Tag Archives: Caligula

Monday 29th December 2025 – I AM FEELING …

… a little better today.

But there again, that’s not too difficult because I’m convinced that I couldn’t possibly have felt as bad as I did for two days running.

You’ve really no idea of how I was feeling yesterday evening. Not eating any tea is a testament in itself because that’s something that very rarely happens. Instead, I just wrote out my notes and by 21:30, I was in bed.

Being awake at 02:45 was definitely not part of the plan though. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed …. it’s pretty pointless going to bed early because all that it means is that I awaken correspondingly early the following morning.

This time, however, I was lucky. I managed to go back to sleep quite quickly, and there I lay until about … errr … 05:45. Having checked the time, I decided that I’d give it ten minutes and then make an early start. However, what I remember after that was the alarm going off at 06:29.

And after that, the next thing that I remember was the repeater a few minutes later. That’s the first time that I’ve actually been asleep for the repeater alarm, as far as I can remember.

It took a good few minutes to haul myself to my feet and head off into the bathroom. As well as having a wash and scrub up, I also had a shave just in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant at dialysis today.

After the medication and hot drink, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. I was walking home from the bus stop – I’d just alighted from the bus – and a dark green MG Midget went past and pulled up at the side of the road just ahead of me. As I approached it, the driver hopped out. He was one of the people from work. He said “come on, Eric, hop in. I’ll take you home”. I thought that that was nice of him but I didn’t have far to go. But I hopped in anyway, and I asked him about the car, if it was a 1967 model. He replied that it was a 1969 one. I thought that it was in very good condition for its age. We drove a little way further along Rope Lane and turned into Vine Tree Avenue. Eventually, I managed to tell him where to stop and he had to reverse a little way. I pointed to our house and said that that had been our family home as children since 1956. My brother came out then and helped me take my shopping out of the car. The driver then asked if he could have a drink of water. That was all that I needed because the house was probably in a total tip and I didn’t want anyone from work coming in because I didn’t want details of my private life like that being the subject of discussion, but there was nothing that I could do about it except to let him in. He came in and went up to the bathroom. I went into the living room and all over the floor were bottles and jars and things so we started to have a quick tidy-up. There was a huge pile of plastic bottle tops, so I asked my brother where he kept them. he opened the door so I put them all in there. Then the guy came down and said “quick, find me a chair!”. I asked “what on earth has happened?”. He replied that he was putting his contact lenses in but he’s put them in the wrong eyes. He needs to change them. I had to find a chair then and let him sit in the kitchen. I thought “this situation here is going from bad to worse”.

Why on earth would I suddenly start to dream about a former colleague, about whom I haven’t given a moment’s thought in over twenty years? But this idea of living in total chaos is nothing new, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. It seems to be how I spend most of my life.

There was a situation where I was in the clutches of some evil guy. He’d imprisoned my sidekick, a young girl. He was trying to find out a few things from me that I wasn’t all that keen on telling him. Then his sidekick came in and suggested that the two of us, my sidekick and me, be put in the same room together. If we were locked in there for a while, things might change. Eventually, the boss agreed and the sidekick took me off. When we reached the room where he’d locked up my sidekick, he opened the door and let her out. He said to the two of us “right clear off while I go and sort him out”. We didn’t need telling twice. We dashed off down the stairs to the half-landing and caught the lift. The lift was quite full but we squeezed in, reached the ground floor and cleared off. It was pouring down with rain outside, and I thought that I had well over an hour to drive now so I’m going to leave the top down on the car. We climbed aboard a bus and it set off, but we had to stand, and we were standing near the back. When it arrived at the bus stop near the car park, we pressed the bell and went to alight but there were too many people in the way. The bus was just about to start off again so my sidekick shouted and he stopped again. We managed to climb out. I could see my car on the car park. It was the yellow Mustang, covered in dust from its long drive across the desert abd currently being soaked in rain. When we climbed out of the bus, there was an old lorry there, a four-wheeled lorry with a tipper body on the back, an old Dodge, and it was carrying licence discs from the past. The earliest one was 1966. There was even one from 1935 that said “two times”, which made me think that there must be an identical lorry to this one somewhere in the vicinity used by the same person. It was nice to see an old lorry like this, and even at that age, it wasn’t all that unusual in the USA to see lorries of that age driving around – these old Dodges

