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LIVE: Thursday 17th September 2026 – IT’S ALL EXTREMELY …

… quiet in here tonight. And that’s because I’m on my own. Round about midday, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off to the car and the last time that I saw them, they were heading due east somewhere, in the general direction of Munich.

It was really lovely having company. After all, I’m not used to it. and as I said to him … "the friend, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … it’s open house here, and he and his sidekick are welcome to come here any time they want and can stay as long as they like.

Especially if he continues to make the coffee like that.

And I was ready for a mug of coffee this morning. I was in bed at something like a reasonable time, and although the wind was blowing, it didn’t disturb me that much and I was soon asleep.

However, round about 04:00, there was an enormous gust of wind that awoke me dramatically, and I wasn’t the only one to be awakened because my friend told me later that the Hound of the Baskervilles had awoken him round about that time, so something had obviously scared him … "the Hound of the Baskervilles, not the friend" – ed …

Once I was awake, I found it hard to go back to sleep and I tossed and turned for hours. However, at some point, I must have dozed off because the alarm awoke me.

And for once, I failed to beat the second alarm, dismal failure that I am. I just couldn’t unstick myself from the bed and I don’t know why. Consequently, I was quite a while late starting work this morning.

The first task was to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night.

During World War II the Chinese had decided to co-operate with the Allies against Japan, so they had sent radio signalmen on board many of the Allied ships. Those ships flew a white flag with the letter "G" on it. Someone made some remark about the one on his boat, saying that he was wearing some kind of flowing kimono or something like that in luxurious silk. Of course, we were sitting there thinking that he’s not going to last five minutes like that.

Being on board a ship would be nothing to bother me, although I have no idea where the Chinese man in his blue flowing kimono comes into it all.

Then this dream changed to something else. I was with a colleague from work and we were in Czechoslovakia or somewhere, and I was living there, and it was very similar to that one about Poland or Czechoslovakia the other week. We had to go to see someone, so another one of the workers picked me up and drove me all the way to Prague for this meeting. It turned out in effect that there was only going to be two of us, a young person from the other side. We had this meeting in what used to be a railway station, and we were chatting really about not very much at all. Just as the meeting was ending, this guy said that he’d forgotten to give him something. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a hammerhead. He said that that had fallen off someone’s Land Rover the other day. I mentioned a name and asked “it’s not him, is it, because he’s only just bought a new one?” but it wasn’t. Anyway, what happened next? So we made ready to go, and I suddenly remembered that someone had given me an axe head to sharpen, so I was busy sharpening the blade on the axe. The person with me was rather frightened in case I hurt myself, so he held my elbow. That led to an argument because you can’t sharpen anything if someone is holding your arm.

We’ve been spending a lot of time in Czechoslovakia and the Czech Republic just recently. Wishful thinking on my part, obviously. But the name that I mentioned was someone related in part to where I used to work.

Sharpening the axe head is also an interesting situation to contemplate, with someone trying to stop me carrying out my plans, which seem to have been infiltrated. It’s a nuisance, isn’t it?

The nurse came along for his final German lesson, a final big hug of the Hound of the Baskervilles and to sort out my feet and legs. And then another Welsh lesson, big hug, etc., before parting.

The Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off on yet another walkie, and I made breakfast and read some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Today’s subject is columnar ice, and that set me off on the trail of William Scoresby. He was one of the earliest of the “ice-masters” who worked the whaling ships in the Davis Strait and places like that in the first quarter of the nineteenth century. He gave a great deal of advice to the Admiralty about his experiences in the Hugh Arctic, especially concerning the ill-fated Franklin Expedition, but it was usually always rejected because he was a “civilian” and “the Admiralty knew best”, even if no Royal Navy sailors had ever set foot in the places where Scoresby had been.

His book, “Journal of a Voyage to the Northern Whale Fishery”, IS AVAILABLE ON LINE and as of this morning, is available in my own little digital book collection to read at a later date. I can see that I shall have to take my laptop with me when I go, in order to read all these books at my leisure. I hope that they have charging points down below where I’m going. Would I need an international adapter?

Back in here, there were a few things that needed finishing off, and then I started to make a couple of plans for things that I need to do over the weekend. However, proceedings were brought to an abrupt halt by the alarm reminding me that I need to prepare for dialysis. When you think about it, it’s bizarre that I have to set an alarm to remind me, but it’s not a case of “I might forget”. It’s just that with having this tendency to fall asleep at strange times and in strange places, I don’t want to be asleep when the taxi comes for me.

In the kitchen, I had my disgusting drink and midday medication, and my cleaner came to put the anaesthetic on my arm. However, as you might expect, she spent more time saying goodbye to the Hound of the Baskervilles, who was on the point of leaving.

After everyone had left, I waited for the taxi – not that I had to wait long because it was here at 12:42. There was already one passenger aboard, and we had to stop at the Aqua-gym at St Pair to pick up our usual Thursday passenger. Consequently, we arrived at dialysis early, not that it did me much good because so did everyone else, and I had to wait until 14:20 before I was up and running.

Once I was finally on my way, I could watch the football. Today, it was Trefelin, near the bottom of the table, against Penybont, third from top. And it was not, as you might expect, another “men against boys” encounter, but Trefelin pushed Penybont all the way and the latter had to work really hard for their 1-0 victory. Trefelin’s defence was excellent, except for that one lapse of concentration that cost them dear.

After that, we had the first half of Llandudno v Caernarfon. Llandudno, another newly promoted side, has adapted well to the level of skill required in the Premier League, and when I ran out of time watching the game, they were down 1-0 but by no means out of the contest and had, in fact, looked the better side.

There had been a few interruptions during my session. For once, the blood pressure alarm sounded only once or twice, but the most important was the doctor, telling me that she’d arranged this Hôpital de Jour thing and I should be expecting to hear from the hospital quite soon about it. And as she was walking away, my telephone rang. It was the hospital telling me that I had to be there on Monday morning at 09:00.

Blimey! Things are moving fast!

Half an hour later, the nurse came to give me the details of the appointment and said that she’d arranged the taxi to pick me up and the one to take me to dialysis afterwards. What a day that will be!

The nurse who was on duty was the one who is … errr … more relaxed about her working methods and, for some reason that I have yet to understand, switched off my machine a good five minutes before the end of the session, despite my protests. Every gram or millilitre that they can squeeze out of me is important.

Not only that, but she didn’t come back to unplug me for ten minutes so she may as well have left it running.

My taxi driver, the same one who brought me, was waiting for me, but we had to go across to the hospital to pick up someone else going to Granville so it was about 18:30 when I arrived home. My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and helped me into my apartment, where she stuck a disgusting drink into my sweaty little mitt.

After she left, I began to think about eating but I couldn’t face cooking anything tonight, so I had some crackers with cheese spread, followed by one of my nice, juicy plums. And it was so juicy that I’d better eat the rest quite quickly.

Once I’d dined, I began to write out my notes, but as usual, the dialysis had been a little too much and I couldn’t stay awake. I ended up posting on-line as far as I’d reached and went to bed. The rest can wait.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the High Arctic… "well, one of us has" – ed … there was a radio programme in Canada once discussing global warming, the retreat of the ice and the migration northwards of the species who live on it.
However, the programme was more concerned with the polar bears who were migrating south into human-inhabited zones hunting for food.
Part of the discussion concerned the odd handful of polar bears who migrated south, and then back north again, then back south etc., as if they couldn’t make up their minds.
"There’s no particular worry about those" said a panellist.
"Why not?" asked the presenter.
"They are what we call the ‘bi-polar bears’"

LIVE: Wednesday 16th September 2026 – THINGS HAVE BEEN …

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… a little better today that yesterday, which was in itself an improvement from Monday. However, before I start getting up my hopes, I have dialysis tomorrow, and so I’m expecting to be down at Ground Zero again on Friday morning.

But carpe diem, hey! Let’s just talk about today, shall we?

And “today” is probably right because it was after midnight this morning – 00:15 to be exact – when I finally crawled into bed after such a hectic day yesterday. And despite the howling gale that was going on outside … "and is still going on right now even as we speak" – ed … I managed to go to sleep fairly quickly.

Once more, though, there was the dramatic awakening at about 02:00, just like yesterday and with no good reason either. I was tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, and I noticed that I was still awake at 02:53, but I must have gone to sleep at some point thereafter because at 06:29, the alarm awoke me from a very deep sleep.

Surprisingly, I was able quite easily to be sitting on the side of the bed. But changing from that position to being upright and moving about is not so easy. It took a good ten minutes, maybe even more, before I was sitting on my chair at the computer.

The first job was to spell-check the notes from yesterday and put them on line. And then there was a pile of little things that need doing, so I made a good start on them. But eventually, I heard the sound of distant coffee mugs being rattled, so I stopped what I was doing and went off to investigate.

Sure enough, coffee was on its way, so I nipped off for a quick ride on the porcelain horse and then into the bathroom to sort myself out. And I was finished and back in the kitchen just as the coffee finished percolating. How good was that timing?

While we were drinking our coffee, we were chatting about the overnight news and things like that, but we noticed that all of a sudden, the Hound of the Baskervilles stood bolt-upright, his ears erect and his tail wagging. And then he made for the door.

About thirty seconds later, the doorbell rang and in walked the nurse. The Hound of the Baskervilles darted towards him and insisted on having a good stroke and hug before he would let him in.

Eventually, the nurse could turn his attention to me, and he dealt with my legs and feet. However, on leaving, he was once again cornered by the Hound of the Baskervilles, who insisted on yet another good stroke.

After the nurse had left, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies. I made breakfast and read some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Today, they were discussing the village of Kilpeck, the castle of which was the administrative centre of “Archenfield”, the part of the Welsh kingdom of Ergyng that was annexed by the Mercians towards the end of the Ninth Century.

Naturally, that led me off down another dead end, so I didn’t progress very far with the book. Never mind, though. There’s always tomorrow.

Back in here, I finished off what I’d been doing before coffee and then continued my summer holidays. After all, my visitors leave me tomorrow, so I’m back at work on Friday.

Perhaps the most important task was to proof-read the seven chapters of my book so far. I found several mistakes and made a few alterations here and there to clear up a few bits of confusion.

Having done that and had my disgusting drink and midday medication this afternoon, I programmed another artificial intelligence chatbot to be a proofreader and also to check for continuity (I don’t want my characters leaving home in red clothes and turning up two minutes later in green ones) and for chronological errors (none of my characters would be using a mobile telephone in 1987, for example).

Having done that, I ran my book through the chatbot, chapter at a time, and he pulled up a few errors that I had missed, as well as a couple of continuity errors. He also asked me if I would like a few suggestions as to how I should continue (I hadn’t asked him to do that, by the way), but I declined.

Having said that, though, when I’ve finished how I want this book to be, I’ll go back and ask him to make some suggestions, just to see, out of curiosity, where he would have taken this story from this point onwards.

At some point, though, I must have fallen asleep because I awoke rather suddenly at about 16:20. I’ve no idea when I fell asleep, and I certainly felt no indication whatsoever beforehand that I was about to drop off.

So I carried on until all of the proofreading was done and then I went back to check it over again, just to make sure.

By now, I could smell food coming from the kitchen. Tea was about to be served. My friend had made fried potato slices with onion and ratatouille. That was really nice, especially when followed by tinned apricots and vegan ice cream from Noz.

So back in here, I’ll finish off my notes, do the stats and the backup, etc., and then go to bed. And if the wind drops, I might even be able to go to sleep tonight.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about proof readers and artificial intelligence … "well, one of us has" – ed … I asked one chatbot once to come up with a witty advertisement for a firm offering specialised services to authors, etc.
The advert it came up with was "(xxx) and co., specialised services to authors. We do poofreading, speling and tpying."

