… late again this evening!
Not that I’m complaining, though … "for a change" – ed …. I’ve had a lovely tea tonight. It took an age to prepare, but it was well worth the effort.
It was a late night too last night. I ended up being in bed at about 23:30 after everything that needed to be done. I could have finished a long time before I did but, as usual, I was sidetracked by all kinds of odds and ends that spun it out forever.
Once in bed, despite the non-stop coughing fit, I managed to fall asleep quite quickly, and there I lay until all of … errr … 04:20. Not that it bothered me for long because I was soon back to sleep again, and I was dead to the World until the alarm went off at 06:29.
As usual, it took an eternity for me to summon up the courage to leave the bed and I was late going for my hot drink and medication. That took longer than it ought to have done too.
Mind you, the nurse was late today, so I had plenty of time to transcribe the dictaphone notes after the medication.
We were living in some kind of chaotic circumstances, a huge group of us. The place was untidy etc., and no-one seemed to be making an effort to tidy up. We were told that there was going to be a huge spell of nice weather. I remembered that last year, I had a tomato plant that I’d put by the back door. It wasn’t very successful but I was hoping that this year, it may be better. I went to find it, but it was looking rather sad but I watered it heavily and fetched a foot pump and began to pump it up. People were encouraging me, saying that these plants needed a start to be going. But while I was there pumping it up and people were there watching me, I noticed that there seemed to be much less soil than usual, so I said that I’d need some more soil. Then they replied that I just needed to sweep the soil that was stuck around the edges of the pot – it was one of these huge, oblong pots. So I went and knocked it in with a small spade and it really did fill the bac and a couple of people who were sleeping in it were swamped and made some kind of remark. So that was my tomato plant, and I went and installed it by the door. Then I went for a walk down the garden, and I could see the derelict parts of the house, derelict parts of the building and what a mess it was looking. I was wishing that I lived somewhere else. In another part, just the other side of the raised-up ring road, there was a huge, derelict complex going back to the seventeenth century. I could see the date that was written – 1655 but in Latin. There was a big name on the side of one of these buildings, something like LA MAGNALAISE. There was a plaque fixed to the building with some names on it, so I supposed that “La Magnalaise” had been a battle or something and this was a plaque in memory of the people. The building was all overgrown with weeds and mould etc. and it looked in a terrible mess. It made me feel rather depressed to see it. But then one of the people began to sing “Happy Birthday.” It was the birthday of a retired naval officer who lived with us. It appeared that they had all had a whip-round to buy him a present. What they’d bought him was a tiny hand-brush for brushing the hearth or a coal or wood fire. He seemed to be delighted to receive it, but if I had received it as a present, I’d have been insulted. I could see that all of this was starting to make me depressed.
The idea of pumping up your plants with a foot pump sounds interesting and I wish that it would have worked when I was living down on the farm. But living in chaotic, untidy circumstances is nothing new anywhere around me.
It’s certainly true too that there are a great many memorials scattered around all kinds of different areas that are ignored by the locals, who either don’t understand what they represent or, worse, couldn’t care less what they represent.
There was also something else about a new hospital that had been built somewhere along the coast in South Wales. It had just opened, although the works on the road outside hadn’t been finished. As I was walking along this road past the hospital, there were loads and loads of buses coming from South Wales, and they were having to do a U-turn in the road to drop off their passengers. I thought “there’s a roundabout one hundred yards further on. If they went one hundred yards further on, they could swing round the roundabout and come back down the hill, but they wanted to turn round in this place outside the hospital. I was in my taxi and wanted to go back up the hill but the number of buses coming up and swinging round in this place made it extremely difficult. At one point, I had to drive on the pavement because a bus was blocking the road and a coach was coming down the hill and went onto the wrong side of the road to pass everything. While I was there, I was having to drive on the pavement to drive round all these obstacles and I remember saying to whom I was with that this is going to be absolute chaos in the summer season and I can’t think what on earth was going through their minds when they built a system like this.