And where has this all come from? It reminds me of nothing whatsoever that is relevant to anything recent. However, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall I did once DRIVE THROUGH AN AMERICAN DESERT IN A YELLOW FORD MUSTANG

Isabelle the Nurse came around as usual to sort out my legs. It’s her last day for a week so when she left, I wished her a really nice break. It’s her oppo tomorrow for a week. I wonder how cheerful he’s going to be.

Then it was time for breakfast and some reading. I’m still on this Roman military engineering right now. But as usual, I was sidetracked off into reading about the Roman Emperor Caligula. And what I read drew some very disturbing parallels with a certain person in a position of power across on the other side of the North Atlantic Ocean. It’s really uncanny. HERE’S ONE TYPICAL EXAMPLE

After breakfast, I came back in here where there were things to do and then a radio programme to review before sending it off for broadcast. With what time was left, I began to edit the next radio programme notes and they are now almost all completed.

My faithful cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for the taxi. It was late arriving but as I was the only passenger, we still arrived on time. Even so, I had to wait forty-one minutes before they could come and sort me out.

They asked me how I was feeling so I explained my woes. They insisted on a full blood sample and a few other tests too. They asked me if I would have a full COVID test. My usual response is in the negative but seeing as it was Emilie the Cute Consultant on duty today and remembering what had happened in the past with her requests for COVID tests that I didn’t want to take, I didn’t dare refuse.

She came to see me later, telling me that what they had examined so far had been negative. However, she gave me an appointment for an X-ray on my chest and lungs to see what’s going on with this cough. For that, I’ll have to travel back in time because the appointment is dated 5th January 2025. Still, that’s not going to be a problem for someone as intelligent and resourceful … "and modest" – ed … as me.

Unfortunately, she didn’t hang around chatting very long. The days when, eighteen months ago, she was perched on the edge of my bed chatting away about nothing are long gone.

There was some bad news at the dialysis centre today too. This was the last time that I shall see Julie the Cook. She lives forty-five minutes away from there and the travelling is getting her down, so she applied for a job at a local hospital within walking distance of where she lives. She’s been accepted and she starts in the New Year. I wished her luck, of course, but it’s sad to see one of this very cheerful, pleasant group of nurses fly the nest. In fact, the only reason that I go to dialysis is to be cheered up by them, and they do a wonderful job.

Eventually, late as usual, they unplugged me and I headed for home. The taxi was waiting and it was an interesting drive back because the driver was one of those interesting people who has a lot to say for himself. We always have some very good discussions.

Back here, my cleaner helped me into the apartment and after she left, I made tea – baked potato with a taco roll filled with salad and vegan cheese. Only a small portion, but I managed to clear the plate. I had some steamed Christmas pudding for afterwards and that was nice too.

But thinking about steamed puddings, I wonder how a steamed fruit pudding or treacle pudding, or even chocolate pudding, would turn out. I shall have to experiment. And that reminds me – I still have some fruitcake and the rest of the jam roly-poly in the fridge too.

Back in here, I began to write out the notes, feeling better than I had for a while, but found myself crashed out in the chair after a while. I couldn’t keep on going, so once more, I abandoned the notes, to be finished in the morning. This is becoming ridiculous.

That “feeling better” feeling didn’t last for long, did it?

But seeing as we have been talking about Caligula … "well, one of us has" – ed … he was infamous for his … err … excesses.
One day at the Circus Maximus in the middle of a chariot race, he notices a small boy amongst the crowd who looks exactly like him. He sends for a Praetorian Guard to bring the boy to him
"Tell me" he says. "Did your mother ever visit Rome?"
"Oh no" replies the boy."But my father did, years ago."

