Tag Archives: welsh

Tuesday 1st October 2024 – WHEN THE ALARM …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday 30th September 2024 – I SAW EMILIE …

… the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday 23 September 2024 – I’M FED UP …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday 17th September 2024 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

…night I had last night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday 10th September 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No-one can be the best in these circumstances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"

Wednesday 4th September 2024 – THERE HAVE BEEN …

… raised voices in this apartment today. And how!

The tension between the nurse and me has been simmering away for a short while now, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, and today it finally overflowed.

And it was going to be such a good day too. I was actually in bed before 23:00, for once in my life, and as seems to be the case these days, I fell asleep quite quickly.

And there I lay, flat out until about 06:15 too – one of the best sleeps that I have had just recently too. Over 7 hours-worth of uninterrupted sleep is a luxury these days.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was fast asleep, but I soon hauled myself out of bed and went off for a good wash and scrub up ready for my trip out.

Yesterday I’d told the nurse that I was going out at 08:15 and so after much moaning and complaining he’d agreed to be here at 08:05 at the latest. He’d told me that at 08:00 I had to be sitting in the chair in the kitchen where he does his stuff.

So there I was at 08:00, sitting in the chair, and at 08:15 with him still not having turned up, the taxi came and we set off for Avranches.

We were some way down the road near the Granville ring road when the phone rang. It was 08:30. “Where are you?” asked a voice which I recognised.

“Where am I? Halfway towards Avranches. It’s now 08:30, not 08:05”. I replied

“OK. Call me when you’re back”.

We reached Avranches and the clinic at 08:55 for my 09:00 appointment – the first one in. And so it was logical I suppose that I wasn’t seen until 09:30.

Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there which was a shame and I had to see the nurse. She asked me all kinds of probing questions although with no doctor or consultant there and no news about a follow-up, I couldn’t see the point.

And it looks as if this might be escalating. Now that they’ve talked the plaster off my arm so that my port is there in view in glorious technicolour if I choose to look at it (which I haven’t done as yet) they now want me to run an antiseptic cream on it and wrap it in clingfilm before I come for dialysis.

So that tells me two things. Firstly, that I have to come for dialysis and secondly, I am going to become more and more involved in the mechanics of this procedure.

In fact, she was there pushing a few boundaries, telling me a little bit more and a little bit more of things that I really don’t want to know.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … when this process starts we shall have the panic attack to end all panic attacks. I am living my worst nightmare with all of these tubes and pipes. I’m really sure that many people, people who have never been through any of this, just can’t understand what I’m feeling.

While I was there she weighed me, and my weight is stable, although it’s 7kg too much and even 12kg more than I used to like it. She said that my blood is stable too, so I told her that I would be much happier if the Creatinine was stable at 270 where it used to be instead of this 450.

With running late, everything else was running late. The taxi had arrived at 10:00 for me but I was nowhere near ready so the driver had gone off to pick up another passenger and then come back for me, and we reached the door of the building at the same time.

Back here at the apartment, these last two days have seen a stunning development – I’ve managed to climb back up the stairs all on my own, the first time since February.

It’s not very aesthetic, I have to say. I have to Put my right hand behind my left knee, raise my left foot onto the step and then push up my right side with the aid of my crutches.

God knows what anyone else might think if they were to see me, but twice now I’ve tried it, and twice now it has worked. If I carry on like this, Friday morning shopping might be back on the agenda.

This is the first time in quite some time that I can say that there has been an underlying improvement.

Back here I put on the coffee, put the porridge in the microwave and the toast in the toaster when the phone rang

“Where are you? asked a voice which I recognised.

‘I’ve just got back” I replied

“I told you to ring me when you came back”.

“Did you not hear the word ‘just’?” I asked

“I’ll be right round” so I switched off the breakfast to wait for his imminent arrival.

25 minutes later he finally turned up. By now my porridge was cold, my coffee was cold and my toast was soggy. And so I exploded.

