Tag Archives: baked potatoes

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.

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.

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."

0

Saturday 1st August 2026 – YET ANOTHER DAY …

… where I’ve imitated my namesake the mathematician and done three-fifths of five-eighths of … errr … nothing whatsoever. And it wasn’t for the want of trying either. It was just that the opportunity wasn’t there.

After the football last night, it ended up being a very late night by the time that I was in bed. And although I managed to go to sleep quite quickly, I did manage to sleep until all of about … errr … 01:20. After that, I stayed awake for almost all the rest of the night.

When I looked at the time at one point, it was 05:50, and I was toying with the idea of leaving the bed. However, wiser councils prevailed. I turned over onto my face and went back to sleep. And there I lay until the alarm went off at 06:29.

From that point of waking up to the moment of being dressed and in the kitchen is but a moment, but in real life as it is today, it’s a whole eternity away and I wasn’t prepared for it at all. It was a desperate battle to fight my way into the bathroom to organise myself and to have a good shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant today.

Back in here, I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night

There was something going on with the clubs in the Cymru Premier League. There had been a few additions, and everyone wanted to know their names, their nicknames, how they played, all that kind of thing, so I decided that if I were to do some research on the matter, what I would do would be to do it properly and completely, and whatever I, or the other person writing it from the other end, didn’t want in the statistics, I’d pass them on to anyone else who wanted them so that they would have the same kind of start that we did last season

Yes, the Welsh Premier League is up and running already, with this new TELEVISION COMPANY that I mentioned yesterday. And there has indeed been a pile of new players coming into the league, from England, Scotland, and even places like Zambia and New Zealand. Finding out about them has been interesting to say the least.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, except that she was rather later than usual. As she was sorting out my feet and legs, she explained that when visiting one of her patients in town earlier, her car was hemmed in by a selfish driver, and judging by this number plate, he was a tourist. To get back behind the driving seat, she had to climb in through the back door and then over the back of the front seats.

She was quite indignant about that.

After she left, I could make my breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s been steering clear of controversy as far as the “Mohammedans” go. But while he’s been talking about the overwhelming superiority of Gothic architecture, he notes here that "The finest of our Romanesque naves, those of Ely and Peterborough, are actually later in date than the advanced Transition of Canterbury choir, and but very little earlier than the pure Lancet architecture of the eastern chapels at Winchester. It is manifest then that, in some cases at least, the decaying style was retained in deliberate preference to the new."

After breakfast and having sorted myself out, I came back to the office and began to complete the notes from yesterday. With the usual waves of fatigue coming along to swamp me as I wrote, it took much longer than it should have done. It wasn’t until about 11:30 that it finally made its way on line. So if you missed Friday’s blog, you can FIND IT HERE.

Once I’d done that, there were a few other things that needed doing, and then, for about fifteen minutes, I had a little sleep. And you’ve no idea how much I enjoyed that. In fact, had I not decided to set the alarm for midday on a dialysis day, I probably would still be asleep right now.

However, I went into the dining area once the alarm had sounded and began to sort out what I need for this afternoon and for a disgusting drink and the midday medication. My faithful cleaner also turned up to apply the anaesthetic to my arm.

After she left, I went for a stroll … errrr … down the corridor, and it’s a good job that I did too because my taxi was hours early today … "about fifteen minutes actually" – ed … It was one of my favourite drivers too, so we had a good chat on the way to pick up Madame Dinosaur.

When we arrived at the site of the exposition and she had to go onto the site for her passenger, she asked me, rather nervously, "there aren’t any dinosaurs loose and wandering around in there, are there?". I put her mind at rest but I don’t think that she was convinced.

Having had an early start like that, we arrived at dialysis quite early – 13:35, in fact. And in charge of our room today was one of the young and efficient nurses who has been there for quite a while – one of my favourites in fact. And by 14:10, I was up and running. I wasn’t very impressed, though. It seemed that, because I’d left on Thursday with so much water still in me, we were going to have another gruelling session with the machine going flat-out on “max”.

Today, I settled down to watch a couple of football matches on the internet. The first one was Llandudno v Fflint from last night, followed by the live match of Cardiff Metropolitan v Trefynnon. I wasn’t able to see either match to the end because the live match started before the Llandudno game had finished and due to the early start, the Cardiff Metropolitan game hadn’t finished when it was time to be unplugged. And, of course, there were the usual blood pressure alarms that brought the nurses running every time.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today too. I caught a glimpse of her in the distance down the corridor. She didn’t come to see me, though, which was a crying shame. She doesn’t love me any more by the looks of things.

It was the “boss” who brought me home tonight. He was ready and waiting for me when I came out of my room and that was nice. We had a good chat all the way home, where my faithful cleaner was awaiting, and she helped me inside the apartment. When I was settled in a chair, she passed me another disgusting drink and then, in the best characteristics of the long-gone and much-missed “News of the Screws”, she “made her excuses and left”.

Once she’d gone, I could turn my attention to tea. Tonight, it was a burger on a bap with vegan salad and baked potato. For some reason, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I usually would do. I hope that my taste buds aren’t changing yet again. That would be a disaster.

When I finished tea, I came back in here to carry out a few tasks and then I attacked the notes. However, as usual after a dialysis day, when the machine has been operating at the “max”, I had the typical “wave of fatigue” flooding over me. I was reviewing what I was writing, and there was so much that appeared to be total nonsense, with spelling mistakes, typing faults and heaven knows what else besides … "nothing new here, then" – ed … I decided to call it a day and go to bed. I can finish the notes in the morning.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about doctors … "well, one of us has" – ed … apparently, the reason why Emilie the Cute Consultant had a visitor with her.
"Hello doctor" said the man. "I’ve been stung by a bee"
"No problem" said Emilie the Cute Consultant. "I’ll put some special cream on it"
"Don’t be silly, doctor" replied the man. "That bee will be miles away from here by now."

0

Saturday 18th July 2026 – WHAT A DREADFUL …

… day this has been today. I really don’t know where to start.

Probably, I should start at the very beginning – a very good place to start. And the beginning was actually last night when I finally managed to crawl into bed. And that was at 23:17, much later than I’d intended. I really don’t know where the time goes in the evening.

Once in bed, I managed to go to sleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until all of … errr … 03:20 when I awoke. That’s about four hours of continuous sleep, and that’s the longest continuous sleep that I’ve had for a while. However, it’s still not long enough.

From then on, I was, as usual, drifting in and out of sleep until the alarm finally went off at 06:29 as usual. And then we had the habitual struggle to rise to my feet, which took much longer than it ought.

After I’d sorted myself out in the bathroom, including having a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

And the short answer was “nothing”. I needn’t have bothered. That was only one of the many disappointments today.

There were plenty of other things that needed doing so I sorted them out until the nurse came. He didn’t have much to say for himself today, so once he’d sorted out my legs and feet, he cleared off quite rapidly and I could make breakfast.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, we’ve finished the Anglo-Saxon architecture, and, having made a whistle-stop tour of early mediaeval Germany, we’re now looking at post-Roman France. This seems to be one of his favourite periods, waxing lyrical about how the Gauls, the Burgundians and the people in the Midi in the Holy Roman Empire managed to improve on what had gone before.

Mind you, he’s managed to avoid controversy so far, quite possibly because I happen to agree with him to a certain degree.

However, breakfast did not pass without incident. Yesterday evening, I’d dropped a glass jar and had shards of glass all over the kitchen. This morning, a bottle of water fell out of the fridge, and I also managed to knock my orange juice all over the kitchen worktop. Still, start as you mean to go on, I suppose.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I started work on the next radio programme. However, round about 10:30, I could feel a wave of fatigue coming all over me, and although I tried valiantly to fight it off, I eventually …

ZZZZZZZZ

The next thing that I remember was my faithful cleaner shaking me awake. It was 12:18 and I’d been in a really deep sleep forever. It took me a while to come to my senses, and then I went into the dining area to have my anaesthetic applied.

The sleep hadn’t been wasted, though.

While I was asleep during the morning, I was dreaming about a rock group. It had to cancel half of its performances for some reason or other, especially some in the United States. The discussion went on that anyone who had a ticket for one of the events that was cancelled could use that ticket to go into a concert that they were going to play later at Rochester in New York State, not too far from New York City.

This presumably relates to a famous Beatles tour back in the early days when Ringo Starr was hospitalised with tonsilitis and there was a huge dispute between the other three about whether to cancel the tour or to find a stand-in drummer. Eventually, they found a drummer called Jimmy Nicol who knew the Beatles’ repertoire, and he flew out with them to start the tour until Starr became available again.

The taxi was a couple of minutes late today so he didn’t catch me in flagrante delicto. Today, I was the only passenger so we actually arrived at the dialysis centre early. 13:41 was on my weight ticket.

So 13:41 I was weighed, and no-one was more disappointed than me to find that I had to wait until 14:43 to be connected and up and running. And once more, it was going to be another mammoth session with the machine running practically flat out.

Once I was off, I was left pretty much alone during the session – the blood pressure only dropped once into the “critical” range. I could work pretty much without interruption, except that Stranraer was running a replay of a match that they had played against Alloa Athletic a year ago that I had missed.

When it was time to unplug me, I had to wait fifteen minutes or so for them to start, but at least the driver was waiting to bring me home when I was finally ready.

The roads were much clearer than Saturday last week, so I was home by 18:50, where my cleaner was waiting to help me into the apartment. She settled me down in a chair in the kitchen and passed me a disgusting drink before leaving.

Once she’d gone, I could make tea. A burger on a bap with salad and a baked potato, followed by two slices of fruit bread; It was all delicious and I surprised myself by almost going to cut a third slice of bread. Is my appetite returning?

After I’d finished and done the washing-up, I staggered into the bedroom and sat down at the computer. However, I hadn’t even started my notes before I was hit with an impossible wave of fatigue.

An hour or so later, after I’d awoken, I just rolled over into bed and went to sleep. The notes can wait until tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about dropping things … "well, one of us has" – ed … a drunk man staggered out of a pub to go home when suddenly he dropped his keys.
After half an hour, several other people leaving the pub joined in the search, but no-one had any luck.
Eventually, one of the searchers came over to him and asked "Are you sure that you dropped them around here?"
"Oh no" he replied. "It was over there but it’s too dark to see anything there."