A new hospital – now that’s a real dream, isn’t it? But I can still see one of the buses. It was a red “Leyland” double-decker from the early 1960s with “18 – MARGAM” on the destination blind. And the coach coming down the hill was a white, Duple-bodied vehicle from the early-mid 1970s.
And it goes without saying that I’m back in a taxi at one point too.
The nurse eventually turned up and asked me how I was. I told him that I’m freezing cold. I actually have been for a couple of days and I just can’t warm myself up. According to the thermometer, it’s twenty-four degrees in my bedroom/office but I’m shivering.
Actually, I don’t know why I told him because nothing will ever happen about it. As a nurse, he’s not actually all that involved in the evolution of his patients’ illnesses, even though I suppose that he ought to be.
After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of A ROMAN FRONTIER POST AND ITS PEOPLE
James Curle is currently excavating the old wells and pits, and has found evidence (skeletons, skulls, broken weapons, charred beams etc.) to suggest that at least one of the earliest of the five periods of occupation ended in violence, after which the fort was abandoned for at least a generation.
This suggests that it was sometime in between the end of Gnaeus Julius Agricola’s expeditions into the Highlands of Scotland in the period 83-87AD and the campaign that led to the construction of the Antonine Wall in 142-143AD
The construction of the first phase of Hadrian’s Wall in 122AD implies a retreat from places farther north, and if we knew why they retreated and built the wall, this might explain the destruction at Trimontium. The timeline would fit nicely, with both the destruction and the reoccupation on the march north twenty years later.
However, while he was exploring a well in what seems to be the communal bathhouse, I couldn’t help but laugh. He tells us that the likely shape of one of the rooms is due to "having at one end a bath of warm water, and at the other a great vase or basin filled with cold water, with which to douche the bather before he passed out again."
It must have been really hot in the caldera – the “hot room”.
Back in here, there was a football match to watch. I’d forgotten that Stranraer were playing Ayr United on Tuesday, so I caught up with the match this morning.
Stranraer lost 4-1, which is no surprise as Ayr are several layers up in the pyramid, but I’m convinced that the referee was refereeing a completely different game to the one that the commentators and I were watching. If you like, you can SEE THE HIGHLIGHTS HERE and let me know what you think.
The rest of the day had been spent editing the radio notes and assembling the two halves of the programme. Then I chose the joining track and wrote the notes for it.
That was another job that took much longer than it ought, but I had a couple of interruptions.
This weekend, I’ve been expecting a package, containing my equipment to convert my internet to fibre-optic, to be delivered. It didn’t turn up yesterday as promised, but when my faithful cleaner checked my mailbox, there was an avis de passage saying that the postie had been but had been unable to deliver the package.
Yet I’d been in all day and had heard absolutely nothing.
So this morning, I wrote a notice and stuck it on my door. The notice read “knock hard and give me time to come to the door. I can’t run as I’m on crutches. If you can’t wait, open the door, come in and shout”.
Round about 13:30, a note on the internet (not in my mailbox) said "the postwoman tried to deliver your parcel. She rang the doorbell, but there was no-one at home".
So if she rang the doorbell, how come she didn’t see the notice on the door? I suspect that she wanted to be at home early, so she only did half of her round, so I went on the warpath with everyone with whom I could.
Eventually, the manageress of the post depot rang me back and promised to have it delivered by Monday midday at the latest.
There was also a break to make some really fresh bread – to bread rolls, in fact, because for tea tonight, I was going to have soup.
There were some leeks left over from Christmas so I made a thick leek, potato, mushroom (I had plenty of those), onion, garlic and soya yoghurt soup with small pasta elbows.
With the fresh bread, it was delicious, and there’s enough soup left over for another meal too.
But right now, having finished my notes, I’m off to bed and hoping for a lie-in tomorrow. The nurse can wake me up if he likes, but I don’t care.
But seeing as we have been talking about the Roman bathhouse … "well, one of us has" – ed … the baths were usually a male prerogative.
However, on one occasion, ladies were allowed in.
After she came out, I asked a friend of mine how she found it
She replied "well, I found out that the Bible is incorrect"
"How do you mean?"
"This ‘all men are created equal’ – it’s not true at all."