And apparently it was all my fault for not being up earlier in plenty of time to have my breakfast earlier. And so that was that and the atmosphere became extremely unpleasant.

After he’d cleared off I could finally rescue the ruins of my breakfast. However I was in no mood to read my book. In any case the steam was obscuring my vision and my breath would have melted the computer screen.

Our Welsh Summer School cracked on today and I’m impressed about how much I know or have remembered. I wish that it was like this all the time. We had some interesting chats too which was nice

After the lesson was over I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. Unfortunately neither Zero nor Castor nor TOTGA came to visit me, which was a disappointment after the other night. I was back at Shavington, Vine Tree Avenue, and we had a couple of guys, friends of my father’s, around. I’d been asked to try to collect worms for some project or other that was going on so I was collecting what I could find and dropping them down a tube, but I wasn’t doing very well. One of my father’s friends was talking to me about it. In the meantime someone else turned up at the house and asked my father if he had any leaf mould to spare. On the back lawn were several enormous piles of rotting leaves so this guy and I were joking about my father sucking his teeth and saying to this guy that he hadn’t any, and how difficult it was to get hold of. As it happened my father turned him away anyway and went back to weeding his garden but it was a very lethargic, disinterested weeding so we were wondering what was going through his head at the time

And my father weeding? If we had a nice garden (which we didn’t) when we were kids it would have been due to my mother. She was the only one who ever voluntarily did any weeding. We as kids formed a reluctant press-gang but you wouldn’t have found my father anywhere at all near a herbaceous border. But after Zero the other night, it’s my family again and isn’t that awful?

A little later I’d gone to a football ground. There, I’d been involved in helping tidy up and was collecting things for the shower room. I thought that I’d collected quite a few but people kept on pointing out things that I’d missed that I’d have to pick up and keep until I could get into the showers. They were discussing the games taking place this weekend, thinking that maybe Celtic would win because all the players will want to go out there and impress their new manager. Someone came round with a plate of sandwiches. One or two of the players helped themselves. I thought that that was really not a good idea because they’d be starting a game in a few minutes and the last thing that they’ll want to do is to have to run around with a full stomach like that. They’ll end up with stitch or cramp or something

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that back a long time ago I used to travel with and occasionally run (or walk, in my case) the line for Pionsat’s 3rd XI and despite (or maybe because of) my coaching they were always near the bottom of the lowest division in Puy-de-Dome football. One day they arrived at the wrong time at an away ground and had a two-hour wait so they all went out for kebabs. And knowing all about running around on a full stomach and what it can produce, I feared the worst. And so they went out and won decisively 5-2 and I shut up after that.

While we’re talking about football, we had football later. TNS playing Aberystwyth in one of the catch-up games after several of their matches have been postponed due to TNS’ European involvement.

TNS fielded a weakened team that included Doris the tea lady, Stan the car-park attendant and Tiddles the stadium cat so Aberystwyth packed their defence and refused to advance over the half-way line. If they were ever going to do any good against TNS today would be the day.

It was ugly to watch but it was effective up to a point. It took TNS a good while to break them down and the score of 2-0 to TNS can be seen as a triumph for Aberystwyth.

That’s because it’s going to be packed down at the bottom as Llansawel, Y Fflint and Aberystwyth are miles off the pace. LLansawel are down already after only 5 matches but the other two will slug it out and take the odd point here and there when they can. Goal difference might be crucial so a goal difference of minus 2 for Aberystwyth is as good as 3 points when compared with Y Fflint’s goal difference against TNS of -3 (a 4-1 defeat the other week).

Tea was a delicious leftover curry with naan, and so right now I’m off to bed ready to fight the good fight with the nurse tomorrow as I don’t think that we’ve heard the last of this.

Can you not just picture the scene? You can imagine him roaring "we itinerant nurses are the cream of the crop"
"Yes" I’ll reply. "And it looks as if I have the clot"

Tuesday 3rd September 2024 – I HAD A LOVELY …

… surprise last night. Zero came to visit me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I enquired when that might be

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday 2nd September 2024 – AND IF YOU THINK …

… that our last Summer School went along at a cracking pace, you ain’t seen nuffink yet!