0

Saturday 11th July 2026 – I CAME HOME …

… from dialysis this afternoon in an ambulance, flat out on a stretcher.

However, before anyone is alarmed, there was no urgent reason for it. They didn’t have a taxi available to bring me home at that moment, so it was either wait forty-five minutes for a car to be free or else hop into an ambulance that was doing nothing.

My hopping days are, unfortunately, over and I couldn’t climb into the ambulance, so the girls who were crewing it put me on the stretcher and I had a nice relaxing ride home.

It’s about time that I had a nice relaxing time because things have been rather rough these last few days, and last night was no exception. Despite not having much to do after tea, I ended up being in bed rather later than I wanted to be. It was about 22:45 when I finally crawled into my stinking pit.

Although I went to sleep quite quickly once I was in bed, it wasn’t for long. By 01:20, I was awake again and this time, I managed to drift occasionally back to sleep. However, what sleep I did have didn’t really do me much good.

And in news that will surprise everyone, the alarm didn’t go off this morning. And for a very good reason too. At the times when it was supposed to have gone off – at 06:29 with its repeater at 06:33 – I’d already been up for a good half-hour and I’d long-since switched it off. I didn’t manage to go back to sleep and I thought that there was no point trying to force myself or to waste time when there was plenty of work to do.

The first thing to do is to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night.

There was also a dream about collecting the empty soap containers after we’d filled up the sauce bottles in the bathroom for the clothes washing. They had plenty of them, so I was going to sort them out and give them a big wash, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t actually find them any more. I’d forgotten where I’d left them

A couple of days ago, I’d had to refill the liquid soap in the soap dispenser in the bathroom sink and also refill the shower gel container in the shower. Filling up the sauce bottles … "sauce bottles?" – ed … in the bathroom is something probably related to that.

Interestingly, though, this is one of those dreams for which I have absolutely no recollection at all. And it was the “also” that interested me. Has there been a previous dream that I might have missed somewhere?

Last night, I was staying with some people whom I knew. There was a big crowd of us. I was shown my room, which was a total mess with papers absolutely everywhere, but it was my room with my bed so I fetched in all of my papers and my music so that I could install myself. The woman of the house kept on coming in to find out what I was up to, and she was most aggressive, which is not like the girl I married at all. It was a real struggle to make myself be organised. Then I went into the living room, which was an even worse mess. My brother was there so we made one of these Japanese roly-poly things between the two of us and we rolled around the kitchen and bedroom floor for a moment. However, nothing seemed to be getting done and this woman was becoming more and more agitated, so in the end, I decided that this visit wasn’t worth it at all. I went back into the kitchen and cleaned the sink and a few things, and as soon as I’d put away the old eggshells and things like that, I went back into my room and began to tidy it, putting all the books together and all the papers together and so on in the hopes that she’d pick up on this work blue and say something, but I was beyond the point of caring. I just wanted to leave.

First of all, I didn’t marry any woman like that. Nerina had a character all of her own, including an “emotional” side that she presumably inherited from her Italian mother, but she was never aggressive. Well, not unless I’d done something to really upset her.

However, this house and the description of this woman do sound like someone and somewhere where I stayed a few times twenty-odd years ago, as regular readers of this rubbish in an earlier version will recall, and it didn’t turn out well. The aggressive side of this woman’s character was actually her real character which she kept well-hidden for a while, but she couldn’t keep up the pretence for all that long.

And what’s my brother doing, co-operating with me? That would be an event unique in history.

So going back to this dream about these houses, which I did later, there were several patches that were totally unsuitable but building houses had already begun there. And there was one where the company hall was twice the size of the one in which we’d had this meeting … "which meeting?" – ed … It seemed to be a total waste of space to me. Another one was practically in the middle of a lake with just the foundations bobbing through over the top. They should at least drain the lake and fill it in before they start building. But here, things went on and I didn’t stay there very often at all because the woman who ran it, who was normally a nice woman, had turned bitter and dour over some situation and was making life unpleasant for everyone. But while I was there that very last time, things reached such an extreme that I went into the bedroom, took the valve guides and followers out and did all of the timing. Then I could put the engine back in in exactly the right spot where it would need to fire up. And that way, it would be running from Day One.

So I’m going back to this dream, am I? Does this mean that I’ve missed another one, or is it a reference to the previous dream?

The house in the middle of the lake is interesting. I was looking at one of these street map things on line to see the changes to Shavington, where I lived from 1956 to 1970. And they’ve built houses on a field where we used to play. One thing that I noticed is that there’s a house slap-bang in the position of the old marl pit into which we fell on many an occasion. I wouldn’t like to be living in that house.

And rebuilding engines in the bedroom? I somehow don’t think so.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual to sort out my legs and feet. She was in the usual rush but she told me that tomorrow she’s going to be horribly late. It’s the brocante tomorrow in the old walled town at the back of where I live, so all of the streets are cordoned off. Consequently, she’s going to have to do some of her round on foot, which will take an age.

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

He’s continuing his tirade against Roman architecture with such comments as "Roman architecture can only take its stand on the ground of mere vastness and magnificence ; it cannot even claim so high a place as those specimens of cinquecento and debased Gothic, which often exhibit the most perfect grouping combined with the most barbarous detail."

Anyone who has ever stood underneath the Pont du Gard will tell you that it’s the “vastness and magnificence” that is the whole point of it, and the innovation and architecture that went into its design and building are phenomenal. Dismissing all of that in a couple of lines and then using the rest of the chapter to heap scorn upon it is not at all what I was expecting in a book on architecture.

Back in here, there were a few things to do and then I began to edit the next set of radio notes that I’d dictated a good while ago. They are all finished now and I’ll connect everything up the next time that I have a free moment or two.

My faithful cleaner turned up, feeling a little better than she did yesterday. She applied my anaesthetic and made sure that I had everything that I needed at dialysis this afternoon.

And then she gave me a little present. A while back, someone had given her a cutting of basil, so she had reared it in a glass of water. It’s now become a triffid, so she’s taken several cuttings, nurtured tham and now that they have taken root, she’s passed them on to everyone whom she knows, each in its own glass of water.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that it’s always been my intention to grow my own herbs, but I’ve not been able to find the correct size of window box. Now, though, it looks as if I’ve begun anyway.

The taxi was early for me today, which suits me fine. The sooner I start, the sooner I finish. But it was stifling hot in the car and I was almost suffocating. It was a day probably as warm as yesterday, I reckoned, and I was wasting it in dialysis.

When I arrived, I had the long march … "he’s in the new, air-conditioned building" – ed … to my bed via the weighing machine, to find that the nurses were already waiting for me, including the one who always likes to be a human garrot on my arm.

It was nice to be up and running by 14:05 so I could sit back and relax for a while. That wasn’t so easy, though, because the dialysis machine was on the wrong side of the bed and all of the tubes and pipes were going across my chest. I asked them why they hadn’t simply turned the bed around 180°, but the thought had never occurred to them.

So for three hours I relaxed, looked at the news and read some articles on the internet. And every half-hour, the automatic blood pressure machine kicked in, took my blood pressure, sounded the alarm and brought the nurses running. However, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … they needn’t have bothered. Low blood pressure is the norm with me, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

It was another heavy session with the machine going full tilt, set at eight hundred and thirty-four millilitres per hour, just sixty-six short of the maximum, and I could tell too because near the end, I began to have the most appalling cramps in my legs and the pain in my foot, which had been missing for almost a week, came back. However, after the startling news of the other day when I was here, the doctor didn’t come back to see me. In fact, I didn’t see a doctor all the time that I was there.

When it was time to disconnect me, the nurses were, for once, ready and waiting. And it was the nurse who always wants to make the garrot who volunteered to compress my arm. I wasn’t complaining at all.

On leaving, I had to carry my own bag, which is really difficult for me as it puts me out of balance, so I was struggling. But a helpful nursing auxiliary spotted me and she took it over.

And then we had the surprise at the exit. There was an ambulance awaiting me, not a taxi. Apparently there were no cars available so it was either an ambulance or a forty-five-minute wait. It didn’t take very long at all for me to make up my mind.

They put me on the stretcher (which was nice and comfortable), strapped me in and put me in the back. Then we set off for home. And what disappointed me more than anything was that they didn’t use the flashing blue lights.

My faithful cleaner was awaiting me, and after I’d climbed off the stretcher, she helped me into the apartment, and I needed the help too after that session of dialysis. She’d also brought a cutting of mint for me, which was lovely of her. My herb garden is expanding before I even have the garden.

After she left, I made tea. Baked potato, vegan salad and burger on a bun with salad dressing, mustard, tomato, cheese and onion. And how delicious was that? My cleaner had also told me that the plants grow best in a bottle. And while the mint was in a bottle, the basil wasn’t. It was in a wine glass. However, there were two bottles of alcohol-free beer in the fridge too, so I decided to empty one of them. And that was delicious too.

Back in here, I began to write my notes but a huge wave of fatigue crept all over me and in the end, I had to abandon the procedure and finish them tomorrow morning. I’m really sorry about this.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about ambulances … "well, one of us has" – ed … a man in Florida once rang up the ambulance station. "Help! I need help urgently. An alligator has just bitten off one of my legs"
The dispatching clerk asks "which one?"
"How do I know?" replied the man. "All these alligators look the same to me."

0

Saturday 4th July 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning.

Not that that’s any surprise, because if you don’t sleep, you can’t dream, can you?

Well, to be honest, that’s not exactly true. I was in bed by 23:15 and asleep quite quickly too, but only until just after 02:00, when I awoke.

That was rather necessary, for reasons that many people of my age will understand, but once I’d finished strolling the parapet and climbed back into bed, that was that. I just lay there and watched dawn slowly break.

When I checked the time at one point, it was 06:19 – ten minutes before the alarm, so I thought that I may as well claim an early start. I sat upright, put my feet on the floor and switched off the alarms.

As usual, it took a while to build up the courage and the enthusiasm to stand up, but once I was upright, I staggered into the bathroom for a good wash, and also a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Back in here, with nothing on the dictaphone, I found plenty of other things to do, and it was just as well that there were because Isabelle the Nurse was late today. She told me a little about her four days’ break as she organised my feet and legs, and then she was off on her way again.

