Tag Archives: carry on loving

Tuesday 27th August 2024 – I HAVE MADE …

… myself a ginger cake this afternoon.

As yet, I haven’t sampled it, but I’m quite looking forward to doing that tomorrow. I’ve no idea what it’ll turn out like because it’s a recipe that I’ve pretty much invented, so we shall see what we shall see. It promises to be interesting, to say the least.

Like last night, which was also quite interesting, not the least because the nurse had fastened my puttees quite tightly, and as my foot expanded it felt as if the little toe on my left foot was being amputated with no anaesthetic. It’s a long time since I’ve felt pain like that

And so I had to undo my puttees quite a while before going to bed, which is not what I want to do as all of the water in my body will them settle down into my legs and feet and make them swell even more. Ahh well …

Going to bed was interesting last night because I can’t remember anything at all about it. I must have been asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. And there I stayed until the alarm went off. I had awoken a couple of times but I can’t remember when and why.

When the alarm went off I switched it off and headed to the bathroom to sort myself out for the morning, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was doing a radio programme on mutations last night, why they exist and what’s their meaning, which words mutate and why. We were broadcasting it over a period of several days on several different platforms. There were several people who didn’t really receive the message at all, that Welsh is a completely different language from most that they’ve already encountered before. The German language mutates a little and there are a few mutations in the English language but the Welsh language is full of them and has specific rules. These need to be understood by the speakers whether you are native or a graduate Welsh speaker so this was the point of telling them about our discussion. But I’d noticed that these lamp posts have to be secreted well below the road surface but the two that they were about to install at this road junction didn’t look anything at all heavy enough to me … fell asleep here

This was interesting. German, and to a lesser extent English, employ mutations quite a lot but it’s mainly the vowel that mutates – gIve = gAve, hOld = hEld etc and it’s a very rare consonant that mutates – leaF = leaVes etc. But in Welsh it’s the consonant that mutates most commonly, and when I say “common” I mean “common”. I’m at the stage now though where I can’t remember the rules of mutation and am just learning phrases parrot-fashion as a small child would. As for where the second part of this dream came from I really have no idea. Perhaps it’s just as well that I fell asleep in mid-dictate.

Back in the 1930s was one of these sweat-shop offices in New York where you had to walk around about 50 flights of stairs down 10 basements to find where people were working in all kinds of overcrowded and unhealthy conditions. Someone finally went down there – he was moving to Chicago and wanted to take members of staff from New York with him. He identified people on the basis of “you, you and you” – that’s how he recruited his “willing” volunteers, by pointing to them and ordering them to accompany him. One or two of them were upset but there was no other alternative. While the rest of his staff were discussing this, a news report came in that the Police had stopped someone riding a motor bike in their area of the city. They had found out that this person was unlicensed so they told him that his bike would be confiscated. As the police officer was pushing it into someone’s driveway to await collection a shot rang out and she fell dead. There was a huge enquiry launched, which upset just about everyone and the local papers crusaded on behalf of the residents who, they said, had lost many of their civil rights as a result of the police coming into the Borough in numbers to try to track down the murderer and the tactics that they used to deprive them of their civil rights too.

That was how things were run in American offices back in the 1930s and while evolution in the UK office culture, thanks to the Trades Unions, has made the office a much more friendly place to work, that’s not the case in the USA. Not by any means. I worked for an American company for a while, in their Brussels office. There was a knotty problem that needed fixing and I was on the ‘phone to New York one Friday afternoon trying to sort it out. At 18:00 our time (12:00 their time) I said that I was going home and we’d catch up to finish it off on the Monday. Monday at 15:00 (09:00 in New York) I waited for his ‘phone call, which never came. Just before going home I rang up the New York office to speak to him. "Ohh – Mr (so-and-so)?" came a voice. "I’m afraid that his position was made redundant on Friday." So he was finished there with (less than) six hours notice. Not exactly shot on his doorstep but not far off.

The nurse was late this morning and that had me running around rather late today. But she and I had a row. She was on the point of refusing to put a plaster on my operation but I stood my ground and insisted.

She thinks that I’m being a big baby over this and she’s probably right too, but I can do without a panic attack right now. There will be time enough for that in a few weeks time. But thanks to my faithful cleaner I have brand-new puttees on today and the previous lot are soaking in a bowl.

After she left I had breakfast, nice and at my leisure reading my book on the Icknield Way. And then I had plenty of things to do.

Firstly, to find the batteries that I took out of the dictaphone one night a few days ago and which fell on the floor and were lost to view. They’ve been tracked down and are now charging up.

Second thing is to have a much closer look at the Genz Benz combo amp. My initial inspection is regrettably correct – the two-way voltage switch is missing and the data plate shows that the “115 Volt 60 Herz” option is the only one selected.

That means that I need a transformer to run it from a 230 Volt 50 Herz” European electricity circuit, which wa what I suspected in the first place. But there are transformers readily available

Another thing is to make a slow start on the outstanding correspondence, of which there’s more than enough over the past few weeks. I owe several people a response and I haven’t forgotten you

After lunch I did some work on the radio and finished off the first of my special projects. You may be wondering why someone born in 1892 deserves a special rock music programme dedicated to him and him alone but if there is ever one man who has contributed more to rock music than any other one person I’d like to meet him

“Finished” I say, but I’ll be reading it through a few times before I dictate it. It’ll doubtless have a few amendments before it’s ready, but in a few months time I shall be inviting my merry little band of listeners to come for a walk with me in a most surprising place.

After the mid-afternoon hot chocolate there was baking to do. Firstly, a loaf of bread as I have now run out yet again, and secondly, while the dough was busy rising, I made my cake.