One unit in a day is some going when a course of twenty is supposed to take a year, but today we have worked our way through two units, with at least two more to come tomorrow.

And there’s homework too. I’ve had a big pile shoved through onto my desktop which I have to complete before the course starts again tomorrow.

But right now I’m whacked. I crashed out earlier on and as a result, once more I’m running horribly late.

And that’s really a disappointment because last night I was actually, for once in my life, in bed before 23:00. Not by very much, it has to be said, but even a minute is worth recording because it makes me feel better when I’m late like this.

So I sorted myself out last night, rescued the strawberries that my neighbour gave me, did what I had to do and then crawled into bed. And once more I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow

And I slept through until about … errr … 04:25 when something, presumably outside, awoke me. No idea what it was, and I don’t care either. I didn’t stay awake long, but couldn’t go back deeply to sleep. I kept on tossing and turning until the alarm went off.

And at 07:00 I do have to say that I haven’t felt less like raising myself from the dead for a long time. It was quite a struggle to beat the second alarm and I reckoned that this would really be a good start to the day, I don’t think.

I the bathroom I had a good wash and shave and washed my undies too. Have to keep on top of the chores. And then back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was teaching English at a Primary School and in the class that I was teaching, i was teaching them the meaning of the word “Overwhelm”. What we did was to do this visually by having a pig, or a piglet I should say, and the children having to carry it and be overwhelmed while they were doing it and so forth … fell asleep here …. So where were we? Ohh yes, we had this pig and were passing it from one child to another and discussing whether they were overwhelmed or underwhelmed by it. I decided that that was how I was going to teach English in the future – by visual means rather than by sitting there with the kids bored to tears at a desk.

Or frightened to death by a pig. Most kids these days won’t ever have seen a pig in real life and would certainly be overwhelmed if someone were to pass a pig to them. I imagine that it would develop into a game that would be even faster than a game of “Pass The Parcel” in a pub in Belfast.

And then I was on board a spaceship and we had two main electric cables that had been accidentally cut somehow so we were trying to solder them together somehow using a cigarette lighter. While we were doing that, we were watching some kind of strange guy try to leave by one of the doors. We thought “we hadn’t seen him in here before. I wonder what he’s been doing and where he’s been hiding”.

That’s certainly a novel technique but here in France what in the UK would be called “Garden Shed Engineering” is called Système D – the “D” standing for something vulgar. It’s when you do the work that needs to be done with the equipment that you have to hand, so if you need to solder some cables together and all you have is a cigarette lighter, all you can do is to do your best.

The nurse and I had an argument this morning. There he was, in full-chat mode asking me stupid questions and when he asked me the same stupid question that he’d asked me five minutes earlier, I snapped and he cleared off with a flea in his ear. Talk about getting on my wick!

After he left I made breakfast and while I was eating I was reading my book again. The guy is a beautiful writer, as I’m sure that you’d expect when you see prose written by a poet, but much of what he writes, in what is essentially a travel book (albeit a very early one), is quite superfluous and detracts from the information that he gives. He needs to make up his mind what type of book he’s writing.

However it is a bit too late for that now, seeing as he passed on “to another place” in 1917.

Back in here afterwards we started up our Summer School, the first day. We are twelve students and I’ve been on previous Summer Schools with a couple of them before. These classes are, as you would expect, very parochial.

And it’s amazing what you learn. The word for “pumpkin” is pwmpen and for “courgette” it’s corbwmpen. Apparently the prefix cor… when in front of a word means “small”

So it took us much longer than it ought to have done to work out that Corgi, the breed of Welsh dog much loved by the recently-deceased monarch, simply means “small dog”.