That meant that I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s not being as controversial as he has been, but he still manages to come out with another tirade about what he calls “barbarism” – "All the distinctive features of the architecture point to this origin, and we may more especially observe that we here find the key to all those peculiarities which stamp upon it a character of barbarism. First of all, its great massiveness may be well derived from this source. In a constructed building, such massiveness implies a greater expenditure of time, labour, and material, than is required in a lighter style; in a mechanical view at least it is a sign of rudeness and imperfection, occasioned either by the mistaken idea that greater strength is thus necessarily obtained, or by an actual want of sufficient skill to produce the same strength with a less amount of material."

Once again, he’s forgetting that the reason why many of these Greek temples survived was because they were quite often situated in unassailable positions. Those that were accessible to an invading army were swept away with comparative ease. But it was very, very rare for one of these massive, over-engineered stone castles of the Middle Ages to be taken by assault. If they fell, it was usually due to starvation or treachery. You build a building in accordance with what you intend to do with it.

Back in here, I carried on with what I was doing and then began to look at the following radio programme. This one will be quite complicated and I don’t have half of the music that I need, so I spent quite a while hunting it down to see what I could find.

At midday, I went to organise myself ready for dialysis and when my cleaner turned up, she applied the anaesthetic to my arm. After she left, I waited for the taxi (which was a few minutes late), but I fell asleep at the kitchen table. I was having a lovely, exciting dream which I was enjoying so much, but when the doorbell rang, it obliterated absolutely everything, which was a shame;

It was one of my favourite drivers today, and she didn’t hang around. In fact, we ended up at dialysis five minutes early. Even better, there was only one person ahead of me so by 14:10, I was up and running.

They couldn’t leave me alone, though. They’d set the blood pressure to be taken every thirty minutes, so every thirty minutes, the low-pressure alarm would ring and a nurse would come running. My blood pressure was the usual low reading between 8.5 and 9.5 so there was no cause for alarm, but they were worried because it was another one of these mega-extractions today, just like Thursday.

And when I finally did manage to drop off for a little nap, someone came over to do something by my bed and awoke me. It really wasn’t my day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Emilie the Cute Consultant. In fact, I didn’t see a doctor on the wards at any time today.

Still, at 17:10, the alarm rang to say that the session had finished, but I had to wait a little while for them to come over and unplug me. And I was absolutely exhausted too. It had been another session with the machine going flat-out, and you’ve no idea just how tiring that is for me.

Once they had finished with me, I could weigh myself, and I’m now at the lowest weight that I have been for many, many a year – well below my “athletic” weight. It’s actually giving me some kind of concern right now;

So I staggered off wearily to the entrance lobby where my driver was waiting – the same driver who had brought me, which was nice. Unfortunately, we had to go off to find another passenger at the hospital across the road and drop him off on the way home, so it wasn’t as early back home as it might have been. Still, 18:30 is a lot earlier than some returns home have been just recently.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me as usual, and she helped me into the apartment (and I needed the help too), where I collapsed into a chair, thoroughly exhausted after that session.

Later on, I made myself some tea, a baked potato, a small salad and a burger on a bun with cheese, mustard and salad dressing. And although it was only a small meal, half of it still went into the bin. I managed the burger, some of the potato and some of the salad, but that was about it.

After the washing-up, there were a few things to do, and then I began to write my notes for today.

Halfway through, I felt the need for an enormous stretch, and that did me the world of good. I felt so much better after that. Just a little relax now, and then I’ll carry …

"ZZZZZZZZZ"

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about mediaeval castles … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once took a friend’s ten-year-old daughter to visit Beeston Castle.
As we were walking up the steps onto the walls, I told her "just think – seven hundred years ago, there used to be kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, soldiers, knights and bishops walking up these steps"
"Yes" she replied. "It’s obvious"
"Is it so obvious?" I asked her
"Ohh yes" she responded. "They didn’t have lifts in those days."

0

Saturday 13th June 2026 – I HAVE BEEN …

n°6, residence vauban, 2 place d'armes, granville, haute ville, france
… out and about yet again today, keeping my promise to my friend and my cleaner to do 200 steps on days when I’m not going to dialysis

That’s the view in the other direction, the second part of the building. And just look how close we are to the sea. That long wall at the edge of this path actually marks the clifftop and the tide, when it’s in, comes right up to the foot of the cliff.

If you look carefully to the right, you’ll see the Normandy coast going northwards, and on a really clear day, you can see the island of Jersey on the horizon, fifty-eight kilometres away.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, last night was another late night when I was hoping to be in bed quite quickly. Somehow, I ended up being confused, and I consequently snatched defeat from the jaws of victory and went to bed a little after 23:30.

It didn’t take long for me to go to sleep, and there I stayed for several hours. When I awoke, it was still dark so I managed to go back to sleep until the alarm went off at 06:29.

This morning, I was dressed quite quickly, and then I slid over to the computer to transcribe the dictaphone notes.

There was something about a group of people being in bed. They all had had to make or construct something, like a bungalow or something like that. My job was to go round, look at them and approve them. In order to approve them, I would use a special codeword. After a series of inspections on houses, I went to see this group of people and began to talk to them using the codeword because it was obvious to me that someone had built their house based on the exact and precise legislation, but they couldn’t possibly have seen the forms. They were on their beds and they were quizzed with this particular codeword to see what they knew. I would disguise it into half a sentence, and they would reply with another half. I would do my best to include this secret word in the reply that I gave, to see if there was any reaction.

This is another one of these dreams that means nothing to me. There is no real connection with anything that has happened recently, although “the people in beds” could quite easily be the dialysis patients, I suppose.

I was in bed, and when I looked up, there were two official women standing by my bed, both carrying clipboards. They were asking questions about my latest film – where did I have the idea? How did it come? all that kind of thing, because apparently, what I’d ended up growing was so very close to some copyrighted baby plant somewhere. They were concerned that I’d been stealing the plans. I showed them around the house and they left, and that was that.

The two women with clipboards seem to relate to an incident that took place in Crewe a couple of days ago, although that’s a story that the World is not yet ready to hear. And “showing them around the house” was also part of this story. The rest is the usual rubbish that seems to infest many of my dreams.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in at her usual time. She was her cheerful self, telling me about the patient who was taken to hospital the other day. She told me that the delay was due at first to the patient not wanting to ‘phone for an ambulance, despite Isabelle the Nurse’s insistence.

"I don’t know how he had the courage!" I said.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved, or “The Reverend Charles Wellbeloved, chair of the Yorkshire Philosophical Society, so I have learnt.

He is now talking about archaeology and excavations, but the excavations, regrettably, aren’t being carried out for research, they are being dug to make cellars, and whatever Roman remains that are found are being smashed up and thrown away. They even found a rare tablet of the god Mithras, known to have been found a hundred years ago and subsequently lost, being used as a paving stone in someone’s footpath, turned upside down to hide the image from view.

After breakfast, I came back in here to finish off this project that I’ve been doing for someone, and it’s now up and running and works fine.

There were several interruptions to my day, the most important being a chat with Rosemary. Just a short chat today, a mere one hour and nine minutes. We’re obviously losing our touch these days.

About half an hour before I’d finished the project, my cleaner messaged me. “It’s a beautiful day outside. Don’t forget your walk”. I was busy just then so I replied "bientôt". When I’d finished, I hit the streets.

Firstly, I met a neighbour coming in who wanted a chat, but I set off valiantly afterwards, hauling myself over the concrete obstructions and counting my paces all the time until I reached a hundred. There, I stopped to soak up the sun and take a photograph. While I was there, I was joined by two neighbours and had a chat with one of the neighbours from her window.

The route back took a hundred and ten paces somehow, and I had a fall too, going through the front door. However, I managed to twist as I fell backwards and ended up falling against the doorframe.

Back in here, I made my croissants for the next few weeks and put them in the fridge, waiting to bake them tomorrow, and then I made tea, a burger on a bap with baked potatoes and finally, the baked beans with cheese and black pepper. And it was all delicious, as usual. The croissants will be too, I bet.

So right now, I’m off to bed, hoping for a good lie-in tomorrow. We shall see how that unravels, though.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about showing people around my house … "well, one of us has" – ed … I mentioned to one of my friends that I often had to show people around in the past.
"Which bit did they like best?" she asked.
"Never mind what bit they liked, the bit that I liked best was when I showed them the door."

0

Saturday 6th June 2026 – IT’S THE ANNIVERSARY …

… of D-Day today, so everyone in Normandy seems to be out celebrating somewhere and many anciens combattants are roaming the streets dressed in their old uniforms, medals and all.

As for me, I’ve not set foot outside the building today. Not because I’m not going to celebrate the day and not because I’m too lazy to go outside either, but there’s yet another howling gale blowing outside, and it would blow me over before I’ve even gone five yards.

How many gales have there been that we’ve had so far this year? I don’t think that I’ve ever experienced six months like this in all the time that I’ve lived here.

Last night, it was blowing a gale when I went to bed. It was early too, round about 22:30 when I slid under the covers. And although I awoke once or twice just as it was beginning to become light, I was still fast asleep when the alarm went off at 06:29.

There was no sound or sign of life from next door, which was not a surprise seeing as there was no-one there – they are both on their way home – but anyway, I dressed and slid over to the computer to begin work.

First task was to transcribe the dictaphone notes to find out where I’d been during the night.

I’d gone to a kind of dance last night in a big village hall and there were thousands of people there and we were all dancing. I found myself partnering this girl or young woman who was one of these dynamic exhibitionist types and was really not my particular kind of girl. She was very exhuberant and always took the front at dances if she could. I was still in mourning for two of my partners whom I’d recently buried. On one occasion we were dancing around and I somehow became the owner of an accordion because there was someone giving away musical instruments as people danced past. She deeply regretted not having received anything so she asked me if I’d go to pick up a violin for her. But at that moment, there was a huge swell of people and they were all dancing around in front of where this giving out of musical instruments was so it was impossible for me to fight my way through and pick up something. Then she went to sit down on a chair that was in an inconvenient place in the middle of the dance floor. As she saw me approaching, she got off the chair and sat on the floor next to the chair, which I thought was a strange thing to do, because she didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would do that. So I had somewhere to sit and she had somewhere to sit. We stayed there chatting for quite a while. But at some point, there had been a Roxy Music song that involved climbing up and bringing a ladder down. A couple of people had climbed up and undone the ladders but were unable to bring them down, so I climbed right up and managed to bring them down with them resting on my shoulder. Then I began to lower them down behind me and there was someone at the bottom waiting to take hold of them as I approached. And it was all to do with something from a Roxy Music song, but I couldn’t think which one.