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Sunday 14th February 2010 – We’ve still got tons of snow …

… even if nothing much has fallen within the last 24 hours. I only had to breathe on the solar panels and the light scattering of snow blew away. Hot stuff am I, what?

So after a … errr … leisurely breakfast I came back up here and swotted up on French building permits and so on. I can tell you everything that there is to know about it – including the fact that I can erect a statue of 11.99 metres height and 39.99 cubic metres volume in my garden without planning permission! Dunno about you but my imagination is working overtime. Just think of it – Turdi de Hatred, Caligula and Her Horse, Pol Pot’s Sibling, Andy Pandy and Aunt Ada Doom (and whatsisname that she saw in the woodshed) 11.99 metres high and right next to the beichstuhl! I could have hours of endless fun with all of that.

Works of art are also covered by that exemption and that gives me enormous scope. When you think of Tracey Eminem’s unmade bed being exhibited at the Hate Gallery I’m sure that my verandah and its contents would be covered by this. And when you think that the disorder that I can create even in an empty room, well just imagine it – “no, this object 11.99 metres high and 39.99 cubic metres volume is not a new house – it’s next year’s hot favourite for the Turnip Prize!” In any case, anything that I ever build is certainly a work of art and people come from miles around to gaze in bewilderment at my efforts.

This afternoon I went down to Liz and Terry’s to discuss this programme. Julie should have come with me (she’s our first guest) but she’s snowed (or rather iced) in. This is one of the perils that you have to risk when you buy a house by a bridge alongside a river – the only way out is upwards and with the gorges around here being so steep, if they don’t grit the roads then you are stuck.

So I went on my own instead – but not that I minded, it just meant more vegan fruit cake for me! Down to Pionsat was … errr … interesting but the D227 between Pionsat and St Gervais was clear even over the Font Nanaud. From St Gervais to Liz and Terry’s was also exciting.

So having done what we could I came back. And that was even more exciting as it was trying to snow down there. But I encountered two snowplough-gritters so they are taking it seriously for Monday morning’s commuter traffic. It’s also forecast bright sunny weather too for tomorrow but as you know I have my suspicions about that kind of thing.

And Claude’s removal is postponed again. His son never came up and so nothing has been packed. They’ll be running out of time at this rate.

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Saturday 23rd January 2010 – I didn’t sleep through the alarm this morning.

I had all three going off in close proximity and that’s enough to awaken the dead – such as the OUSA Executive Committee. It’s well-known that they spend most of their meetings sitting round a table holding hands and trying to contact the living. So much so in fact that Caligula and her horse’s predecessor was once heard to say
“Is there anybody there? Knock once for yes – and twice for no“

So after I heaved myself from my stinking pit I made a coffee and went chaud-pied round to the Intermarche to find out why they hadn’t rung me (or Liz, for that matter) about this famous flight in a chopper.
“We didn’t have time to ring everybody” the manager wailed. And me, having amongst my many and varied talents the ability to read upside-down, noticed that in general all of the people with a French name had been contacted, and none of the people with a foreign name had been contacted.

So we just turn up a l’improviste tomorrow. well, we’ll see.

Then it was off to Montlucon and shopping. Apart from the usual items I bought a pile of plasterboard, a load of wood and some more insulation. I’ll be starting on the cupboard on the first floor next week if it’s too bad to work outside. And learning from the work in the attic, I won’t be wallpapering it. In one of the cheap shops (the VIMA) they were selling indoor crepi (that’s the cement-based paint for brick and stone walls and looks a bit like fine pebble-dash) for €9:00 for 15 litres so I’ll be covering the plasterboard in that.

I also bought 12 x 3-metre lengths of shuttering for concrete. That’s 175mm by 25mm rough-cut and cheap. I’ll be making my raised beds for the new vegetable plots with that. The current raised beds are 1.33 square – these will be 1.50 square and I have enought wood to make 6 of them. I can salvage the others in due course. I like raised-bed gardening.

In the other cheap shop (the NOZ) they were having a DVD clearout with titles as low as €0.78. I spend €20 in there on seven or eight DVDs, including a copy of “the Definitive Barclay James Harvest”.