During the lunch break I was preparing an on-line order from a well-known on-line retailer and at the end of the lesson went to pay for it, but for reasons that only my bank in Belgium will know, payment was declined

That is of course total nonsense but it was too late to ring up and complain. Consequently that’s a job for first thing in the morning.

There were a few other things to do, like make another flapjack, but I didn’t feel at all like it. Instead I came back in here after a very late hot chocolate and rather regrettably crashed out.

When I finally awoke it was rather late and so since then everything else has been running late. Tea was a stuffed pepper and I think that I’ve missed something out of the stuffing, and the pepper wasn’t cooked enough. It just wasn’t my night I reckon.

So tomorrow I’ll be late for class because I have an appointment down at the Centre de Re-education in the morning. I wonder what they want. I really have no idea.

But it’s good news that they are still interested in me. However just imagine if they offer me a series of courses like last time. Three days per week having dialysis, two days a week down there – I’ll be whacked. And so will the poor drivers who will have to help me upstairs if my loyal cleaner isn’t about

She’s dropped in twice today already for different things. It won’t be long, at this rate, before she moves in here for good.

But the recently-departed Lizzie and her Welsh Corgis – it’s a good job that she doesn’t live in the castle at Y Fflint. Apparently the Y Fflint players offered once to take her dogs for a walk but she told them to clear off
"Why’s that?" asked manager Lee Fowler. "I thought that it was a very noble gesture"
"2-0 up against Y Barri halfway through the second half and you end up losing 3-2?" she roared. "Before your lads take my Corgis for a walk they’ll have to learn to hold on to a lead."

Friday 23rd August 2024 – WELL, IT’S ANOTHER …

… really late night tonight.

For some reason that I don’t understand I completely forgot about the football tonight. Y Bala v Y Fflint and this was a game that I really wanted to see.

But it slipped my mind and when I came back from tea tonight the first half was almost over. Luckily it’s on a recorded stream so I could wind it back to the start and watch it from the kick-off, but it means that now the final whistle has gone, it’s not really late

There’s definitely something going on here because I seem to be forgetting just about everything these days and I can see this bringing me into some serious trouble at some point because there’s a load of stuff piling up and some of it is really important.

At least I remembered to wash my puttees. After I finished my notes last night I went into the bathroom to sort myself out and then washed the puttees. They had been soaking for 36 hours in warm soapy water so it didn’t take long and they were quite clean afterwards.

Furthermore, I managed to do it without knocking myself or making myself bleed and that’s an achievement in itself these days.

It was quite early too when I went to bed. In fact I beat my 23:00 target. Only by a couple of minutes but even so, that’s still important. And it didn’t take long to go to sleep either.

A couple of times during the night I awoke but I remained stuck to my mattress until the alarm at 07:00 when I crawled out of bed and into the bathroom. I had a good wash and shave of the parts that I missed yesterday, and then I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson had been recruited to hunt down an old friend of Watson’s who had disappeared, someone who lived in salubrious surroundings. It was no surprise that he’d disappeared but a lot of people were worried soo they were set on the trail. Eventually, following a series of clues, they managed to track him down to a doss-house in Limehouse where he was staying under an assumed name. Apparently he’d had money difficulties so he’d sold a lot of his possessions to a pawn shop and with the money was living the life of an escapee in crude digs or something. When Holmes and Watson caught up with him he was extremely remorseful. He said that he’d spent £2900 but that was everything that he had and there was not a penny left so Holmes and Watson had to sell whatever possessions he still had in order to recruit him back into society. They had the cunning plan of advertising an Electricity Service where they could band together all the residents in one particular area and agree to arrange their electricity for them, including new houses that hadn’t had electricity up until now so they were going through these houses and photographs, selecting the best photographs. There was one there with a ghost walking out of the front door between two people and they were trying their best to capture this image but for some reason the image didn’t seem to want to be captured

There were several stories similar to this one in the Sherlock Holmes repertoire and of course his author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, was very interested in the paranormal, being a huge supporter of spiritualism, séances and the supernatural arts to an extent that was almost fanatical. Seeing a ghost in between two real live humans would have been no problem for Conan Doyle.