At one time, I did go to ballroom dancing, believe it or not. One of my brothers in law, long before he became my brother in law, thought that it would be a good place to go to meet some female company. He didn’t want to go alone so he asked me to go with him. And actually, it was me who found some female company in the shape of Ann, and we had a very pleasant few months together

But as for the exhuberant type of girl, that wouldn’t suit me at all. I couldn’t cope with that. And I don’t understand where Roy Music and the ladder fit in all of this.

There was another dream where we had a green MkII Cortina and at the very beginning this Cortina was jacked up on one side with the wheels off the road. But it moved on down to West Street in Crewe, and I telephoned Nerina to say that I’d had a problem with the car and could she meet me at the garage at the end of the road to sort it out? She muttered vaguely something and I thought that it was “yes” so I went to an old garage service station with a big concrete apron and asked him if I could borrow the apron for an hour. In the end we agreed on a fee of five pounds for that, which I thought was probably reasonable. At the back of this garage were all these old cars from the 1920s and 30s parked up there and abandoned. I was in my element looking at them. In the garden, he had some kind of plants, one that looked like an onion, but he told me that it was a chard. He asked me if I’d ever eaten chard and I replied, “no” so he went off into his workshop and came back with something that looked like a very large onion. He said “here – you have now”. I asked him how you ate it, and he replied “with tomatoes.” I went back to my car and waited for Nerina, and waited and waited, but she didn’t appear at all. In the end, I drove away and reckoned that I’d get home OK with this problem with the car.

Of all of the cars that have ever passed through my hands, I only ever had one MkII Cortina, and that was black. And Nerina would never not turn up if she had promised or if I needed her. She was extremely reliable.

The old cars would have been something that would have interested me greatly but I have never eaten chard. In the dream it was a pale white, round vegetable like a cross between an onion and a cabbage, but in real life, it’s only the leaves that you eat.

The nurse turned up as usual and expressed his dismay at the Hound of the Baskervilles not being there, and so did I. Anyway, he sorted out my legs and feet and then headed off on his rounds. I could get on with taking my medication, making breakfast and reading some more of RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge.

We’ve finished Burwell Cemetery, dashed through the cemetery at Little Wilbraham and now we’re on the analysis. Interestingly, he notes that "The Anglo-Saxons had so displaced the Romano-Britons that they could plant their few villages wherever they liked and often seemed to have chosen the areas which were most favoured by their predecessors" and "agriculture did not increase for years".

And for years, I’ve been talking about the ethnic cleansing of the Romano-British population by the Anglo-Saxons and no-one has listened to me, but here we are again with another archaeologist making observations that support my theory.

After breakfast, I came back in here and after a brief pause, I began to work, adding more and yet more to MY AMAZON STORE. It’s had a grand total of seven visits so far, so here’s hoping for a few more at some point and, even better, some purchases.

Roud about midday, I dozed off for forty-five minutes and when I awoke, I went for my disgusting drink and midday medication.

Back in here later, I carried on with the Amazon store and I finally found out how to add further lists to it. I now have three lists, but one of them needs to be changed because it was only a trial run to see if it worked.

While I was working, I was chatting to a couple of friends, one being the master of the Hound of the Baskervilles and the other one being an old friend from Shavington who now lives in Crewe, just gossiping about nothing in particular

Tea tonight was baked potato, a vegan salad and some of these spinach nuggets that I bought ages ago, followed by my medication, washed down with grape juice.

And now, hours late, I’m off to bed, hoping for a long lie-in and having my socks fitted while I’m in bed asleep. But something is bound to crop up to disturb my plans. It always does.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my friend from Crewe … "well, one of us has" – ed … he told me that the other night, he was stopped by the police while out driving at 02:00.
The policeman asked him "And where are you going at this time?"
My friend replied "“I’m going to a lecture on drinking and driving, smoking, and the effects alcohol has on the body."
The policeman then wanted to know "Who is giving a lecture at this time?"
My friend replied "That’ll be my wife."

0

Saturday 30th May 2026 – EVEN AS I …

… begin to write my notes, it’s 01:02 on a Sunday morning. Now this is going to be a late night … "or early morning" – ed … without a shadow of a doubt. But when work rears its ugly head and some of the folding stuff is involved, you don’t say “no”.

At least, I don’t.

Last night was rather a late night too. Because of the power cuts and everything, I was running very late and it was just coming up to 01:00 when I finally slid into bed. And I didn’t need much rocking either. I was probably asleep before my head hit the pillow.

And, having gone to sleep, I remember absolutely nothing at all until the alarm went off at 06:29. At that point, I was dead to the World and it really was a shock to my system when BILLY COTTON’S RAUCOUS RATTLE disturbed my peace.

But even though I was so tired and in such a deep sleep, by the time that the second alarm rang, I was sitting on the edge of the bed half-dressed, with the rest of the clothes to follow very shortly.

With no sound from the living room, I slid over to the computer and the first thing that I did was to transcribe the dictaphone note.

I’d been on a bus from somewhere in the centre of France to Tours and another French city not too far away. They’d been discussing some kind of employment there in some kind of factory and the more they talked to me about it, the less interest I had in it. I’d been taken on a tour of it and there was a guy there stocking margarine on the shelves. One of the margarines that he was stocking claimed to have seventeen different ingredients. I looked at the packet and there was nothing particularly unhealthy there, so I looked at my packet of “Echo” and tapped him on the shoulder. I asked him why his margarine was better than mine. He didn’t really come out with an answer to that so I left the factory and walked down by the river , and then I had to cross the road to catch the bus. I caught the bus, and then the alarm went off and everything completely disappeared. But I do remember something about Ford’s car factory, where there was some kind of job there that I went to enquire about. Then I heard that there was a train with one hundred and thirty-eight people on it coming from somewhere like Coventry or something coming down from Dagenham. All of the people on board this train were unemployed and actively looking for work.

“Echo” margarine is a blast from the past, isn’t it? There was always Echo margarine at our house when we were kids. But it wasn’t very healthy. Its advantage was that it was cheap, and that was important in our family when we were kids.

The bus ride to Tours is following in the footsteps of Charles Roach Smith on his holidays, as you will find out in early course. But Coventry would be one of the last places from where a train-load of the unemployed would come. It has one of the highest employment rates in the UK.

Still no sign of life next door so I found other things to do, but eventually there was movement, so I went in there in time to see coffee in the course of being made. I took my medication and then grabbed a mug.

Isabelle the Nurse was late this morning – she’d had plenty to do earlier – but we hardly noticed, chatting away so much. And the Hound of the Baskervilles hardly noticed her arrival but he certainly noticed Isabelle the Nurse when it was belly rub time. She’s never rubbed mine like that, not even with any ointment or cream.

After she’d sorted out my legs and feet, I could make breakfast. And while I was eating, I was reading some more of NOTES ON SOME OF THE ANTIQUITIES OF FRANCE by Charles Roach Smith again.

He’s on holiday in the Cher valley, as I mentioned yesterday, and he’s been to Tours and several other places in the vicinity. Today, he’s been at Lançey and Doué.

At Doué is a kind of amphitheatre and Roach Smith has heard that it’s Roman so he goes to have a look. However, he starts to become suspicious when he sees the windows in the subterranean galleries, saying "it has been suggested, without plausible reason, that these windows are of later date."

However, by the end of his visit, he’s saying that the author Hadrian de Valois suggests that it is "the ruins of a palace built by one of the Carlovingian kings". And while our author was a little sceptical of that claim, later history has proved Hadrian de Valois to be perfectly correct.

After breakfast the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I came in here to do some work. I was interrupted, though, by my faithful cleaner, who messaged me to say that she had a load of drying space empty and with the wind, washing would dry in double-quick time. My drying space is occupied by the Hound of the Baskervilles at the moment, so I took advantage of the offer and she came down to collect the washing when it was ready.

When they came back from their walkies, we went outside. We coupled up the battery to the vehicle but to no avail. There was not a spark from the battery and nothing would work. After trying out several tests, we came to the conclusion that it was totally dead.

However, the deep discharge battery that took the charge from the solar panels had enough charge in it to power the little 12-volt air compressor so we tried it with a pair of jump leads. There wasn’t enough charge to turn over the starter so when we finished outside, which was not straight away, I promise you, we brought it in here and it’s now on a trickle charge to put some more life into it and wel’ll try again tomorrow.

At that point, we stopped for coffee and had a rest, following which I had work to do, so I came in here. The work that had been “can you tell me about …” had now become “could you send me some street views of …” so I was roaming virtually all over South Cheshire and North Staffordshire, taking screenshots of various places and still describing them as I went along.

Tea was thus late tonight. We had baked potato, salad and some of my lovely vegan nuggets. They really went down well too.

After I’d washed up, I came in here and finished off the work that I’d been doing, ready to start my notes for the day. And it’s so late that I’m glad that it’s a lie-in tomorrow. When was the last time that I was up and still working at 02:30?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the folding stuff … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a scene from CARRY ON FOLLOW THAT CAMEL, although heavily paraphrased.
Client – "can you carry out this task for me, Mr Hall?"
Me – "not unless you say the magic words."
Client "Oh stop messing about. You’ll be well-paid!"
Me – "ahhh! So you know the magic words then!"

0

Saturday 23rd May 2026 – TODAY WAS NOT …

… as exciting as yesterday, which was a pity. But still, it was quite enjoyable, from what I remember of it.

Last night, I was late as usual finishing everything off and it can’t have been much before 23:30 when I finally crawled under the quilt. It wasn’t as comfortable as the other night, even in my favourite sleeping position, but I managed to go to sleep in the end.

Yes, asleep I was until all of … 03:00, when I needed to leave the bed for obvious reasons. But back in here shortly afterwards, I didn’t have any trouble at all falling asleep again.

That lasted until 06:29, when the alarm went off, and at that moment I was away with the fairies again, although not in any manner that would excite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine.

When the alarm went off, I was watching a boy and a girl going somewhere, walking across a deserted beach, but that was as far as it went before the alarm went off.

This is another one of those dreams that have a story behind them, but it’s a story that the World is not yet ready to hear. And it’s another one that I wish I could have seen the end so that I knew how it turned out.

There was no movement from next door so once I’d summoned up the energy to leave the bed, I slid over to the computer and did some work.

