls there looked at one of her colleagues and said "that ought to make his hovercraft go a little faster".

Apart from the fact that it’s been over 30 years since I last drank any alcohol and it will be another 30 years at least before the next one, working in a design bureau on a hovercraft is yet another string to my rather comprehensive night-time bow. But anyone who knows anything at all about me will know that it’s a total waste of everyone’s time expecting me to tidy up anything anywhere, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall

I’m not sure if I’ve dictated this … "you didn’t" – ed … but we had some kind of office meeting that ended up as a football match between two teams. It was quite fiercely contested but at the end it was a 2-2 draw. While this had been going on there had been some tidying up in the office. Someone found some files that should not have been there – they should have been filed away in the ‘distrained’ for years. They’d been extracted from the main run and were waiting to be taken downstairs to the storeroom. While I was there I volunteered to go to do that. That caused a few raised eyebrows because there was a Government propaganda film on at that time too that we had to watch. Downstairs, I found that all the cupboards had been locked and, even worse, the handles had been taken away so that you couldn’t open the door (… fell asleep here …) it was some kind of murderer

And putting things away too? I don’t understand this, just as I don’t understand the significance of the final couple of words. I’ve obviously missed something somewhere.

(I found myself dictating into my hand again). I needed some work doing. A company came and gave me a quote but they needed to record my bank account details it wasn’t possible to do so I told them to make a charge of £5:00 and I’d pay it with my credit card. That way the card details would be entered on the file and they’d be there ready for use. On the final invoice, make a deduction for the £5:00 that I’d paid at the start. That way everything would be all nicely arranged. They’d have all of my details on the file anyway which I thought was an easy way of resolving the situation but for some reason they wanted to make it much more complicated than it ought to have been for this question of the £5:00 and the question of the bank account details.

The simplest solutions are quite often the best, but sometimes they seem to be the most complicated for some people. But in this respect, I suppose I ought to begin thinking about the work that I need doing on the apartment downstairs, like the bath ripping out and a walk-in shower installing. Only about 10 months and if the agents have done their job, I can move in.

When the nurse came round he organised me quite quickly which was difficult because there was a lot to do. He thinks that this wound in my arm is weeping blood but it’s clean and not going septic so there’s no cause to worry.

However, I suppose that that’s why the hospital wants it checked every couple of days.

On that subject, there’s going to be some kind of “issue” tomorrow. I’ve had a letter inviting me for an appointment wit ths surgeon – at that private hospital. And as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I have vowed never to put a single foot on the premises of that maudit établissement ever again.

So tomorrow I’m going to ring him up to tell him, and to tell him why. Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice, shame on me.

After the nurse left I had breakfast and then a leisurely start to the day.

Once I’d awoken properly I made a start on the fourth of the five lots of dictation that I did on Saturday night. That’s now completely edited, the programme is assembled, the final track is chosen and the notes for it written, awaiting dictation.

And then I waded into the fifth one and that’s over halfway through. Hopefully I can finish that by tomorrow lunchtime and I can get on with other things. I have something in mind for this week that’s quite exciting.

My cleaner stuck her head in here to drop off the letter from the hospital and for a chat. She seems to be quite cheerful and perky today which is good news.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with pasta and veg. And I think that at some point this week I may have to send off a food order. supplies are holding up but you can never allow yourself to run short when you are in no position yourself to go and stock up.

So let’s see if I can have a decent sleep tonight and a nice lie-in tomorrow morning

Not much chance of that though. I’ll have to keep on bashing away at this until I move downstairs. And then I’m going to buy the biggest microwave oven that I can find.
"why would you want to do that?" – ed
"So that I can put my bed in it. That way I can have my eight hours sleep in just twenty minutes."

Friday 12th July 2024 – ONLY HALF AN …

… hour after my cleaner had my kitchen looking as clean and tidy as a new pin, it’s ended up looking like an absolute tip yet again.

And that’s no surprise because I’ve had a huge delivery of supplies from LeClerc.

More than usual because it’s been three weeks since I last had a delivery, and add to that, they had the olive oil back in so to be on the safe side I ordered two litres rather than just one.

There was also yet another addition to the range of vegan products on offer at the home delivery site – a second type of vegan sausage. I had to order a packet because LeClerc’s vegan range is quite minimalist so they need to be encouraged. And the easiest way too encourage them is to buy the product.