When the nurse came I told her the good news about her supplies, my new puttees and the switch for the door. She gave me my injection and then dealt with my legs while chatting away. She reminded me that it’s a blood test tomorrow and she also need another … errr … sample … of a different type. I hope that I remember.

After breakfast I tidied up a little and then went to my Welsh class. It’s the last day today for a week or so so we can relax but she still had us working hard. I feel much more confident about my skills right now, but there was an awful lot to take in.

The big issue is that Welsh is not a Romance language like French or Spanish or Italian. It’s a Celtic language similar to Breton, Gaelic and Scots Gaelic so the rules of grammar are nothing like those to which I’m accustomed.

The vocabulary too bears little resemblance to any Latin-based language so sometimes it’s impossible to have a guess at the words.

There was a pause at midday when my cleaner came in to bring the medication – or, at least, the first load. The rest will come over the next day or two.

When the lesson finished I was surprised once more by the cleaner. We have a friend in the building who has now gone into a Home, and my cleaner, who had been tidying up her apartment, brought down some apple purée and tinned food that might be of use to me, which was very kind of them.

A neighbour popped in to, and left me some lovely strawberries. I seem to be flavour of the month right now.

Then Rosemary wanted me on the phone so we had a quick chat. Only a short chat today – just 58 minutes. We seem to be losing our touch

Tea tonight was falafel and chips with a vegan salad – delicious as usual but I’m running low on salad stuff. It might be sausage, beans and chips for tea tomorrow night yet. But regardless of that, the strawberries were delicious and there are some left for the next few days.

Then we had the football. Newly-promoted Y Fflint v Y Bala down at maes Tegid – Bala’s “Cae Tatws” football ground.

As has been said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … there’s a massive gulf between the second tier and the first tier and that was evident today.

But while Llansawel, the other promoted side, were being well and truly turned over by Cardiff Metropolitan, Y Fflint put up a gritty battle and while the result (Y Bala won 2-0) was never in any doubt, Y Fflint were in the mix all the way to the final whistle.

A loss though is a loss and already we’re starting to see a little gap open up between the two new sides, stuck at the foot of the table, and the other 10 clubs in the division and it’s rather early for this kind of thing. Three games without a point is still no points, no matter how well you play and how close the game are.

So right now I’m going to bed, hours later than I intended. I’m not doing myself any favours at all.

But talking of mediums and spiritualism and the like I once had someone ‘phone me up
"I’m phoning to tell you about Madame (whatever)". said the voice. "She’s a world famous Medium …"
"Well, she can’t be much good, can she?" I said
"Why?" asked the voice
"Because if she’d been any good, she’d have foretold exactly how this conversation would end …" and I hung up the ‘phone.

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."

Wednesday 21st August 2024 – "ONCE YOU START …"

"… the dialysis procedure, all your problems will be over."

Yes, and we’ve all heard things like that before, haven’t we? If something like that could really solve all my problems I’d have done it a long, long time ago. Long before this.

In actual fact, it might solve one or two but I’m not expecting a Damascene conversion where I pick up my bed and walk. That’s being rather optimistic. But what we have learned from all of this is that it appears that dialysis is very much on the agenda.

Well know more after the 28th of August. That’s when everything is being inspected. They’ll make a decision very shortly afterwards. So if you see me leaping around like a two-year old, you’ll know that it’s done the business.

But for the moment let us return from our flights of fantasy back into the Real World.

After I’d finished my notes I wandered into the bathroom and there I put my puttees in the bowl to soak. The other pair I rolled up and put them ready for use in the morning.

Eventually I managed to make my way into bed, hours later than intended, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Something else awoke me at some point but I’m not sure what and I’m not sure when. This “not wearing a watch” is embarrassing but I’m scratching myself to death when I do.