LIVE: Tuesday 15th September 2026 – THAT WAS A …

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… much better day today than yesterday was, although it does have to be said that it could hardly be any worse. For a start, I actually managed to go to sleep, which is more than I did the previous night.

Having gone to bed at about 21;00, after having been asleep on my chair for at least an hour, I was asleep quite quickly. And I didn’t need much rocking either. And there I lay, fast asleep, until something rather dramatic awoke me. It was one of these occasions where something makes me suddenly sit bolt-upright, but unlike most of the other times, it wasn’t a subconscious feeling but a real something.

After that, I just couldn’t go back to sleep. After a while I checked the time, and it was 02:48 so the noise or whatever must have been about 02:00, I reckon. But despite all that, I carried on trying to go to sleep, but it was of no use really. For all the good that it did me, I needn’t have bothered to try.

When I noticed that the time was 05:51, I decided that I may as well make an early start out of it all, so I stood up and began to dress. At east, I “tried to stand up” but for some reason my legs wouldn’t work to that much effect, and it took me about three or four goes before I was finally upright. And then, round about 06:00, I was sitting at the computer.

The first job, of course, was to deal with the notes from last night. I thought that it wouldn’t take long to finish them, but I was surprised at how much there was to write. I ended up with almost two thousand three hundred words – that’s about sixty per cent more than the average. Consequently, I was only just putting the finishing touches to them when I began to wake up and smell the coffee.

That brought the proceedings to a rapid conclusion, and I went into the kitchen to try to be sociable.

Hot, strong coffee first thing in the morning is delicious, especially the way that my friend makes it, so I quite enjoyed drinking it while we chatted.

Our leisurely morning was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse. The Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t bark at all – he just rolled onto his back ready for a tickle-tummy, and the nurse duly obliged.

He then attended to me … "the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed …, and while he was sorting out my legs and feet, we had an interesting chat. But don’t ask me what it was about because I can’t remember now. It’s one of those things that I’ll probably remember about one tenth of a second after I’ve pressed “send” later on.

After saying goodbye to the Hound of the Baskervilles, the nurse cleared off, and the aforementioned … "the Hound of the Baskervilles, not the nurse" – ed …, dragged his master outside for another round of walkies. I stayed behind, of course, and made my breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

At the moment, everyone is agreeing with everyone else, there’s no dissent, no disagreement, and the World in rural Herefordshire is at peace. They are all admiring the beautiful view, and I am admiring the beautiful prose, such as "the magnificent vertical wall of the celebrated Coldwell rocks, so splendidly wooded, and through which we have wended our way hither"

Back in here later, I revised for my Welsh and then went to the lesson. We have loads of new students in our class, and a new teacher too. But unfortunately she swallows her words so we can’t make out half the time what she’s saying, and she’s nothing like as well organised as our previous one. I also remain unconvinced that she actually knows her subject as well as she ought to.

We shall see.

When the lesson ended, I had a few things to do and also to sort out my clean clothes for a shower, because my cleaner comes today and she usually chases me thereunder. So when she turned up, she gave the Hound of the Baskervilles his usual big stroke, and then I decided on a change of plan.

The temperature was slowly falling, the weather was slowly deteriorating and the wind was slowly rising. So what I thought that we’d do is that the three of us (and the Hound of the Baskervilles as bodyguard) go to do a little job outside that I’ve been trying to do for an absolute age.

So they walked off and I staggered off outside to see what we could do. We attacked this job, and surprisingly, it was completely finished in about fifteen minutes. The most difficult and longest part of the job was my walking back to the apartment afterwards, because the wind was definitely rising now. And today was the first day since spring that I’d work a jacket outside.

Winter is acumen in. Lhude sing Rudolph.

Back in here, the first thing that I noticed was that we could hardly move around, there was that much stuff in here. But once a couple of things had gone up into my loft space, it made it slightly … "only slightly" – ed … better.

My cleaner organised the bathroom for me, and then she chased me under the shower, so we have a nice, clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … this evening. And once I’d come out of the bathroom, my cleaner stopped playing with the Hound of the Baskervilles, sorted out the bathroom and went back upstairs to her place, leaving the rest of us alone.

Once I was organised, I came back in here to do some work. However, I didn’t get very far because Rosemary rang for a chat. Only a very short one today – one hour, nineteen minutes and fifty-two seconds.

But one of the things that we discussed was diuretics, of course, and Rosemary suggested that many fruits and vegetables have diuretic properties. That set me off on another trail, and by the end of our chat, I had a pile of recipes and daily food programmes organised by my friendly neighbourhood chatbot, and there was a cheap good-make juicing machine in my shopping basket ready for purchase tomorrow. The idea of drinking more is something that I need to do, so drinking something that actually has a positive effect on my fluid retention has to be a good way forward.

While all of this was going on, my friend was making tea, and we ended up with sausage, chips and beans. And I know that that’s what Friday’s meal usually is, but the Hound of the Baskervilles is going home on Thursday, taking my friend with him, and so he wants to try the sausages once more before he goes.

The pudding of tinned apricots and my vegan ice cream from Noz was exceptionally good. The ice cream is lovely and I wish now that I’d bought some more the other day.

Later on in here, there was yet more football – another basement clash between two newly-promoted sides, Trefelin and Cambrian United.

It was a strange game too. Plenty of skill on offer and yet plenty of midfield slogging too. But the differences between the two sides were evident. Cambian’s defence was magnificent and never looked like being beaten. They were always thinking one step ahead of the ball and not one step behind, as were their opponents, and there was a difference in physical presence. I had to laugh at one point when a Cambrian central defender and a Trefelin attacker leapt for a ball in the air. The Cambrian defender simply stuck out two hands and pushed the attacker out of the way to have a clear header.

That just about summed up Trefelin’s day, but the final scoreline of 4-0 to Cambrian was something very much of an exaggeration.

But what I’m not going to exaggerate is my need to go to bed, so I’m clearing off. Another day of rest tomorrow and then we go again. That is, if I can get some sleep with this wind that is now howling around outside like the devil.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Report of the Woolhope Naturalists Club … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone asked me whether it would be a suitable thing to read to a group of prisoners in gaol.
"Well, it would have its prose and cons, wouldn’t it?" I replied.

LIVE: Monday 14th September 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

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… the dictaphone this morning.

Mind you, that’s not really any surprise, because if you don’t go to sleep, you can’t dream, can you?

Yes, last night was a proper nuit blanche, and it was a shame because, eschewing all luxuries, including food, I’d finished my notes at some kind of respectable time and was in bed fairly early, looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Instead, I tourné en ronde – “tossed and turned” in my bed for hour after hour, at times in total despair, because I know what “no sleep last night” means for this afternoon at dialysis when I want to watch a football match, or tonight when I come home, or tomorrow morning when my new Welsh class begins – so if there are no notes for tonight when you log in to look, you’ll know why.

However, the time was not totally wasted. I began to plot the next few chapters of my book, and before I’d finished, I’d not only finished this book in my head but written the following two too. So no time is ever wasted.

As well as that, I’m going to claim an “early start” because when the alarm should have gone off at 06:29 (but it didn’t because I’d switched it off), I’d been at my desk working for a good fifteen minutes. It’s a shame that I’m still wheezing and coughing because I would otherwise have got up much earlier and dictated a pile of radio notes. If I’m going to be going to hospital for any length of time, I’ll need to be as up-to-date as possible because dictating in a hospital bed is totally impossible.

Eventually, I heard signs of life in the kitchen as if coffee was being made so I went in to join everyone and had a hot, strong coffee put into my sweaty little mitt. My friend and I chatted for a while, and eventually, Isabelle the Nurse turned up. the Hound of the Baskervilles hardly moved a muscle, but he wagged his tail and let Isabelle stroke him before she attended to me.

Then, before leaving, she made another fuss of him because she’s off tonight on her week off and she won’t see him for a few months.

Once she’d left, the Hound of the Baskervilles had his breakfast and dragged his master off for walkies. I had a good wash and scrub up, and also a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis. Then I went to make my breakfast.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870. Yet again, the Club is managing to steer clear of controversy. Their criticism of another member’s viewpoint is usually expressed in a very good-natured way that doesn’t really cause offence. If I come across a good example, I’ll post it on here for you to see.

When I came back in here, I had the next radio programme to review before I sent it off to be added into the stream for the weekend. I can’t remember what I did after that, but there was still some time to watch a bit of the Colwyn Bay v Connah’s Quay Nomads match from Saturday in the JD Cymru League, played before yet another four-figure crowd, mostly from Colwyn Bay because the Nomads don’t even have their own ground (they share with Y Fflint), never mind any support.

It’s a fact that the crowds that watch two of Wales’s leading clubs (TNS and Connah’s Quay Nomads) have an appallingly low level of attendance at home, whereas even Trefynnon, hopelessly adrift at the foot of the table, have managed a gate of four figures this season.

My friend nipped out for his lunch at the local canteen while I looked after His Nibs. He whined for his master, but he soon stopped when his Auntie Cleaner came to fix my anaesthetic. She made a real fuss of him, which he enjoyed immensely.

When his master returned from dinner, my cleaner sorted my out arm and helped me pack. It was a beautiful afternoon too, so after she left, we all went outside to wait, the Hound of the Baskervilles hiding in the shade under a bush. He didn’t even want to lie in his favourite bus shelter in case any of his girlfriends from the local high school across the car park came past.

So we waited. And waited. And waited. Yes, people, this is when the whole day went off the rails.

Having been used this last few weeks when Mrs Dinosaur was here to be picked up twenty minutes early, today was the day when we all caught up and the taxi was half an hour late. The church clock in the walled town was striking 13:30 when she hove into view. It’s not anything that I ever complain about, though. Being terminally ill, I have a service that drives me to my medical appointments … "of which there are thousands" – ed … anywhere in the country and it’s free. I wouldn’t have service like this in any other country in the World.

So we shot off as if the Fear of God was upon us for … ohhh … all of a mile and a half before we came up behind a tractor with a full load of straw on it travelling at 25 kph if it was lucky.

We followed it for a couple of miles, and all the time, I was thinking “why is she going this way?”.

The tractor turned off eventually, and so my driver put her foot down, to run almost immediately to a road barricade.

"Ohh God, yes! They’ve closed the main road for roadworks!" she exclaimed. Well, I know they have, and it will be closed until at least the 31st of December too, which was why I was puzzled.

We ourselves had to take a quick diversion and in the end drove down the road to Champeaux and cut across to the main Avranches road a little further down. Despite all of the setbacks along the way, this was pretty good going. And as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … since I’ve been travelling with this company, I’m seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed.

It was 14:08 when we pulled up at the dialysis clinic – the old non-air-conditioned one – in this stifling heat. All of the nursing auxiliaries had gone off to lunch, so I had to stagger halfway around the building before I found the bed list. I was in bed n°12 today, the farthest single room in the farthest ward away from the front door. They couldn’t make me walk any farther if they tried.

After having to sort myself out on my own as best as I could, the nurses eventually came to plug me in, and it was 14:40 by the time that I was up and running. There wasn’t much to extract today, so I persuaded the nurse to wind it up by 300 grammes to give me a head start on Thursday.

And now, finally, I could now sit back and enjoy a couple of football matches.

At least, so I thought. First of all, the nurses came to do a check on my implant to make sure that it was functioning properly. But this was the day when the machine decided not to function properly, and I had three or four nurses around my bed trying to fix it – not that I was complaining, though.

When it was finally up and running, the test took about fifteen minutes, so there was a good half an hour of my day gone, just like that!

Then the doctor (not Emilie the Cute Consultant, unfortunately) came to see me. They were going to try something at the hôpital de jour – the “day clinic” – a series of drips, to see if it might work. Well, I’m game for trying almost anything, but I know how this will end, because I’ve been through this before, four or five years ago. It didn’t work then, so I bet it won’t work now, but if they think that it might, who am I to argue?