Round about 07:45 there were signs of movement in the lounge so I went in to join them, just in time to witness the coffee starting to boil. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … “what a way to start the day!”

To our surprise, when the doorbell rang and the nurse came in, not only did the Hound of the Baskervilles not bark, he paid no attention whatever. He must be getting used to the regular 08:15 – 08:30 daily visit.

After he had seen to my legs and feet … "the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … he cleared off, and I could go to make breakfast. And while I was eating, I read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

We’re still discussing coins at the moment, the hundreds and hundreds that they found at Richborough. There seem to be three guys, of whom our author is one, who had substantial collections of coins from there, some of which … "the coins, not the men" – ed … were unique and must have been worth a fortune. All this, of course, in 1841 with no government control whatsoever.

After breakfast, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I came in here to do some work. And by the end of the afternoon, having had several interruptions, I’d selected, reformatted, remixed and re-edited ten tracks for the next radio programme that I’ll be preparing.

It’s going to be a difficult programme to prepare because I only have a choice of thirty-six songs, not a couple of thousand as usual. And with a precise timing arrangement, it will take some juggling about. I shall have to write the notes with plenty of subsidiary facts that I can edit out if necessary.

One of the interruptions was my friend going out. He’s fallen in love with the local couscous restaurant and so, as a treat, he took himself off for a midday meal. That left me not holding the baby but babysitting the Hound of the Baskervilles. He wasn’t very happy about being left behind and came in here for a couple of strokes.

There were also the home-made croissants to prepare for tomorrow. They are all now prepared and ready, in the fridge awaiting tomorrow where they’ll be brushed with milk and baked.

As well as that, I fell asleep a few times this afternoon. Windows in here wide open, sea mist rolling around outside suddenly pierced by a few incredible rays of sunlight that warmed up my right shoulder and back and raised the temperature in my room to a wonderful 24°C, which encouraged me to take it easy and relax.

All of that was up until teatime.

Tonight’s recipe was baked potato with cheese, a vegan salad and a couple of those breadcrumbed soya fillets that I like so much. And not only did I like tonight’s tea, my friend did too. My culinary delights are spreading around Europe.

Tomorrow is, of course, pizza day and then on Monday, my friend will be making tea while I’m in dialysis. I wonder if he realises it yet.

But that’s tomorrow and Monday. Right now, I’m off to bed, ready for my lie in … "he thinks" – ed … tomorrow. However, I did mention to my friend that if there’s coffee made before I awaken, there’s a bedside table behind the head of my bed with space for a mug. The smeel will awaken me just long enough to drink it.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … my friend was telling me that he’d heard from the local bar that the dog had leapt out of the window and gone down there.
When the Hound of the Baskervilles arrived, he asked for a glass of beer.
"Certainly" replied the barman, fetching a beer. "That’s ten euros, please. By the way, we don’t get many talking dogs coming here, you know."
"I’m not surprised" said the Hound of the Baskervilles "if you’re selling your beer at ten euros a glass!"

0

Monday 13th April 2026 – THIS EVENING, I …

… have had my first cooked evening meal for almost two weeks. And about time too, because one or two things in the fridge and vegetable drawer are beginning to look rather fruity, and I see that I shall probably have a good clear-out at some point soon. I hate throwing food away, but sometimes, keeping stuff like that goes beyond a joke.

And actually, I was looking forward to a hot meal too. After my chocolate cake and home-made ice cream last night, I was definitely feeling hungry. But I resisted the temptation until after dialysis this afternoon.

Instead, I came back in here to write up my notes and do everything else that I have to do. However, I still managed to run rather late and it was 22:00 or maybe a little later that I finally crawled into bed.

Not that I slept all the way through to the alarm, though. I awoke at one point for the usual reason and had to leave the bed. Not that I’m complaining, because all of this keeps the weight down for dialysis. I’ve no idea what time it was either. I didn’t look and I didn’t care.

Once back in bed, though, I slept right the way through to the alarm, which probably did me a world of good.

When the alarm finally went off, it took the usual struggle for me to rise to my feet and wander off to the bathroom, and what with having a shave too, I was late going into the kitchen. Never mind though, my usual glass of hot lemon, ginger and honey has been replaced on Dialysis Day with just a small mouthful of water. As I said just now, keeping my weight down for dialysis is the most important thing at the moment.

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

There was something about a young male ballet dancer who had begun to dance with a troupe and there were a lot of high expectations placed upon him, but as time went by, he didn’t fulfil those expectations and drifted off into a sort of middle range of professionalism. He ended up at one point at Y Fflint, where the music hall director was in despair about his inability to try to represent the sound on a computer, but they needed to keep the sound whilst trying to … fell asleep here …

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’m actually asleep when I’m dictating. But what happens at times like this is that I suddenly go silent and then you can hear the heavy breathing as I fall into a deeper sleep.

As for the dream itself, it means nothing to me. Y Fflint probably relates to the Welsh Cup Final on Sunday but nothing else seems to go anywhere. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I just type out whatever is on the dictaphone. If there ever is any editing, it’s just for things like grammar and so on and has nothing to do with the content. If the content is too gruesome for delicate ears, I don’t print it but put a little note in there instead.

The nurse turned up as usual, full of happiness and joy because he’s off on his week’s break this evening. We had a chat about dialysis, seeing as he was formerly a nurse in a dialysis clinic, and then he left to continue his rounds.

Once he’d gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Our author is off on his hasty “speculations and conclusions” again.

We’re talking about Roman roads, and today he tells us that "two imperfect itineraries, giving us the names and distances from each other of the towns and stations on the principal military roads, have been preserved; the first is contained in the great Itinerarium of the Roman Empire, which goes under the name of Antoninus and is believed to have been compiled about AD 320. The other is contained in the work of Richard of Cirencester and is supposed to have been copied by a monk of the fourteenth century from an older itinerary or map. They differ a little from each other, but our faith in Richard’s itinerary is strengthened by the circumstance that nearly all the roads he gives which are not in Antoninus have been ascertained to exist."

In fact, the work of “Richard of Cirencester” has been proved for almost 200 years to be a pure fabrication, created in about 1750 AD, based on the Antonine Itinerary and its author’s rather fertile imagination.

He continues by saying that Ermine Street "proceeded in a direct line to Durolipons, the site of which is fixed without doubt at Godmanchester", whereas all the evidence today points to it being the site of Cambridge.

Back in here, I had a radio programme to check before I sent it off. And it’s a good job that it did because it needed a little tweaking. And then I could press on with reviewing my Welsh, because the lessons start up again tomorrow.

My cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi. but not too long, because he was early today.

We had two other people to pick up en route but even so, I arrived at dialysis early. Even luckier, I didn’t have to wait too long to be plugged in either. The fact that it’s the thirteenth and that I was put into bed thirteen has proved to be lucky for me.

And the luck continued too. My weight was down to such an extent that there was nothing to remove. Nevertheless, I persuaded the nurse to take out 500 grammes just for form’s sake.

After she left and went off to another patient, the doctor came along before she had the chance to talk to him about my weight. So he looked at the chart and simply, with no further enquiry, also increased the debit by another 500 grammes. I, of course, said nothing.

Before he left, he gave me my usual three-monthly lecture about chatting up the nurses, but what do I care? I’m far too old to change my habits now. And I don’t care if he reads this either.

During the session, I was left pretty much alone, which suits me fine. But I had a lovely chat with the nurse who came to unplug me. And when I weighed myself, I found myself to be at the lowest weight at which I’ve been for thirty years, when I used to go running around the streets of Brussels late at night.

And my luck continued. It was my favourite taxi driver who came to pick me up, and as we were on our own, we had a good chat about cats all the way home.

My cleaner was waiting for me when we arrived and she helped me back into the apartment. I was feeling a little light-headed after this dialysis session today.

Back in here, after she left, I had a baked potato with cheese and veg, followed by chocolate cake and home-made ice cream. Not too much, because I need to break myself into eating again after all of this time. I’d be really ill if I tried a binge session, rather like one of the Donner Party of emigrants who, after being stranded in a snowdrift for six months, upon rescue, ate to death, quite literally.

So right now, I’m off to bed for a good night’s sleep before my lesson tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the contents of my dreams … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a famous exchange that took place between Doctor Finlay and his faithful servant Janet in Dr Kenlay’s Feesbook or whatever it was called back in the 1960s.
"Ohhh Doctor Finlay: It’s gruesome."
"Och aye, Janet. Look again. it’s gruesome more."

0

Saturday 21st March 2026 — I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone from last night. And, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, that’s something that fills me full of dismay. So boring is my life these days, compared to how it used to be, that the only excitement that I seem to have is whatever goes on during the night. And so a night with nowhere to go is really depressing.

Not that it was particularly early. As usual, things seemed to drag on and on, and it was about 23:15 when I was ready to crawl into my stinking pit, having moved all of the rubbish off the bed.

Once in bed, I fell asleep quite quickly and there I stayed until a mega-coughing fit awoke me. I’ve no idea what time it was because I was too depressed to check. But there I lay, in that kind of no-man’s land between sleeping, being awake, and dozing off, all the way through until the alarm went off at 06:29.

And once again, I had a real battle with myself to leave the bed at that moment. It’s becoming harder and harder to force myself right out of bed these days.

In the bathroom, I had a wash, and then I washed my undies ready for next time. In the kitchen, I made my hot lemon, ginger and honey drink and took my medication, and then I came back in here.

With no dictaphone notes to transcribe, I had a look at the highlights from last night’s football. Llanelli went down to Cardiff Metro, as expected, but the TNS v Colwyn Bay game had a very unexpected result.

Colwyn Bay have NEVER beaten TNS, and as the match was bing played at TNS’s ground, no-one expected any difference. Colwyn Bay did, however, take the lead, but we all expected it to be just delaying the inevitable.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall that the other day, I mentioned TNS’s rather … errr … pedestrian defence and how a quick ball over the top and a couple of rapid wingers rushing on could create havoc. Sure enough, a long clearance out of Colwyn Bay’s defence, right over the top of the TNS defence, saw the ex-Greenock Morton striker Jordan Davies rush on after it.

A panic-stricken TNS ‘keeper rushed right off his line to try to clear, but missed the ball and scythed down Davies. Result — a red card and a free kick.