The alarm summoned me to my feet at the usual time of 07:00 and I headed to the bathroom for a good wash and scrub down followed by a change of clothing. You never know – I might get to see Emilie The Cute Consultant this evening.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. This is another dream that involves some kind of panic attack. It was at one of these fairground places and there was a lot going on that didn’t seem to work correctly. There was a human cannonball who was fired from a cannon but the cannonball wouldn’t fire. It just rolled out of the bottom of the gun. It rolled over to by I think my youngest sister’s husband so what they had was this guy and this girl who had to climb inside the cylindrical thing where my brother in law was sitting. He was going to do something with the cannonball and they were going to intercept it but it was a terribly confined small space and I was there expecting some kind of panic or riot as the people concerned were unable to effectively escape from this claustrophobic environment. Luckily it passed off without any major incident. I certainly didn’t want to have to do it again with anyone and go through what was potentially a panic-stricken routine to extract them from this cylindrical tube thing while someone does something silly with a cannonball which seemed to be totally superfluous and ridiculous to me but that’s how it was

It goes without saying that I’ve no idea what’s going on there with that. The last thing that you’d expect to dream about is a human cannonball

A bunch of white track suits with a slogan on them were found to be mistyped. The slogan was wrong when I examined them as such and were counterfeit. They were able to test that by using a blob of chewing gum on the dragon’s head that was part of the label. There was a special technique for testing whether they were correct or not, in using chewing gum. This test failed so all the track suits were seized and were donated to refugees who were held in one of these detention centres

That sounds much more plausible. Forged sports equipment is quite a racket and I’m sure that we’ve all heard stories of famous mistypes in counterfeit sports goods. Without them there wouldn’t be famous sporting quotes like
"She was only the football supporter’s daughter
But she liked her ‘Uddersfield and her Arsenal"

When the nurse came, she moaned about my puttees losing their elasticity and asked me to arrange for a new pair. And on top of that there’s another issue. She has an electronic key to enter the building. She had it from my neighbour who has now moved into a Home and so wants her electronic key back

This will upset the nurses as the will then have to ring to be let into the building. And it would upset me because a couple of times now the nurses have intervened in my health issues when I’ve been unable to respond.

Consequently giving them unfettered access to the building is essential from my point of view and from theirs. Could I oblige?

So after she left and I’d had breakfast I put wheels in motion and made a phone call or two

Once more the Welsh lesson passed off well but I was still glad that it was over. In the pauses I’d chosen the missing track and written the notes ready for dictation so that’s that all done now.

The taxi came early for me so I was in a hurry to prepare but I ended up having everything to hand, for the first time ever, and we were there in plenty of time.

It wasn’t Emilie the Cute Consultant which was a shame, but her sidekick. And he tells me that he’s become a faithful listener of my radio shows. That means I have an audience of at least one.

We ran through everything and he told me that his Social Services department is on the trail of this Clinic in Avranches. He’ll let me know how it pans out.

Apparently my doctor had written a new prescription for me on 13th August. Where it’s gone, I don’t know but he printed it off, all … gulp … 19 items of it. And he added on an additional prescription for some new puttees, which will please the nurse.

He thinks that this dialysis will solve all of my problems, but he doesn’t even know what problems I have so he’s a very brave man

Back here my cleaner, who had been tidying the apartment, was waiting for me and she helped me upstairs where we sorted out the paperwork. We’ll check the medication on Friday and order some more.

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry with naan bread, cooked to perfection. But that’s the last of that batch of naan dough. I’ll have to make some more.

Now I’m off to bed. I have the heart specialist tomorrow morning so will he find a heart? Or am I turning into a politician? Watch this space.

But talking of human cannonballs, we had Gandey’s Circus who used to winter at Arclid near Sandbach. I had a friend who worked in the Crewe Employment Exchange who told me "Gandey’s are looking for a human cannonball. Do you fancy the job?"
"I thought that they already had one" I replied. "What happened to him?"
"Apparently he was fired last week" she replied.

Tuesday 20th August 2024 – I WAS GOING …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EPIC HALL

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