But I’m glad I saw the doctor because when Emilie the Cute Consultant told me on Saturday that my immune system had broken down, it rang a very vague bell in the back of my mind, so over the last day or two I’d been searching through my papers.

And sure enough, there it was. A vaccination card given to me in January 2016 when I’d had my spleen taken out. I remembered them saying that I’d require three vaccinations every five years for the rest of my life, and there were the 2016 injection stamps and the 2021 injection stamps, but nothing for 2026. It looks as if I had forgotten to have the injections in January.

She took the card, looked at it and said that she’d write a prescription, and when I have the injections, bring them down to dialysis and they would do them.

Once she left, I could watch the football, and the first game was Rhydaman v Cearnarfon. It was, unfortunately, men against boys, this match. Rhydaman never ever looked like doing anything at all, and I don’t believe that they put one single sooty foot inside Caernarfon’s penalty area during the entire match.

Some of their players played with guts and spirit, but you need much more than that in a match like this, and a 0-5 result in favour of the Cofis was not an exaggeration.

The next game was the rest of Colwyn Bay v Connah’s Quay Nomads. This turned out to be another candidate for one of the best football matches that I had ever seen and was another credit to the league. Both teams, intent on victory, went at each other right from the start.

They were still at it right at the end too, and the fans certainly had their money’s worth as the Seagulls clawed their way back from 1-0 down to beat the Nomads 2-1, with Jordan Davies scoring one of the best goals that I’d seen for a while too.

There was even time for part of a third match too – Trefelin v Penybont – but I ran out of time and began to pack away my things when the five-minute warning went off on my machine.

At that point, all hell let loose in the main room. One of the elderly patients had fallen into a coma, and all of the nurses in the building, and the doctor, crowded around to try to revive him.

What annoyed me about this, and I don’t want anyone to think that I am heartless at all, was that one of the nurses ran round and switched off everyone’s machines. I’d have been happy for mine to have gone on for another hour and given me an even better start for Thursday.

And it was indeed another hour, and more besides, until they were able to revive this guy and have him transferred across the road to hospital. And then they could sort the rest of us out.

It was my luck, wasn’t it, to have the nurse who goes around apologising for everything, rather like the maid in A ROCKET FULL OF PYE and it becomes overwhelming after five minutes.

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

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

Eventually they let me out to find that my poor chauffeur and another passenger had been sitting there for over an hour waiting for me. And it was still scorching hot out there too. I finally made it home for 19:25, and my comité d’acceuil – my welcoming committee – had long since, as Longfellow expressed it, "folded their tents, like the Arabs, and as silently steal away.". The taxi driver had to help me into the apartment.

My friend had been cooking, and I had a lovely mashed potato and broccoli bake, followed by fruit cocktail and the last of this batch of sorbet. That means that next time, I can attack my vegan ice cream from Noz with gusto, or with anyone else who happens to be around.

When I’d done the washing up, I came back in here to write up my notes, but I managed to do about a dozen or so lines until I fell asleep. When I awoke a little later, I just crawled into bed and that was that. My notes can wait until tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about four-figure crowds at Welsh football … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember speaking to the FAW’s competitions secretary about the first four-figure crowd – at Cwmbran Town v Inter-Cardiff.

"What was it, exactly?" I asked him.
"Three men and one sheep" he replied.

LIVE: Sunday 13th September 2026 – AFTER YESTERDAY’S SHENANIGANS …

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… we returned to something rather resembling routine this morning.

Yesterday, I mentioned that I was up and about, writing my notes, at 04:01 this morning. and it didn’t take me too long to finish them either. I was back in bed for 05:10 and there I lay, dead to the World.

It was Isabelle the Nurse who awoke me when she came in at about 08:30. She sorted out my legs and feet and I told her my tale of woe from yesterday. She sympathised but didn’t offer any practical advice or solutions.

After she cleared off, my friend brought me a mug of coffee in bed, which was lovely, but I fell asleep again, and when I awoke, it was stone cold so I must have been asleep for a long time.

When I finally went into the kitchen, the place was as deserted as the Marie Celeste. I reckon that the Hound of the Baskervilles had dragged his master off for walkies again. So I made my breakfast and read some of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

This morning, we were reading a report on Goodrich Castle, so naturally, I was off on a research trip all of my own, just as I used to do in university.

Back in here later, I had a few things to do and then I began to transcribe the dictaphone notes.

It was a famous footballer’s birthday, like, I dunno, someone from the 1930s, and there was a huge party taking on. There were hundreds of footballers there and loads of spectators. Everyone was hunting around for this guy or for some sign of his life, like an old football strip in order to carry on the celebrations with him. I’d told his club, which was Stoke City, that I was intent on capturing him for his money value, but they couldn’t see where he was in that time. In the end, we just had this huge party all the way through the streets of Stoke on Trent, and everyone was totally plastered. I was in Crewe, but I joined the party in Crewe and we had to circulate home one by one on the bus. It was going to take absolutely hours for this, and people were asking us who we were and if we’d seen so-and-so. It seemed as if we were going to be there all night handling this other footballer’s dreams.

A famous footballer from Stoke City could only ever be that Manly Statues guy. Apart from him, the only other player who could ever approach anything near his fame would be Gordon Banks.

But it’s a strange dream, this one, because I have never before ever been interested in what the Clayheads have been doing.

Later on …

… Nerina and I were going to New York for a long weekend, and some of our family decided that they’d go too … indistinct … fell asleep here …

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that Nerina and I WENT TO NEW YORK A FEW DAYS AGO on a voyage, so this must be in the throes of becoming a regular occurrence.

And some of our family deciding to accompany us would be the kiss of death on a trip like this, too, so it’s just as well that I fell asleep again before it all went out-of-hand.

In fact, when I arose from the bed earlier, I’d found the dictaphone on the floor down by the bed, still switched on, still recording.

Interestingly, it contained not only me snoring and coughing, but also Isabelle the Nurse coming into the apartment, and the first thing that she said was "Bonjour, the Hound of the Baskervilles!" – nothing at all to my friend and me. And her last words were, inevitably, "au revoir, the Hound of the Baskervilles!"

After the dictaphone, there was football – the match in the Scottish fourth tier between Stranraer and Dumbarton. Stranraer went a goal down in the first half, and then an astonishing change of fortune enabled them to play like I have never seen them play before, and they scored a runaway three goals. Wouldn’t it be nice if Y Flint could ever have a change of fortune like that?

Once I’d finished all that, I went for a disgusting drink and the midday medication, and then I came back in here to begin to write the sixth chapter of my book.

However, by 14:00 I once more had a thirst that you could photograph, so in a wild break from the usual traditions, I had a beer – one of my “Kronenburg” alcohol-free ones – and it was delicious, straight out of the fridge, and I’ll buy some more of these next time, sales or no sales.

Back in here, I finished off Chapter Six, and at least, my chatbot likes it, which is good news. He’s currently my proofreader and keeps a check on spelling, punctuation and continuity. However, I really want a “real reader” to read it and to tell me if she likes the book and what she thinks, so that I know whether I’m on the right lines or whether I’m wasting my time.

It can’t be an adult, though, because adults won’t understand it and they’ll probably say that it’s boring and repetitive. It needs to be a girl of the same age bracket as our heroine – namely the 9-12 age group – and preferably brought up in a British environment. Volunteers (or their parents) please form a queue on the right. The story is effectively a modern-day fairy-tale.

Seriously, though, if anyone can conjure up such a person as part of their tribe, there’s a “contact me” button on the lower right of your screen.

Round about 16:15. I knocked off and went into the kitchen to do some baking, and by the time that I finished, I had a rather bizarre-shaped loaf and a really good pizza. I didn’t fancy the pizza myself but my friend tells me that it’s delicious.

So now, I’ll finish off my notes, do a few other things that need doing and then go to bed. If I can have an early night and a good sleep, I’ll be more than happy.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about fairy tales … "well, one of us has" – ed … there was an obvious story that I could tell, but this isn’t 1967 so it would go down today like a Led Zeppelin. Instead, I’ll tell the story that once upon a time, a little girl asked me if all fairy tales began with "Once upon a time".
"Of course not" I replied. "Most of them begin with ‘if I am elected, I promise’ … "

LIVE: Wednesday 9th September 2026 – THERE’S ONE THING …

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… 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."

LIVE: Tuesday 8th September 2026 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

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… day I’ve had today! It’s been another contender for “the worst day in my life”.

Last night, as you might recall, I abandoned my blog at some strange hour and staggered off to bed. I was thoroughly exhausted after dialysis yet again.

The expectation was to have a good and refreshing sleep and a nice, comfortable wake-up so that I could carry on writing the notes with some sort of enthusiasm. Well, such was the plan. The reality was far, far different.

Firstly, I began to cough again, despite the menthol and eucalyptus sweet that I’d had on going to bed. Secondly, the Hound of the Baskervilles began to bark at about 00:50. I thought at first that he was having a nightmare, but according to his master, someone had come into the building and stood outside our door. His Nibs was simply reminding whoever it was outside that he was here and on guard.

After that, it was impossible to go back to sleep. I was coughing far too much, almost as much as when this cough was at its worst a few months ago, and I just couldn’t calm it down.

When the alarm went off, no one felt less like leaving the bed than I did, but I was soon in the chair by the computer. And the first thing that I did was to fall asleep.

About twenty minutes later, I awoke and dashed off the remainder of the notes before I crashed out again. It took me a good hour or so all the same to finish them.

Just as I was adding the finishing touches to my work, my friend came in and made a “coffee” gesture, so I quickly finished off that I had to do, posted it on line and then wandered off into the kitchen for a coffee and a chat, and also to give a stroke to the Hound of the Baskervilles.

It was quite a nice way to start the day, coffee and a chat about obsolete musical and studio equipment. It brings back many happy memories of our lives on the road.

One of our discussions was about the amps and speakers that we owned. I told him about the six-channel Marshall 200-watt PA amp and the 2 2×12 columns, the 200-watt bass amp and cabinet that I have down in the Auvergne, and the Fender bass combo and “Jaguar” bass that I have in Canada.

My friend said that they aren’t doing much good there. I replied that they wouldn’t be doing much good here either. There would be nowhere to put them. I already have my “stack” of the Genz Benz 200-watt bass combo, the 25-watt six-string combo and the 45-watt Carlsbro bass combo in the living room, along with the Gibson EB3 and the five-string fretless bass as well as the six-string electric guitar. In here, there’s the Roland cube bass amp and the little battery-operated one, and also the Ibanez six-string acoustic and the Ibanez four-string bass.

Isabelle the Nurse was late arriving today, and just as yesterday, the Hound of the Baskervilles rolled onto his back straight away for some tummy tickles. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … he has far more luck with the ladies than I ever do.

Eventually, Isabelle the Nurse tore herself away from the Hound of the Baskervilles and came to deal with me. I told her about my foot, which is now hurting more than ever before, and told her to be careful.

After she left, we continued chatting for a while, and then I went to make my breakfast as the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for a walk. I didn’t envy them. There was a gale-force wind blowing outside, and it was lashing with rain.

While they were gone, I made my breakfast and sat down to read some more of my book, THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

We’ve had nothing controversial this morning, but I was often away from the book researching some of the places that they visited and what the opinion is today of what they saw. And there’s nothing really that has changed, although the Eurypterus Brodici,, discovered by the Reverend Brodie, seems no longer recognised as an individual species

Back in here later, I finished off all of the notes from yesterday and they are now on line, but I knew that I wasn’t. Ever since I’d awoken this morning, I’d been good for nothing, so tired was I.

And this carried on too because once the notes were online, I crashed out again on my chair. And it was for just five minutes either.