Later on, Colwyn Bay scored a second, and although TNS hit the woodwork twice, the score finished 0-2 in favour of Colwyn Bay. You can SEE THE HIGHLIGHTS HERE

Isabelle the Nurse turned up, full of good humour as usual. This time, she managed to avoid hurting my foot, which was good news, and she soon left. I reminded her before she went that she might probably find me in bed tomorrow when she calls;

After she had gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Having told us yesterday about how well the Greeks were being treated by the Ottomans, he goes on today to tell us about some of the atrocities that they committed. It should be said, however, that most of them were committed after a rebellion or something like that.

There was however the terrible tax on children. Every year, the Ottomans would come to each Greek town or island to select a number of children, and carry them back to their cities. The boys, they would train them as Janissaries, the elite formations of the Ottoman army. The fate of the girls needs no description.

On another subject, he tells us that a convent was opened in Athens by a nun called Philothee Benizelou. Our author informs us that "she has left a most uncomplimentary description of the Athenians of her day, with whom she had some pecuniary difficulties and upon whom she showers a string of abusive epithets in the best classical style"

A woman after my own heart. My next task will be to find a copy of her writings.

Back in here, I had thing to do, and then I made a start on trying to make the new computer work.

First thing was to further dismantle the old computer. I removed the graphics card (complete with HDMI port) and then went to install it in the new one. That was not as easy as it might have been either — it needed some adjustment to the case to make it fit because the face of the graphics card covers two whole bays.

Having done that, I was still no further on, so I carried on my unplugging one by one everything that I’d plugged in yesterday. And it was after I’d removed one bar of additional RAM that the machine suddenly sprung into life. So there’s a short-circuit in one of the bars of RAM then.

So once, the computer was up and running, it now became necessary to install my suite of preferred programs, and as usual, that takes a very long time.

While it was doing its stuff, I was busy tidying up all of the bits and pieces and putting them away. Then, I had endless hours of fun trying to put the box and packaging up onto the top shelf of the unit by the door. And that wasn’t as easy as it might have been either, at least, for me.

Round about 16:00, I knocked off … "for the moment" – ed … and went into the kitchen.

A few weeks ago, I’d talked about making a trifle for a pudding. I’d found a recipe for making vegan jelly, involving agar-agar and fruit juice, so armed with a carton of grape juice, some agar-agar, some sugar, and a pear, I set to work.

And do you know what? It’s set to perfection!

Tomorrow, I’m going to make some really thick custard to pour all over it, and when it’s all cooled, I’ll whip up some vegan topping to pour all over it. It should be wonderful.

We had football on the internet later – Y Bala v Hwlffordd. Y Bala are next-to-bottom and ripe for relegation whilst Hwlffordd are seventh and pushing for the European play-offs. But Hwlffordd were absolutely awful today, the worst that I have ever seen them play. And while Y Bala were very … errr … agricultural, they played with a fire and an enthusiasm that I haven’t seen for ages, and their 1-0 victory, their first home win in 142 days, was well-earned.

Tea tonight was a burger on a bap with a baked potato and veg in butter, followed by vegan cheesecake. And it was a lovely tea. I enjoyed every mouthful of it. It will set me up nicely for my lie-in tomorrow, I hope.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about writing in the best classical style … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’m reminded of a family who sent their son to one of the best European schools in Brussels so that he could have a good multicultural and classical education.
One of the family’s neighbours asked them "and how is his education going?"
"It’s wonderful" said the boy’s mother. "In no time at all, he could write home asking for money in seventeen different languages."

0

Saturday 14th March 2026 – MY VEGAN CHEESECAKE …

… is magnificent!

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I posted on here a few days ago about the dessert that I should make once my birthday cake is finished. And while most of the suggestions that I received were totally unprintable in a family-orientated blog, there wasn’t a one that made any suggestions about making a vegan dessert.

Consequently, I had to put on my thinking cap and try to invent something.

It’s a good job that I didn’t have my thinking cap on last night, because I probably would have ended up with even less sleep than I actually had. Despite pushing on as best as I could and trying all I could to avoid distractions, it was 23:30 exactly when I crawled into bed.

As usual, I managed to go off to sleep quite quickly, but once again, it wasn’t for long. At 04:20, I was wide awake again, awoken by a stabbing pain in the foot and a desperate fit of coughing.

An hour later, I was still wide awake, but I must have gone to sleep at some point because the alarm at 06:29 awoke me from a really deep slumber.

When the alarm went off, I was round at my father’s. He had an old Ford Transit van and had completely emptied it. He was going through, scraping all the mud out of the body panels and recesses because he was going to weld a new floor into it. When I had a look, I thought to myself that it’s not before time that he’s doing this. He was finding all sorts of stuff. Then he was talking about a transport company called Fitzgerald’s – apparently, I’d met them once at some kind of party but I didn’t remember. He said that Fitzgerald had told him that the company was going under. My father said that he wasn’t surprised because they were very expensive and, of course, freight has become a cutthroat industry these days. He poured a cup of coffee for me, which I drank, but it tasted weird. Then he asked me if I would make another one, so I went to wash the pan in which he’d boiled the water, and there were all the remains of boiled tomatoes in it. I thought “no wonder the coffee had tasted awful” so I went to wash it in the swimming pool there. There was a girl there who might have been Roxanne so I just picked her up and threw her into the pool and then tried to wash the pan. However, the pan was caught around the tap, and the handle broke off. I thought that this was a catastrophe. I played “peek-a-boo” with this little girl for a minute, she diving her head under the water and me ducking my head down so that I could see her under the water through the glass. Then my father came along and said to the little girl, “Eric must have put a lot of effort into throwing you into that swimming pool. I could see him straining every muscle”.

In the past, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, our family has owned all kinds of disreputable motor vehicles, many of which wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a public highway today and probably shouldn’t have been back in those days either.

However, my father was a motor mechanic by profession and in my earnest desire to out-do him, I learnt quite quickly by experience, and I also took night school courses in welding, paint spraying and lathe operation. Between us, we could keep almost anything on the road and running, although the hydraulic tappets on that Vanden Plas 4.0 with the Rolls-Royce engine had us beat for a long, long time.

When Laurence, Roxanne and I used to go to Spain to visit Roxanne’s grandfather, I used to throw Roxanne into the swimming pool on regular occasions, especially when she wasn’t expecting it. She used to squeal but she loved every minute of it.

As for making coffee with water in a dirty pan, that wouldn’t surprise me at all.

As usual, it took a few minutes for me to struggle to my feet, and then I staggered off to the bathroom for a good wash. There were also the undies to wash. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s important for me to keep on top of the washing of clothes like that.

In the kitchen, I made my hot drink and then took my medication. And then I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

I was doing something with several sheets of glass last night, picking them up off different piles, each pile that represented a country in the EU. I was washing one of them so that I could build some kind of fortress somewhere on behalf of each of the countries, but that’s all that I remember of this.

A fort made of glass wouldn’t be of much use now, would it? It makes me wish that I could remember the rest of this dream so that I could find out what happened.

Later on, I was watching a football match involving Pionsat. Twice, from corner kicks down in the far left-hand corner, the Pionsat winger kicked the ball far too hard and sent it completely out of play on the full on the other side of the pitch. I thought that Pionsat couldn’t afford to waste all of these little moments that they have, because they aren’t a very good side and they need all the breaks they can get. A high ball into the penalty area can cause enough confusion to enable them to sneak a goal every now and again, particularly when they have all the players running in as the ball is kicked. But no, both of them went way out of play on the full without bouncing.

This is one thing that bugs me in a lot of football matches these days. The quality of freekicks and corners is pretty abysmal. As I said during the dream, a high ball right into the centre of the goalmouth can cause chaos and panic, and every now and again, something will come out of it.

But most clubs these days seem to want to mess about with the ball in all kinds of fancy tricks, most of which usually lead to them losing possession.

However, dear reader, read on ….

The nurse turned up as usual, just as I was in the middle of a really interesting chat with a couple of friends. I had to go off instead to have him see to my feet.

And today, he managed to avoid touching my really bad right foot. Instead, he dropped the heavy stool right onto it, and I was in agony for hours.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, we’re reading about how the Marquisate of Boudonitza held out desperately against the Ottomans for many years until 1414, when the Sultan Mohamed I finally captured it. Now, we’ve moved on to discuss Ithaca, the legendary home of Odysseus, if we are to believe the Ancient Greek authors.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I made a start on editing some radio notes that I’d dictated a while back.

After a while, I had to stop because there was football on the internet – Y Fflint v Y Bala.

This was a game that Y Bala had to win if they were to have any chance whatever of avoiding relegation, and so they went at it hammer and tongs. Y Fflint could also have done with a win to haul themselves further away from the relegation zone, but for some reason, Y Bala’s aggressive start to the game knocked Y Fflint out of its stride.

Y Bala had the ball in the back of the net but it was ruled out for an offside, something that was disputed by many people in Cae y Castell this afternoon. Y Fflint took the lead – from a high ball floated in from a corner – but Y Bala equalised, from a high ball in from the wing.

So we had two poor teams rampaging at each other from one end to the other throughout the whole ninety minutes and playing the game as it ought to be played, in my opinion.

But a 1-1 draw? Leaving aside the “offside” goal, in the immediate build-up to Y Bala’s goal, I saw a handball by Y Bala’s Australian striker Jacob Tarasenko, and I would have awarded a penalty to Y Fflint for a blatant shirt-tugging that prevented a Fflint player from reaching a ball in the penalty area.

However that wasn’t all. Another thing that really gets my goat is this modern fascination of “playing it out from the back”, which has led to more disasters and calamities than games that it has won.

But not Joel Torrance in the Bala goal. The former Salford City keeper just kicked the ball as far upfield as he could, and that caused continual panic and chaos to the Fflint defence throughout the game. Why more teams don’t do this, especially against TNS whose central defence is … errr … somewhat “pedestrian” I really don’t know.

Y Fflint’s manager, Lee Fowler, was very dismissive of the game, but I for one quite enjoyed it.

After the football, I went into the kitchen to make my cheesecake.

This was a recipe that I saw in a magazine, and when I looked at it, I reckoned that I could transform it into a vegan recipe with no problems at all, especially as I now have a regular supply of aquafaba, now that I know that it can be frozen.

And it worked too – and in spades. When I sampled some for pudding later, it was absolutely delicious and I’ll make some more like that too.