Now see if you can guess what the first track of this DVD is? Yes, you’re right. It’s “Mockingbird”. Barclay James Harvest is another one of these 1970s groups that lost its way after the first 4 or 5 albums and the early stuff is incredibly good. But no matter how good the group might be, it will always be remembered for “Mockingbird” and that’s one of these tracks a bit like “Hotel California”, “Freebird” , “Stairway to Heaven” and a couple of others. A reasonable example of a group’s output but by no means the best, and totally ruined and spoiled by being played and played and played to death.

BJH has done much better stuff that “Mockingbird” and thankfully “Medicine Man” is on the album. But where is “Galadriel” ? And where is “For No-one”? And about half a dozen others that I can think of? This is going to be some “definitive Barclay James Harvest” but at least it only cost me €1:99.

On the way back I noticed that is was 17:00 just as I was passing through Neris-les-Bains. So I went for an hour in the swimming baths. Twice in 8 days! I’ll wash myself away at this rate.

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Thursday 3rd December 2009 – I put it in

fitting new floor beam les guis virlet puy de dome franceposition – the final beam, as you can see. And it took quite a while to do as well.

Firstly I had to position the hangers and screw them in. It’s not possible to cut lets into the transverse beam as there are other beams let into the other side and so the nails are in the way. And the hangers have to be millimetre-perfect so that the floor will be level.

Then the beam needs to be cut to size and that has to be millimetre-perfect as well.

Thirdly, once the beam has been cut to size it needs to be lowered into position and it’s quite a heavy beam so doing it on my own was complicated to say the least. I dropped it down to the ground floor twice and so I nailed some cantilever outriggers across the gap so I could slide it into position.

Once it was in, I could drill through it into the wall in order to mark where the anchor bolts need to go.

And then I had to drill out the holes in the beam to 12mm and then drill the walls for the anchor bolts

Next was to fit the anchor bolts into the beam with just a small amount of the anchor visible

And then roll the beam back into position

And then line up the protruding anchors with the holes in the wall

And then get the beam as close up to the wall as possible

And then screw the beam to the hangers so that it’s in position

And then whallop the anchors through the beam into the holes in the wall.

It’s not tightened up anywhere as yet though – that’s because I want to fit the verticals and it’s only when they are in and fastened up that I van tighten the beam fastenings – that way it will all go into tension.

That took most of the day as it happened, and I finished off by painting with white acrylic paint the part of the wall in the stairwell that doesn’t already have paint on it. I do that because with cement-rendered walls the cement flakes off and makes dust that gets everywhere. The acrylic paint binds it together.

And in other news, OUSA has made the headlines again with the latest proposals for OUSA Sutures – that nasty little stitch-up of a document that proposes that all the OUSA delegates to the Students’ Annual Conference can go socialising (read “piss-up”) at OUSA’s (read “British taxpayers'”) expense and leave the business of running the Disorganisation to the Executive Committee – some of whom received as many as 5 votes from a student body of 180,000.

OUSA Sutures is a controversial document and has ignited all kinds of debate – most of which recognises it for the crap that it is. But to become OUSA Policy it needs to receive 2/3rds of the votes at Conference. At the last Conference there were a grand total of 137 delegates so it comes as no surprise to anyone to learn that in January there will be a meeting to discuss OUSA Sutures and OUSA has set aside a budget of £9.000 for the meeting. And who is being invited to the meeting? Why, 96 delegates to Conference.

Now firstly, can anyone tell me what proportion 96 bears to 137?
And secondly, the closing date for delegates to Conference will not have passed by the time this “briefing” is to take place. So how do they know who will be the delegates to Conference? Well, there’s always a “hard core” of delegates who go every year and who have become part of the furniture. And of course, there are the delegates that the Executive Committee cam approve to fill vacant places.

And so these “delegates”, just over 2/3rds of the number likely to attend, will be invited to a “briefing” long before their names are officially announced as delegates for their branches and before the branch nominations are even closed. They will each have £95 of OUSA’s (read “British taxpayers'”) money spent on their “hospitality”.