When I eventually awoke, it was disgusting drink and midday medicine time, so I went into the kitchen to sort things out. I also had my first of the disgusting cement that’s supposed to be an anti-potassium drink. But as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I think that before a doctor prescribes any medication, the doctor ought to take a month’s supply himself so as to see for himself what the patients might think of it.

One thing that I had forgotten was the dictaphone, so I sat down to transcribe whatever there was.

I was responsible for bringing up a young girl, and as a result, I’d been set several tasks which would account for being the new set of rules about different things and ways of expressing them in the 1980s. I’d managed to gope with them all and was quite successful, although I found it difficult to find the local names for one or two of these things. The next thing was a load of twenty of these kinds of rules suddenly appeared, and I was expected to deal with them all, not necessarily in alphabetical order. This was quite a task by the looks of things, but any of them looked fairly straightforward. I was sure that the girl involved would be able to help me with a few of the others, so it wouldn’t look all this difficult. Just as I was getting into it, the Hound of the Baskervilles had a nightmare and barked, waking both of us up in this apartment.

Earlier on, I’d mentioned the Hound of the Baskervilles awakening us, so it wasn’t just a dream. It really was the case.

But this story about the man bringing up the girl and the new set of rules would have been Ohh! So relevant in 1987. But never mind. It might yet be that Biggles Flies Again in much more modern times, although with the same characters as before. Who knows?

I started to work for London Transport last night as a conductor on the buses on my very first day. Even though I’d been to training school, I was feeling quite nervous. So I boarded this bus, which was crowded and had an old man as driver and a woman conductor who was in her forties. She wasn’t very happy to see me because she’d run these buses on her own for a long time but I was determined to help. However, I kept on making a mess of the most simple of things, and nothing seemed to be going right at all and I’m sure that she was extremely frustrated with me. Then, the driver happened to mention “have you fixed the clock?”. I replied “no”. “well we have to go to the clock on the bus to get it right”. So I had to go, and he took me up to the top deck, and there was a little doorway, so we squeezed in and went up. The clock was in a kind of tower. But when we arrived there, there was someone asleep in that little room. It turned out that he was a motor mechanic for one of the repair yards. Of course, they threw him off the bus and if he ever came here again, he’d regret it. We reset the time on the bus, and by the time that I went downstairs, there were only a dozen or so passengers. We began to collect the fares from them, but I couldn’t find my fare sheet. I’d left it somewhere while I was fixing this clock

The clock on each of these buses resembled a miniature “Big Ben” and took quite some maintenance, although people in this tower were never imagined to be sleeping in it.

And although we have the usual (or what used to be usual) panic attack, I can’t think of whatever I might be doing in a London bus.

Later on, the cleaner came round, and before she began to do her stuff, she chased me under the shower again. So there’s a nice clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … ready for tonight.

Once I’d calmed down, I began to write the notes for tonight. But as I implied just now, my head wasn’t in it. It wasn’t in fact until about 17:00 that I managed to pull myself together enough to put some coherent sentences onto paper.

There was no tea tonight – I really didn’t feel like anything – so I grabbed some toasts and cheese, a disgusting drink and an orange and came in here to watch the football.

We had Caernarfon v Y Fflint, and as I watched the match, I confirmed my assumption of what has been going wrong with Y Fflint, in second-last place in the JD Cymru League. They just aren’t having any luck.

Although Caernarfon won 3-0 as expected, Y Fflint were giving as good as they were getting. They hit the woodwork several times, they had balls kicked off the line a couple of times. Nothing is going right for them this season and it’s high time that they had a change of luck.

But right now, I’m off to bed, later than I anticipated, but it can’t be helped. We’ll see what tomorrow brings if I can survive the coughing and the pain in my foot.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Biggles … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends has told m that he was a big fan of Biggles and has all of the books – except one.
"Which one are you missing?" I asked.
"Biggles Flies Undone" he replied

LIVE: Monday 7th September 2026 – AND SO WE’RE …

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… back in the good old night-time routine of waking up early and not going back to sleep again.

Over the last three or four weeks, I genuinely believed that I’d left all of that behind and moved onwards and upwards into a much more normal sleeping pattern, but ohhh! Cruel and Wicked Fate has confounded me yet again.

Last night I was in bed by 22:30, thoroughly tired and exhausted, and I was pretty soon asleep. Apart from the odd bit of tossing and turning, I stayed asleep until some unearthly time in the morning where I was wide awake again, and despite how tired I might have been feeling, I didn’t go back to sleep again.

At one point, I was so fed up with it all that I went to look at the time. And just as I was about to switch on the ‘phone, the 06:29 alarm rang.

That was the cue to leave the bed, but in all honesty, it took much more than that to rise to my feet.

Once I was up and about, I slid over onto the chair and began to listen to where I was last night.

We were in the territorial army last night. And as time went on, the territorial army began to produce proper sailors and so on so they became more integrated into the organisation of the terriers, and it was quite common for them to fulfil some kind of role in the organisation. This meant a big shuffle round of the personnel. We suddenly found that people had been removed from their post and that some Territorial who had qualified in that subject was there instead. As captain, I was responsible for making sure that it was usual and acceptable for a girl of 11 like Seren. I had to start by working my way around the different classrooms to see what changes had been made, and then two of our … fell asleep here … so it was all starting to become pretty complicated here.

While this might be an interesting dream, relating to a discussion I’d had with my friend recently, I actually remember nothing whatever of this dream, regardless of any significance. Usually, whenever I begin to transcribe them, there’s usually always a distant memory that comes drifting back, but not with this one.

I was back training that football side again last night, and we were working on receiving free kicks – working on defending against free kicks and winning the ball. We had a practice fence that we brought on whenever we were doing something involved with an arret against the grieving things and then just curling the ball in and spinning into the net over the wall. When my cleaner came past, she said something along the line that we weren’t all that particularly good like back when we began to practise this week. But give them a week and they’ll be brilliant. Then on her way home from working her midday shift, she gave me a packet of biscuits, so I gathered that what she meant was that it was lunchtime, but every time that we defended a kick, we had this big defensive wall made of this fence. We were raising it higher and higher to make it more complicated for the attacker.

This seems to be a recurring dream right at the moment, with me training various football clubs. However, nothing seems to be so bad with some clubs that my training won’t make it worse.

Then I went to continue the notes from yesterday, but the first thing that I noticed was that I was locked out of my own blog site. This captcha will be the death of me at this rate. I simply went into my site’s file manager and disabled everything that I’ve done these last few days. I’ll look at it again later, but in the meantime, I’ll carry on with the blog.

When I was nearly finished, my friend turned up imitating the role that I’ll have to use on my little WordPress flying machine, but I carried on chatting with him, even if it did mean postponing the Hound of the Baskervilles’ breakfast.

So having fallen asleep four times and with my posting degenerating into a load of rubbish… "what’s new?" – ed … as you can see from the above, I’m going to bed and I’ll continue tomorrow. It always seems to be the case that I can fall asleep sitting on my chair at the desk but never at all when I’m lying in bed.

Anyway, tomorrow, we’ll go back to yesterday and carry on. from last night.

So trying to make sense of everything, my friend turned up with a mug of coffee, which was extremely nice of him, but I asked him to put it on the kitchen table, and I’d be in in a sec.

After a quick visit to ride the porcelain horse, I went to join my friend in the kitchen, where we drank coffee and chatted about nothing very much in particular until the arrival of Isabelle the Nurse.

And then an interesting thing happened. The Hound of the Baskervilles, who hadn’t barked at all when she came in, rolled over onto his back and exposed his stomach so that Isabelle the Nurse could give him a good tummy-tickle. It’s amazing that he still remembers her after all these months.

She came over to me afterwards to deal with my legs and feet, and I asked her where my tummy-tickle was, but she told me basically to clear off.

After she left, the Hound of the Baskervilles had his breakfast and I made mine, and while I was eating, I was reading my new book, THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

And for the benefit of some of my readers – it’s “Naturalists”, not “Naturists”. There’s a big difference.

This book will probably have one or two controversies of its own, but at least they will be between members. It’s not a book written from one person’s viewpoint.

There’s a crisis with the medication right now. It seems that one set of pills was missed off the order a couple of weeks ago, and now I’m down to my last handful. I shall have to have a word with my faithful cleaner later.

Back in here, there were the notes to finish, and then there were a few other things to do, such as to review and send off the radio programme for this week. And just when I was standing up to go to prepare myself for dialysis, the alarm went off to remind me that it was time to prepare myself for dialysis.

In the kitchen, I sorted out a disgusting drink and the midday medication and then made myself ready. My cleaner turned up to sort out the anaesthetic, but her first priority was to stroke the belly of the Hound of the Baskervilles. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … he has far more luck with the women than I do.

After she left, I waited here with His Nibs for my taxi while my friend nipped out for a short while. Now that Mrs Dinosaur has left the area, we’re back at the usual situation of the taxi being a few minutes late. But at least it was a Mercedes B-series from the taxi company that the company that I use had recently bought.

We had to go via Sartilly for the old lady there, but nevertheless, we were still five minutes early at Avranches. I had one of the new nurses and she was quite efficient, and I was up and running by 14:15. I noticed that there were two people in my room whom I didn’t recognise. “Holidaymakers”, I was informed.

There wasn’t as much fluid to extract today so, once more, I persuaded her successfully to up the total by 300 grams to give me a head start for Thursday

Once I was organised, I had some football to watch. We started off with the rest of the match between LLansawel and Airbus UK Broughton.

Say what you like, it’s clear that three of the newly promoted clubs, Llandudlo, Cambrian United and the Wingmakers, can compete to some degree at this level, whereas the other three – Rhydaman, Trefelin and Trefynnon – are here as cannon fodder and that’s not a very pleasant place in which to be. Throw Y Fflint in there too, and you have what look like your relegation candidates for the end of the season.

So, retournons à nos moutons as they say around here, the match finished 0-2 to the Wingmakers, and quite right too. From what I saw, they certainly had the better of the play.

After that, there was Cardiff Metro v Cambrian United. The Met pulled away into a 2-0 lead, but Cambian plugged away and came back into the game. The final score was 2-2, and Cambrian hit the woodwork on two occasions towards the end of the game.

Just as the final whistle blew, the nurse came round to unplug me. The time had fitted together nicely. And even better, just as I was about to leave, Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me. The bad news is that I start a new course of the disgusting potassium powder. Ahh well!

By now, my chauffeur was waiting – a chatty guy whom I hadn’t seen for a while, so I didn’t have to hang around and I would have an interesting ride home.

We were back at a reasonable time and found my cleaner perched on her mushroom waiting for me. She helped me into the apartment and then went off to cuddle the Hound of the Baskervilles. I was clearly a distant second in her priorities.

She sorted out my disgusting drink, sorted out the medication, found my friend’s missing jacket and then wandered off. My friend stuck another bowl of chilli, this time with baked potato, in my mitt and we tucked in. This is real luxury, having a meal plonked into my hands upon my return.

The next plan was to write my notes, but I failed miserably. I fell asleep four times before I’d even written a dozen lines, so I said “sod it” and went to be.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … yesterday, he went into La Rafale and ordered a pint of beer for himself.
"Wow! Magnificent" said the barman. "With skills like that, you ought to be in a circus!"
"Why?" asked the Hound of the Baskervilles. "Do they need an electrician?"

Live: Saturday 5th 5eptember 2026 – I AM ABSOLUTELY …

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… exhausted again, so much so that I’m freezing, just like the other day. And just like the other day, unless something dramatic happens, I shall be in bed long before I’ve finished these notes.

Last night was tiring enough. Not going to bed until 01:00 and waking up in the middle of the night, and then leaving the bed at 06:29 has done for me good and proper.

It was 01:00 when I finally crawled into bed after my marathon session with the chatbot about this captcha installation. I certainly wasn’t going to start a new, complicated procedure at that kind of night.