One thing that I needed was some soya yoghurt, but my faithful cleaner couldn’t find any yesterday. However, just as I’d put it into the oven, she came in waving a pack of six around.

While I was at it, I made some more croissants too. And these also worked in spades. They didn’t have any of the really cheap flaky pastry, so this is the next price up – and it seems to make all the difference.

There was still an hour or so for tea so I finished off editing the radio programme, preparing the two halves, choosing the joining track and preparing it, and then writing the notes.

Tea tonight was falafel with vegan salad and baked potato with cheese, followed by cheesecake. And I’m still not enjoying the first course as much as I used to just recently. I think that my appetite might be changing again.

But not now, because I’m off to bed, ready for my important Sunday lie-in, if the nurse doesn’t drop anything else on my foot while I’m in bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about cars … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’m reminded of an American who was in a bar in Ireland doing his usual American stunt of “showing off”.
"Your farms are so small and pathetic" he said. "Why, back in Texas, I could get into my car and at the end of three days’ driving I still wouldn’t have reached the boundary of my land."
"I know exactly how you feel there." replied a local at the end of the bar.
"You do?" exclaimed the American, incredulously.
"Oh yes" replied the local. "I used to have a car like that myself."

0

Saturday 7th March 2026 – THIS REALLY BUSY …

… spell that I had yesterday and the day before seems to have continued today too. Mind you, I let a really golden opportunity slip through my fingers, but more of that anon.

Last night, it was another late night … "as it will be tonight" – ed … and it was again about 23:15 when I finally struggled into bed after I’d finished listening to Colosseum.

Once again, I managed to go to sleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until all of … errr … 04:01 precisely when I awoke. It was too early to raise myself from the Dead so I lay there vegetating, being totally unable to go back to sleep.

At what I thought would be about 05:30, I thought that I may as well leave the bed and dictate the radio notes that I’ve been writing, but on checking the time, I found that it was actually 06:05 and the alarm would be going off very shortly.

That was certainly a missed opportunity – I could have dictated all of the radio notes and been totally up-to-date again in that respect, but at 06:05, it’s far too late to make a start.

Nevertheless, I managed to raise myself into a sitting position, and by 06:20 I was up and about and heading to the bathroom. An early start, sure enough, but not the early start that I wanted or needed.

After a really good wash, I went into the kitchen and now that I have some fresh lemons thanks to Leclerc, I could make my drink correctly and take my medication.

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

I was on my way to see some friends. I arrived in a city and I was on a bus, and because my mobility is restricted, I ended up in a hotel in the city centre in the early afternoon. The first thing that I did was to ask a few questions to a kind of robot writer. I wrote down some questions and it wrote out the answers, then it asked me if there was anything else that I needed. I said that I had to speak to some friends so the first thing that I did was to write “hello” to one of my friends, but I didn’t receive a reply, so I sent another brief message to one of my friends. She wrote back to say that she was pleased to see me and that the papers that I wanted were outside her lock-up garage in some kind of 17th- or 18th-century box, and this is the time when most neighbours won’t really complain about people hanging around there, so maybe I would like to go along and move them. I explained that I was not able to travel and couldn’t make it up there on my own, so she came back with a message “would you like me to prepare a meal for you?”. I was hoping to see my other friend who wasn’t in, but nevertheless I replied “yes, that would be really nice”. Then she told me about how she could make some kind of container. I sent back “what? Do you mean out of a lump of bread?” but she replied “no, out of a lump of butter”. I thought that that was not going to be a very good idea at all, to try to make a container out of a lump of butter.

It’d been a long time since I’ve thought about a robot writer – the 1960s and 1970s precursor to Artificial Intelligence and the display screen.

But of course, there’s the phenomenon of “automatic writing”, where some people can go into a trance while holding a pen, and it’s as if another being takes over and begins to write with your arm, hand and pen, with you having no control over it.

That’s something that has happened to me, and I’d love to know in what language you’d find the words ” XDFVV CHXWD BBBQC”.

Making a container out of a lump of butter would be interesting too. I hope that it wouldn’t be for holding hot food.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and sorted out my legs and feet, being really delicate around the sole of my right foot as the pain was back this morning. She was running late for a blood test so she couldn’t hang around.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, we’re dealing with the winding down of the Frankish empire in modern Greece, the attacks by the Catalans, the Navarese and the Genoese, and the capture and sack of Constantinople in 1453 by the Ottomans.

The Ottomans are now preparing to move into Greece, and this is probably the saddest part of the whole procedure

During the morning (and some of the afternoon) I’ve been rearranging the things in the kitchen drawers, making it all more user-friendly. I’ve now ended up with a large drawer completely empty, and my cunning plan is to move all of the medication into it instead of having it lying scattered around all over various shelves and drawers. It will be much nicer, much more user-friendly and a lot less dispiriting when I don’t have to look at it every time I’m in the living room.

There was football at lunchtime, Y Fflint v Dinas Bangor, in the semi-final of the Welsh Cup. Bangor, from the third tier, were hoping to be the first club from their level to reach the final but Y Fflint, struggling in the Premier League, are hoping to win the cup for the first time since 1954.

Unfortunately, despite having done so well to reach the semi-finals, it was one step too far for Bangor. What stood out for me was the difference in quality between the Fflint and the Bangor players, which is only to be expected. Y Fflint were much quicker to the ball and seemed to be able to find a colleague with a pass, even when under a lot of pressure.

But congrats to Y Fflint and commiserations to Bangor.

And also congratulations to former JD Cymru League striker Will Evans, who played for Cardiff Metropolitan and Y Bala. Now playing in the English First Division with Mansfield Town, today he scored a goal against Arsenal to go with the one that he scored against Manchester United a couple of years ago.

Tomorrow, we had a first-v-second division encounter between Caernarfon and Y Rhyl, which you CAN WATCH HERE at 13:15 UK time, 14:15 CET or 08:15 Toronto time.

The rest of the day, I’ve been editing some of the radio notes that I’d dictated in that mad session the other morning. I managed to deal with no fewer than five programmes – admittedly only the notes for joining tracks – and now that’s five more radio programmes totally completed, all the way up to 2nd October. As I said, I want my radio shows to live on after I’ve gone.

There was even time to begin the research on yet another radio programme, in addition to the one that I began yesterday. This one today will take me all the way up to 27th November.

Tea tonight was the last of these breadcrumbed nuggets that have been hanging around in the freezer since Adam was a lad, with vegan salad and a baked potato – with vegan cheese in the slits instead of vegan butter. It was followed by some of my birthday cake and home-made ice cream.

But as for the nuggets, there are a few that I’ve bought recently, and the aim is to take them out of their shop packaging and tip them into an old ice cream container so that they are better-protected in the freezer than in a plastic bag.

But anyway, that’s for tomorrow, maybe. Right now, I’m off to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Sack of Constantinople "well, one of us has" – ed … I asked one of my friends "did you know that the Ottomans sacked Constantinople in 1453?"
"Really?" he asked. "Who did they appoint instead?"

0

Monday 2nd March 2026 – ANOTHER EXCITING DAY …

… at dialysis, I don’t think. If I’m not careful, I shall die of boredom in there. As if I don’t have enough to do with my time as it is, and when you only have one hand that you can use because the other one is pinned to the side of the bed, it all becomes extremely complicated.

Having been going there for as long as I have, I can see why most of the patients in there just curl up and go to sleep.

Actually, that’s how I felt today, and I almost did fall asleep too, but then again, I had a very good reason to do so.

Last night, it wasn’t quite so late as it has been in the past. By the time that I finished everything that needed doing and crawled into my stinking pit, it was 23:20. Still much later than I would have liked, of course, but still earlier than some have been just recently.

What was the killer, though, was that I awoke at 05:20. And it was a case of leaving the bed at that moment too, without even five minutes to let the bedroom stop spinning around.

While I was up and about, I went for a wash and shave and to dress, and then I came back in here because it was far too early to go for my medication.

Instead, I took advantage of the early start and dictated the radio notes that I’d prepared since the last time that I’d had an early start. There were seven lots of programmes all told, and that was a Herculean effort to dictate them all and then upload them to the computer, but I’m glad that they are all done now and I’m up-to-date from that point of view.

Once I’d finished, I went off into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication, and then I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what I’d been up to during the night.

I was driving my taxi again last night, and there was something going on in the town centre, so I was there. I must have taken away about twenty fares. One of the very early ones was to go from the town centre with a girl whom I knew who worked in a restaurant there and drop her off at home down the West End. But every other single trip involved a trip down Gresty Road, and I couldn’t understand why everyone seemed to be heading that way. On the way back, on the corner where the Crewe Alex ground is, there was a huge church with lots of tourists milling around there. There were two or three taxis that were waiting there for fares in amongst the crowds, and there was some kind of official, like a tourist guide or something, amongst them. As I kept on going back there to the town centre, I kept on going into a kind of room. At one point, back in this room were some of the people whom I’d taken quite early on in the day, so we had a joke about the trip down the West End because that girl was back there too. I said “I’d have to take a photograph of you,” but she misunderstood it because she was a foreigner, and wondered what on earth kind of photograph I was thinking of. At one stage, I had to go into a different room. I was carrying something. The reason why was that I needed some kind of authority from someone senior, and I knew that the small rooms where the senior people hang out were down this corridor. And out of another room towards the room where I was standing came someone with whom I used to work years ago. We went into his room, and he said “I suppose that you’re going to come out with some kind of comment about photos too, aren’t you?”. Then I suddenly realised that this guy had commented on some photos on a social network, and his comments would not have been the kind that would have been approved today, although thirty or forty years ago, there would have been no remark made. I replied “oh no, but they were rather indiscreet, weren’t they?” to which he just gave a shrug.

This is one problem with living and working in a foreign language. Quite often, you might understand the words but not the actual meaning of the phrase, and this can lead to all kinds of double-entendres and misunderstandings.