The chocolate powder was omitted this time of course, and its volume was replaced by extra flour, and then melted a tablespoon of coconut oil, which replaced an equivalent amount of oil. Then some ground ginger, ground mixed spice, and thanks to my loyal cleaner, some fresh ginger, finely diced

It probably will be the most ridiculous cake ever but at least it looks as if it might be a cake – of sorts. It actually rose in the oven too so that’s definitely progress of a sort

Tea was taco roll with rice and veg and for the benefit of those readers who say that I need stuffing, there was plenty to hand. So much so that it will be a good leftover curry tomorrow night, especially if I remember to make some naan bread.

But tomorrow I’m off to the hospital at Avranches – an 08:15 pick-up. I’m not sure that I’m looking forward to that but I shall do my best.

But while we’re on the subject of baking … "well, one of us is" – ed … the fact that I’m willing to have a go at baking is keeping me away from these agencies like the one that Sid James and Hattie Jacques were running in CARRY ON LOVING

Terry Scott who had “good cook” among his requirements went storming back to the office after a meeting set up by Sid James
"I don’t know why you’re upset" said Sid James. "I told you that she was a good cook"
"Yes, and she had something in the oven" said Terry Scott. "For nine months on Gas Mark Eight"

Sunday 21 July 2013 – AND AM I ALL PACKED?

Am I ‘eck as like.

No surprise there, is there?

I had a lie-in until about 09:20 and by that time it was far too hot to do anything much. Records have tumbled today and I can’t think how often it is that I have had to put cold water into the solar shower to cool it down to an acceptable temperature of about 37°C.

For yes, I did have my first (and probably only) solar shower of the year this evening, and gorgeous it was too – well-worth waiting for.

Mind you I almost didn’t manage to take it – there sunning itself on the concrete pad right almost where I was planning to stand was a whacking great snake – the first real snake that I’ve seen at my house, although I’ve seen plenty elsewhere.

He p155ed off pretty sharp-ish when he saw me and disappeared into the woodpile, right next to where the ladder is. I got to thinking of myself that it was a shame that I didn’t have a couple of friends, some counters and a pair of dice.

And if you want to know what kind of snake he was, at the speed at which he disappeared, he was definitely a calculator. That’s right – a calculator is a very fast adder.

Still, Caliburn is emptied and there’s a pile of stuff in it.

Not all I need to take all of it but there’s a slight change of plan. I’m not leaving right after the radio shows. It’s going to be even hotter tomorrow so it’ll be wicked on the road. I’m coming back here and I’ll leave at about 19:00 when it cools down.

Trying to print off the radio stuff, and nothing worked. It’s not gathering in the paper and so I’ll need to strip it down and find out why. But I never have any luck with printers. There’s dozens round here that don’t function as they are supposed to do.

Luckily Liz came to the rescue with some stuff (and a nice tea and some ginger cake for which I am always grateful) when I was down there rehearsing the radio shows and I’ll have to get Radio Tartasse to do the rest tomorrow.

Now as you know, every now and again I write down my dreams on here.

Many years ago when I was at Uni I helped out as one of a few guinea-pigs for someone who was doing research into dreams. We had to record our dreams and submit them to this guy who was using them as material for his thesis.

Even though the project ended years ago I still keep it up to a certain degree because it was so interesting and now it’s become something of a habit.

I don’t record all of my dreams because without the equipment that we had, it’s difficult to do so, and so I only record the ones that I remember really well. And last night’s was a corker, it really was.

Back in the 1980s when I had my taxi business in Crewe I had a young girl working for me on Saturdays. She stayed for a couple of years and then left to go to college.

She kept in touch with Nerina and me and there was talk at one point that she might come to lodge with us for a while as home conditions were difficult.

Anyway, to cut a long story short … “Hooray” – ed … Nerina and I separated a few years later and I was preparing to emigrate, and I bumped into Nerina. She asked me how I was and we had a little chat about this and that.

One thing that she said quite surprised me. “I’m surprised that you didn’t get …. to move in with you”.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you must have known that she had a big crush on you”.
Rather like Hattie Jacques and Kenneth Williams in Carry On Loving“Surely you must have felt it?”
“Felt it? I never got anywhere near it”.
I didn’t, as it happened, and it was rather late in the day to tell me, I thought.

A good few years or so years later I did encounter … again – now separated from her husband and with a young baby in tow.

I was just about to go off New York for a holiday and, on a whim, I invited her along.  But it was far too short notice and it didn’t happen, and I always regard her as “the one that got away” – the lucky girl.

Anyway, last night, here she was. We were in Sydney, Australia, together as a couple, talking to someone about their cats, and a taxi driver stuck his head around the door and said that it was time to go. So we went outside to get into his taxi, a big modern silver Opel with a huge scrape all the way down the side and with a floor made of wooden pallets. He took us back to our home and when he dropped us off, I noticed that the letter box outside had been knocked off its pedestal and bent. So there I was fixing it and putting it back into position so I could post this huge pile of brown envelopes, but … told me that the postman had passed while I was fixing the letter box and it was now too late.

I’ve never had a dream as realistic as this – so realistic that in the middle of it and I had to get up to go for a Gypsy’s downstairs in the bathroom, when I returned to bed and went back to sleep, the dream carried on from where it left off.

It was totally astonishing and I would love to know what has been going on in the back of my mind somewhere that has made it come up with all of this. It’s quite unnerving for some reason and has put me right off my stroke. I shan’t be feeling myself for a good week or so …“and quite right too” – ed

Surreal was not the word.

..