And once in bed and asleep, I stayed asleep, and for about a whole two or so hours too. And once I was awake, at something like three o’clock in the morning, there I stayed, wide awake, until the alarm went off.

As usual, it wasn’t very easy for me to haul myself out of bed, but with yesterday’s notes to finish off, if ever there was a good time to do it, it was right now, so I set to work.

In fact, I wasn’t very far off finishing when I heard the rattle of coffee mugs from the kitchen, so I sprung to my feet … "well, sort-of" – ed … and went into the bathroom for a good scrub up and shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant today at dialysis.

Next stop was the kitchen for a mug of coffee and a chat, and we were still there chatting when the nurse arrived. The Hound of the Baskervilles was really pleased to see him, wagging his tail at thirteen to the dozen, and I think that he had more care and attention that I did. The nurse also had his daily German lesson, and finally, he sorted out my legs and feet.

After he had left, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I made my breakfast – porridge, toast and juice. The juice was actually the leftover fruit juice from the tin of apricots, and I’ll tell you something for nothing – and that is that my calcium lozenges don’t dissolve in it.

And, would you believe, I crashed out while eating it.

Another thing is that I’ve finally finished reading A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman, and I can’t say that I’m sorry. It was a really difficult read, especially when trying to dismantle Freeeman’s partisan viewpoints and comments.

And at the beginning of the book, he mentioned that he wasn’t going to use illustrations to illuminate the discussions in his book. Why not? It would have made things so much clearer and saved me so many hours of research.

So, I wonder what the next book will be.

Back in the office, I finished off the notes for yesterday, and there were a few other things to sort out too, but eventually, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master back home after having had a good exploration of the town and the port, and so, feeling more sociable than usual, I went to join them.

At midday when my alarm went off, I started to prepare myself for dialysis, and the Hound of the Baskervilles’s Auntie Cleaner came down to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. However, she spent most of her time with His Nibs and I barely had a look-in. He has far more success than I am having right now.

He also had a big fuss from the taxi driver who came to pick me up, and then we went off into the wilds of Champeaux to pick up another passenger. He told us that it was the Sartilly Festival today and the place was gridlocked, so we carried on in the wilderness, down roads on which I have never travelled before, until we reached the main road.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … since I’ve been travelling with this taxi company, I’ve been seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed.

We were a little early arriving at dialysis, and to my surprise, I found that I had a single room and that the nurse, one of the new ones, was waiting for me on my arrival. I’ve had much worse connections than the one that she gave me, and I was up and running at 14:05.

First job was to watch the live football match that had kicked off half an hour ago (it’s a good job that the stream has a “start from beginning” function) – Penybont v Colwyn Bay.

Penybont have assembled a squad capable of taking on TNS, the eternal champions, but their start to the season is stuttering. It wasn’t helped by two of their leading stars having to be substituted in this match before twenty minutes had been played.

Colwyn Bay have so far failed to live up to their efforts last season, so this was going to be an unpredictable match. However, skill will out, and Penybont won 1-0 in the end.

Mind you, I missed a few minutes off it because, once again, I somehow managed to crash out while watching it

There was time afterwards to watch the first half of Llansawel v Airbus UK Broughton, and I’ll tell you more about this game later when I’ve finished it.

It’s nice being in a single room like this. It means in principle that there are far fewer interruptions. However, in my case, with the blood pressure alarm going off every thirty minutes, that’s not necessarily the case as the nurses come rushing to my rescue like the Seventh Cavalry.

One interruption that I didn’t have was that of a doctor. There was one on the premises today but he pointedly passed me by. It looks as if I’m in the doghouse with the Hound of the Baskervilles.

The nurse was already ready and waiting for me when my time was up so I was unplugged quite quickly. Even better, the taxi driver was waiting for me, and I was the only passenger, so we were home just after 18:00. It goes without saying that the Hound of the Baskervilles had yet another fuss made of him – by the driver and by his Auntie Cleaner who had come to escort me onto the premises.

My friend had cooked a lovely chilli sin carne and we followed that with one of the really nice soya desserts that Leclerc is pushing right now. That was a lovely tea, right enough.

After the washing up, it was 20:10 when I came in here to start my notes, but by 20:30, I was in bed, fully clothed and fast asleep. I can write my notes again.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about washing and making myself look pretty … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of years ago when I lived in Brussels.
One of my friends bumped into me in the street. "Eric – we thought that you were dead."
"Ohh no" I replied. "I just smell like it."

Live: Friday 4th September 2026 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

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… afternoon I’ve had today. I’ve been spending from about 14:00 to midnight (with various pauses, of course) trying to figure a captcha on my site, but with no luck at all.

You’d think that I’d know better than to try to do a silly job like that and think that it will only take half an hour or so.

Anyway, it all went wrong last night – that was when it all started. I was in bed by 22:30, looking forward to a really good sleep. Instead, I had a bad night. I tossed and turned during the night and coughed myself to death. When the alarm went off at 06:29 I felt like death.

As usual, it took an age to find the energy to crawl over to my seat, but when I did, the first thing I did was to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had been going on.

I was coaching a team in the Welsh Premier League last night. We weren’t having an easy time of it, so I started to change the tactics around. This produced some slightly better results but there was still a long way to go for improvements and a couple of young nineteen year olds joined the team. They had a great deal of enthusiasm over what would be happening here.

It looks as if everyone in my dream had had a bad night and was thoroughly whacked too. But this dream refers to a couple of clubs in Wales who have signed some “young, promising talent” released by the English clubs’ training schools at the close season.

By now, I was hearing the rattling of the coffee equipment so I guessed that my friend was abroad and occupying himself with the morning tasks.

Anyway, I went in to join him, just in enough time, though, to have a hot mug of coffee stuck into my sweaty mitt.

We had quite a good chat until the nurse arrived, and he continued his German lessons with my friend and the Hound of the Baskervilles, who was now awake and came to join us in conversation.

After the nurse left, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off walkies and I made my breakfast as usual – porridge, toast, and juice for my morning medication. And while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

He’s still on his horse about the end of the Gothic era, and this is his latest rant –"We have not hitherto seen the intrusion of any distinctively foreign element ; the idea is generally completely Gothic, and often of great merit, the corruption is to be traced in the poor and inaccurate details, in some cases retained by corrupt tradition from the latest Perpendicular".

As you can see, it’s “no holds barred” in this discussion. Still, only a few pages to go.

When I came back in here, there were a few things to do. And then, when they were done, I turned my attention to the outstanding notes from yesterday.

All through the morning, I’d been fighting off wave after wave of fatigue, and sitting here at my desk was no exception. Consequently, it was quite a struggle to finish these notes, although, as time passed, it became easier and easier.

The Hound of the Baskervilles, who earlier had dragged his master out for walkies, dragged him back too. Apparently there had been an “incident” when a dog off its lead decided that it fancied a fight with him. That was a rather foolish decision. The Hound of the Baskervilles is more than a match for anything, even when on his lead, as events apparently showed.

The next job was to send off the Leclerc order as we are running low on essential supplies, such as vegetables, salad stuff, fruit juice, butter and my friend’s beer.

After that, I watched the remaining few minutes of Airbus’s demolition of Trefynnon so as to clear that off the waiting list of events and then watched the crazy match from Tuesday between Stranraer and Celtic B, where Stranraer threw away a 3-1 lead to go down 3-4 and to finish the match with just nine men on the field.

After that, I decided to be sociable … "that’s not like you" – ed … so I went for a chat with my friend. As usual, we talked a lot about the past, but unfortunately, nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.

By 14:00 I was back in here and I started to install this captcha that I want on my site to keep the spammers and bots out. The first bit, setting up the captcha and obtaining the keycodes, was relatively straightforward.

The next bit – pinning the captcha to the site – was where it became complicated and in the end I called up my CHATBOT TO HELP ME

We made much more progress after that, but could I ‘eck as like get it to attach to my site, no matter how many different ways we tried.

Just before 18:00 I had to break off because the Leclerc order was delivered. Working as a team, me standing in front of the counter emptying all the bags and my friend standing behind the counter putting the stuff away, it was amazing just how quickly we managed to put everything away.

Shortly afterwards, it was teatime, so we had our usual Friday night staple of chips in the air fryer, baked beans with cheese and black pepper, and vegan sausages added to the chips. My friend made the chips to his own secret recipe, and I dealt with the beans.

For pudding, we had the last of the tinned apricots with a citron sorbet. And why not? After all, it was a really delicious meal.

After the meal and the washing up, there was football – Trefynnon v Trefelin – a proper basement clash. Trefynnon has no points and a goal difference; you could drive a bus through, whereas Trefelin has one point and has scored two goals.

No wonder these two teams are struggling. There wasn’t very much in the way of skill out there tonight, and the teams were far too busy giving away possession at every opportunity. Wayward passes were so numerous that I couldn’t count them.

Nevertheless, the game roared from end to end, finely balanced with no-one having the upper hand. Trefelin drew first blood after 61 minutes with a beautiful lob over the goalkeeper, but in the 82nd minute, Treffynnon equalised with a goal direct from a corner.

That was how the match finished, 1-1. Trefynnon won their first point and Trefelin scored their third goal. However, a draw was good for neither team in their effort to climb the table. By the way, I’m not sure if I missed anything because from between the 41st minute and the middle of half-time, I crashed out in the chair. Another one of those occasions when I knew nothing about it.

After that, I returned to the chatbot and the captcha. After a while, we realised that we were going nowhere fast so the chatbot advised me to strike out everything that we’d done and to start on a new hosting platform for the captcha.

That was when I looked at the time – 01:00 almost. I’m not starting a complicated process at this time of night? Instead, I told the chatbot that I’ll see him on Sunday, maybe. And then I went to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about captchas … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once asked me "why did Mark Zuckerberg create ‘Facebook’?"
My reply was "he couldn’t work out the captcha to get into MySpace."

LIVE: Wednesday 2nd September 2026 – WE ARE NOT …

… alone!

Currently sitting on the floor, totally exhausted after Two Days of Rest sitting in a car, is the Hound of the Baskervilles. And sitting on the sofa just above him is his master. How nice it is to see old friends again. And I DO mean “old” because he’s as old as I am … "the master, not the dog" – ed …

This was the last thing on my mind last night when I abandoned the notes and went to bed, totally exhausted after a day of sitting at my desk. I don’t know where all of my energy is right now, but it does look as if all of my “get up and go” has got up and gone a long time ago.

At 03:48 precisely this morning, I awoke. And that, dear reader, was that. No going back to sleep or anything. I just lay there doing nothing, tossing and turning in bed, troubling no-one except myself.

After a while, I decided that maybe I ought to get up, So I looked at the time – 06:18. Just 11 minutes before the alarm time. I reckoned that I should still leave the bed and credit myself with an early start, but while I was debating with myself, the alarm went off anyway, so that was that.

Despite my successes yesterday, today was back to the old routine of having to find the motivation to struggle to my feet, but I eventually managed.

The first task was to go to unlock the door so that the nurse could come in. And I remembered to throw the keys onto the bed where I can pick them up.

The second task was to go into the bathroom and sort myself out. That was when I noticed that I must have stubbed my toe somewhere because it was bleeding profusely and I’d left a trail of blood through the apartment. Anyway, I organised myself properly and then went around the apartment with a wet cloth underneath one of my crutches to remove the stains.

Back in here, the next task was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And that was a major disappointment. There should have been something on there because I remember the batteries going flat in the middle of the night and having to change them. However, there’s no cause for alarm. We’ll catch up at some point, and there are plenty of other things I should be doing.

The nurse was early today and I wasn’t ready for him. Nevertheless, I did my best and he organised my legs and feet. He reminded me to “Take it Easy” today, but as I told him, “I’ve got so much more on the go, so there’s no chance of relaxing”.