It all comes in brown paper bags which I have to save up and hand back the following time otherwise they charge me for them, so they are strewn about the place at the moment. But that’s because I simply run out of steam after a while and can’t carry on. I’ll have to finish tidying up in the morning.

And hope that I have as good a sleep tonight as I did last night. It was horribly late when I finally made it to bed but I slept the Sleep of the Dead and didn’t feel a thing until the alarm went off. And I could do with a few more nights with a sleep as deep as that.

There was in fact a phantom alarm at some point (we seem to be back with those) but I remember recognising it as such and ignoring it. Not like the time a few weeks ago when I actually arose from the Dead for a phantom alarm.

But when the real alarm sounded I made it to my feet and wandered off for a wash and brush up etc.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night and (more importantly) who had come with me. It was the European Cup matches. All of the teams were busy, there had been lots of changes to styles and formats. The new competitions, new rules and everything that people had to learn. Teams were changing place and changing position . There were a lot of other things to do, rather like instead of just being a football match it became some kind of circus with all kinds of entertainment taking place before and afterwards, and different things at half-time with the aim to get as many people as possible into the ground as early as they could to avoid crushes and squashes , things like that, to make sure that everyone was safe, and something to do at the end of the game so that they didn’t all rush home and clog the streets, and here’s hoping that it works and makes a huge success and the teams can go on to do well in it.

Times are changing rapidly and quite often these football club committees of elderly dinosaurs aren’t changing quickly enough. I’ve been to football matches in Belgium where they’ve had cheerleaders and dancing girls entertaining the crowds before the kick-off and at half time, and seen kids’ football tournaments taking place at half-time. Anything to bring in the crowds and keep the fans amused. But it’s the simple thing at grassroots level that’s important. If I want to watch a football match and it’s raining and one ground has covered accommodation and one doesn’t, where will I go? And if it’s a cold winter night and one ground has a pie hut where you can get a hot coffee and the other one doesn’t, which one will have my custom? The days of fans standing on cinder banks in the open air in a torrential downpour dressed in just an overcoat are long gone. And good riddance. I don’t miss the “good old days” one minute.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment Isabelle the nurse came round, her usual cheerful self. She gave me my injection, changed my plasters on my legs and bandaged up my puttees.

There’s a blood test tomorrow morning, so she reminded me, and I need to give “another sample” for which she gave me a small pot.

But heaven alone knows what this blood sample will be like. I haven’t looked at the last couple. Firstly, they make really depressing reading and secondly, what can I do anyway? If there’s an emergency they’ll let me know. If not, I’d rather not find out.

After she left, we had some Welsh homework to do. We had to write a publicity announcement to attract tourists to the place where we are living. It was easy for me, living in a tourist town. Imagine if I’d still been living in The Land That Time Forgot.

The Welsh lesson passed quite quickly today. We had a different tutor and I’m sure that I have had him before somewhere.

We had a little chat about last night’s football

"My friend’s son plays for Caernarfon" said the tutor
"What’s his name?"
"Morgan" replied the tutor
"Morgan who?"
"I don’t know" said the tutor "but he delivers our fruit and veg. We call him ‘Morgan Tatws’"
and that’s the most Welsh thing that I’ve heard for a long, long time.

And if you want to see “Morgan Tatws” in action HERE ARE THE HIGHLIGHTS of the Cofis’ famous first-leg win. Let’s hope that they can hold out in the second leg next week.

Towards the end of the lesson I slipped out of consciousness and hadn’t noticed that it had ended. I came to and found myself staring at an empty screen. I really have to do better than this.

The cleaner was here too. I’d heard her come in but she must have been very quiet. Actually, she’s cleaned the windows in the living room and you can actually see outside now which is nice.

After she left, the delivery guy from LeClerc turned up with the supplies. Tons of stuff all of which has to be put away.

And then there was 1kg of carrots to wash, peel, dice and blanch. I should have bought 2kg but there’s no room on the freezer.

There were peppers to prepare for freezing, other food for freezing and, as I said, in the end I simply ran aground. I can’t keep on going like I used to

Tea was the leftover curry that I should have had on Wednesday but have been putting off ever since. The naan bread that I was going to eat was looking rather suspect so that went into the bin which was a shame because I’d been looking forward to that.