All I can say is that if they don’t show their “gratitude” at OUSA’s Conference next April they will have Caligula and her Horse and Pol Pot’s Sibling around to kick their collective @r$e$

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Thursday 12th November 2009 – KEEN FOLLOWERS OF MY MIGHTY ORGAN …

…will know that a few of us around here have been on the look-out for a decent mini-digger. And so when one made its appearance on a French classified ads website we had to look at it.

First thisg was the price – about 2/3rds of what it’s worth even if it’s in rough condition. But this is a modern one with all of the accessories and in excellent condition. Hmmmmm. So I sent an email to the vendor who wrote back with all kinds of glowing details about the machine and gave me his phone number to ring him back with any questions.

002 299 7600030

I didn’t recognise the number but I dialled it anyway. There was a strange dial tone and then I had my contact – with a really heavy African accent. Even more Hmmmmm.
“So where do I go to see the machine?“
“Don’t worry – we’ll bring it to you“
“Well, I’m not going to pay for it if I don’t like it or if it doesn’t match up to the description“
“It’ll be everything you want – don’t worry“.

Now I’m quite prepared to believe that this digger is genuine, just as I am prepared to believe in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and the likelihood that OUSA will employ a disabled black male member of staff. And when Rhys told me that he’d tracked the number down to Benin – which is close to Nigeria in case you hadn’t already guessed – and this particular guy, then I’m intrigued to see how this scam is going to work out.

Talking of Rhys, he is playing one of those World Domination games on Facebook. He tells me that he needs 217,000 soldiers to overcome Namibia. I’ve told him that he and I could do that on our own. And then we would go and fetch Terry and do Angola afterwards.

And in other news, I hear that Caligula and her horse are to appear on television on Sunday evening. Unfortunately the programme clashes with a showing of Dr Who, so it won’t get much of an audience. But you’ll know when they come onto the screen – you’ll see all of the Daleks rush to hide behind the sofa.

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Wednesday 28th October 2009 – One thing that you need to understand …

… when you read my adventures is that I never ever make any mistakes. What I do is that I learn a lot, and sometimes learning can be expensive. In the olden days in the Wild West (yesterday in South Carolina, Rhys) greenhorns were continually being cheated at cards by people called “Doc”, and whenever anyone ever said anything, the response always was “you have to pay to learn“.

And so it is with house renovations.

And having got the preamble out of the way, let us now discuss the woodstove.

I lined the base with damp sand as required, and assembled a fire inside. “You need a 6x6x6″ fire, and be careful that it does not touch the sides“. How you do this when you have a fire that is 5.5×5.5×5.5” no-one actually said. But anyway I did my best and it toook ages to get going, but I slowly warmed it up. And when I was happy that it was burning I started on the grouting of the bricks I laid the other day (much more useful that laying eggs, I can tell you)

Halfway through the grouting the phone rang, so I opened the door to climb down the ladder to the phone, and “Blimmin’ ‘eck!” You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face with the smoke, and the fumes were overpowering. All through the house, even in my little room, was a pall of black smoke. I was appalled. as was the smoke.

Normally I would expect that the hot air would rise up the stovepipe and carry the soot and ash with it. When they burst out into the chimney the hot air would rise creating a current of air from the chimneys below, which would pull up the soot and ash. But not a bit of it. The soot and ash had descended in the chimney and come out at the bottom. So much for free circulation. And so much for the woodstove too.

I was toying with the idea of lining the chimney and putting the stovepipe all the way up to the outside, and I wish I had done it now. I can’t get the pipe in now that I’ve done the walls and so basically the woodstove will have to be put on hold while I think about this.

It’s not the end of the world though as I have the bottled gas heater, but I was hoping to get away from fossil fuels and go for a more natural source. What is going to be a major problem is that if the soot and ash can get from the attic to the living room it can also do the return journey when I light the fire down here. And that will be “an issue”.

what i saw downstairs when I lit the wood stove
Today’s image is entitled “What I saw when I opened the door”.