After he left, I could make my breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

He’s still harping on about what he considers to be the end of the World when his beloved Gothic is replaced by another style, and we end up with remarks such as "it was one and the same spirit, working in different channels, which raised a Borgia and a Medicis to the throne of Hildebrand and Innocent, which reared a Brunelleschi to corrupt the taste, a Henry to destroy the fabrics, and a Luther and a Socinus to assault the faith, of the Church ; heartily as many of them cursed and hated one another, all were doing the same work, and all sprung from the same source, the fall of the old faith and glory -of Teutonic Christendom before the self-will, the faithlessness, the heathenism of the Renaissance."

It’s all becoming really tiresome, but I’m not far off the end now. I wonder what’s next in store for me.

Back in here, I began to do a few other things that needed doing, and then I suddenly remembered that I had yesterday’s notes to finish off, so I abandoned everything and went on the attack.

These notes took much longer than intended because I received a text message – "Be there in an hour" so I had to do some arranging, including putting some beer in the fridge.

The posting had just gone on line when I received a message "we are here" so everything else had to go on stand-by while I welcomed the Hound of the Baskervilles and his master.

Once they were inside the house, we had a coffee … "the master, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … and a good chat to catch up on the news since June. Then the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and they ended up at the local bar… "OHHH what a surprise!" – ed …, where Auntie Cleaner saw him and gave him a great big hug … "the Hound of the Baskervilles, not his owner" – ed …

While they were out, I carried out a few modifications to the blog

comments are re-enabled. However, you have to be logged in to the site in order to post, and all posts won’t go on line until I’ve moderated them. You’ll see the “Log In” link on the sidebar to the right underneath the “Amazon Canada” button box. If you don’t have an account, follow the instructions, and for any problems, e-mail me with the “contact me” link below.
There is now a “live blog” running on the website. If you see the link for “Live” at the top of the page, click on it and see for yourself and if you want to comment, you need to be logged in (see above)
The highlight boxes have changed a little, as you can probably see

All of this took about three hours to do this afternoon, and had I not had my chatbot by my side for some of the time, it would have taken much, much longer. It’s nice when you write a piece of coding and when it doesn’t work, sent it to your chatbot and ask “what’s wrong with this coding”? You have your reply in seconds.

The modifications are not yet finished. Very soon, there will be a CAPTCHA on the site. I know that this will disappoint many people and I’m sorry about that, but whoever has worked his way into “Chrome” has now started to hack into the mails of people who that use Chrome 148 and Windows 10 and taken over tens of thousands of accounts. I’m fed up with the hundreds of hits I’m receiving every day from hijacked sites, trying to attack my website.

It seems that people are deserting Chrome by the thousands and the following attachment explains why. SEE POINT 5

When everything was finally finished, I went to make tea. Pasta and veg in tomato sauce with a vegan burger, followed by tinned apricot and Lemon sorbet. And with having a visitor here and having to cook, I’m also having to eat, even if I don’t feel like it.

So now everything is finished. I’ll post this on line and then do whatever else needs doing. It’s long after midnight so it will be a short sleep, but with all this energy that I’ve suddenly found, I don’t think I care.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about chatbots again … "well, one of us has" – ed … I asked my chatbot to come up with a good joke about chatbots. So here we are, and don’t blame me.
A woman starts using a chatbot to help draft messages to her boyfriend.
After a few weeks, she’s asking it for everything:
"Help me say I’m upset but not angry."
"Help me plan our anniversary."
"Help me explain why I need space."
One night, her boyfriend says: "I don’t think this is working. It’s like I’m not even talking to you any more."
She panics, opens the chatbot, and types: "help me save this relationship."
The chatbot replies: "Based on our conversation history, I recommend you break up with him and subscribe to the premium plan for more personalized advice."

LIVE: Tuesday 1st September 2026 – PHEW! WHAT A …

… day that was.

It actually started last night when I was so tired that I went to bed at about 22:00, totally exhausted. And although I wasn’t as quick going to sleep as I would have liked to have been, it was still quicker than some nights, and I hadn’t finished sucking my menthol and eucalyptus sweet.

The sleep didn’t last as long as it might have done either. I was awake at about 03:30, and, as far as that was concerned, that was the end of any reasonable hope of dozing off again. I stayed there, tossing and turning, trying to find a really good and comfortable position. And just as I was settling into a nice, comfortable position, the alarm went off.

Strangely, I was up and about rather quicker than I have been recently, and the first task that I had to do was to unlock the front door. And this time, I remembered where I put the keys when I’d finished.

Into the bathroom to sort myself out was next, and then back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night.

There was something about my friend from Germany again – the one to whom I spoke on line the other day. She was planning on going somewhere in her old car, a little dark-blue 1984 Opel saloon. She had some of these stickers that you used to have in the window in the 1960s of where you’ve been. There was probably well over a hundred in her windscreen.

It’s pretty certain that most people my age and older remember those little triangular stickers that you bought in every seaside resort in the 1960s and stuck in your window to say where you’d been. We had dozens, and others had many more than that.

The nurse turned up as usual and asked how things went at dialysis. I told him of my various woes, but he didn’t react.

After he’d left, I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Our author is still moaning on about the end of the Gothic period of architecture. Of Renaissance architecture in Italy. He tells us that "Such a style as this cannot but be pronounced an utter barbarism ; it has no language, no meaning of its own, but owes all its splendour to the borrowed light of the very style which it is sedulously labouring to eradicate. Cinque-cento buildings exist of great magnificence, and even great beauty, but all their beauty is derived from the Gothic vestiges which linger about them, and give them at a distance the appearance of pure Gothic structures" and much more in this respect.

By now, I was back in here trying to sort out the radio to broadcast the programme that I’m hoping to make this week. The search for the music continued. However, it had an interruption, though, between 10:30 and 11:45 when I was crashed out on my chair, fast asleep.

When it awoke, I had another interruption too. I’d forgotten that I had yesterday’s notes to finish, and so I abandoned the radio for the moment and attacked the notes.

This was complicated because firstly, I was having to fight the waves of fatigue and sleep that kept on washing over me, and then there was the pause for the disgusting drink and the midday medication.

Not only that, at 14:00 my cleaner turned up, and by 14:15 she’d chased me under the shower. Once again, once she’d arranged the bathroom with everything that I needed, I went into the shower as nature intended, all by myself and without my crutches, hanging on to bits of furniture as I passed by.

The shower was delicious. As usual, I had the temperature at 40°C, and that makes the difference, as far as I’m concerned.

It was a nice, clean me … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … who emerged from the shower – on my own again and walking forwards rather than backwards as I used to. I’m getting better and far more independent than I was when I first started showering. If only I were to have these handrails installed, I could have a lot of showers, certainly more than one each week.

There was quite a bit to sort out with my cleaner today, so it wasn’t until after she left that I could restart the notes. That explains why they didn’t go on line until about 15:30 or something like that.

And once they were done and gone, I could return to the radio programme and continue to search for music. And with the help of my chatbot, I was eventually able to track down everything that I needed. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … artificial intelligence is saving me hours when you need to know “what is (some obscure musician)’s most well-known contribution to (some obscure group). You get the answer in milliseconds rather than spending hours trawling through the internet.

With all of the music downloaded, it needs reformatting and re-editing. And I was halfway through when it was time for me to knock off. However, that wasn’t the cue to put everything away

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I have several other projects on the go at the moment too. For one of these, my chatbot has sent me a huge amount of text to review, amend if necessary, and post back. So, with no food again tonight – just a few crackers with the vegan spreading cheese followed by a handful of biscuits – I set to work.

And that was not interruption-free either. The new chat group for the coming year of our Welsh course was set up too, so we had the usual protocol of introducing ourselves, welcoming the newcomers and all of that jazz. And I shall have to get on and order the course book pretty soon because I don’t have long to go before I’m back in class.

After that, I continued with the artificial intelligence notes that needed reviewing and posted them back. They were so long that I had to send them back in four instalments. They wouldn’t all go back in one go.

No-one was more surprised than me to see the time when I’d finished. It was 22:10 – long past my working ultimate deadline. And I still had my notes to complete, so I began to attack them straight away. However, as time drew on, the waves of fatigue swept over me once again and this time, I was unable to resist. I posted on line what I’d written, and then I crawled off to bed. I can finish my notes tomorrow.

However, I’m as fed up with this as you are. Half the notes are better than none, but that’s still not as good as all of them. And having commitments “elsewhere” until about 21:45, there’s not much that I can do to change things. I can’t decide that “OK, I’ll change things around and start to post my notes the following morning” because with the nurse and breakfast and dialysis, there isn’t enough time to do them in the morning either. I shall have to think of a cunning plan.

And before anyone says anything, a vlog is ruled right out. Who wants to stare at my ugly mug anyway?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about having a shower … "well, one of us has" – ed … two girls from Crewe were living together in an apartment and one of them decided to take a shower.
After two hours, she was still in there, so the other one asked her "Are you ok?"
The girl in the shower replied "yes thanks."
"So what’s keeping you?"
"It’s these instructions on the shampoo. I have to follow them carefully."
"What instructions are those?"
"Where it says ‘lather, rinse, repeat’."

Monday 31st August 2026 – HERE WE GO …

… another Monday out of the way, kicked into touch, or whatever other phrase you like. And I’m ready for a relaxing day at home tomorrow, that’s for sure, although with my faithful cleaner coming round to do her stuff, “relaxing” is probably the wrong word to use.

Last night, though, wasn’t so much fun. It was about 23:00 when I finally crawled into bed. It took an age to go to sleep, despite how tired I was feeling.

And even then, once I was asleep, it wasn’t for very long. I’ve no idea what time it was when I awoke, because I didn’t check. But I didn’t go back to sleep either, and I spent quite a while tossing and turning in my bed.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I eventually, after much persuasion, managed to end up sitting on the edge of the bed, and it took me a good ten minutes to force myself upright.

The first task was to unlock the front door so that the nurse could come in later. Then I went into the bathroom to sort myself out and have a good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant later at dialysis.

Back in here, I had another listen to the dictaphone to listen to what had gone on during the night.

And while there was something on the dictaphone last night, it’s another one of these dreams that the World is not yet ready to hear. It’s basically relating to something that didn’t happen on Friday evening and something that the crowd shouted at one of these football matches

The nurse turned up as usual, and for a change, we had something of an intellectual discussion about the difference in working styles between the USA and Europe.

Interesting as the American system might be, though, it’s positively inhuman. I told him about that crazy American company where Alison and I once worked. I was trying to resolve a problem with an American counterpart in New York one Friday, but it was my time to go home. He said that he’d ring me on Monday to discuss it further. So Monday came and at 13:00 (08:00 in New York) I began to anticipate the ‘phone call. But nothing at all came. When it was almost my home time, I telephoned New York to speak to him.

Instead I had "I’m sorry. His position was made redundant on Friday. He doesn’t work here any more."

After he had left, … "the nurse, not the guy in the office in New York" – ed … I went to make my breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s carrying on where he left off and talking about Renaissance archaeology in Germany, we have "And when the old heathenish system was beginning to assume that influence which has been at last happily overthrown ; when Italy, its chosen land, was looked to as the exclusive abode of all art and refinement, and the greatest minds of that country were sedulously devoted to the restoration of classic forms ; what wonder was it that the apostate Teuton, crouching at the feet of fallen Italy, should seize with avidity on the new light, and eagerly substitute the arts of the heathen for the once honoured forms which no longer spoke, as of old, to every national and religious feeling ?"

Considering that we’re discussing the end of the fifteenth and most of the sixteenth century, talking about “heathenish systems”, “the apostate Teuton” and “the arts of the heathen” is not only grossly offensive, it is completely inaccurate too.

