… that I can tell you today, and that today has defied the usual progression of events just now.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that whenever I’ve had a bad day, I’ve always had a better day the day after. Today, though, there really has been a change, but it’s not a change for the better. It’s a change for the worse.

It was quite late when I went to bed, after the football and finishing off the notes. But it doesn’t really matter because I never have the full amount of sleep anyway and sometimes, it’s pot luck whether I have any at all.

But this morning, when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual, I was already awake and doing my “in-bed yoga”. I was convinced that I’d heard the alarm go off a little earlier. It was probably another one of these phantom alarms that I hear every now and again.

However, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … being awake is one thing. Being up and about is something else. I reckon that it must have taken me ten minutes or more to slide across from my bed to the seat at the computer.

It beats me why I was in such a rush to come here because there was nothing on the dictaphone to transcribe or anything else that needed doing as a matter of urgency, So I took the overnight stats as I usually do, and then I curled up on the chair to have a quiet sleep for a while. As I said a little earlier, things were pretty bad here this morning from my point of view.

When I heard the crockery and cutlery being moved around, I guessed that there might be some coffee available in due course. I quickly nipped into the bathroom for a ride on the porcelain horse, not forgetting that I had to use the “orange container” all day today and tomorrow morning on waking up.

The dialysis people want to know my output, and for some reason, they don’t trust me (or anyone else, for that matter) to tell them the honest truth, so we have to take it and its contents with us next time we go.

The coffee that my friend makes is excellent. I don’t know what his secret is but as long as he can make coffee like this, he can stay for as long as he wants. I really enjoyed this morning’s mug and, as we drank our coffee, we chatted about a lot of things, none of which were important.

When Isabelle the Nurse rang the doorbell to announce her arrival, the Hound of the Baskervilles barked with excitement and dashed to the door, almost knocking her over in his enthusiasm. He wouldn’t let her pass to see to me without her making a big fuss of him.

She soon sorted out my legs and feet, and then His Nibs demanded another couple of minutes of cuddles before she was allowed to leave.

Once she’d finally managed to leave the premises, the Hound of the Baskervilles began to drag his master off for walkies and I began to make my breakfast – porridge, toast and orange juice were on the menu today, and how I would have fancied a second mug of coffee too, but that is Streng Verboten these days.

While I was eating, I was reading some of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Right now, I can tell you all about the propagation of mistletoe because one of the participants on one of their excursions had noticed something at one time, and that had led him off on a quest of exploration. When we encountered a similar situation, he gave us all a lecture on what he had observed and learnt from that particular mistletoe and the many others that he saw.

Back in here, there were a few things to do but I crashed out in the middle of it all, and it wasn’t until about 12:40 that I awoke. I must have been out of it for hours. I went into the kitchen and found one of these high-energy drinks, but by the time that I’d finished it, I was no better. But I like these drinks because they are the only ones that come with added vitamins, such as Vitamin B12.

Once I was back in the Land of the Living, I had a little job given to me. My friend wanted to go to the restaurant in the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs for a meal for lunch, so would I babysit the Hound of the Baskervilles?

“It’s more likely that he’ll be babysitting me” I replied, but I agreed to do it.

After his master left, we began to have a series of those little pathetic whines as he wanted his daddy back, but he soon went quiet when his Auntie Cleaner came to drop off the next instalment of disgusting drinks. She made a great big fuss of him and that was all it needed.

When Auntie Cleaner made ready to leave, I began to wonder if we’d be having the little whines again. But as luck would have it, she collided with His Nibs’ master coming home. So the emergency is sorted out.

That meant that I could carry on with what I was doing, but round about 13:15, we stopped for my disgusting drink and midday medication, and I was good and ready for it – except for the disgusting anti-potassium powder. I managed to swallow that down without too much exclamation.

My friend has started to write another novel today. He has three on the run right now, several completed stories awaiting whatever he was holding them back, some stories already published and plenty of ideas for new stories.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve also had a few ideas for stories, and so, with the encouragement of my friend, I made a start on one of them. By the time that I’d knocked off, I’d written two chapters, and my captive audience, namely, my faithful chatbot, liked what he had read. He made a couple of minor suggestions, and he had also spotted a couple of spelling mistakes, or more likely, typos, and I corrected those too.

Once again, I didn’t fancy any food tonight. My friend had sausage, bread and cheese while I just had an orange, a peach and a plum, and I felt much more like it afterwards, for all of five minutes before I crashed out again.

Once I awoke a few minutes later, I managed to struggle on to the end of the notes, late as it may be, and now I’m off to bed. However, this plastic bottle that I’m required to use is looking particularly empty and I’m sure that they aren’t going to like it.

Anyone of my age reading this who knows the film ALICE’S RESTAURANT will remember how Arlo Guthrie solved the problem at his army medical. I’m thinking of going down the same road but making use of the Hound of the Baskervilles. That will thoroughly confuse them at the medical laboratory.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about writing novels … "well, one of us has" – ed … somebody once asked me "how many novel writers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
"No idea" I replied.
"Two" replied my friend.
"Why?" I asked
"One to screw it up almost all the way, and the other one to give it a surprising twist at the end."

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