Tomorrow I have the washing machine to organise and then I’ll finish off tje tidying up. But it’s nice to have full shelves again, and plenty of olive oil

In fact, I’ve plenty to do between now and going to the hospital on Tuesday. And I’m not looking forward to Tuesday one little bit as I’m sure that regular reader readers of this rubbish will recall
The last time I was admitted, the cry went down the ward "there’s a case of cancer just come in"
And someone was heard to comment "well, it’ll make a change from lucozade"

Wednesday 10th JUly 2024 – WHAT A PERFORMANCE!

Swimming around the apartment in a sea of blood last night, up first thing in the morning washing the floors. I’ll tell yuo something for nothing, and that is that I won’t be going on much longer like this. It’s simply not sustainable.

There I was last night, getting ready for bed, and it was late enough already, when in the bathroom I happened to catch my leg against some protruding object.

And that, dear reader, was that. The effects of the Kardegic and the Injection of the Last Resort mean that my blood is thinner than water, and it just erupted.

From the bathroom I had to go to the corner of the living room where all of the medical stuff is, clean the would with some sterile solution and gauze and then apply a plaster. And the time that it took to go from the one to the other, we were knee-deep in gore.

Well, maybe that’s something of an exaggeration, but nevertheless it was a horrible sight. I can’t even stand looking at blood at the best of times, never mind when it’s pumping out out my leg.

There was no point trying to clean up the apartment at that time of night. I’d just be moving wet blood around from one place to another, so I left it and went to bed, very very gingerly. I didn’t want the plaster coming off while I was in bed, with the mess that was likely to follow.

And so as you can imagine, I didn’t have much in the way of sleep last night. I was far too much on tenterhooks.

However I did at one point fall asleep, only to awaken at about 05:00 with an urgent need to go and walk the parapet.

But what was surprising about that was that when I awoke, I was singing Traffic’s JOHN BARLEYCORN MUST DIE to myself for some reason or other.

It’s true that I’ve been playing a lot of “Traffic” just recently but even so THIS TRACK is much more appropriate right now.

Back in bed, I must have fallen asleep again because it was the alarm that awoke me when it rang at 07:00.

Falling out of bed, I switched off the alarm and headed for the bathroom, and once that was all organised and completed I fetched the mop and bucket.

And I’ll tell you another thing for nothing, and that is that it’s not easy trying to mop a floor when you can’t even stand up or walk about.

Nevertheless I did what I could as best as I could and then came in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And apart from going for a walk on the parapet, I must have gone nowhere because the dictaphone drew a blank.

However, even though I didn’t dictate anything I have a very vague recollection of something about Llansawel playing their first game after promotion into the Cymru Premier League and being heavily, and embarrassingly, defeated.

The nurse came round to sort out my legs later and was most unimpressed with me using “his” plasters, even though they are supplied on prescription to me. He had the usual moan about it but cheered up when he saw the two boxes that my cleaner had brought back from town the other day.

He wanted to know how my shoulder was doing, so he ripped off the plaster that the cleaner had fitted to my shoulder to stop the bleeding the other night. "That’s healed quite well" he said

Five minutes after he left, the fountain from the shoulder started up again and we were back to where we were earlier this morning. So he’s another plaster short, my apartment is even cleaner and I’m totally fed up.

With all of this performance today I was late for my Welsh class and then I was totally and completely unprepared.

In fact, I’ve been totally and completely unprepared for the rest of the day. The cleaner thinks that I’m looking quite well, so I’ll have a pint of whatever she’s been drinking because I don’t feel it.

In fact, I haven’t even bothered to make any tea tonight. I’m just not in the mood at all.

There was football on the internet later, Gresford Athletic of the Second Division playing Llanrwst from the Third in a pre-season friendly. The match went pretty much as everyone expected, with Gresford running out 5-0 winners, but there were some excellent chances missed at either end.

But one thing is evident, and that it that the gulf between the Premier League and the Second level is enormous, and mybe LLansawel will be on the wrong end of a couple of embarrassing scorelines before the curtain comes down on next season

But right now I’m going to go to bed if I can without bleeding eveywhere. It’s quite important, because there is what is called the “bleeding time”. That’s the time that it takes for blood to clot once it starts to flow.
It’s important to know it when you’re operating on someone, for obvious reasons
Mine of course being so thin, it’s totally different from everyone else’s so while they were discussing my case and comparing notes the surgeon asked the nurse in attendance "what’s the bleeding time?"
"Quarter to ten, doctor" replied the nurse.