Back in here after breakfast, I had the usual things to do, and then I had a nice surprise. Liz rang me up for a chat, and how wonderful it was to hear from her.

It wasn’t quite a Rosemary-esque type of chat but nevertheless, it went on for quite a while. The good news is that towards the end of September, I might be having a visit.

The next task was to begin my search for music for the radio programme I’ll be preparing this week. There’s going to be quite a lot of new music in this one.

That took me up to midday … "with lots of music still to find" – ed … when the alarm went off to remind me to sort myself out for dialysis. I found my disgusting drink and my midday medication, but could I ‘eck as like find my keys?

The last time that I remember them, they were in my hand after I walked away from the door after unlocking it earlier this morning. I usually throw them onto the bed as I’m staggering past on my way to the bathroom but they weren’t there.

Just as I was about to start and retrace my steps, my faithful cleaner turned up, and she found them in an instant. What a brain of a duck your hero has!

After she had applied the anaesthetic to my arm, she wandered off and I sat down at the kitchen table to await the taxi. And just as I was starting to doze off and another footballing dream began to appear, the doorbell rang.

This provoked something of a panic when I awoke. I dropped one of my crutches and had to ferret about for it, and there were all kinds of other confusions too before I finally made it to the front door.

It was one of my favourite taxi drivers, so we had a good chat all the way down to Sartilly where we had to pick up someone else. My driver was telling me all about this guy that she had met on the internet and then just happened to drop into the conversation that in three weeks’ time, she was off to see her daughter in Montréal. And how jealous was I? I told her that if there was any room left in her suitcase, to let me know and I’ll squeeze myself in.

Despite now being back to the usual time now that Mrs Dinosaur has left the area, we were still fairly early arriving at dialysis. And the first issue that I had was that I couldn’t get out of the car. I’ve no idea why but I couldn’t manage it. In the end, I had to resort to all kinds of unorthodox manoeuvres to manage to stand upright.

One of the young nursing auxiliaries accompanied me to my bed, but halfway along the corridor I felt a heavy tap on my shoulder. When I looked round, it was one of the other auxiliaries who, for some reason or other, seems to like to flirt with me. Apparently, she wanted to say “hello”.

Today, I was lucky in that it was one of the young experienced nurses whom I like who was in the section where I was. Friendly and efficient, she had me up and running by 14:15. And she “fixed” the machine so that the alarm wouldn’t ring all the time if my blood pressure dropped.

There wasn’t as much fluid to take out today as there has been in the recent past, mainly because I’ve been careful about what I’ve been drinking, so I asked her if she could increase the extraction so that I would be “ahead” on Thursday. I suggested 300 grams, so she winked and said nothing. After she’d left, I noticed that she wound it up by 400 grams.

Then I could watch some football. The first match was from Friday night’s fixtures. Penybont have made several marquee signings this season in an attempt to put their miserable campaign in the second part of last year behind them, whereas their opponents tonight, Y Fflint, are still struggling in the basement with less experienced players.

However, it was a good match from what I saw. Penybont were, as expected, the more skilful team, whereas Y Fflint were more of heavyweight “sluggers”. Both teams had several chances but when I had to leave the match, just after half-time, Penybont were 1-0 up

The reason I left was because at 15:30, the live matches today started. My choice today was Hwlffordd v Trefelin. These were two bottom-of-the-table teams, with Hwlffordd surprisingly at no points and no goals, with newly promoted Trefelin just above them with one point and one goal.

Having seen how much chaos big burly veteran centre-half Louis Gerrard caused to the Rhydaman defence when Trefelin pushed him up front on Friday night, I was surprised to see him back in defence today. If I had been Trefelin’s manager, I’d have tried again today with him up front to see what he could do.

The game was quite nicely balanced, but I had to abandon it because it was home time, and I’ll watch the rest again at some point.

In between the football matches, I’d had a visitor. Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me. She asked about the cough, and I told her that there was no change after the useless antibiotics her new colleague had prescribed. I told her that I had told the new doctor that they had been tried twice previously and done nothing, but the new doctor didn’t want to listen to me.

Emilie the Cute Consultant told me that she’d prescribe the powerful ones that work for a bit (although when, though, I don’t know because it wasn’t today) and then ominously added that if they didn’t work this time, because I was unable to cough up phlegm, she would have to prescribe a camera up the nose and down the throat again.

That’s the last thing that I wanted to hear, so after she left, I asked my nurse to bring me one of those sample pots that they have, and I’m going to teach myself to cough up some phlegm, or otherwise find someone else who can.

When the session was over, I had to wait a few minutes to be unplugged, but once she’d finished with me, I could go, so the nursing auxiliary who had tapped me on the back earlier accompanied me to the door.

And by the way, regular readers of this rubbish will recall me talking the other day about the “black line” on the machine’s display panel that refused to go down at one point, so the nurse increased the amount of fluid extraction. I checked today, and it does indeed start to rise again just after we’ve had our mid-session coffee. However, I’ll keep it a secret because if I can get them to increase the extraction every time, so much the better.

On the way to the door, I was weighed. And sure enough, I was below my official dry weight, which suits me fine.

The taxi driver was already waiting for me which was good, and as I was the only passenger on the return, we were soon home. My faithful cleaner was waiting for me as usual, and she helped me into the apartment. Once I was sitting down, she stuffed a disgusting drink into my hands.

After she had left, I grabbed some of those small toasted squares and some spreading vegan cheese and dashed in here. Another football match had started twenty minutes ago, and it was one that I really wanted to see.

Luckily, with the live stream you can either start “now” or “at the beginning”, so I started to watch Colwyn Bay v Llandudno from the kick-off – a real local seaside derby with another one of the biggest ever crowds in the Novira Welsh Premier League.

As you might expect, Colwyn Bay had the better of the game, but newly promoted Llandudno made them work very hard for their victory. The final score, 2-0 to the Seagulls, sent the Seasiders back to Llandudno feeling very disappointed because the score was something of an exaggeration. And had I been refereeing, I would have awarded Llandudno a penalty for handball and disallowed Colwyn Bay’s second goal for a clear foul a minute or so beforehand.

After the match finished, I began to write my notes for the day, but, having had to fight off waves of sleep during the football, I couldn’t keep going. After about half an hour, I was so tired that I couldn’t concentrate. Consequently, I posted on line the notes as far as I had written them and crawled into bed. I can finish them off tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about phlegm and borrowing someone else’s … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of my cousin’s medical examination for joining the army.
He was unable to produce enough urine for an examination, so they sent him home to try again and to come back the next day with the little pot full.
Still unable to “produce”, he had a quiet word with his sister.
When he went back a week later for the results, the doctor looked at him with a great deal of pleasure.
"Well done, well done, well done" said the doctor. "You have made medical history."
"Why is that?" asked my cousin
"You are the first man whom I’ve ever met who has tried to join the army when he’s two months pregnant!"

Sunday 30th August 2026 – SUNDAY IS A ..

… Day of Rest, and nothing goes to prove it more than today because despite the stuff that’s piling up to be done, I have emulated my namesake, the mathematician, and done three-fifths of five-eighths of … errr … nothing.

Last night, I was in bed by about 22:00 and it wasn’t long before I was fast asleep. It wasn’t quite as simple as that, though. I was awake about three or four times at least during the night. But what a long night it was. In bed at 22:00 and when the nurse arrived at about 08:30, I was still in bed, fast asleep after the latest awakening.

He sorted out my legs and feet and then disappeared. And I went back to sleep.

It was 22:16 when I finally made it into the kitchen for breakfast – porridge, juice, the morning medication, black coffee and the last two of the homemade croissants. It was all delicious too. You can’t get better than that. And while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that a couple of days ago I said that "We’ve not had any outright vulgar abuse or “language lower than Billingsgate” but I’m expecting it to arrive sometime soon, and I’ll keep you posted." and I wasn’t wrong.

Today we had "From no part of a church had the old spirit further departed than from the monuments of the dead – no wonder then that they were the first to yield to the new corruptions ; that the arched and fretted canopy soon made way for the heathen column and entablature, and that the attitude of prayer was gradually changed for that of strife and debate, and attendant angels made way for the demons of a fallen superstition."

That was followed shortly by "When sacrilege had devastated the abodes of ancient piety and munificence, had levelled our most glorious temples with the ground, or at best substituted a single half-starved curate for the princely abbot and his monastic choir, and when the revenues which had been disposed in hospitality and pious works were scattered among the basest flatterers of an ungodly king ;".

But seriously, if you want to talk about “a single half-starved curate”, it’s not the Renaissance period where you need to be. Look at the condition of the clergy in the seventh and eighth centuries, where there wasn’t just abject poverty amongst the rural clergy, worse than anything that you had in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, they also ran the very real risk of being cloven in twain by a dissenting nobleman or invading army.

Back in here, I had yesterday’s notes to type up. And that took so much longer, as firstly, one of my friends from Germany wanted a video chat, and that ended up in a very Rosemary-esque conversation, and then another one of my friends from Germany wanted a chat too.

Once the notes were on line, there were the dictaphone notes to transcribe. And WOW!

We were on holiday again, a group of us. It was a terrible place where we were living because people had all brought their family and friends. Some of these friends were spongers who wouldn’t do a thing for themselves and expected everyone else to chip in and do things for them, yet we were all supposed to be on holiday ourselves. Then there was a question of copying a lot of text for labels or something, so we had to rush and find a newsagent’s so that we could get a telephone directory and cut the things out, but there was nothing. In the end, one of my father’s friends went into the newsagents across the road to buy a paper. Then he found that he didn’t have any money so I said that I’d lend him 25p, but he just wandered off, so I bought the paper anyway. However, before I could get out of the premises, another group of two old women, and also two young boys were having a big problem because they had booked a cottage on the edge of town but had come out without the address. They had flown all the way here and didn’t have the address at all. They could describe the house and I knew that I had seen it because there was a Mark IV Cortina outside at one time, so I thought that I’d help them look. Then, I bumped into two girls while I was escorting these guys, and they tagged along for some reason too. Somewhere along the line, the friend of one of these girls disappeared, leaving just one, me and these two boys. We went into endless places where we thought that we would have a good view to see over whether we could see the house, but we couldn’t. And on one occasion, we had to hide because someone had let a giraffe out and it was banging on the doors and windows with its neck. As we were leaving one house, this girl and I and these two boys bumped into two ladies whom I used to take in the taxis years ago, so this girl and I stopped to talk to them. We were chatting away, and then, for some reason, I put my arm around this girl and she didn’t move at all. That took me by surprise because I’m not used to girls who let me put my arms around them, so I was wondering what was going to happen next.

So here I am, and I’ve Got The Girl at last. So what happened to my family? Why didn’t they come along and throw the spanner into the works as they always seem to do?

The start of the dream, though, is very much like several other dreams that we’ve had over time, with family chaos and all that kind of thing. And we even have a MkIV Cortina thrown in for good measure. But who were the two women who used to be my passengers on the taxis? And how come I recognised them? And what were they doing in an Alpine skiing resort?

This dream continued on much later, and I was back at home and everyone was making a huge row and noise. I’d actually built a proper water heater that would work off solar power, and when I tried it, it had actually heated water for me, which was nice. So once the ‘phone was free, I tried to telephone this girl. It took me a couple of goes because I didn’t quite work out what her number was. In the end, it was the first five letters of her family name, which were G-R-A-N-D. I finally spoke to her, despite all the interruptions that were still going on. In the end, I asked her if I could call her tonight, so she replied “round about 18:30 would be fine,” so I hoped that everyone had quietened down and gone by then.

So even though there was a good couple of hours between these two dreams, the second carries on from the first, and I still Get The Girl, if only everyone would shut up and go.