On the phone, as it happened, was a member of OUSA’s Executive Committee who wanted a chat. Of course I shan’t name names as talking to me is punishable by a “visit” from Pol Pot’s sibling, a whine from Caligula and her horse, and a thorough dressing-down from Turdi de Hatred (not to mention a thorough dressing up, in fairy boots if I remember correctly, by Lee “I’m a prostitute” Potty-mouth. But I digress – something that you ought to be used to by now)

I’ve now done all the grouting and the filling, and I started poncing (But not in fairy boots) this evening. Tomorrow will be finishing off the poncing, cleaning up the room and making a start on the wallpapering. D-Day is getting closer.

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Wednesday 9th September 2009 – IF ANYONE MENTIONS "PADDED CELLS" THEY WILL BE DISQUALIFIED;

counter battens wall space blanket insulation attic les guis virlet puy de dome franceI’ve fitted the insulation and the counter-battens on the far wall, and insulation to half of the two side walls as you can see.

If you look closely you will see that I’ve started to lay the flooring and install the wiring for the power sockets that I’ll be fitting.

But it’s blasted slow going and I’ve no idea why. I was up there working until 19:30 today yet you would never tell. I reckon it’s going to take at least a week longer than planned to get this room finished.

attic space blanket wall insulation counter battens les guis virlet puy de dome franceBut the proof of the pudding is in the eating.

Remember that there is no door or wall to the stairwell and that there is no floor to the room either. Yet the temperature in the attic reached 27.5 degrees – a full degree higher than in my room and a record temperature, whilst even as I speak, at 00:18, the temperature up there is 23.2 degrees.

Tomorrow I’m having another day off – helping Terry with his woodpile. He had a lorry-load (and I mean 35 tonnes or thereabouts) delivered and although he and Liz have moved a good deal of it there’s still plenty of heavy stuff that needs to go. There was some mention of vegan chocolate cake, and as you know, that would entice me away from just about anything else, even Kate Bush.

In other news, I see that Caligula and her horse are actually calling for volunteers to sit on a couple of panels – one to help students with visual impairments and one to look at the role of students under OUSA Sutures. You may well be wondering what on earth Caligula and her horse are doing calling for volunteers – it’s not the norm for anyone on the Executive Committee to be interested in the opinions of the students.

It’s probably due to the right sandbagging that one of the previous committees received over the idea that they wouldn’t be interested in nominating a student voice for a committee to consider … er … student support (you really couldn’t make this up, you know – even the OU’s hierarchy couldn’t believe it – never mind the students).

But don’t be misled into thinking that any opinion voiced by any student is going to be of any interest to Caligula and her horse. There was this very ephemeral discussion group called “OUSA Consultations” where students were encouraged to publish their views on OUSA and the Executive Committee. One student wrote “load of crap” (well, he or she didn’t, but that was the gist of his or her message) and Caligula and her horse were so impressed by this remarkable display of honesty that she banned the poster from the airwaves for a month. Such is the manner in which dissent is dealt with in OUSA. Even Pol Pot would be impressed with that.

But the interesting point about this committee to look at OUSA Sutures is that it is charged to “consider the role that OUSA will play in the future“. You don’t need a committee to sit and consider this. I can tell you the answer right now without leaving my seat – and that is “bugger all”.

As long as OUSA has Caligula and her horse in charge, aided and abetted by your friend and mine Turdi de Hatred, OUSA will do as the OU tells it and likes it. Not a single member of the committee has the b@ll$ to stand up to the University and tell it to p155 off. Someone needs to be reminded that it is the students who are the customers and they are the people in the chair – they are the ones with the dosh.

The University exists to support the students, not the other way round, and it should therefore be the students – not the hide-bound chairborne wonders – who should be calling the shots. When are the students going to elect delegates with courage instead of this rabble?

But even more interesting is that OUSA Sutures has been on the cards now for well over two years, and OUSA has now reached the stage where we are going to have a committee to look at the implications.

And only after two and a bit years. Rip van Winkle, eat your heart out!

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