But here I am again, driving taxis around Crewe and bumping into old work colleagues. And it’s true about how the UK, and probably many other countries in the Western World, have become more sanitised, and the kind of risqué or oblique comments that we used to use in the past suddenly became banned overnight – round about 1991 and 1992 when we began to have these “political correctness” lessons in the workplace. I remember that a lot of my more humorous cassette tapes that I used on the coaches were completely outlawed

There was also a dream about being down in the Isle of Thanet on holiday. I was walking along the beach, looking up at the promenade thinking “wouldn’t it be great if they dredged this out and they had ships coming along here to moor and anchor right up against the promenade? Then, my mother was talking to my father about the houses in the area. They were alternately grey and white, but we didn’t really know why. We went to visit someone whom we knew, who lived in one of these grey and white wooden wattle-and-daub type of cottage. We went into the kitchen, and I vaguely remember the kitchen from years ago and it looked different to me. She said “yes, there have been one or two changes here. Can you think of what’s missing?”. For some unknown reason, and I don’t know why, I mentioned a bookcase. She looked surprised, and she said “there used to be a bookcase just here”, pointing to an empty space on the wall, “but that’s long gone, and you’ve never seen it. It’s been long gone before you first ever came to this cottage”.

Firstly, there are several places in the World where different colours of houses represent different ethnic groups. Hungary and southwestern Newfoundland spring straight away to my mind, and I seem to recall that Romania does too, or used to.

As for the Isle of Thanet, though, my mother had distant relatives there and every summer, we’d go down there to stay with a great aunt or something, Dolly, Gertie or Mabel. On the Friday night after school broke up, our father would come home from work, we’d all pile into his van and drive through the night and next day down to either Birchington or Hamstreet.

He’d have a few hours’ sleep and then drive back Saturday night and Sunday, ready to start work again on Monday, and that was no picnic in the days before motorways and in a 1937 Fordson van with a three-speed gearbox.

And then he’d come back down for the final two weeks of our school holidays.

Incidentally, many years ago, I went down there myself for a good look around and to visit the places where we used to go. With the M6, M1, M25 and M2, the journey from Crewe to Birchington took just under four hours.

The nurse turned up as usual and was in a chatty mood, hardly surprising because he’s on his week’s break as of this evening. He didn’t stay long, and I could push on, make my breakfast and read my new book, ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Our author is coming to the close of the period of the Roman occupation, so naturally we’re discussing the religious disputes and also the gathering clouds on the horizon as Alaric and his Huns, various Visigoths and a few Ostrogoths are heading towards Athens and the other Greek cities.

The next few years look to be fairly bleak from a Greek point of view.

Back in here, I reviewed a radio programme that will be broadcast this weekend and, satisfied with how it runs, I sent it off for inclusion in the broadcasting stream. There were a few other things to do, and then I made a start on the next radio programme. All of the music has been chosen and prepared, and I’ve made a start on pairing and segueing it.

My cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic to my arm, and then I had to wait for the taxi. He was more-or-less on time but there were two other passengers to pick up, and as one of them was late for her appointment, we had to drop her off first and I ended up being the last to be dropped off.

At the dialysis clinic, it was one of the new nurses who attended to me. She’d had a very bad experience on Thursday connecting me, what with the machine breaking down and all that, so naturally she was extremely nervous today. I tried to encourage her but even so, it wasn’t far short of 15:00 when I was finally connected.

Nothing exciting happened there today apart from that, but the doctor came to see me to see if everything had been OK over the weekend. What could I say? Nothing ever changes around here.

Eventually, hours late, I was unplugged, but at least the taxi was already here. It was the young chatty driver who came for me, although I would quite happily have swapped for my favourite lady driver who had come for someone else. But anyway, we had a good chat on the way home.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me when I arrived, and she helped me into the apartment.

After she left, I warmed up my half-pizza from yesterday and for a change, I had a small baked potato with it. It was followed by an apricot half and home-made ice cream.

So right now, I’m off to bed, ready to catch up on the sleep that I missed last night.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about double entendres … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once asked me if I’d heard the story about the girl from Crewe who went into a pub and asked for a double-entendre.
"No, I hadn’t" I replied. "What happened?"
"The barman gave her one."

0

Saturday 28th February 2026 – I HAVE JUST …

… watched one of the best football matches that I have ever seen.

Of course, watching a good match is always quite enjoyable, but when it involves TNS not only being beaten but also royally stuffed by a real Welsh football team, and in a Cup Final too, that really is the icing on the cake.

It’s a match to which I’ve been looking forward all weekend, and so last night, I decided to have an early night so that I would really be in the best of form to watch it.

Of course, what I decide to do and what actually happens are not the same thing, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. And so none of my faithful readers will be in the least surprised to hear that it was 23:50 when I finally made it into bed.

Yes, it was that late. I really don’t know where the time goes these days. No matter what I try to do, it’s very rare that I can beat my curfew time of 22:30.

Once in bed, though, I was asleep quite quickly, and that’s the last thing that I remember until the alarm went off at 06:29. It was another night when I don’t believe that I moved a muscle at all.

As seems to be the case these days, I struggled to make it into the bathroom, but I finally managed it and had a good wash, a change of clothes and a handwashing session. I need to keep on top of my socks and undies, otherwise I’ll run out of stock.

In the kitchen, I made my hot drink and took my medication, including the Vitamin B12 and Vitamin D supplements that the people at dialysis are insisting that I take. It’s only once a month, and I usually always forget to take them.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what was going on during the night.

One of my neighbours had a car parked on their property for a couple of months and I had my eye on it. Then, they announced that they were selling it but the price that they wanted for it was way out of my pocket and way out of what I thought it was worth, so I was rather disappointed with them about this. But we ended up walking into Crewe, walking down Delamere Street towards the post office one early Saturday morning. I had a letter to write and I needed a stamped envelope, so I thought that I’d go into the post office to buy one, but I suspected that if the post office were open at this time, there would be quite a queue inside. So we went and opened the door, and there was really a queue, quite a long one in there in fact, and they were all at one counter because there was just one counter open. Someone was arguing with someone about small change, saying that they’d had to go all the way to Chester this morning to fetch some small change, so they are rather careful about how they give it out. Eventually, the queue divided into two as another window opened. There was a young girl who went up to the window and handed over a ring. She asked if she could change this engagement ring for a single person’s ring. A couple of people felt sorry for her, but I seemed to remember that this girl had been engaged three or four times before, but it had all broken off, so I wondered what was happening now with this latest one. Then she explained that she’d like to have the money back, and have it back quickly, because everyone will remember what happened when she used a cheque last time she had to buy something. I for one didn’t know what she meant, but I imagined that one or two other people in this queue must have known or something like that.

In the past, I would always have been interested in cars parked up for ages in neighbours’ gardens, but these days, there’s not a car being made anywhere in the World that is of any interest to me.

The story about the Post Office is perfectly true, though. Go in there at any normally busy time, and there would only be one window open of the five or six available. And I know who the girl was too. She was a colleague of Nerina’s when Nerina worked at Crewe before she moved to Stockport, who was also in the same school year as my brother.

Interestingly, going to Chester for small change was an interesting point. When I had my taxis, we had the contract for the local McDonald’s. They could only ever use approved products supplied by the franchise and never buy anything in a local shop. There are several occasions when we had to run to the Wrexham outlet for a bag of lettuce or to the Chester one for some cartons of milk, that kind of thing. I remember once, the Saturday before Christmas, having to go to Wrexham for lettuce, taking Nerina with me, dropping her off at a supermarket there to do our Christmas shopping while I went to pick up the lettuce.

That was the kind of pressure under which we were living. We never had five minutes to ourselves to relax. No wonder our marriage didn’t last.

The nurse turned up as usual to sort out my feet and legs, and we had a chat about Welsh football. I’m not quite sure why because it’s a very specialised subject.

After he left, I made breakfast and began my new book, ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A. Miller, having finished the previous one about plants at Calleva Atrebates.

This book goes back to 1921 and refers to the history of Greece under the Roman and then the Byzantine Empire, something about which I really ought to know much more.

Everyone knows about the “Franks” — the crusaders who passed through there on their way to the Holy Land and who seemed to spend more time fighting the Byzantines as they crossed that empire than they ever did fighting the Saracens to free the Holy Land — but that’s about the extent of my knowledge. I really ought to be doing better than that.

Back in here, I had something of a footfest with the highlights of last night’s matches in Wales. They were quite entertaining, but there was nothing remarkable about any of them.

In fact, it was quite a leisurely late morning, with the monotony being broken by a series of ‘phone calls about a missing letter. I posted it (or, rather, my faithful cleaner did) on the 12th February, but it’s still not been received and the action to which it refers took place today. I had to find a copy of the letter and e-mail it.

This afternoon, after my disgusting drink break, I attacked yet another pile of radio notes, as I said yesterday that I would. And now they are edited and the two halves of the programme have been prepared. The joining track has been chosen and remixed etc, and the notes are written ready for typing. This means that I can have a complete day off tomorrow. Won’t that be nice?

Round about 17:30, I went and prepared tea because there won’t be much time later. We had the football match to watch instead.

It was the League Cup Final with TNS, odds-on favourites to win (as usual), against rank outsiders Y Barri.

Usually, games involving TNS, the only full-time club in the league with a squad that cost a fortune, involve a backs-to-the-wall approach with the opposition penned back in their own penalty area with piles of desperate defending. However, I’ve noticed a weakness in TNS’s defence, and that is that they are very susceptible to the ball “over the top” with a quick forward rushing onto the ball. And Y Barri have the two quickest forwards in the league in Ieuan Owen and Ollie Hulbert

Y Barri took the game to TNS right from the start and actually had TNS pinned in their own penalty area for long periods of the game. And when the TNS goalkeeper couldn’t hang on to the ball from a cross into the penalty area, Ieuan Owen was the first to reach the loose ball, and that was Y Barri 1-0 up.

As the second half wore on, you could see that Y Barri were tiring rapidly, and it was a question of whether they could hang on. But as we entered injury time, we had Ieuan Owen reacting first to a loose ball about twenty-five yards out of the TNS goal, and what followed was the best goal that you are ever likely to see at this level of football. HOW ABOUT THIS?

That wasn’t all the excitement either. The match finished in a good old-fashioned brawl involving just about every one of the twenty-two players, all of the staff and all of the substitutes on the bench.

After that, I went and had the tea that I’d prepared – baked potato, vegan salad and one of those breadcrumbed quorn fillets that I like, followed by ginger cake and home-made ice cream

Now though, I’m off to bed, hoping for a good lie-in tomorrow. I certainly deserve it, but we shall have to see about that.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my new book … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends asked me what book I was reading at the moment.
"It’s called ‘Essays on the Latin Orient’" I replied.
"Oh yes" she said. "Weren’t they promoted to League One a couple of seasons ago?"

0