Nerina had to go to New York, and so I decided that I’d pack my suitcase and accompany her as far as I could in case I had the opportunity to stow away. We went all the way to Paris and then all the way to Charles de Gaulle Airport, but for some reason, that was in New York. We were wandering around the airport trying to find her ‘plane, so in the end I put her on it. But something happened and everyone had to leave the ‘plane, and for ages when they announced the delay. So we took a Metro into the city, and in the Metro, Nerina began to make a nuisance of herself by stopping and interviewing people if their papers weren’t in order or there was something else about them, and she’d have them sit and wait while she went to interview some more people. I thought that this was going to get really out of hand in a minute or two, so I made a discreet exit. Later on, we caught up with each other again. She said that she had been so realistic that she had lunch with another police officer, and it was only later that they worked out that she wasn’t. I asked her if she was given five years, but she said no, she was just told to clear off, to which I thought that she was extremely lucky. We ended up back at the airport, but not until I’d been trying to take some photos of things like the Eiffel Tower, which, in New York, of course, doesn’t exist, and a few other things. Eventually, we found our way back to the airport on one of these silly metro things. We arrived at her ‘plane and they were loading again. I went on with her and my suitcase, hoping that sooner or later there would be a spare seat. However, there wasn’t, so the captain announced that he was closing the doors, so I jumped off. I caught this strange metro system thing to New York City. It was basically like a locomotive engine pulling a load of open carriages behind it, and you had to jump on it as it went past. I came into the city and went and did some more sightseeing and photographing. We went down past a little church that was in a discreet back alley, and I realised that that’s where I store some of my cars. Then I had a think about how I could catch up with Nerina. I thought that maybe there would be a spare seat on an aeroplane sometime going that way, so we had a panic-stricken run to the airport metro, and I jumped aboard. However, I couldn’t find a seat on this Metro. I found a seat, but it belonged to a young boy who was talking to his mother next door, so I had to move. And when we came into the airport, I thought that I’d have to go up to one of the companies that flew to the USA to see whether there was a spare seat on a plane that I could buy

This is a lovely definition of “chaos”, isn’t it? Nerina and I can’t make up our minds whether we’re in Paris or New York, Nerina pretending to be a police officer, weird metro systems and even a place in New York where I have some old cars stored. This makes no sense at all … "nothing new here then" – ed … Still, it must mean something to someone somewhere.

Did I type out this dream about being in New York and reading about this murder of this musician? … "No, you didn’t" – ed … So I went out to look at his house. It was in terrible condition. The driveway was all blocked over with rubble and that kind of thing. There was a whole forest of pine trees that were overhanging – they were growing up the side of his house but were bent over with the wind and were covering his house and preventing the sunshine from reaching it. While I was there, the courts took an order against the occupants of that particular street to clear all these pine trees out. While I was talking to them, I said that I would do it. It would give me an excuse to stay in the USA. But it really wasn’t half a difficult job because it wasn’t just cutting down the trees. They were growing out of rocks, all that kind of thing. In the end I had a friend of mine from South Carolina come to help me. We slept in his bus and did the job as well as we could, and we ended up with this huge pile of trees. I asked the local residents if they wanted to take them away, but they didn’t. In the end, we had a huge load of firewood for burning through the winter. I gave them my bill, which was for $8500. While I was waiting for payment, I awoke. It has to be said that Nerina was there at some time. She didn’t really like what I was doing, and I was taking the opportunity to sort through some of my boxes that I’d brought with me with piles and piles of old paperwork in them. I found some of our earliest petrol receipts too, and a lot of stuff ended up in the bin. Nerina said that she wished that I had never started to look through these boxes. I replied that it was my intention to look through all of them in the end and throw out all of the rubbish and keep the correct receipts and sort them.

So my friend from South Carolina, doing an impossible job, Nerina appearing, finding the oldest receipts from my taxi business years ago (and I knew that they were the oldest because there was a receipt for fuel for the old Mark II Cortina that I had as a runabout)

But I can still picture the scene in my imagination, and it really was a mess, this house and the trees.

And my vote for my favourite one? Has to be number three, doesn’t it?

After all of that, there was more football from Friday – Trefynnon v Caernarfon.

Trefynnon are another newly promoted side, but again with no points at all. They can score goals, but they can’t keep them out. And Caernarfon are a team with bags of experience in the league, in the cup and in European competition.

This was a match where skill was impossible. The pitch at Halkyn Road is a disgrace, and if it’s cut up as badly as it looks on a screen after just three matches played, what’s it going to be like in March after a wet North Walian winter? “Hoof and Run” and “slog it out in midfield” were how this game worked.

But at least we had goals, and plenty of them. And Trefynnon gave Caernarfon a good run for their money, even though the score finished 5-3 in favour of the Cofis.

But right now, it’s bedtime, ready … "I don’t think" – ed … for dialysis tomorrow afternoon.

And as an aside, another artificial intelligence websearcher has used my website as a reference tool yet again.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about spanners and the USA … "well, one of us has" – ed … on one Fourth of July in the USA, I was handed a parcel that had been wrapped in paper tied with a ribbon that had the stars of the American flag on it, with a note – "if you’re working today, this should help you dismantle that car"
"Where did you get this?" I asked the messenger.
"Doctor Spooner gave it to me" he replied
"And what is it?" I asked
"Seeing as it’s Independence Day today, it’s probably his interpretation of ‘The Star-Bangled Spanner’."

Saturday 29th August 2026 – THIS WAS A

…rather uneventful day today, except that I had some good fortune at dialysis without even having to ask for it.

Well, I thought that it was good fortune, which it was at the time, but I changed my mind somewhat a little later.

Anyway, retournons à nos moutons, as they say around here. Last night, it was about 00:30 when I finally settled down under the bedclothes, and I know that I must have been asleep quite quickly because when I was dictating something in my sleep, I could tell that I was still sucking on the bedtime menthol and eucalyptus sweet.

And by the looks of things, we were back to how things were a week or two ago — waking up at some uncomfortably early hour and not being able to go back to sleep again. For the last week or so, I’ve been having a much better kind of sleep, but it’s not lasted all that long, has it?

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I dragged myself to the edge of the bed, but it still took a superhuman effort to haul myself upright, go to unlock the front door, and then head into the bathroom to sort myself out. Today, as well as a good scrub-up, there was a shave too, just in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant, but I’ve not seen her for ages.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

And while there was something on it, for sure, it’s something that the World is not yet ready to hear, and you in particular don’t want to hear it, especially if you’re eating your breakfast right now. Let’s just say that I was in the World War I trenches in Northern France and Belgium as a lieutenant with a Scottish company, and we were under heavy shelling. However, at some point, Zero put in an appearance.

So how long is it since one of my three favourite young ladies has put in an appearance? I thought that they had all dropped off the end of my dreaming sequence just as The Vanilla Queen did a few years ago, but at least we’ve managed to have Zero back.

The nurse turned up again and we continued our discussion about football from yesterday. I told him about the Trefelin – Rhydaman match last night, but he didn’t seem interested. Anyway, THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE NOW ON LINE although they show nothing like all of the tension ane emotion that there was in this game.

After he left, I could make my breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Well, not so much of it, because he started to talk about Peterborough Cathedral so I went off to do some research. I knew that the abbey had been founded on a false and fraudulent charter that was only ever noted in the “Peterborough” version of the ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLE and none of the others, so I was interested in what else I could find.

And, of course, as Nansen once famously said, "the more extensive my studies became, the more riddles I perceived – riddle after riddle led to new riddles and this drew me on" and I ended up at Edith Cavell. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I used to live just around the corner from where she was executed, and a few years ago, I POSTED SOME PHOTOS ON LINE of the place.

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

Back in my office here in the bedroom, I had a few things to do, and then I began to work a little on the radio programme that I’ll be preparing next week. Not that I managed to go very far because midday came around quicker than I was expecting and I went off to prepare myself for dialysis. But not before having identified several pieces of music that I need to track down.

My cleaner came along as usual to apply the anaesthetic to my arm, and after she left, I waited for my taxi to take me to Avranches. But the waiting was not without incident.

Last night in the match between Trefelin and Rhydaman, Trefelin, with a one-man advantage, pushed big burly veteran centre-half Louis Gerrard up front to make a nuisance of himself in the Rhydaman defence, and it was indeed he who scored Trefelin’s goal. So while I was curled up leaning on the table and dozing off, I dreamt that he was up there again, and at a corner, he rose up above everyone to head home. And just as his header hit the back of the net, instead of the referee’s whistle for a goal, the taxi driver rang the front door bell to say that he was here.

It was in fact a carbon copy of the goal by Euros Griffiths for Rhydaman, which was interesting, but it was definitely Louis Gerrard in his black and red Rhydaman strip who scored it.

Mrs Dinosaur and her exhibition have now departed so I was the only one in the car today. So even though we set off from here ten minutes later than we usually did, we still arrived at dialysis relatively early, and I was up and running by 14:00, having had two nurses around me to plug me in, which was nice.

They set the machine to the correct amount to eliminate the excess fluid, but after a while, they noticed that the extraction limit was stable and not going down (which, I suspect, was due to the coffee and orange juice that I’d just had for my snack, but I was saying nothing), so my nurse simply wound up the extraction by another 300 grams without me actually having to ask for it, and that seemed to work fine, although I was hit by cramps near the end. Not that I’m bothered – 300 grams extra is 300 grams less to extract on Monday.

Once everyone had gone and I’d settled down, I began to watch another football match. Today it was newly promoted Llandudno v Hwlffordd. Llandudno are doing really well this season up in the Premier League, although they have only played one team of any real quality, but Hwlffordd, usually one of the stronger teams in the division, have had a wretched start and have no points and no goals to their name as yet.

The game went as the league table suggested it would, with Llandudno winning 2-0. However, we had the usual VAR excitement, players sent off and brought back on, players sent off and staying off, and some exciting, fluid and skilful play on the wings degenerating into a midfield slog. Still, it was worth watching. And as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … some of the newly promoted teams are simply in the league for cannon fodder, but that’s not the case with Llandudno.

The doctor was there too today – the new one who prescribed the useless antibiotics ten days ago. She went to chat to a couple of patients but she walked past me, apparently not interested in a follow-up of her diagnosis and treatment. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I often have the impression that, for the terminally ill patients like me, they do the minimum to keep us alive and don’t bother with the rest of any treatment.

You can tell that from the chemotherapy. The chemotherapy last year failed and the professor who is supposed to be dealing with my case hasn’t bothered to contact me since. I’ve had one appointment with the neurologist there after the chemotherapy, back at the start of the year, and there’s been no further contact from him either since then.

By now, it was time to set me free, and I only had to wait for ten minutes before my nurse came to unplug me. And riddled by cramp, I weighed myself to find out that it had all gone according to plan and Monday might be a little easier.

The taxi was waiting for me and I was once more the only passenger, so dodging the occasional showers, I was home fairly quickly.

My cleaner helped me into the apartment and stuck a disgusting drink in my hand once I was sitting at the table. I was still hungry afterwards, so I decided to make myself a meal – a burger on a bap with baked potato and salad. But the salad was off so I had vegetables instead.

The problem was, though, that hungry I might have been, but I was also exhausted. So although I managed the burger, I’d fallen asleep at the table long before I’d finished the baked potato.

In the end, what was left of the baked potato ended up in the bin and I ended up in bed. I’ll write my notes tomorrow

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about cathedrals … "well, one of us has" – ed … a new priest was appointed as curate to Brussels cathedral, and so he went for a walk around the city to see what his diocese had to offer.
As he was walking past a dark alley near the Gare du Nord, a figure slid out of a dark alley and whispered "twenty-five Euros for a quickie, father"
This happened several times as he walked around the Gare du Nord, so back at the cathedral, he asked the bishop "what’s a quickie, Monseigneur?"
"Twenty-five Euros from the girls at the Gare du Nord, my son."

EPIC HALL

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

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